3470/Dude, That is my sister

Dude, That is my sister
Date of Scene:	23 December 2017
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Red Robin, Nightwing, Oracle

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Red Robin has posed:
    The young man is hitting the practice dummy hard. What is unusual is the tablet off to the side he has has got hooked up to the dummy. It's keeping track of each successful series of strikes. Only correct combinations count. It flashes which combination to strike. 1-2-6! He has to correctly perform the strike to the correct spot on the dummy. It is apparently a timed drill as well.

    Tim is obsessing over his fighting skills, it seems. No doubt this is due to his own replacement as Robin. If Tim were a horse, he would be foaming, as he is soaked in sweat. His training clothes cling to him, stuck by the moisture. He has a headband keeping that mop of hair out of his face as he just pounds the hell out of the dummy. And it is a drumming. He's no slouch, but the bar is set pretty hard around here, and Tim isn't using his stick. It isn't slow. It isn't a lack of power. It's slightly imprecise technique. Unlike his brothers, Tim is maybe not a natural-born Olympic level athlete. Maybe his brain gets in the way. Maybe its because he started a little later. Maybe its temperament. The middle child has to work harder, to get less.

    Frustration is starting to show. Make no bones about it, he's going things quite well. He's showing signs of improvement, but the device only keeps track of perfect hits. As the drill ends, it flashes a metric. 5 hits behind the next lowest.

    By any standard in the world, this young man while likely beat your ***. Except by the standards of his brothers. He rests his sweat-soaked brow against the dummy, frustration twisting his face into a rictus. "****!" He grunts, then starts to lift a slightly shaking hand over towards his tablet to start the drill again.

    He will not stop until he is perfect.

Nightwing has posed:
Dick moves into the Training Hall, his foot steps are quite, but it's obvious he has gotten almost no sleep over the previous weeks. While still graceful, there is a slowness to that stride that anyone would notice, and when he hears the constant strikes on dummy he pauses to watch quietly.

Years of living this life, a life he has chosen then and now, has Dick notice some of the signs of Tim's Focus and Frustration. Unrelenting repetition with no thought to fatigue, the tense body posture that is not like the practiced grace he knows Tim possesses, the facial ticks that show his mind is focusing on more than just the dummy ahead of him, and then the walk from Dummy to Tablet to Dummy is just not quite 'right'.

In the break between sessions, Dick calls out, "Hey Tim, how're you doing?" A loaded question, but Dick has always had such an open and honest repoire with /all/ of the Bat Family that he can work on getting past those barriers that others struggle with, "You're getting better.." no pandering, it's an honest assessment from Dick, "...but something's on your mind. It's making you not feel the flow of your movements, letting your subconscious actions carry you faster than you can think through..." Dick is there to help, always has been, "...but your foundation is strong, and your Focus is amazing."

As he walks up to the younger man, there is no hesitation when he wraps his sweaty brother in a hug, not the bro-hug but one for a legitimate brother. When Dick steps back, sweat on his front now, Tim can easily see the bags under Dick's eyes... stress and fatigue starting to wear down the Oldest of the Robins. "Wanna talk 'bout it?"

Red Robin has posed:
    The defiance starts to well up immediately. The only reason it gets choked back is because it's Dick. The young man balks against the hug for a moment, then returns it with a tight squeeze. The hug lingers half a second too long, then it breaks. There is a gentle shove at the bigger man. "I'm terrified she'll kill you." Tim Drake says, putting aside guile and control after he gets a good look at Dick's face. It's a firm shove, but not enough to hurt or push him around. It's the physical equivalent of 'doofus!'

    The younger man frowns at Dick. "Not just because I'd lose you, but I would lose her too." Shiva helped train him; and he might have to go after her. And he won't be fair. "I hate that you are still thinking about this frankly stupid idea of being a cop, and I think you need to stop that -now- before it goes further, but most importantly."

    Tim's features shift. "What are you doing with Barbara, and do I need to kick your ass? She's my sister, Dick! She -loves- you, this isn't something casual for her. Her whole face lights up a little at your name, and if you mess this up, she will get really hurt. You guys are my favorite people. You're my -family-, and I would be so happy for you if you made it work, but I need to hear you say that you are taking this serious. I'm a real big fan of 'Dabs'"

    He's named your 'ship'.

Nightwing has posed:
At the shove, Dick takes a step back, and looks at Tim from arms length away. The last few months, whenever he meets up with another of the Family, it always Starts or Ends with a discussion on Shiva. He can't blame any of them, he deserves the abuse he is given, and let's out a long sigh "I know, Tim. She's better than me right now. I've no doubt about it. I'm working on getting better..." then, something he hasn't confided in anyone else yet, he adds, "...and if I /am/ better than her, I won't kill her." He looks into the other's eyes, "You know this about me. I /will not/ kill her."

"Now, I can't make Bruce promise this, but no matter the outcome none of you can seek Vengeance. That is not /me/, and it is not what I'd want." His eyes continue their lock on the other man's, "Please, Tim. No Vengeance. Not for me. You know me, and I trust you being the one to help the /others/ realize it isn't what I'd want."

He chuckles a little about the cop comment, "Look, I'm still doing the Bartender thing, for now.." He leans up against one of the tables that holds practice gear, "..but there's something about helping people without the Mask that's appealing. I want to represent something good, you know? Like Jim Gordon. He's a good man, and has done as much for Gotham as any of us."

At the mention of Babs, Dick's features become a little more guarded, in fact, so much like Bruce's that Tim might get a little wary.. not in a threatening way... but that Dick may be more like Bruce than either want to admit. "Tim, you're my brother. Period. No caveats to this, ok?" His tone is the same as Bruce's, neutral and iron, "But Babs and I, it's something we're both figuring out. I swear, on my life, I will never purposefully hurt her. It is complicated enough without the rest of the Family involved. I'm waiting for Bruce to bring it up, and I think our 'discussion' will not help mend some of what was broken between us..." The first time he's admitted to anyone, including Babs, that He and Bruce had a falling out.

"I've always taken her Serious. I have Always Cared for Babs. I Always /will/ Care for Her." He tries to put a hand on Tim's shoulder, "Just, trust us... both... and let us figure it out." Tim can see that Dick is serious about how he feels, but he is so ingrained in what Bruce has taught about attachments that he's struggling with /years/ of following his Father's advice.

Red Robin has posed:
    And with the last words, Tim's feature morph again. it's a happy little, maybe slightly jealous smile. "I can't think of any other two people in the world I want to see happy." He actually pauses and calculates. "Other than maybe Bruce and Alfred, but I would hate to live on that difference. This is the only time I'll butt in. Stuff like this is hard enough with just two people. If you need my help, well, I want you two to get a happy ever after. I will help, if I can. But otherwise, well, it's your business unless if becomes my business, okay?" Tim's smile is fleeting but it is a very sincere one. "I promise. I will not complicate things further. I'm a the flipping president of the 'Dabs' fanclub." there is a very real chance that name will stick.

    Dick's assurance and words are enough that Tim is fine with everything said. He takes a couple of steps aside. "You should ask Jim Gordon how many men he's killed. It's more than you or me. Cops kill, Dick. You'll have a gun. No other tools. You'll have a cop's tools, with a cop's ID, with a cop working alongside you. You'll be put into impossible situations. You won't be Nightwing. You'll be Dick Grayson, who is one hell of a guy, but in a fight I want Night Wing. You'll get killed, because you won't be operating like you have for most of your life. Listen to me. Get a job with Bruce. Run part of the charitable foundation. Something. Help people -that- way." He leans against the dummy, and crosses his arms over his belly. He shivers once, but then toughs it out. His body language betrays vulnerability. He again, almost visibly calculates it. "I can't lose anyone else, okay?" Again, he resorts to the truth. "If you and Bruce are too at loggerheads...wait a few years. We'll give away whatever is left of my d-- of Jack's money." His voice caught, and he switches names. "That will make Bruce do something, or, well, I guess I'll be poor." He looks up at his older brother, his hair shading his bright blue eyes.

    "I can accept it if something bad happens to us doing what we do. It's the other stuff I will never be able to forgive you for. I understand you want to help people. I get it. I'm a lifer at this. We both know it. I'm hooked. I'm done. I'll live and die this way, and I'm okay with that. I'm not going to change codenames again for a long time. Don't make me pick up another of your legacies, okay, Dick? I'm just starting to ease into my own new situation." Another little grin, this one more wan. "I'm not a good enough acrobat to be Nightwing, and I think Bludhaven smells funny." His grin turns just a little wry.

    He says nothing about vengeance. He ignores it, and attempts to quietly steer the conversation away from having to make that promise. "A part of me is jealous. I mean, eww, she's Barbara. That's like kissing my sister." That much is true. "I'm jealous that you're not lonely. I am." The admission is quiet, but it's honest. Dick's been there; things changed.

Nightwing has posed:
With Tim's response, those features trained in him by Bruce melt away like new snow in the morning Sun, and the features that are much more comfortable on Dick's face reappear. "Thanks, Tim. You've got no idea how much your concern, and your trust mean to me." and the words are truly heartfelt from the young man. "I'm sure there'll e times we drive each other crazy, and you will be the one to bear some of the brunt of that..." a long sigh coming forth, "...I'll try not to put you in the middle of anything, but just be a sounding board to make sure I'm not crazy." Looking back to him, he adds "Deal?"

Back to the Cop conversation, and he knows that this one is the toughest conversation to have with /any/ of the Family. Tim is going to be the worst, because he will make the most sense with the most logical arguments. Damn you, Tim!! "I promise, Tim, I'll think about all of what you've said. It all makes sense, and I've already struggled with the thought of pulling a gun on someone. If it means a partner or a suspect, and not being able to start off as a Detective is going to be... annoying... no doubt. I just want something... normal.. sometimes."

Shaking his head about Bruce, Dick explains, "No, Bruce and I are getting better, we still disagree on me leaving to Bludhaven, but he would support me in almost anything..." He grins, a bit chagrin though, "Probably not being a Cop, but we'll table that discussion for now. He's already talked about a few ways I /should/ be handling being his Heir, even with Damian, since Damian has some years left on him." The comment about Bludhaven draws a frown, but a twinkle in his eye shows he enjoys the joke, "Well, only because most of the bad guys are not near the water to get washed when I beat them up! But seriously, I'll be careful, and I disagree on a few things..." His tone completely serious, "I'd be honored to have you as a Nightwing if I went some other direction. Just as much as I was honored to hear you picked up Robin, Tim. Don't compare yourself to anyone else in the Suit. It's your Suit, you make it what you will, and be happy with that. Know that I'm always here to support, all the time, and I think you're as deserving as any of us to wear the Suit."

He laughs at the comment of kissing your sister, his lips twisting into a small smirk, "We'll just leave that one alone then, brother." His tone more serious at the thought of being alone, "Well, if you want, I'd be happy to take you out in Bludhaven or some of these parties Bruce throws. There's nothing wrong with dropping that loneliness for a few hours. You might get lucky and find someone that's worth your time." He gives another one of his cheshire grins, adding "I make a /damn good/ Wing Man."

Red Robin has posed:
    That is a weird thought, and it takes the normally quick Tim a moment or two to process that. "Well." Huh. Another moment. "Okay?" it's a change in their relationship, but growing up means change. "I... I think I would like that?" He starts to nod. "I would. I met this SHIELD Agent at Stark's party. She's like, too old by far, but." He clears his throat. "I, umm, like tough chicks." his cheeks start to flush. It makes sense. Barbara. Shiva. Cassandra. All the women who are important to him; they're fighters. Heaven forbid the woman who he eyes, as that measuring stick sets a very high bar for them to hit. His cheeks are still rosy. "Got to be more careful around the Stark cadre of agents. They pay attention. Maybe too much attention."His arm is still over his belly. It growls. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He looks and sounds younger than he is for a moment. "Don't tell Alfred. I forgot to eat."he starts to walk over to get a gatorade from the ones he brought down. It's at least a start. Given how sweaty he is, the younger man has been down here for a long time.

    He takes several hasty swallows from his favorite kind, the lower calorie 'purple' one. After wiping his mouth off, he purses his lips. "Just don't sign any papers on that cop stuff yet, okay? I know its easier to tell Bruce once its done, but if you -do- want to mend some bridges, well, this is not the way to do it. Besides... Shiva. Barbara. Nightwing. Dick Grayson charity work... you won't have time to be a cop?"

    He changes the subject, his body language still vulnerable. "Help me pick up text books in a couple of weeks?" Because he's starting college. "I don't want to stay at a dorm, so, umm, I think i will stay here a little while longer. Damian and I got off to a rocky start. I, uhhh, well I had someone who cared about me when I started. He's a better fighter, but his take on things is different, and the fact he's Bruce's actual kid, well, maybe just someone else for him to be mad at for a little while longer might be good." Tim pauses, and he looks at Dick. "Also, I'm afraid of being by myself just yet." Okay, there's the real business. "Think Alfred would mind teaching me how to take care of myself?"

Nightwing has posed:
Dick nods his head, understanding that he's changed the game a little, but he knows what he was missing growing up with Bruce despite all that the man has given him. In Tim and Damian, Dick see's a chance to change those mistakes, and let the two have a life that he was missing up until recently. "Good, I'd like that, Time. Quite a bit." At the mention of a SHIELD agent, an eyebrow is raised, "Really? Ok. Maybe we can figure something out then. I do agree on the Agents, though, and we have to keep the Rich Boy game face on." A small grin shows that Dick is actually looking forward to this, "But you're smart, and I've got dimples. So I'm sure we'll work it out..." always falling back to humor when he needs. Same Ol' Dick.

Dick watches as Tim takes a drink, figuring the young man is buying his time for what he wants to talk about, "No problem, I've got some chili I'm working on upstairs, we can eat it up when we're done down here." Pursing his lip, Dick finally nods in agreement, "Ok, Tim. You win. I won't do /any/ of the Cop stuff until I talk with Bruce, and after I'm settled with Shiva, fair enough?" That gives Tim another 9ish months to talk Dick out of it. A fair compromise at any angle, and one that makes sense.

"First answer, of course, brother.." Tone full of caring for the young man, "...Happy to pick up some books, and scope out the college girls with you. Might find an interesting distraction." That wink, trying to put Tim at ease, "I'm sure Damian will make your life hell..." a wry grin on his features, before adding "...and in his own way will be happy to not have this place so quiet. I promise I'll stop by more often, ok? I know that'll make a difference too..." whether that means for Damian or Tim, he doesn't say, "and I think Alfred would be happy, and I know I would love to help if you want?"

Red Robin has posed:
    He's beaten around the bush enough. It must be something horrible if he's admitted he's lonely, and afraid to leave and all that other stuff. Tim considers Dick's words carefully. "I would be proud of you if you made it work." he says about the cop stuff, perhaps completely undercutting everything he said. "But I'm always proud of you." He clears his throat, and has made himself completely uncomfortable. Tim is going to be okay. There is a lot of Bruce in him, but there is enough Grayson in him too that he he can express his feelings, even if he is bottled up and compartmentalized. He has a confidants; so long as he has people, Tim Drake will be okay.

    "I'm going to approach Richard Dragon after you are in a training routine. I want to either finish a couple of styles, or have him finish my style. I use my staff too much. It's how I equalize with you. I'm very good with it." He is speaking straight truth. With it, sparring with him is far, far harder and less certain. "I think I should finish some more of my empty hand styles, or maybe finish my own style with some strike training, and some better open-handed blocking. I'm not as athletic as you guys." Tim Drake raises his left hand. "If I was a little better, I will add a few more years to my vigilante time, and that is a few more lives saved before I am too crippled to do it anymore." His eyes are wide open about the risks and the costs.

    "Barbara said she would introduce me to him. Let me know when you feel comfortable with me horning in on your act. Again?" His own grin slowly slides back into place. "It's kinda what I do." He teases his brother.

    He's better. He's a lot better. Getting that off his chest shows a more relaxed Tim Drake. "I'd love some food. I also would love for you to tell me what you are going to do different, because you look like you need about 8 hours of sleep. So, you are not patrolling tonight without one of us with you. Got it? Unless, you want to sit it out tonight. I am pretty beat. Might be able to convince Alfred to sit with us in the lounge and watch some old movie with us?" He's old enough that he knows nights together are getting scarce, but not so old that every once in awhile, a little downtime goes a long ways.

Nightwing has posed:
"Thanks, Tim. That means quite a bit to me, ya know?" and Dick is truly sincere when he says it. He's always thought of Tim and Damian as his little brothers, and having them accept his life choices is important to the older Robin. "Like I said earlier, I've always known you belonged in the Suit, and couldn't be more proud having someone wear it after me, than you." Again, his words are serious in that light hearted way that is totally Grayson. There is a difference between Dick being nice, and Giving a Legitimate Compliment, and today has been Legitimate in regards to Tim.

"I think that's a great idea. I haven't been able to meet him yet, but even if we both talk to him together I'm sure he's capable of helping us both at the same time." Showing there is no concern on his end if Tim reaches the man first, "I know he's selective in his students, so there isn't a chance we would overload him with just the two of us, and I think you should work on a new style /while/ he's finishing yours. Something to be said for having someone of Dragon's caliber build a style with you."

The smell of the chili reaches all the way down here, and a beep starts to go off on Dick's watch, "Sounds like you've got the best timing ever, Tim. Chili should be ready, and I'm starving too." He starts heading for the entrance to the Cave, "and Babs was asking me the same thing. Telling me I'm burning the candle from both ends, and it'll end up with me getting hurt." He grins, hearing it from both of them reminds him how much Family he has here, "I'd be up for some help tonight. Following some crazy murders, and I think we should be looking into it."

Red Robin has posed:
    With his resolve stoked by Dick's sincere words, Tim nods his head. "I could totally eat." Tim agrees, following after Dick as they head up the stairs. "I got too into my workout. That was dumb." He smacks Dick on the back as he hustles to catch up. It is a friendly gesture. He's not so old that he cannot get excited. He really treasures these moments with Dick.

    "Catch me up on these murders. Got photos?" He is already gearing his brain for a puzzle. "I prefer to work my own scenes." Of course he does. He's Bruce all over again. Control. Restraint. Planning for eventualities. "But I trust your insights. You do tight work." It's a real compliment from Tim. "You also have good instincts. I trust you. What murders are we looking at?" He pauses, and smacks Dick on the back again. "Go on up. Let me grab my tablet, so I can get what you have uploaded to Barbara?" He dashes back to get his tablet and then runs to catch back up with his brother as they head on up. He's so excited, he's almost worked up to horseplay.

Nightwing has posed:
"I could tell..." Dick replies with a grin, eyebrow arched as he was down here not too long ago equally flustered but for very different reasons "...I was going to try to get a workout in, but figured spending time with my brother is way more important." Bouncing up the stairs, heading to the kitchen where the smell of chili wafts around, "Spicy too. Can't wait. Alfred may kill me, I made a bit of a mess..."

Arriving in the kitchen it's easy to see that Dick was a Tornado in here, ingredients and utensils everywhere for his chili lunch. "Yeah, so I was telling Babs about it. Mostly mobsters, scumbags, hitmen, Mafia types..." checking the giant pot of chili, and turning the stove off. "...pieces /eaten/ Tim. Like teeth marks, but not Human teeth. Fangs, sharp, but impossibly strong. Chewed through Bone, Muscle, and Sinew all in one." Great topic for chili, "Even crazier, NO DNA samples, nothing to show WHO or WHAT did it. Hair, Blood, Saliva... NOTHING left behind." He shakes his head, really intrigued by it, "Some here in Gotham. Some in New York."

Red Robin has posed:
    Just a little time with Grayson is all it takes to reinvigorate the otherwise worn and wrung out from his work out and his worry. 'It can't be that--." Time emerges from the stairs bounding up behind Dick. "You're a dead man." Poor Tim's left eye actually twitches from the mess. His fingers itch. He slides the tablet onto the table. "Show me." he prompts. "No hair? What sort of bites? Feline? Canine? How wide is the mouth?" Tim doesn't dive for the food. He can't. He could be starving to death, but he'd have to fix the kitchen a bit first. "You... do you have a cleaning service? Or.. do you live like this?" The horror. the -horror-. "Or did you make this mess because you knew I would -have- to clean it up." His eyes narrow, as he feels with ice cold certainty that is what happened.. "I'm taking your Christmas presents back." He says in a mock huff as he starts cleaning. Cans get rinsed and tossed into the recyclables, then he starts to rinse knives and cutting boards to load the dishwasher.

    It is loaded precisely the way Alfred would want it loaded. Precisely.

Oracle has posed:
Barbara has, as always, let herself in. The smell of chili is a new one -- it's not exactly an Alfred specialty. Curious and following her nose, she hits the doorway about the time Dick is talking about .... cannibals?? WTF....? "Should I.... come back later?" the redhead asks in amusement. "Cuz..... eew, Dick. Just eew."

It's very clear that Alfred is nowhere in the Manor -- Dick Grayson would get THE LOOK. Blue eyes take in the train wreck that is the butler's domain, and they widen in alarm. "Oh my God, Dick," she breathes. "He's going to murder you." Setting down the tote bag that is carrying her workout gear (she too was heading for a workout), Barbara starts picking ingredients up off the counter to put away and utensils to hand to Tim to put in the dishwasher.

"He kind of lives like this," she tells Tim, disapproval in her tone. But she also asks Dick, "You know, when you fall asleep telling me these things, next time don't leave out the cannibal part?"

Nightwing has posed:
"What?" looking around the kitchen, Dick frowns a little, "I'm sure the staff will be in before Alfred sees this to clean it up..." some of that confidence wavering, "..right?" He takes a taste, sighs, and starts cleaning up with Tim. Some pranks are funny, but messing with Tim in this way would be savage.

He reaches into his gear that he left in the kitchen, pulling out his Mask, and sending the information on the murders to Tim. Definitely not human, bite marks show something of various size, between a small feline to a large bear in most cases, but the teeth marks are all spiked unlike any known species.

When Babs walks in, the same comment as Tim, he groans "Come on! It'd get cleaned before Alfred saw it!!" he just shakes his head, telling Tim, "Well, it's not /food/ everywhere..." and he mutters 'cause I eat out most of the time' ... and admits "...but I do have clothes everywhere." he shrugs, it's no surprise, most of the time he doesn't remember what time of day it is, let alone whether he should be coming or going.

He grumbles a little, having agreed with Babs, but chuckles, "Hey, /I/ don't think they are cannibals. Mouth print is all wrong, even for someone filing their teeth, and it's too small for Croc... for the most part."

Red Robin has posed:
    His grin is from ear to ear as Barbara walks in. Tim Drake would be wagging his tail if he was a dog. He was happy before, but seeing Barbara improves his already buoy-ed mood. As he works with her to get the kitchen into passable condition, he warns. "Sorry. Hard workout." Yes. He stinks. He's soaked. His hands are taped. Obviously, Tim was performing more striking and blocking drills. He blushes a little as he pulls his headband back to let his hair fall onto his face a little more.

    He gives her a nudge. "He lives like this?" horror has seeped into his voice despite the smile. "And you go to his place? You -are- brave." he teases them both, his tone very much the little brother teasing his older siblings. He's this really complicated person, all sorts of contradictions, but his family, the people who took him in and gave him purpose? the people that held him when his father was taken from him? Who comforted him when he lost his mother before even that? Their presence makes him happy. In some ways the most like Bruce when it comes to some of his darker qualities, Tim is free of the inability to show happiness in the others. He is smart enough which of you did that for him too.

     Oh dear lord. His clothes are everywhere. "Leave a key. I'll come fix your closet." The very idea makes his skin crawl. "You have a gorgeous girlfriend, and you are going to help me meet people. you need to look sharp, Dick." He actually blushes though. Dick thinks he's cool enough to take him places.

Oracle has posed:
Barbara gives Dick the look that just says 'Whatever.' With the three of them picking up, it doesn't honestly take that long to clean up. She gives Tim a quick buss on the cheek and nods with a theatrical roll of her eyes. "He *does* ... but it *is* generally just the clothes. And Alfred sends someone twice a week -- not that he notices."

She takes a rag from the sink to wipe up the worst of the countertop mess and stops in front of Dick long enough to look him in those blue eyes and retort, "Fine... not cannibals, then. But still! You left out the good parts! Get the bowls, Boy Wonder." She doesn't kiss his cheek, perhaps unsure of whether it's the right thing to do, but her tone is teasing and light. She looks happy.

Instead, she wipes down the counters quickly and then plunks her butt into one of the stools that is set at the island just for this reason -- we all tend to find ourselves here WAY more often than in the dining room. "Now ... what's this about no DNA and no traces? Aren't there any security systems in these places?"

Nightwing has posed:
"That's right..." Dick replies to Tim, with a wink to Babs, "...I'm going to be his Wing Man, and introduce him to some nice college girls!" No sarcasm there, even though his back is to Babs as he talks about it. "We're picking up Tim's books this week for college, and then we'll check out the campus a little bit." Of course he'd hang out with Tim, he needs more time with his little brother.

When Babs comes by, he gives her a quick peck on the cheek with a wink before she wonders off to clean. Grabbing the bowls, he dishes up some for each of them, and then brings over the Saltines to put between the three of them. He puts a bowl in front of Babs, then Tim, and finally sits down with his own.

"No traces at all. Cops think someone is cleaning it, but there's evidence of the Mobsters, or victims, but nothing on the attackers." He shakes his head, "So, you wanna see something SUPER creepy..." and he pokes a little bit on Tim's tablet, pulling up security footage. It'll show a room full of mobsters, some kind of storeroom, and then the room goes completely black... not even the Night Vision picks anything up, except for dozens of pairs of glowing eyes that dart about the room. When the lights come back on, body parts and carnage everywhere. Couldn't be more than two or three minutes.

Red Robin has posed:
    If he were a cat, he'd purr. Rather, Tim just looks happy. He settles right in next to Barbara. His hand squeezes her once, and if he catches her eye he gives her a very big, very approving smile. "I'm happy for you both." Tim tells her very quietly, as if he knows what it is like to have someone on your side. He then starts to happily eat, what is to his mouth, the very spicy chili even as Dick shows him any number of gruesome pictures. "This is good chili." He remarks, despite the tablet full of gruesome imagery.
    He tilts his head. "Have we checked exotic pets, zoos, and scientific lab animal thefts?" he asks, looking first at Dick, then at Barbara. He works his mouth from one side to the other, pursing his lips, kind of making a funny face as he thinks. "I bet that we could code a bot to search databases for eyes of those shapes, sizes, colors, and have it come up with a couple of potential matches on the species?" He asks Barbara.

    He swings his gaze back to Dick. "If they were different sizes and types, we could be dealing with multiple varieties of creature, which could be why no match. That, or they have been experimented on."

    He eats a bite, and coughs as he gets a bit of heat. "Don't tell Damian we are working an animal case. he already has quite the menagerie."

Oracle has posed:
Barbara slants Tim a grin, and with everyone sitting finally, she settles in to eat. She's frowning at the screen when Dick shows it to them, absently taking a bite of the chili in the bowl in front of her. "What hunts in packs?" she asks thoughtfully. "The obvious here would be... wolves? What else hunts in packs? We could be looking at a mutant power that can control animals -- that might explain WHY they're different kinds of animals, if they are." she suggests.

It's about all she has for possibilities off the top of her head, though. And it's clear that Dick didn't give her quite enough of the puzzle to intrigue until now, because her blue eyes are taking on that faraway expression that tells both of the guys that her brain is running a million miles an hour.

Nightwing has posed:
"So, Babs, what I didn't get to before passing out..." another mouthful, and a groan of pleasure at the chili. Chewing, swallowing, "Is that the strength of the bites are something that no animal expert has encountered. Bone, Sinew, and Flesh all at once." and he makes a chomping motion on another bite of chili. Ah, morbid jokes of the Bat Family. "And it's not like they find saliva and can't identify it, there is /none/ at all..."

He taps a few more times on the tablet, and brings up the scene of three known mobsters in Gotham, one is tied to a chair, and the other two appear to be part of some interrogation. The pictures shows bolt cutters, blow torch, wire cutters, and a pipe wrench on a table that are bloody. The two torturers are in a bad way, beaten and eaten.

The tied up thug, though, is obviously tortured before he was simply shot in the gut and left for dead. "Again, no DNA except for the mobsters, but this is far less savage... except for the two torturers?!?" Dick's eyes gleam, the mystery is something he loves, "I mean, I don't want some crazy eating people, but they are /all/ criminals... for now." He taps the image of the tortured man, and the info that pops up is that he's part of a Mafia family that runs a majority of New York, "These guys are trying to move into Gotham, but haven't found a foothold yet."

Red Robin has posed:
    "Or could just be pheremones and device that summons rats or bats, like certain people have been known to use." Tim Drake says carefully. "Meta activity is a definite possibility, but where would the creatures come from? Also, eating human bones? Some of them have powerful jaws. Like Hyenas, if we are eating bones."

    He looks up at Dick. "Not Joker's style. Where is Harley?" Hyenas. He taps his spoon in the bowl for a moment. "Let's also work up who has motivation to kill these particular dirtbags? So we can follow the money. This is just mean. It's a bad way to die. Maybe a hired killer making a mark, or someone getting revenge, or both. Let's see what sort of sickos we have in town?" he asks carefully. He's always nervous with these two and making demands. "Because no DNA... that is too clean for an animal act. Barbara might be right. That means we have stuff without DNA. We go any weird lanterns in town? Anybody who can mimic life, but not be alive?" he works his tongue around in his mouth, puzzling over it. "The more I puzzle over it, the more i think we work the victim's enemies. Don't get distracted by this... really amazing MO. Just do the detective work. See who benefits from these dirtbags. Look for greater commonalities. Maybe go rattle Penguin's cage, see if he squawks?" He gives a little nod. "See where the victims were making their money, and see who stands to make more of it now that they are gone. Just work the case." he nods at Nightwing. "Which is what you've been doing?"

Oracle has posed:
Something Tim says brings Barbara's eyes around to him, and her narrow on him thoughtfully. "Uhm.... I wonder," she breathes out. Because something has obviously occurred to her. Glancing between them, she tilts her head. "Look..... I don't know if either of you have run across her on the rooftops, but there's a woman who ... well, she's sort of come back from the dead. Or rather... a few decades ago, she got sucked into some kind of Apokalyptian vortex and has spent a lot of time there and only just been returned to Earth?"

Barbara's eyes seek out Dick's -- he was at her apartment when they met. "She was a detective, long before they let women do that job. But... here's the thing. I have no idea *if* she has powers... but she's kinda the reason that some of the street-level thugs are running about with automatic weapons. They're *scared* of her."

Looking between them, she looks a little worried. "She got in touch with Dad and told him she wanted to help out in the world. But.... she was cagey about her abilities with me when I met her as Barbara. If it *were* her, I don't think it's about who benefits so much as ... vengeance."

Nightwing has posed:
Nodding to Tim, Dick taps the tablet a few more times, "So, when I went to New York to track this down, most of the dead mobsters were enemies or fighting for the same turf as the Franchetti Mafia." He brings up a picture of almost a cliche version of an Italian Mafia Don, even so much as being a little overweight, "Basically he has taken over most of New York over the last, ten some-odd years, and is on track to own all of New York soon."

Another picture pops up, surveillance of a meeting with this Don, the Yakuza, Russians, and Triads, "Seems like he's doing a good job of keeping most of these guys in check, which is pretty impressive in New York. Not sure we've seen something like that since Capone."

Another touch and another picture, a statuesque figure that is tall and broad shoulders, wearing a tailored made White Suit, "Known Enforcer, and right hand to the Don of the Franchetti's. Seems to have a pretty intense reputation amongst the gangland of New York, but checking in on him nothing more than a seriously Bad Dude like the rest of us. Training, but no hint of powers."

He looks up between the two, "I agree, I think it's a meta-human of some sort, but How and Why is interesting. We could track or Squeeze these Franchetti's, but they are kind of out of our jurisdiction... for now."

Red Robin has posed:
    "Well." Tim says, nodding. "First. Good leg work." Because it is. He ponder, and considers the puzzle, again squinching his mouth up as he thinks. "bad dude with a reputation for being a bad dude, huh? Let's just surveil him from all the cameras we can? Once we know where he likes to go and who with, we put up a few more cameras?" he looks over at Barbara. "Because bad dude having powers, and being mysterious? Well people are mysterious when they are poseurs, or because they have secrets. Either way, we should work to eliminate the obvious first."

Oracle has posed:
With that decided, Barbara makes the move to push the tablet out of the way and declare, "No more gross stuff. Let's just enjoy dinner, hmm?" Because honestly? They don't often get this opportunity -- to just be in the same space as one another, enjoy chatter and laughter, and not have to put on masks -- either real or figurative. It's a nice night for a family dinner, though some of the family is busy elsewhere.