9864/Knightfall: The Name

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Knightfall: The Name
Date of Scene: 01 November 2019
Location: Batcave - Wayne Manor
Synopsis: Dick and Jason learn the true meaning of Knightfall.
Cast of Characters: Nightwing, Red Hood, Batman
Tinyplot: Knightfall


Nightwing has posed:
The Armory.

Dick Grayson does have to go there. It's crouched in the back of his mind like a hungry panther. And the crouch has gotten uncomfortable. It's curiosity, but more than that, it's dread. Avoiding a truth, staying in denial.

But Dick can't leave the case unsolved. Or more, he can't ignore what Bruce asked him to do. He was always going to do it, it was just a question of when.

When did it feel right, and when did he have the inner stamina, the emotional bandwidth, to handle what might happen? He's an intelligent man, and the longer he puts it off, the more scenarios he's thought of.

So enough is enough: he goes to the armory. He goes in plain clothes. He is Nightwing as well, but of all of the Bats, perhaps Dick is the most grounded. In life. In light. And so he comes to the armory in jeans, a black tee, and a blue-striped athletic windbreaker. His path is weirdly quiet and somber, as he keys in access to the armory and looks inside, as if there were something of weight in there.

Red Hood has posed:
Jason's at the Batcomputer when Dick comes down to the Cave on course for the armory, looking up from his research on military grade herbicides, he can tell at once something was up, and his greeting of 'Hey Princess, what happened to getting your beauty sleep' dies on his lips.

Instead, Jason doesn't say anything, just gets to his feet and follows, stretching out the stiffness from sitting so long at the computer in uniform. His helmet's off, the domino mask too, just body armour, fatigue pants and a the ever present leather jacket. His combat boots barely make a noise as he pads along a short distance behind Dick.

Batman has posed:
It was an almost infuriating reality of Bruce Wayne that he planned for every contingency. Often, it seemed as though nothing surprised him or that he could somehow understand what someone was going to do next before they did. Years of experience and tireless night spent stepping methodically from one possibility to the next had given him the ability to prepare in ways that almost bordered on precognition.

This was one of those times.

The Armory itself stands predominantly as a testament to this sense of preparation. All manner of batsuits, in a myriad of designs - Bruce was on version 7.43 of the primary, unspecialized suit he called his 'uniform' - are suspended in sealed containers. Some are damaged, others never worn. There are other uniforms as well, even for those who do not typically call the Batcave home such as the Red Hood and even Nightwing himself.

Always prepared. Always ready.

Nightwing has posed:
Dick pauses as Jason falls in behind him, actually stopping. He turns his head partially back, but doesn't turn enough to actually see Jason: just enough to expose some of the profile of his face to the younger man, his younger brother. He seemed about ready to greet him, but instead gives information.

"He's ...instructed me to come, and say my name," Dick says. Fingers move against his thumb on that side, as if in a memory of something held there, but finding his hand empty. He looks around, and then starts to head deeper into the armory's center.

Red Hood has posed:
When Dick turns, Jason greets his brother, and in this solemn moment they were brothers, with a nod.

"Well, best say it, wouldn't want to upset daddy," Jason says reflexively before flinching and holding up a hand says, "Sorry, force of habit. You do you."

He cracks his neck as he walks forward behind Dick, deviating for a moment to give a cursory inspection of one of the Red Hood suits, fingers brushing the leather of the jacket. It was an exact replica. "What an asshole," he mutters shaking his head before moving on to catch up with Dick.

Even in a moment like this one, Jason really couldn't help himself.

Batman has posed:
The Armory itself is more than a room. Like much of the Batcave, it has been wired with security measures of the highest order - schematics pilfered from the Wayne Research Institute's most advanced programs and improved upon by Bruce's own focused, unrelenting genius. As Dick steps into the wide, stainless steel and sterile circular expanse the room itself almost seems to take notice of him.

There is no chirrup, no pleasant voice welcoming him. None of that was the Batman's style. Instead, a simple and unobtrusive blue light lights up in a fixture built into the ceiling. A moment later, a web of blue light - a grid - traces each contour of the elder Robin's body. Then, the light disappears as quickly as it came, and the Armory seems to actually wait in a sort of anticipatory silence.

If the room notices Jason, the sensors pay him no regard. Though his touch upon the case containing the replica of his own uniform causes it to light up, a projected light display on the glass reading 'ACCESS?' with a green circle and a red one alongside it. But when his hand leaves the glass, the case itself once more goes dark and dormant.

Nightwing has posed:
Dick lifts his hand, palm open, in a clear gesture: the gesture reads that Jason's snarl was fine. Dick isn't bothered by it at all, it says. Jason's brief need to let off steam didn't bother him: or perhaps the apology was accepted.

But then Dick has reached the center, and the strange, grid-like scanning began. Dick stopped fully, alert, looking up and around at the tech: scanning it as it scans him, in a way. The armory and Dick are sizing each other up.

"Have you ever seen it do that?" Dick asks, after the light disappears, automatically checking down over himself, as if to be sure all his body parts were still there, and his attire didn't get lasered away.

Dick then clears his throat, and makes the obvious declaration:

        "Nightwing."

Red Hood has posed:
For a moment Jason considers putting his finger to that green circle and pop the glass of the case for a closer look at the replica, but he wasn't here for him, so he turns and makes his way back to Dick, giving a nod for his acceptance of the little outburst. Normally he wouldn't care, but there was something about tonight that made him not want to step on Dick's moment.

Jason's brows raise at the light show watching it scan every inch of Mr. Perfect's body, he rolls his eyes as if digusted by the fact even the computer was checking Dick out, but keeps any snark that may have come to mind firmly inside.

The question though has him shaking his head. "No," he answers, honestly. "You know, Bruce though, always adding things, always planning."

That didn't do much to abate the slight chill he felt about the whole process, that little tingle of anticipation and dread as Dick said his name. Jason's eyes turned towards the source of the light now gone dark.

Batman has posed:
When the name is spoken, the response from the Armory is immediate. As the last syllable leaves Dick's mouth, the small diode in the scanning fixture blinks red and a brief, negative buzz sounds. Nothing else happens. The grid does not scan him again, the room provides no hint as to what should be done next.

Evidently, that was the wrong answer to whatever silent question the security system is asking.

Nightwing has posed:
"Yes, I know. Maybe if I'd come back more often, I'd have seen these upgrades," Dick comments. It's to himself, an admonishment over his own failure. The perfectionism about that, and also about his apparent inability to say his own name properly.

        "Nightwing."

Dick folds his arms over his chest, as if giving the equipment a frustrated look would help. It does, however, dissolve the nerves, at least. He didn't expect this. A look moves back to Jason: perhaps a shared little frustrated look. Dick wouldn't say 'what an asshole', but still. What magical answer is Bruce wanting? Something out of the past?

        "Robin."

Red Hood has posed:
That... was not what Jason expected, not with his talk with Bruce on about the use of codenames and real names. That Nightwing wasn't the right answer spoke volumes of Bruce's intent.

Expecting Dick, could read those volumes as well he could, Jason doesn't remark, letting him work it out on his own. Though, when the second Nightwing fails, Jason can't help but fall back on humour. "Maybe it's Princess, or Twinkletoes," he suggests helpfully. "They did always fit you better."

Batman has posed:
Another buzz, another red light. Then again when Dick tries 'Robin'. The Armory remains unresponsive besides those vague alerts - flashes of a red light. Outside, distant screeching echoes against the vaulted stone ceiling as the Cave's native colony of brown bats take flight in search of prey.

Nightwing has posed:
"Or this is not about the cowls and capes," Dick replies, working it out aloud. He looks around at the tech. "While I understand that's how /you/ see me, let's stick to Bruce's viewpoint, since this is his mystery," Dick asides to Jason, with a slight frustrated edge. It's only because he's working on the puzzle, though: it isn't really aimed at Jason. Well, it is, since Jason is not being helpful.

Confident now, though, he adjusts his stance just a little bit, shoulders back, a ripple through his upper back musculature even and smooth. Which, in a way, is opposite to the name use: that Dick would take on a stronger superhero pose now, instead of before. "Or how I need to see myself."

        "Richard Grayson."

Red Hood has posed:
The frustrated edge in Dick's voice sparks the tension of restrained action across Jason's frame as he fights the urge to snap back and get in Dick's face.

"Then solve it Boy Wonder," Jason says turning to pace a little. "You already know what the answer is, just have to get past whatever bullshit in your head is stopping you from getting there." Though said with some heat they are meant as words of encouragement.

Even Jason could see, it was eaiser to work through the problem when you were sitting in the stands than it was when you were standing in the ring, there was no pressure, no real feelings of any kind in the way of Jason's thinking, but he doubted the same was true for Dick right now.

There's a sliver of a smile on Jason's lips when Dick gets there, the second Robin's eyes lifting to look at the diode.

Batman has posed:
Again, there is nothing.

Even the distant chitter of the bats fades away into nothing as they vanish out into the gloaming There are no sounds save for the conversation between the two men - both from the same place yet divided by a gulf of difference. Deontological and utilitarian. Black and white. Yin and yang.

No sound, that is, save for the negative buzz that follows the brief and baleful flash of the red light. Wrong answer.

Nightwing has posed:
Dick lowers his gaze down to the floor directly in front of him, and allows his arms to unfold. It is almost a stance of standing prayer, as Dick goes through the clues silently in his head.

With a slow pan, Dick takes in the array of costumes, the history around them, and the newer models of suits. Different Batman suits, different allies/'sidekicks', all of it. He leaves his hands loose at his sides, while he deduces through this.

After a pause, Dick turns his eyes up to one of the scanners that had scanned over his body. The angle of his head has a pressure behind it, as if he were slowly applying an awl as he tilted his head: boring an invisible hole into the computer with his gaze alone, hard and focused under the loose black hair swept across his eyebrows.

Abruptly Dick looks down again, and lifts one hand to press the fingers against his now closed eyes. It is an expression of realization: and perhaps defeat, in a way. He brushes the fingers down from his closed eyes, opening them to send a quiet look at Jason-- for support? Something else? Something bleak? -- before he drops the hand from his clean-shaven jawline.

Dick nods a few times. This has to be it. It was the 'other' obvious answer, from what Bruce said from his bed. Still, Dick avoided it, because if it was true, it wasn't what he wanted. But Bruce had also said it wasn't about what Dick wanted.

For the family, then.

        "Batman."

Red Hood has posed:
Jason had been /certain/ he'd worked it out from the start, that if it wasn't Nightwing it had to be Richard Grayson, so when the diode flashes red, Jason's face falls in surprise and confusion, breathing: "Son of a bitch." A curse aimed at himself and the problem rather than Dick or even Bruce.

This is where Dick leaves him behind, his own mind lost down paths of his own preconceptions.

Though when Dick says 'Batman' Jason sighs as if to say 'really Bruce?' as his eyes return to the diode.

Batman has posed:
The change in the Armory's atmosphere is instantaneous. The fixture in the ceiling blinks an affirmative green, and the transparent cases that hold the suits recede into the walls. They fold in neatly against one another, leaving no space between them as they create a smooth wall of plexiglass to surround the pair.

The light projects a readout onto the glass, lines of code scrolling until they pause and more intelligible words appear - projected in a way that makes them seem almost suspended in the air.

Identity confirmed ...

... working ...

Protocol: Knightfall. Confirm?

... working ...

Confirmed.

There is a loud hiss as a pneumatic lock is released. The stainless-steel floor in the center of the floor slowly recedes, allowing enough time to step off and out of the way. A plume of pressurized air rises from below, shrouding the glass case as it rises into view.

Contained within is a Batsuit. There is no doubt of this, save that it has been manufactured to fit Dick's more graceful physique. The design is not a great departure from Bruce's own, though certain liberties have been taken to make it distinct - something the Dark Knight has not worn before, but quite possibly could have. A design both familiar and alien all at once.

A baptism of shadow.

The mantle of a new Bat.