4068/Lessons in Biathlon

Lessons in Biathlon
Date of Scene:	14 March 2018
Location:	Wayne Manor, Gotham City
Synopsis:	Mariam learns Bruce Wayne's Secret. Yes. That one. Brain Implosion in 3...2...
Cast of Characters:	Mariam O'Shea, Batman, Oracle

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Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    It has been a stressful day for Mariam O'Shea.
    Upon finding her employer with a bullet wound in his side, events had begun to spiral out of control. There were things that reminded her of a particular figure from her past, one that should have nothing to do with a billionaire playboy. The voice was too familiar when it dipped into that particular timbre. The body language screamed the truth at her even as she refused to listen. Because if she listened, her world had just imploded.
    Then Alfred had spoken to her, explaining how their employer had been training for a biathlon. Skiing and shooting. Thus his accident. Nevermind it was at night. After all, Bruce Wayne was a bit of an eccentric so was that so strange. Perhaps it wouldn't be if not for her encounter with the man himself.
    Mariam had to remove herself from the situation. Then there was no danger of her suspicions coming true. Or something else being the cause. The way her mind was running it could be so many things but it kept coming back to that one.
    She had taken the time to go to her apartment. Work was just ignored. They would ask too many questions. Then she returned here with her bags and gathered the few things she kept in the guest room, adding them to the two bags. The piece of luggage and duffle were left by the front door and she settled the living area to wait.
    There she sat at the end of one of the comfortable couches, her suit immaculate and freshly pressed. She looked the consummate professional. Her hands were folded atop her lap, both feet flat on the floor. Mirrored sunglasses kept her eyes from being visible.

Batman has posed:
    Perhaps she had chosen her place of vigil so she could await the man's arrival, to look for him when he comes in through the front door, somewhere she could listen for the roar of an engine on one of those beautiful foreign sports cars that he often drives around town. Or perhaps the hum of the limousine that at times picks him up when he's off to business meetings.
    But none of that occurs. The mansion is dark and empty the whole time she is there seated on the end of the couch. Perhaps some of the problems that have come about because of her existence could be resolved simply by her departure. There might have been something appealing in allowing her flight. Perhaps to trust on discretion or allow whatever she might offer to the tabloids as nothing but rumour and scuttlebutt. Yet the idea of consigning this woman to such a fate, her only sin being concern for her charge and a desire to do her job... it didn't sit well with Bruce Wayne.
    His darker thoughts argued with him. They whispered in his mind that the mission was all, that any risk was too much of a risk. Even as the Batwing descended on buffeting turbine jets, settling down on its three skids as the cupola opens, the Batman had not decided what to do about her. What course of action was best.
    While he walked along the gantry way, the metallic bridge bouncing with his steps, his eyes were distant with thought. Terror was his tool, intimidating, frightening those who opposed him. He should send her on her way fearful for her life, for her loved ones, so she would never consider betraying any confidence of his.
    But as he removed that cowl and looked into his own blue eyes, once again as if seeking something so far off... he frowned. The mission was all. But as he turned his head to the side slowly the evidence that that was not the case leapt out before him.
    Jason's uniform held in its place of prominence. The first uniform that Robin had worn, joyous like some swashbuckler seeking adventure. The small shrine that Tim had kept for his parents, just before he would go out. He pulled off one gauntlet, then the other and frowned as he placed them back in the armory.
    The elevator rumbled faintly as it carried him up from the bowels of the cave to the facade of the old mansion. The hidden doors in the library whispered open and he stepped out into the hallway. Wearing grey slacks, and a black turtleneck he moves down the hall. The watch upon his wrist is turned up so he can see the small LED display that marks the presence of the woman there in that parlour. He takes the corner and then makes sure his approach is loud enough to be heard. Only after that is so that he stands in the doorway, one hand upon the jam as he looks across the way. "Ms. O'Shea. We need to talk."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Hearing the footsteps, Mariam immediately stood. Better to fight on her feet. Not physically. No, this was going to be something more difficult than mere fisticuffs. That she did with ease. It was a part of her like her red hair or her photophobia. It was what had defined her life in many ways, that ability to take matters into her own hands and deal with them.
    This was so very different. Her life had played out and she had finally found herself in a good place. Certainly things had been tenuous at first here with her charge, since he had been forced to accept a bodyguard until the wheels of corporation could be turned and change that decision. In the end, they had come to an understanding when he shared his secret.
    A secret. Not the only one.
    When he entered, she stood there proudly, turning so that she faced him. Her legs were slightly apart, balance just so. Those little indicators that could be read so well by one such as he. If there were to be a fight, she was ready. "Funny, I was going to say the same thing," she replied in a neutral tone.

Batman has posed:
    For a time he stands there looking at her, his right hand in his pocket and the left on that doorway, his blue eyes finding her gaze despite those shades hiding her irises. He looks down as his brow furrows, the eye line breaking as he shifts his weight to the other foot. There is no way to speak on this, or to solve this easily. She seems ready to depart, that luggage noted as he considers then looks back up at her.
    But as his hand remains in his pocket he finds the copy of the original portable drive he gave to Tony Stark sitting there in his pocket. He'd taken it with him... at some point this evening. There's a brief moment of haze to his features as he ponders that. Then, as if on a whim, he draws it from his pocket and tosses it to her for her to catch.
    "That's evidence." He says simply, then he goes on. "Video imaging from when I was shot last night. Stockton Technologies is working on a Hadron Collider in the basement facilities under their corporate headquarters."
    He steps back out of the doorway and gestures for her to follow him if she would even as he moves into the hallway. His back is to her for a moment though he turns his head to tell her. "They've been trying to miniaturize the technology. Apparently they stole one of Tony Stark's designs for an ARC reactor to try and bridge the research gap."
    And if she comes with him... he starts to walk down the hall.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    She'd been rehearsing what she was going to say for a couple of hours as she sat there. She had it all in line and prepared. 'We need to talk.' 'I feel it is best for all parties involved if I tender my resignation and move on.' 'I hear Metropolis is nice. That had all been part of it.
    As he tosses that drive, she automatically snatched it from the air. She didn't look at it, instead keeping her eyes on him. His explanation had all the wind leaving her sails and she found the confusion that she had worked so hard to get under control coming back. The furrow in her brow showed it.
    Corporate espionage? Stolen tech from another company used for...something. Why try to miniaturize such technology? And why he was he even telling her this?
    As he turned back to her from the hallway, she frowned and shook her head. "I don't understand."
    Then she took those fateful steps and followed him into the hallway. Maybe there was an explanation for some of it! "You had gone for a meeting and learned this? Did they try to eliminate you?" Grasping at that like a swimmer caught in a ripcurrent would clutch at a life preserver.

Batman has posed:
    The temptation towards subterfuge is strong, though any prevarication could easily be found out with research... research that she likely would do. He shakes his head and continues down the hallway, moving towards that library with the door still partially ajar. As he walks he tells her, "They were performing a test run. And some men were hired to make sure it didn't happen, as well as to steal the technology."
    It's into the library that he walks, footsteps quiet as he moves past one of the conversation nooks and its dimly lit lamps, moving further into the library. He looks back towards her and says, "One of those men, Floyd Lawton, was the one that shot me. He goes by the name of Deadshot. I was fortunate."
    His stride stops in front of the old grandfather clock that is taller than the man himself. He pulls open the cabinet and brings his fingertips to the face of that clock, turning the hands of it until it reads 10:48, and once it hits that time...
    The clock immediately stops moving with a only a faint click that is heard coming from it. Behind it, in its alcove, the brick wall slides to the side with the grinding of stone upon stone, revealing a small room.
    Or an elevator.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Deadshot. Having run with the costumed crowd, Mariam actually knows a lot of them by name. Even if she never worked with them, their reputations often preceeded them. That is one she has heard of but never met. He didn't have hench men and women. Thus, there had never been a reason for her to be in his employ.. He was reputed to be one of the best marksmen on the planet.
    So if he wanted to kill Bruce Wayne, how did he get shot in the side and not the head? It didn't add up.
    Still trailing in his wake, she glances around the library then back to the man as he opens the clock. Moves the hands. Stops time. At least, it seems to do so for her.
    As the wall opens, her breath catches in her throat and there is no more oxygen in the room for her to draw upon. Her eyes are wide behind her glasses. "No..." A whisper of sound on an outgoing puff of air but no more will go into her body as she takes a step backwards.
    Time suddenly catches up and noise returns but she is shaking her head. "I...I quit. I resign. You can tell the board...whatever you want. I won't say anything. I'm no snitch. Please." She has an idea of what secret might be inside that room or elevator and she isn't prepared for this.

Batman has posed:
    "I'm not going to hurt you, O'Shea." Comes that low rumble as he looks at her, his tone of voice sharp. Not quite that sonorous pleasant thing of Bruce Wayne, but not as severe as she may have heard in the past. "When we first met I knew there was more to you than some two bit thug busting humps for their coin, and doing what her bosses told her." He steps into that room and then turns to face her from the back of it. "I also knew you lived by a code. One you wouldn't break."
    His brow furrows as he looks at her and he gestures to the side, "I need your help. But right now. What I need from you..." He folds his arms over his chest and shifts his weight to the side. "Is to trust me."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Her stomach drops into her shoes. Oh God, this couldn't be happening.
    It was true. Her suspicions. Her fears.
    Drawing a deep breath, she tried to slow her heart and found every bit of the Dragon's training had fled from her. The organ refused to obey, would not slow from that thunderous pace that had her blood roaring through her ears. The fight or flight was making her limbs almost shake as she fought.
    He had never hurt her. There had been almost a grudging respect when he had taken her into custody. Even after prison, he had helped to keep her on the straight and narrow when the temptation to stray had been there in the dark of night. It may have been with fear but it had worked.
    She closed her eyes a moment, taking a shuddering breath before opening them again. Then she stepped into the elevator, wrapping her arms around her torso tightly once inside as though trying to hold herself together.

Batman has posed:
    The doors slide closed behind Mariam and the room shifts darker for a moment before the lights within resume. The elevator hums faintly as it descends, the glass walls show nothing but rock and earth as the enclosure steadily lowers. The letter and number L1 is visible on one side of the shaft as it lifts upwards steadily while they drop down and down...
    Until abruptly the wall behind the tall man and the ones on either side of him open up in view, a sudden sweeping landscape of a tremendously large cave beneath the haven of Wayne Manor. She'll be able to see the docks far below where two black boats are docked. She'll see the elaborate gantry-work lining the walls like scaffolding, granting access to a platform of what seems like a series of electronics with almost hundreds of computer monitors connected to it.
    One way she'll see a razor sharp jet with wickedly curved wings propped upwards, ready to leap forth like some demon possessed. There's a wide turntable that has on it a black heavy vehicle that is entirely too malevolent looking to be just a car. And still, slowly, steadily, that elevator descends until it opens up...
    And standing there in its place of prominence in its glass case is the uniform of the man that brought her to justice, embracing the mannequin that grants it form even as its counterparts line either of its sides.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Down the rabbit hole.
    The ride seems to take hours. Maybe years. She watches the passage of the stone through the glass. A stray thought about glass elevators exploding out of the tops of buildings goes through her head in some giddy delusion as her sanity begins to slip. It has to have gone. This can't be real.
    That thought is reinforced when the stone gives way to the enormous cave filled. She takes a step forward, head turning left then right, taking in each of the vehicles as her heart hammers ever faster, ever louder. Each vehicle is looked at longer than the last, eyes locked on the Batmobile until the moment that the elevator comes to a stop at their destination.
    The door opens and Mariam takes rapid steps backwards until the back of the elevator car brings her to an abrupt stop. She stares at the costume of the Batman. It's familiar, moreso than other people who still think him an urban myth. She's seen it up close. She's even fought against him. Beside him once. She turns her head, looking at the man in the elevator that had been one thing but has now become another. Now she understands the mask he wore, the role he plays as Bruce Wayne. He had even told her. She just hadn't taken it far enough, hadn't realized that it was never so simple as what he had told her initially.
    Mariam O'Shea was many things but coward was not one of them. As much as she wanted to run screaming, she refused. As light headed as she felt, she would not let him see that weakness in her. Forcing her shoulders back and chin up, she stood ramrod straight and stepped out of the elevator into this new world.

Batman has posed:
    As she lets the reality of the matter wash over her, he's turned his head to the side, allowing his eyes to fall somewhat towards the ground. The tendons in his jaw are stiff for an instant, then he looks up and steps past her. When he speaks to her it's with his back towards her, at least for now. "When my parents were murdered..." His voice is that harsh rumble, but not quite the utter anger that is in the Bat's voice, but not Bruce Wayne either. "I swore I would do everything in my power so no one else would have to suffer that fate."
    He lifts a hand from his pocket and gestures to the cave, to everything within it. "I don't expect you to do anything beyond your previous obligations. And if you still want to run I won't stop you."
    He turns then and meets her gaze, blue eyes hard as he considers her with that stern visage. "The only thing I will ask of you is that you keep this faith. So I can offer people a better chance than my parents had. And a chance like the one I gave you."

Oracle has posed:
When the elevator comes down, the redhead sitting at the main computer console is typing furiously. One of the younger bats must be out -- the screens she's begun calling Overwatch are live and whichever of the youngers is out there, she's watching through their lenses as the police begin wrapping up at ground level. The person watching is high up and suddenly the screen goes topsy-turvy as the person launches out on a line, the flight caught through those lenses. "Acknowledged, Nightwing." Her tone is all business, and then it softens. "Tell Dragon I'll be in for a lesson in about two hours." Whatever comes through her earbud makes Barbara Gordon give a warm chuckle. "Behave, Shortpants. Or I'll make you sleep in Bludhaven." She pushes back out of the chair, turning toward the entering man, "Bruce--"

Who's he talking to? What the hell??? Then her blue eyes go wide. Commissioner Gordon's daughter is caught almost entirely kitted out for hitting town, all but her gauntlets and cowl in place. "You're .... oh boy."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Things make sense in that moment. The reason behind it. Why the Batman does what he does, something that has always been wondered about. Many suspected there was a demon nipping at his heels, if he wasn't just one himself. Now she knew what the demon was.
    His words drive that home as he points out the chance she had been given.
    From the day that she turned on her employer and helped send him to jail, fighting alongside this man. To being released from prison thanks to Wayne Enterprises. Batman keeping her in line. Getting a job with his company. Working up the ranks.
    He is why she had the life she was so happy with. "I would never betray you." Then she lets her words slip into jargon that was more fitting with the woman she once was. "I'm no snitch."
    Hearing the voice of a woman behind her, she can't help but look that way and she almost falls over again. "Barbara?" Her gaze flicks to the computer array where she can follow the flight of someone through the air through cameras they are wearing. Nightwing, she had said. She looks back at Barbara as she takes in the costume the woman is wearing. Batgirl. One of the two. This was the one that was first seen on the streets of Gotham. Yes, being a former villain gave her that much information at least. But to see the police commissioner's daughter there, in that costume. No wonder she fought so well when they sparred.

Batman has posed:
    For a time, after she speaks, Bruce watches her closely. His dark blue eyes leveled upon those mirrored lenses she wears as he gauges and weighs the words she offers. A moment passes, another, then he gives a single solemn nod. He turns away from her and starts walking into the batcave proper, towards Barbara and the elaborate computer console that she had been operating but moments ago.
    At Batgirl's gaze his answer is simply to quirk an eyebrow but to offer no further words. Instead he says perhaps to them both, "I believe you can understand now the recent difficulty." He rests a hand on the edge of the computer console, then looks back towards Mariam. "Put your time in, do what you can, and if in the next few months when your charge is over, then you can go and you can leave this behind you."

Oracle has posed:
Blowing out a slow breath, Barbara shoves a hand through her copper curls. "Well.... looks like I'm not going out tonight after all." She touches the commlink that's still in her ear. "Nightwing... cancel that class for me. Dad's home." As she starts unbuckling her utility belt. "Well, now.... nice of you to bring houseguests. Is Alfred bringing tea? I think we're going to need it."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Quick math is done in her head. Two months. There are only two months left on her assignment if all goes as Mr. Wayne plans. Now that she knows who he is, Mariam is quite sure everything goes as he plans. Always.
    Maybe not the getting shot. It explains why he isn't dead though. Bruce Wayne would be. Batman would be able to take the shot, stitch himself up and stubbornly do whatever else he had done that day. Then come turn her world upside down on top of it because why not.
    She can make it two months. Then she thinks it is probably for the best she take that offer. She could go now. He had offered that. Yet, to do so would have the board assigning him a new bodyguard. He would have to do as he had with her, slipping the watch over and over to don that costume. It would be simpler if she stayed. If she continued to cover for him. It was a small price to pay after what he'd done for her. Maybe it would pay back a small portion of that in some way.
    She looks back over to Barbara, brow furrowing. "Why aren't you going out? You're needed, I'm sure." And just like that, Mariam has switched gears since her mind is made up.

Batman has posed:
    It's Batman that answers Mariam's question, at least initially, as he turns back to the tall redhead in the costume. He meets her gaze evenly as he says, "If you have the time, bring her up to speed." He looks over his shoulder at Mariam, then back towards Barbara and says. "I need to follow up with Stark, and then I'm going to make another call on Stockton Technologies. I feel like we may have missed something there."
    And, at least for him, as quick as that it's back to the task at hand. To the mission. He starts to move away towards the lockers to change, but he pauses as he looks towards Mariam. His brow knits, then he tells her. "You don't give yourself enough credit. O'Shea. There is nothing wrong with the course in your life you've chosen. But you could be much more."
    And with that, he starts to walk away along that gantry way, the metal clanking with his steps and bouncing a bit with each stride. He's already pulling off the turtleneck sweater over his shoulders and unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt.

Oracle has posed:
Shaking her head on a soft huff of laughter, Barbara might be //thinking// 'NOT MY CIRCUS, NOT MY MONKEYS' but well.... it //is// her circus. These //are// her monkeys. And goddamn it, Bruce //always does that!!//

"It's a standard patrol -- he doesn't need my boots out there. Besides, I can do my tour from Overwatch and work on Stockton's books while he goes and scouts out the offices." She glances after Bruce's retreating form and just smiles faintly. When she looks back at the bodyguard, she asks, "Come on... I'll give you the mini-tour on the way to the locker room, okay? Alfred makes a fantastic evening tea tray, and I'll do my best to ... holy God, get you up to speed, which is something of a lie in and of itself, since no one in here is ever entirely up to speed but him." And Barbara, /usually/, but she'll leave that aside.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Tracking Bruce's departure, those parting words resonate in Mariam's mind. Something to think about later when she is home, curled up under the blankets, wondering if this was all just a bad dream.
    Or a good one.
    As Barbara speaks, she tears her gaze from the back of Bruce and focuses on the redhead at her side. She falls into step automatically with the tall women, trying not to think too much about the fact she is Batgirl. She tries to compartmentalize her into the woman she knew but now she wonders if she ever really knew her at all. Or was she like Mr. Wayne and was completely different from what she showed the outside world.
    "Stockton?" She pulls the drive out of her pccket, the one Bruce had thrown her upstairs. "He said this was footage from last night." Then she realizes that she's being silly. "I'm sure you already have it." Considering what she saw on those screens a moment ago.

Oracle has posed:
As they head into the locker room, Barbara's demeanor remains calm... perhaps because Mariam's had enough shocks. "I do have it, yes," she tells the other gently. Once in the locker room, she strips down quickly -- a tanktop and yoga pants beneath the body armor saves it from being an awkward kind of stripping in front of a stranger.

"I'm sure you have about 500 //million// questions. I sure did when I first found things out. I know you've got to be on overload, though. Sometimes it helps if you just start spewing out words and let it process out loud?" She's the person who's not going to let Mariam's poor brain explode.

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Not watching as the other woman changed, Mariam is looking around the room curiously. Not large. A few lockers. She's only known of three women in the costumes of the Bat but there seem to be more lockers. Perhaps others have them as well? Or is it co-ed? She finds herself ticking through what she knows about Batman's crew from her past. There was Nightwing. Already established he was in the field at the moment by the oomputer array and Barbara's words. There were the two Robins, although the large one had come about after she had gone to prison. She wondered which of them was the one she'd faced back in the days when she worked for Baby Doll.
    "I don't even know where to begin. Earlier this morning, when I found him after he'd stitched himself up, badly I might add, his voice had triggered some things for me. I was trying to deny them, to make it be anything but that. He's...been guiding my life for a while now," she admits as she crosses her arms.
    "How did you end up here?" is the question she settles on first.

Oracle has posed:
That brings Barbara's head around. //Stitched himself up? Again?// Damn it... he could have just had her do it. Or even go to Doc! Jesus, that man. She sighs quietly as she's asked that question. "It all starts with a young girl who wanted to be a hero like Batman," she admits. "I was stubborn enough to /make/ him let me in, I guess? And it ends with a family of people who just want to do the right thing in the places where the law has its hands tied?" Sort of a question. "C'mon.... it's kind of a long story. But I'll tell you while I keep my ears on the boys."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    Falling into step again with the other woman, Mariam finds herself staring at the vast array of vehicles on display as they move along the gantry back toward the computer array. "Nightwing and the Robins," she murmurs, more to herself than to Barbara, even though it was outloud. The surreal aspect of this isn't lost on Mariam. Who would ever have thought all this was here? Perhaps that is why Batman is so feared, since he is able to be a different person from one moment to the next. Or the toys. He did always cheat. She found herself smiling softly at the thought, remembering his use of gadgetry taking her down so long ago.
    She glances back over to Barbara though, forcing herself to stop staring at the machines. As they approach the computer though, her eyes go to the many screens. "Whoa."

Oracle has posed:
"Yeah...." Barbara grins. "It's kinda overwhelming, right?" She picks up the phone on the computer table and asks, "Alfred -- I'm going to be staying in this evening. Would you mind terribly bringing some tea and sandwiches?" She's smiling when she sets the phone down. Moving to resume the seat that she'd been sitting in just before they arrived, she gestures Mariam to take any seat around the array she wants. "Give me just a second, okay?"

Pivoting to the vast screens, Barbara types quickly and those screens split into a multitude of views. Some are satellite, some are street-level, one screen holds a split-screen view from each uniform's HUD. Once she's settled she turns back to face Mariam without looking at the screens again. They'll be there if she needs them.

"What about the Robins and Nightwing? Who, by the way, was actually the first Robin." She grins. "Hence why I occasionally call him Shortpants."

Mariam O'Shea has posed:
    "Oh, nothing specifically. Just musing to myself. I had wondered about that though. As time passed, the fact there was still a Robin. They all have the dark hair though so it wasn't really obvious. Minor changes in the costumes, such as getting rid of the shortpants." She grins a little bit at that and shakes her head. "So I'm guessing that the Red Robin was a former Robin in between the two?"
    She looks at all the arrays, too much data to really comprehend but she flicks her attention from one to the next. Finally she stays on those HUD displays, watching as whoever is behind those cameras goes through their nightly routines. "This is all amazing to see. The sheer amount of data." She points to a screen. "Satellites? You have satellites." She starts to put an arm on the console then quickly rethinks that, leaning back in her seat and folding her hands together in her lap in fear that she might touch something she shouldn't.
    "I won't ask who anyone is although knowing the family...yeah." She can kind of piece things together a little. "I'm sorry we surprised you." Why was she apologizing? She's the one that got sort of dragged down here. Okay, she got into the elevator on her own but still.

Oracle has posed:
There's a slow nod. "Yes, but there've actually been //three// others -- one is not ... around here. Not anymore, anyway." Turning to watch Mariam, Barbara chuckles as she goggles at the tech. "Well... Wayne Enterprises has a lot of things that I can tap into when I need information. But yes.... satellites." She shrugs a little. "I also once in a while send intel to the other caped agencies." Which is definitely a euphemism, but she doesn't know what else to call them. There a gentle smile. "I sincerely doubt you're going to have any trouble knowing who's who as soon as you see them again," the redhead points out. "Anyone who lives in this house knows what's down here."

Leaning forward, Barbara is honest with her. "I'm not sorry. There aren't very many people who //do// know, so talking to someone who's //not// a guy about the kinds of things I deal with... will be //really// nice," she laughs. "As to the surprise? Honestly, the bigger surprise is that he's choosing to let you in. It's rare thing, indeed, Mariam. There are only a handful of people in the WORLD who know what you now know. And most of them have been Robin at some point. Don't be sorry... be proud. He trusts you. And that is not something he does lightly. Ever."