3058/After the Incarceration of Bobby Haines by the Coward Batman

{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/11/01 |Location=Batcave, Gotham City |Synopsis=Bruce and Barbara spar in the cave. Honest communication is usually done this way.

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
    The sounds of hand-to-hand combat have been wafting through the Cave for nearly 20 minutes. It's not often Barbara gets to pull Bruce into a spar, but given last night's mess, she had been glad to find him in here when she arrived. Now... maybe she's not so glad. Throwing up an arm to block his next strike and feeling her entire forearm go numb, Barbara steps in closer, pivoting on that foot in an attempt to throw him over her hip.

Batman (104) has posed:
    The various gymnasiums that are used in the Bat Cave are each separated from the others, giving different areas for multiple combatants to focus. Three of them are locked off, quiet chambers, three more have a fully automated suite of electronic and robotic equipment to create a variety of simulations and dangerous obstacles, while the last three are more formal for something akin to martial arts practice as well as introspection. It is in one of those last three that the two vigilantes face each other, and it's there that they've been for...
    Has it only been twenty minutes? It's seem like much longer.
    The tension and frustration from the lack of answers yesterday boils over in part during such training sessions. Each of them match against the other with an intensity that is impressive. Perhaps the Batman is of the mind to push Barbara, for the matter with Shiva and the Dragon is still very much in play. Perhaps it's due to that rather wicked looking shiner she's sporting under her eye that might want him to focus on improving her technique.
    Whatever it is, right now, they're both matched fully against each other, so much so... that the rest oft he world has drifted away. Between them there is nothing more than their opponent. Features shiny from exertion, the scent of sweat and effort thick in the room. And as she stepped in closer, his white sleeveless t-shirt clung close to his powerfully muscled form.
    It was a quick twist, a thrust of her hip to try and throw him over. The mats whispered with the shift of pressure when she moved, and he seemed to move cleanly with her. His body slipped forwards in a smooth flip, his feet slamming down upon the mats as he holds onto the arm she had been trying to flip him with, reversing the grip and in turn trying to take her down heavily in front of him upon the mats.
    One fist lifts sharply, readying to strike downwards as his blue eyes meet hers and then it crashes down, perhaps not for her jaw but more subtly to the side. If only to make a point.

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
Her focus on him is absolute -- it has to be, for her to keep up. The one thing Barbara has never been lacking is the desire to do better, always. Momentarily elated because throwing him is always a challenge despite her height and strength, the redhead finds herself caught as he flips. Landing *hard* on her back on the mat, her breath is knocked out of her and the next moment she has his fist those bare millimeters in front of her.
    Point made. He can see it in her green eyes -- the frustration, the determination to do better. To *be* better.
    Kicking out and up, she manages to catch him in the thigh with a good kick, but her angle is bad and ultimately she stops moving and taps out of the fight, conceding. When she can finally suck in a breath, she wheezes a little at him. "You've been watching Dick again," she accuses. The flip he used to capture her was classic Grayson. "Again?"

Batman (104) has posed:
    Rising to his feet he wipes a forearm over his brow and turns away from her. Always a curious melange of both Bruce and the Batman when they're there and he is without his cowl. He gives her his back as he walks towards the edge of the gym, and picks up one of the water bottles that had been set down there on the edge.
    Lifting it up he takes a few swallows, then tosses her the other one so she can hydrate as he turns back to face her. "Again." He says simply, even as he steps to the side, settling into a defensive ready stance with his hip turned towards her and his hands open but held low before him, as if he had that cowl upon his shoulders to hide the shift of his body.
    "Unless you're too tired. Getting old. Losing a step." He tosses those casual gauntlets down there almost dismissively, but the very smallest smirk takes up residence on the corner of his mouth as he awaits her. And once she finishes drinking and moves to re-engage he tells her, "Give me your thoughts on Bobby Haines."

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
Reaching up to catch the water bottle, the redhead stands up straight and casually takes a couple of swallows. Padding to the edge of the mat, she sets the bottle down, picking up her towel to make a quick wipe at her face and neck. His little digs are ignored -- she knows he's just bear-baiting.
    Back in position on the mat, she takes a moment to shake off the last of the landing. Grounding herself firmly in stance, she considers the question. "He's an arrogant little prick. His code is passable but he's nowhere near as good as he thinks he is," she tells him. Then she launches into a series of punches and strikes. At a pause moment, just before he starts reciprocating instead of fending off, she adds, "But I want to know what he wanted with a parademon sidearm. It's not the kind of thing you just collect -- he has a reason."

Batman (104) has posed:
    "Exactly," He says as he make the needed blocks, the flats of his hands pushing her strikes away, his leg lifting to accept a low kick from her, then his elbow /stabs/ into the top of her thigh as she tries to bring in a knee. It's just a brief moment, a single glimmer of pain that might serve as a distraction as he then steps in, shoulder towards her chest as he tries to break her balance and then swirl to the side smoothly, the back of his foot trying to catch her ankle and steal her balance from her.
    "Yet he treated it like a novelty. It did have a spare generator. Perhaps he needed it to power something?" He bounces slightly between one foot and the other, keeping himself ready as she regains her focus from his strikes, his eyes holding hers levelly.
    When she comes at him again his hands will be open, accepting each punch and pushing it out of line at the end of each strike, staying back and away just enough that she chases him back. Not striking her for now, but perhaps giving some measure of frustration.

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
Each time she connects, he can read the calculation. Not of the moves themselves -- muscle memory takes care of that -- but of the angles and possibilities. In truth, it's the one place that Barbara struggles in the fighting. She sometimes OVERthinks strategy, slowing her reaction times just that minuscule amount. Several punches, two knife hand strikes, and a roundhouse kick drive him backward to the edge of the mat. She has her frustration leashed, but it's definitely there.
    "I don't know enough about the weapon's power source to tell you -- yet -- what it could be used for. There are several places studying them, though, and I'm working on getting into some of the research that's... behind closed doors, let's call it." She hasn't tweaked onto his tactic yet of getting her to talk about something else to make her brain come off of the focus on fighting -- to get her out of her own way. Barbara backs off slightly when he hits the edge of the mat; that's out of bounds.

Batman (104) has posed:
    For a moment his brow furrows and she can tell that his own thoughts drift for that split second. But he never loses focus on that fight, she's seen it before, when he slips to autopilot and continues at one task even as he focuses upon another. It's in the way he steps forwards and uncurls in a fluid series of movements, long muscular body twisting into the air as he spins to the side with a sharp kick slashing through the air, heel slicing past her features as she's able to dodge back in time.
    There's a short step and the snap of fabric as he continues to push her. A sharp elbow thrust forwards towards her side that snaps out with a backfist the moment she blocks, followed in turn by a turning strike as he tries to press a foot towards her in step.
    It's all a rapid blur of movement, that ends as he moves in and she'll feel the pressure of one hand upon her shoulder, twisting her forearm just enough to bring her around and to /thump/ her hard upon the mats but not too hard. It ends that round with his forearm against her throat even as his eyes are on hers, but still somewhat distant.
    For a time it's just him above her, and his frown marking his features slightly, the air warm and the exercise taking its toll on them. He gives a single nod then, "Hm, closed doors." As if that gave him some insight.

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
She wonders what he's thinking about -- for a moment. Then there's no time to wonder anything as she's busy blocking and dodging. One second, she *thinks* she's fighting back; the next, she's flat on her back looking up at him again, holding with his forearm across her throat. Sweat trickles for those seconds as she sucks in breaths, and then when he finally lets up, she takes the hand he offers and comes to her feet again.
    "What are you thinking?" she asks him, accepting that once again she has lost the sparring battle. It's a regular thing, but winning isn't the point -- getting *better* is. She bends over to rest her hands on her knees for a minute. "That sounded like a possible ah-ha moment."

Batman (104) has posed:
    "Mmm," He says to her as he steps back and to the side, moving back towards the edge of the gymnasium. "I'll tell you later if it bears fruit." He drops down and takes a seat with his back to the wall, his arms resting upon his kneecaps as he frowns distantly. But then he meets Barbara's eyes and gives her a nod, "We should call it here, I'll need to get ready for the press conference and then the opera."
    But for now he takes up his bottle of water and spritzes some more into his mouth, washing it around and then swallowing as he looks to the side. He lifts a hand to the side of his jaw and murmurs, "You landed a good right cross," He smirks slightly and then adds, "If you focused you'd be able to overtake some of the others."
    A nod is given towards her, "With your reach you have a natural advantage over most of them."

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
Pushing off her knees, Barbara walks to the wall, swipes up her water bottle, and then moves to sit next to him and catch her breath. "You have a jaw like iron," she comments. "That one hurt." Taking a swallow of her water, she glances at him. "What's wrong with my focus this time?" she asks. If it were anyone else, she might be taking offense, but this is the reason she asks him to fight with her sometimes. To see where she's lacking.

Batman (104) has posed:
    "Mm," The man says at first. She'll never know it, never realize it. But when he looks at her sidelong, when he looks at the woman who is Barbara Gordon, he does not see a soldier in this war. Does not see one who is destined to spend their life fighting. He sees her as one who can have... and /should/ have a life. A life beyond all of the obsession and the wild abandon that he has taken for himself and his own lot in life...
    So perhaps that is in part why he is reluctant to answer at first. But he dislikes lying. To them. To the others who share this quest. So he gives her a nod and murmurs as he looks away. "Focused your time. Shifted your priorities to this."
    He tilts the bottle back again, a few more swallows. But then he sets it down between them, almost as if creating a physical barrier between them as he murmurs, "Moreso than you already do."

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
The redhead leans her head back against the wall, her brow furrowed slightly as she considers his words. There's a pause, as if she is searching for the right words to give him. When she looks back at him, her green eyes are shuttered a little more than usual. "If that's the only problem you have with me, I think I'm doing pretty well, then," she tells him finally. "I've already figured out that I'm never going to measure up in the ways that would make me that much better." She doesn't want to become him. And it hurts her to say it; Batgirl is all she *ever* wanted. Back when she started, at least. "We both know I won't always be on the streets."

Batman (104) has posed:
    "There's nothing wrong with that, Barbara." He tells her, and perhaps for the first time she hears his approval with that course of action. "There is no weakness in not wanting to pursue things as I do. There's no lack of character to make the decision to do what good you can from where you can."
    He looks at her, an eyebrow lifting slightly, "I do this, because it is what I'm best at. It's not for everyone." For a moment he looks away and his brow furrows, the space between his eyes beetling slightly. He lifts a hand, "I would not be surprised if in five years, ten? I was the only one still doing this."
    But then there's a pause and he adds, "Except perhaps Cassandra. She... is driven."

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
Phew... Cassandra. That's a whole other kettle of fish. Barbara meets his gaze and smiles faintly. "I don't know if you're right about that... Dick is pretty driven as well. But... you're probably right about the fact that some of us won't be on the streets unless it's a necessity. Why do you think I've had Tim helping me down here?" She sips from her water bottle. "I'll still have your back." Because that won't ever change. "There are enough of us out there now that I'm starting to see a significant need for a centralized dispatcher."

Batman (104) has posed:
    "You might be right," He folds his arms over his chest and leans back a little, the top of his head touching the wall as his eyes lift upwards. Those words he offers could work for all of the things she said, yet he doesn't clarify which part he is answering. Instead he presses on, one hand lifting slightly, fingertips flaring as if brushing away the words between them. "In any case, I'll manage along. One way or the other."
    Those words hang there for a time, silence. Just a touch of silence between them before he tells her, "I've considered having a version of artificial intelligence to handle the role of resource allocation," Dispatching. "But in the current state of the technology that would be too risky."

Barbara Gordon (58) has posed:
In the long silence between them, Barbara leans sideways and lays her head on his shoulder. It's very rare that she offers such physical affection in this way, but something about that silence bothers her. He will NEVER manage alone. No matter what he thinks. "Way too risky," Barbara agrees immediately about the AI resource allocation idea. "With the kind of organizations and techie metahumans we have running about, there is no way that an AI can adapt fast enough to keep up with whoever might attempt to hack us."

It amuses her that they're sitting here having this conversation. It's not one she thought she'd ever have with him, that's for certain. Moving to grab her towel again, she sits upright and wipes her face again then drapes it around her neck. Now that they're cooling down some, she can feel the coolness of the Cave. "I want to run background on Hong and his businesses. I'm interested to find out if he's stockpiling additional alien weaponry. And whether he's just selling it or if there's a bigger problem happening." Barbara sips her water.

Batman (104) has posed:
    When she had rested her head on his shoulder he had lightly touched the side of her head. Just a faint pet, as if to offer some level of approval, even though he otherwise holds himself so entirely in check. Then he nods in answer to her agreement about the risk, entirely too much risk to attempt to embrace artificial intelligence at such a time.
    She rises, then he does as well, standing only a few inches taller than her, eyes meeting her gaze. "Alright, let me know what you find." He answers her with a nod, even as he scoops up his own towel and tosses it over his shoulders. He turns his back on her once again, touching the flat of his palm to the door and causing it to whisper open with a faint beep.
    Just before stepping out into the hall he'll pause and tell her over his shoulder, "I'm going to go get ready. If I don't see you before I leave, good luck and good hunting."