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Post by Batman on Oct 11, 2012 21:16:38 GMT -6
The idea of underground fighting had never really appealed to Dick. Then again he had never been a huge fan of criminal activity anyway. That’s why he was in this pit in the first place. It just so happened that his brief years of travel around the world had exposed him to people who fought for different reasons. Some fought for the thrill, some fought for bloodlust and some fought for money. Occasionally you had someone fighting for a noble reason but this wasn’t the case in Gotham City. In Gotham City you had people tripping over themselves in desperate attempts for fame and recognition. That’s why so many were experimenting with steroids in the first place. Gotham City spent so much time placing a false sense of pride in the wrong things. This was why they were in this fighting ring right now. This was why men were taking drugs that were literally crushing them from the inside out.
Needless to say the time for philosophy wasn’t necessary here so instead Dick decided to respond to Tim’s jab about his serious nature. “Seriously? Since when do I take things seriously?” An impish grin crossed Dick’s face as he jumped from his bike and charged the first fighter. It was true to an extent that Dick wasn’t a serious individual. His mannerisms weren’t serious and half the things that came out of his mouth were jokes. He was a performer at heart. He was emotionally and mentally built to act as if he wasn’t scared or afraid. His way of manifesting such false bravado was through his mouth and his tendency to rush into situations head first. If he handled things the way Bruce did then he’d be a different person. When it came down to it he was as serious as Bruce could ever be. He just couldn’t let his dedication to his job rule his personality. This had happened before and it always turned out for the worst.
“Do me a favor. When I hit you go ahead and stay down. You might live longer.” Dick stepped up to the man and struck him in the gut with his right fist. The man’s abs were rock solid but the padding on Dick’s knuckles managed to protect him from any pain. The feeling of his fist sinking into the man’s gut only told him how unhealthy the fighter was. He was lucky he was getting his ass kicked by Batman. Even if he wasn’t going to be feeling too great for a few days. Dick finished off the attack with a neat roundhouse kick that drove the man to the ground. As the vigilante turned around he noted two men slightly smaller than the one he had just knocked out. They were still massive but not quite as big as his first opponent. From the looks of it they weren’t quite as sick as their friend but they could always use a trip to the hospital too. “You people never learn.” Dick muttered as he rushed forward.
He took down the two of them with complete and utter ease and during the chaos of the fight he noted a scrawny man high up in the bleachers. He was running away as fast as he could. Dick tightened the hold of the man he had currently put in a headlock. He was cursing at the top of his lungs and was doing his best to hit Dick with his flailing fists. Unfortunately his restricted blood flow made this somewhat difficult. “Hold that thought.” Dick threw the man to the ground before he raised his grapple gun. He fired it at the surrounding bleachers and in a matter of moments was flying through the air. Bleise didn’t seem him until Dick drove his boots into the man’s side and pinned him to the ground. Dick grabbed the man with his left arm and put him in a submission hold before he began to drag him back down to the baseball field, one step at a time. “You want to see the harm you’ve been causing?” He questioned as the majority of the spectators began to clear out of the field, leaving Tim to fight a select few men who had chosen to stay. He was betting that at least one or two of the junkies were seizing right now and he wanted Bleise to see the damage he had caused. There was nothing a businessman hated more than seeing his product fail right in front of him.
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Post by Red Robin on Oct 16, 2012 13:58:34 GMT -6
Okay, that was pretty true. "Sorry, bad choice in words," Tim chuckled. "Over the top, then? You do that plenty." Dick was a born showman and everything he did fell in line with that. Even as Batman, who was supposed to be a creature of the shadows, he had managed to work in an element of pizzazz previously unheard of. Go figure. Tim threw his hands up to catch a swift kick coming toward his face. These people were more knowledgeable about martial arts than most of the opponents he faced on the streets, either from participating in the matches or just picking up on a few things from watching, but they were still nothing to be impressed by. Training at some gym downtown wasn't really the same as going around the world and training with the best martial artists the planet had to offer. Tim twisted the leg of the young man who had tried to kick him, then shoved, forcing the man to flip over and wind up face-first on the ground.
There were too many people here, despite the number who had already fled. It was time to shelf the brawn and let his brain do what it did best. When another punch came his way, Tim took it in the jaw and dropped to the ground. Half of the crowd cheered and the other half looked amazed; either way, they all came in closer, leaning over and fighting each other for a view of the fallen Red Robin. A second later, they all let out a cry in unison as the flashbang went off, temporarily blinding everyone who had so eagerly been staring down at him. People were ridiculously predictable, Tim decided as he reached his arms back and planted his palms behind his head, then throw his weight onto his upper body so his legs were free to twist into a capoeira switch. The kick took out several of those closest to him, freeing him to settle back on his feet before delivering several sharp nerve strikes to a few more. Upon realizing what was happening, the crowd quickly began to disperse. What had been the audience stumbled blindly away, attempting to join the others who had already run now that they were at a significant disadvantage.
Then Tim saw him. Further back from the crowd, higher in the bleachers, was a bespectacled, sandy-haired man fleeing from the area. He wouldn't have stood out much if one was passing him on the sidewalk, but here among such a collection of muscular, enthusiastic individuals, his skinny frame and the timid way he was attempting to run away made him a strange sight. "There! In the bleachers!" Tim shouted, starting to run toward the man before being blocked by the last few remaining fighters, all of whom didn't appear to be discouraged by their momentary vision loss. Oh well. His trick had done what he had needed; a couple of lackluster streetfighters were easier to take down than a whole crowd. And, fortunately, he could see Dick soaring up into the bleachers to go after the blond man... which meant that he could focus on these idiots. Tim smirked as his remaining opponents advanced on him. "Can't trick us this time, little s--t!" one of them cackled. "Really? You sure?" Tim asked, and then suddenly gasped and pointed behind their heads. "Whoa! Batman, what are you doing to that guy?" All three instinctively turned, then promptly had their heads smacked together Three Stooges style. "Yeah, that's what I figured."
Meanwhile, the blond man had let out a high-pitched squeak upon being caught by Batman, and was currently hollering at the top of his lungs. "Let go of me! I didn't do anything! Somebody help, he's crazy!"
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Post by Batman on Oct 16, 2012 23:53:22 GMT -6
It wasn’t all that difficult to fight with one hand while gripping a struggling victim in the other. It really just gave Dick an opportunity to show off more. There was nothing like impressing an audience…even if Dick was beating the crap out of them at the same time. When he had come into this fight he had expected to deal with more skilled individuals than usual. They were people that showed up at underground fights and as a result they probably had picked up on quite a few skills. Those who would attack were probably on some type of adrenaline high and ready to try out what they had learned. It was like a little kid thinking he was an expert wrestler after watching UFC tournaments. Except Dick wasn’t going to feel bad about thoroughly thrashing these men. “You’re really going to attack me? I’m practically defenseless!” Dick protested loudly as he walked down the bleachers as four men rushed up to meet him.
His boot flashed out and kicked the first man to approach him in the face. He went tumbling down the bleachers. The second to approach him was a youth. A teenager who looked like he had a promising career as a football player in college. The fact that he wore a Gotham Rogue t-shirt made this even more evident. Dick internally sighed. He wasn’t trying to ruin an adrenaline junkie’s future career as a football player. Yet at the same time he was actively trying to harm him for some reason. The kid approached him and swung. Dick caught his fist and squeezed hard enough to force him to his knees. As he did so the two other two men flanked him. Dick threw Bleise at them and all three of them tumbled down the bleachers in a heap. “Don’t do this to yourself.” Dick let go of the teenager and sprinted down the bleachers as the teenager gripped his hand in pain. The blond haired chemist managed to push himself to his feet but by the time he did Dick had grabbed him by the ear and was dragging him to Tim.
He was proud to see that his little brother was dispatching his own foes with flair as well. Instead of exhausting his energy in an attempt to take down all the men one at a time he was using banter as a way to distract them. The fact that he had pretended to take a solid hit to the jaw said something about his pride as well. That wasn’t something Dick, Bruce or even Jason would do. They all valued their skills far too much to let that happen to them. Dick tossed Bleise at Tim’s feet as he glanced around at the unconscious and groaning men. Technically most of their crimes had been to rush members of the Bat-Family. It wasn’t technically a crime, it was just a stupid decision. Dick wasn’t going to waste his time tagging these men. They probably regretted their actions anyway. “What’s your name?” Dick questioned as he glanced at Tim. There was a chance that this wasn’t the man they were looking for. If that was the case than he had probably escaped.
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Post by Red Robin on Oct 21, 2012 9:37:18 GMT -6
The three fighters now lay on the ground, groaning, as Tim stepped over to them on his approach toward Batman and the sandy-haired man. He didn't look to be any older than college age; his small stature might fool someone into assuming him to be even younger. He definitely didn't look like the type to just hang around these sorts of places for the fun of it. So why, then, would he be involved in the first place, let alone be the alleged creator of the newest (and most lethal) steroid on the market? Was it the money? Had someone threatened him? If that was the case, it was surprising that he would still be hanging around here, where the users of his drug would likely be the subject of a horrifying and gruesome death in front of a large crowd. If someone had forced him to create the drug, then they would be after him with a vengeance, with results like those.
Tim's eyes were narrowed as he met back up with Dick and the young chemist, who was now curled into the fetal position at his feet. The younger of the two took a slight step back; the man may not look very threatening but anyone who had encountered Scarecrow before knew that a skinny guy with a strong understanding of chemistry could be very, very dangerous. At Dick's question, the blond man looked up hesitantly, his face visible from under the arms covering his head. The words seem to momentarily confuse him, and it was clear that he had expected less talking and more kicking. "K-Keith," he stammered, visibly gulping. "Keith Mitchell." While Bleise hadn't given them a very good description of the man, Mitchell was the only one at the fight who had really even come close. Still, beyond that, there was nothing solid tying him to the whole mess (yet). They were going to need him to give them something... or at the very least, they would need Oracle to do some digging for them while they were out in the field. Tim reached up to activate the camera in his own lens, not unlike the one Dick had used earlier that evening. The feed would link directly to Babs, who would be able to do her own research based off what they were getting here.
"Why are you here, Keith?" Tim asked sternly, the scowl still visible upon his masked face. Mitchell lowered his arms slightly, still nervous but evidently becoming more confident that he wasn't about to be beaten to a pulp. "Me...? I-I'm just... I'm just watching the fight," he insisted weakly. He wasn't a good liar, but there was something else about this man that Tim didn't like. Something didn't feel right here. "Yeah, of course you are. We know you're responsible for that," he insisted, gesturing to the men who had previously been fighting and were now lying on the ground struggling to breathe. Fortunately, the sirens could already be heard in the distance. Gotham's medical personnel were widely renowned for being much quicker to the scene than law enforcement.
Mitchell, however, heard the sirens and his mind clearly went to the latter. "Oh g-god, are they gonna die?" he wailed, staring out at the men. They hadn't actually known for sure, but his reaction made it obvious that Tim's bluff had worked. "If they don't get to the hospital soon, yeah, which is really bad news for you." Mitchell's reaction was, even to a detective of Tim's caliber, a surprise. The man grinned.
"Good."
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Post by Batman on Oct 21, 2012 22:21:02 GMT -6
He wasn't Bleise but he had definitely played a bigger role in this fight then he was letting on. Kieth Mitchell didn't have the looks of someone who would enjoy a fight like this. The way he was dressed, spoke and how he was built spoke to someone strictly interested in science. His body language pointed to cowardice but it also pointed to something a little darker than his fear of the dynamic duo. Dick had spent all of his career learning to predict behaviour and attitude. This had resulted in him being able to read body language. He couldn't do it as well as Cassandra could but he could tell when a man was hiding something or when he was lying. Kieth was clearly lying about his reasons for being here but that wasn't the issue. There was something else he was hiding. Tim took point in their short interrogation and Dick allowed him to do so. For now he was fine with being the silent spectre. Back when Dick was younger Bruce had always taken point when questioning criminals. He was tall, had broad shoulders and always knew how to push the right buttons. Dick didnt' have the same skills Bruce did in the area of intimidation. He was much too short and while he was muscular he was slimmer than his mentor. His form of intimidation came through surprise and the exploitation of his enemy's common fears of heights, death and incarceration. Tim was similar. The only people who managed to be as ruthless and intimidating as Bruce were Cass and Jason. That didn't mean Dick and Tim couldn't accomodate for this in other ways.
As Tim finally pounced on the bait and informed Kieth that this situation would end poorly for the fighters Kieth's attitude took a sudden right turn. Dick's frown deepened. He couldn't say he was surprised or even shocked. The sheer depth of sadism in Gotham's criminal element had been surprising at first but he had adapted to it. In order to survive in Gotham City you had to desensitize yourself and some people had taken this as far to enjoy other's pain and suffering. It looked as if Kieth was no different. That didn't mean he was incapable of feeling fear. It just meant it'd be a little harder to convince him but that's when Dick came in. In one solid movement he stooped over and grabbed Kieth by the throat. He squeezed the man's windpipe until he could barely breathe and with relative ease raised the man a good three inches off the ground.
"Come again?" He sneered.
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Post by Red Robin on Oct 22, 2012 11:58:28 GMT -6
Tim's gut feeling about Mitchell had been right, but that didn't mean he had expected the look of almost maniacal pleasure on the man's face now. There was almost a complete absence of fear, as though he was actually enjoying the severity of this entire situation. There were people dying - from his creation - and he was thrilled. Well, that part was no big surprise. He wouldn't be the first. The question that always screamed at him in cases like this was, why? Why do something like this? One of the first things Bruce had taught him was that every criminal had a motive, even if that motive only made sense to them. Mitchell had a reason for the look on his face, for the men writhing on the ground as they slowly suffocated. There was always a reason.
Dick stepped in now. Tim scowled at Mitchell as he was lifted off the ground, the sound of sirens growing louder with every passing moment. Despite his new-found difficulty breathing, Mitchell let out a choked, rasping laugh. "What're you going to do to me?" he challenged, almost cackling. "I already won. Nothing else matters." Behind his mask, Tim slightly quirked a brow. He won? This was some kind of competition to him? No - not a competition. A war. He turned his head to look at the dying fighters. It made sense now. This wasn't about money or being blackmailed. Nobody considered something to be a war unless they felt their very survival was at stake.
Oracle's voice came in over the line; she must have been able to use the video feed. "Hey, you guys should hear this," she said into both of their earpieces. "Keith Mitchell graduated from MIT last year with a Ph.D in Chemistry, but back in high school he made several complaints with the school about being bullied on campus. He even pressed charges against some of his attackers, but nothing ever stuck. Here's your big connection: one of his tormentors was Patrick McLeary." Tim's frown deepened. "Thanks, Oracle." It made sense. The authority figures in Mitchell's life failed him, so he decided to handle things himself. McLeary and his friends had used their strength to harass him, and he had used his strength to exact revenge. He must have known that his former tormentors would have jumped on a new drug that would supposedly increase their strength and muscle mass tenfold without even considering the consequences.
Tim glanced briefly at Dick before his attention returned to Mitchell. He didn't necessarily sympathize with the man, but it was frustrating when the system he believed so fervently in failed someone and that person felt they had to take matters into their own hands. It had happened to everyone in their family at one point or another, and there was an indescribable, intense desperation that came with it. That didn't mean it was necessary to take the lives of others, and it certainly didn't mean it was acceptable.
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Post by Batman on Oct 29, 2012 9:20:10 GMT -6
Dick’s bat-cycle roared down the dirt path that led to the bat-cave. Surprisingly there were roughly a dozen ways to get inside of the hide out where the Bat-Family regularly convened. Bruce was the only man who knew all of them. Dick had spent years trying to find all twelve but so far he only knew seven. He guessed that this was another secret Bruce would take to his grave. Luckily Dick didn’t need to know all of the entrances to solidly beat Tim at an impromptu race to the Bat-Cave. His brother’s own motorcycle wasn’t far behind him but so far Dick was confident he would win. It wasn’t necessarily an official race. Dick had just made an offhand comment about his bike being faster. Tim had taunted him and now Dick was steadily beating him on his own vehicle.
The two bat-cycles roared through the beaten path and soon a mountain came into the distance. This was where the bulk of the bat-cave was located and it was fairly close to Wayne Manor. Bruce had purchased the property not long after becoming Batman for “mining experiments”. It was so removed from town that it hadn’t captured anyone’s interest. Yet that wasn’t what made the mountain so exciting to Dick. What made it exciting was the roaring waterfall and narrow entrance you had to navigate through to get into the bat-cave. Dick revved up his engine and triggered the nitrus. Suddenly he was accelerating so fast that everything was a blur. He flew through a thick curtain of water and then through a narrow opening in the mountain’s side. Then he was speeding down a customized track designed for the various motorcycles in the bat-family.
Tim came riding through shortly after as Dick hopped off his bat-cycle and pulled off his mask. The cowl hung off of the back of his suit as he pulled off his gloves. “Nice try.” Dick said with a childish grin. It was hard to slip back into a joking mood after something as tragic as that mission. Yet when it came down to it there was very little you could do for men like that. It wasn’t like Dick could charge into Gotham City schools and demand changes. He glanced at Tim thoughtfully as the younger man dismounted his own vehicle. “You should bring up some type of campaign for stopping bullies in public high schools. Maybe do one of those hash tag things on twitter. When Bruce got us in this business I doubted he planned on visiting high schools over swirlies but we wouldn’t have Keith Mitchells if people at least pretended to give a damn.”
Dick was pretty anti-establishment which was fairly obvious due to his persona as a criminal vigilante who beat the everliving crap out of thugs every night. Yet it was obvious that people needed the system in order to survive and make it through in life. Without public schooling, social care or the government Dick doubted he’d be in Bruce’s care. Yet it was fairly obvious that it was broken and the least they could do was try and help the people in it. What was the point of being a vigilante if you didn’t try to stop people from being criminals in the first place? “I’d do it but I’m not running the company.” Dick jogged up a set of steps and grinned as he saw Chinese food and two bottles of water resting on a table not far from the bat-computer. He read the note on one of the boxes and saw that Alfred had heated up the Chinese food that Dick had ordered earlier tonight.
“I’m starving.” Dick didn’t even change out of his suit as he tossed his gloves on the table before he sat down. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks. “Rice or noodles?” Dick questioned as he gestured at the two boxes. He didn’t give Tim much of a chance to choose as he grabbed the box of noodles and began to dig in.
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Post by Red Robin on Oct 29, 2012 10:01:28 GMT -6
Even before they reached the entrance to the cave, Tim knew that Dick had won. He pretty much always did; the man was a daredevil and even after years of swinging from building to building, Tim was never able to throw away the concept of mortality with such reckless abandon as Dick. It had never been as natural for him and he doubted it ever would be. Tim would happily throw himself into the line of fire if necessary, but for a bike race? That was another story. He definitely wasn't as much of an adrenaline junkie as his older brother. So, as he rolled into the cave after Dick, he offered the other man a lopsided, conceding grin. "Hey, I almost had you on that last turn," he insisted, though they both knew that it was a feeble attempt at soothing his own ego. He parked his bike and shut off the engine, then swung his leg back over the side to dismount. At least the race had managed to briefly lift his spirits, but as the discussion turned back to earlier in the evening, he felt his mood sinking once more.
Tim removed his own mask and glanced at Dick as he spoke up. He nodded. "I'll talk to Lucius about it in the morning," he agreed. "It's worth a shot." 'Don't bully or #Batmanwillfindyou.' It was a good idea, and it was the sort of thing that the Wayne Foundation had been created for in the first place. For as much as he found himself enjoying the business world, there was no point in being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company if he couldn't put it to good use. An anti-bullying campaign would be just that. Tim had been in situations like Mitchell's before, and it was incomprehensibly humiliating... especially when he could have taken on his attackers with one hand behind his back. The punch he had taken that night wasn't the first he had received for the sake of a larger goal. The difference between him and Mitchell (and others like him) was that he had a way to fight back that didn't include killing anyone. Not everyone was so fortunate.
One man was dead, several others were in the hospital, and another would spend the rest of his life in prison because of a lack of action. Neither McLeary, Mitchell, or anyone else involved were innocent, nor were they fully guilty. Mitchell shouldn't have exacted his revenge on his high school tormentors, and McLeary and his crowd shouldn't have abused their power the way they had... but, more importantly, there should have been someone there to stop any of that from happening in the first place. Kids were stupid. They were always going to do stupid things. If someone had stepped in and taken control of the situation instead of passing it off like it was nothing, the lives of everyone involved may have taken some very different turns. It was bothersome, to say the least, to know that no matter how much they did on a nightly basis, there were some things they would never be able to stop. They didn't have the capability to look out for every person in Gotham and stand up for them when the time called for it. The effort they put in never felt like enough when there was no way for them to stop disasters like this before they even started.
Tim followed Dick toward the computer; he smelled the Chinese food before he saw it. God bless Alfred. He always knew exactly what they needed. A belly full of warm Chinese food wouldn't erase the frustration he felt at the night's events, but it would help. He knew he shouldn't take things to heart like this - there was no way he could efficiently do his job if he did - but every now and then some missions just got under his skin. Trying and failing sucked, but it wasn't as bad as having never been able to do anything in the first place. Tim made a face as Dick snatched the noodles before he had a chance to even sit down. Typical. Dick had been pulling stuff like that since day one. He removed his gloves and set them on the table as he sat in the other chair, then snatched up the second set of chopsticks. "Hey, no fair," he protested, reaching with his own chopsticks to try and pilfer some of the noodles from the box. Dick would always torment him like any big brother would, and no matter how hard he tried, Tim found himself reverting to a whiny thirteen-year-old like any little brother would. It was their dynamic and it wasn't likely to ever change.
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Post by Batman on Oct 31, 2012 18:48:35 GMT -6
Tim was a smart kid. Almost too smart. It was almost as if he had the perfect combination of mathematical skill and intuitiveness. Surprisingly enough those combinations rarely showed up in people these days. Dick liked to think that he was intuitive but he also knew that he wasn’t a genius when it came to math or science. Those had been applied skills for him but for Tim it came naturally. It wasn’t a source of frustration for Dick. It was always good to be close with someone who was better at you in certain skills. It forced Dick to be a team player; something that Bruce hadn’t fully learned until he had taken on his first protégé. Dick had no problem with asking for Tim for help as long as he didn’t become dependent on him. “I might make a public statement or something the next day the press haggles me.”
Dick rarely spoke to the press and when he did it was always about Wayne Enterprises and their charity projects. That’s all he really cared about. His compassion for others really stifled his interests in personal wealth and recognition. Dick was definitely an attention hog but only when it came to acrobatics and his natural talents. He felt no need to advertise such skills for the public. If he did he wouldn’t wear a mask. His flair for extravagance in the business field would only end with him buying fancy cars and subsequently crashing them in dangerous stunts. He didn’t have the mind of a businessman. Tim was the more practical and humble one. He would know how to break this campaign down in the most efficient and effective way. All Dick could do was stir up a little interest in following through with cracking down on bullies through his words. Bruce had decided well when he had chosen the new CEO.
“Too slow.” Dick jabbed at Tim’s palm with his chopsticks as he swept the box closer to himself. It was undeniably selfish to do so but for all intents and purposes Tim was his little brother. He was the kid that Dick would always have license to push around and tease. He’d kick the ass of anyone who lifted a finger against Tim but he wouldn’t hesitate to treat him like a little child. Tim didn’t need anyone to defend him but he did need someone who was willing to treat him his own age. Or a few years below that. Dick had quickly discovered that Tim was willing to revert to the little brother role. Either that or he didn’t think he had a choice. Dick dug into the noodles and managed to lift a hefty amount of noodles and balance them onto his chopsticks. He definitely wasn’t going to win any medals for neat eating. “I heard you were starting up a team again. You know…keeping the West Coast…” The noodles slid off of his chopsticks and fell back into the box.
He sighed and picked up a nearby fork and began to twirl them the old-fashioned American way. “Basically I hear you’re starting up the Titans again. Connor mentioned it to me the last time I swung by Star City.”
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Post by Red Robin on Nov 1, 2012 15:54:26 GMT -6
Tim bobbed his head once. Dick's help would be appreciated. While he knew his brother wasn't nearly as interested in the family business (the legal one, rather), having the extra support was always a good thing. Besides, people liked him; if Dick said 'jump,' it was a guarantee that most people would ask how high. "You mean the next time you step out in broad daylight?" Tim grinned. The media loved the Wayne boys almost as much as the two brothers detested the media. Both knew how to use it to their advantage though, regardless of how they felt about it. The difference was that Tim usually used it for business purposes, and Dick used it because he was Dick and if he didn't have the spotlight on him for too long he would shrivel into nothingness. Or so that was what Tim theorized; he had never put his hypothesis to the test.
Discouraged from making another attempt at commandeering some noodles, the younger brother let out a dissatisfied grunt and reluctantly turned his attention to the box of rice. Immediately, he realized that he was so hungry that he didn't particular care what he ate. Using his own chopsticks, he began to dig in. The warm food felt like heaven in his stomach, and Tim realized only then that he probably hadn't eaten anything substantial since that morning... was it yesterday morning now? He rocked back in his chair slightly so he could glance at the digital clock displayed on the computer monitor. Oh dear. It was yesterday morning. No wonder he was starving.
Balancing his chair on its back legs, Tim didn't hide his jokingly condescending scoff when Dick abandoned his chopsticks in favor of a fork. He expected so much more of him. The guy could do cartwheels down a tightrope and openly mocked gravity on a regular basis, but a pair of chopsticks proved to be too much for him. Tim gave his brother a pointed look as he scooped up some more rice with his chopsticks and plopped the food into his mouth. He would admit, he enjoyed it when he could best Dick at something, even if it was as trivial as who could handle a pair of chopsticks better. It hadn't been that long ago that Dick was easily his superior and just about everything, but neither of them could deny that Tim was slowly but surely catching up, if not surpassing him on many levels. That being said, there were some areas where Tim knew they would never be equals, or even remotely close. As much as he idolized Bruce, it was Dick who would always be his role-model and he never really wanted that to change. Except when it came to girls. Both of them were ridiculously unhelpful in that regard.
When Dick addressed his current venture, Tim nodded while chewing on a mouthful of rice. He was glad Dick had brought it up; he had been wanting to get his older brother's advice on this for a while now. Not only had Dick been an authority figure among the hero community for over a decade now, but when it came to the Titans, he was the go-to guy; he had helped found them, after all. Over the years Tim had frequently requested his opinion when it came to running the team. "Working on it," he replied after he had finished chewing. "It's taking a little while to get up and running, though. I'm trying to do things differently this time." He frowned slightly as he gathered a clump of rice with his chopsticks. "The whole 'the Titans are a family' thing... it worked for your generation, but not so much for mine for the last few years. We kinda went from 'we're a family so we should look out for each other' to 'we're a family so we should be as dysfunctional as humanly possible.'" He flicked a piece of rice at Dick's face. Revenge was a dish best served from a flimsy take-out box. "I'm trying to figure out how to make it more of a team, y'know?"
Easier said than done. The Titans had gone through a lot over the years, including but not limited to the deaths and subsequent returns of several of its members. Every passing year seemed to bring more drama and less teamwork; they had become less of a well-oiled machine and more of a reality TV show. Tim wasn't about to get the team back together just to watch it slowly tear itself apart from the inside out. He needed to pick the right people, find the right dynamic... it was a slow process, but it would be worth it in the end. He hoped.
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Post by Batman on Nov 2, 2012 23:48:26 GMT -6
“Basically.” Dick said with a haughty smirk. He would never understand why Bruce preferred sticking to the shadows. He had to admit that the press was definitely annoying but they weren’t as dangerous as the criminals his mentor routinely faced every night. Personally, Dick would prefer dealing with people obsessed with his personal life after a hard day of fighting criminals. It would give him the necessary ego boost to keep him from slipping into some sort of existential crisis. Existential crisis were fairly common amongst the Bat-Family and Dick had come to learn that being surrounded by people tended to deal with that fairly well. Even if it was the press who tended to present themselves as a collective conscious instead of individual people. Dick wasn’t so self-absorbed not to find the press annoying or distracting but it could always be a welcome distraction or an adequate to spread a message. The press rarely spread positive messages but both Dick and Tim knew how to make sure they did when the time called for it.
As Tim spoke Dick reached into a nearby plastic bag and grabbed a handful of soy sauce. He opened them all at once and squired them into the noodles. As Tim continued to speak he nodded as he mixed the noodles together. He had mixed feelings about Tim starting the Titans again. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tim or his leadership. He just didn’t trust Tim’s judgment when it came to picking and choosing members of the team. From Dick’s perspective it looked as if Tim had chosen his friends. Not people who would work well together. At his age Dick found himself above the “whose dating who” game amongst teenagers. Yet he always heard about the relationship status of Superboy or Wondergirl and it always seemed to affect the team somehow. He didn’t even want to dive into the whole mess with Red Devil. Dick had made his fair share of mistakes when he was a leader of the Teen Titans. In his opinion this made him the authority figure when it came to leading the team.
He trusted Tim to learn from his own mistakes without Dick reminding him of them. So instead of reprimanding him or showing his doubt he decided to take the higher road. Or at least explain his concerns more subtly. Dick thrust his fork into his noodles and twirled them around but more slowly this time. He then took a bite of the noodles and washed it down with a swig of water. Then he addressed Tim. “When I first started the Titans I didn’t know anyone on the team. We were all strangers to each other but we were united for a single purpose. We had to save our mentors from mind control and we didn’t have time to focus on much else.” Dick paused. He felt like he was about to shift into a reprimanding tone even though he wanted to avoid that. “We kept working together and while we screwed up plenty of times we still had that vision. We weren’t united by friendship. We were united by a need to protect New York. We grew to become a family because we had the same vision.”
Dick laid down his fork. “When you started the Teen Titans you had already successfully ran Young Justice. You and your teammates were on a runner’s high. When you started the team you were united through friendship and dare I say romance….not the need to protect San Francisco but you still pulled that off too. I guess what I’m saying is you can’t lose sight of your objective because of who your friends are. I’m not going to tell you who to choose Tim but I urge you to think a little more like Bruce. I know that seems like awful advice but whenever he assembled a team he chose people who had the same goal as him and who complimented his abilities. Not his friends not even people he could necessarily trust. Unlike Bruce you’re more charismatic and likable which is why that decision would be harder for you…that’s the price you pay when you’re everyone’s friend. Believe me. I know that more than anyone.” Dick had learned this lesson repeatedly through the Titans, Outsiders and even the Justice League.
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Post by Red Robin on Nov 12, 2012 11:22:16 GMT -6
Dick wasn't sure about his decision. He didn't say it, which Tim somewhat appreciated, but he knew his older brother well enough to be able to read him with relative ease. Even with his training, Dick was never the one to hide how he felt about things anyway. Dick's approval was one that Tim almost constantly sought, so part of him felt slightly discouraged even though the original Robin had yet to say anything. Tim's time as the leader of the Titans had had its ups and many, many downs, which made him wonder if that was why Dick was hesitant to express approval over Tim's plan. Finally, he spoke up, and Tim silently picked at his rice as he listened.
Dick was right, to an extent. There had always been at least a few of his old friends from Young Justice on the most recent roster of Titans, though not simply because they were his friends. Tim had always wanted to keep people like Wonder Girl, Superboy, and Kid Flash nearby because he knew them well, understood what they were and were not capable of, and most importantly, trusted them entirely. While the most recent incarnations of the Titans hadn't been exactly functional, Tim had always trusted his teammates with his life. He understood the Bruce-like necessity of drawing in teammates who were the most efficient in a group, but he never wanted that to be his sole requirement when forming a team. Tim wasn't one to jump into anything without doing his homework. He needed to know exactly whom he was working with in order to feel confident in their abilities.
It was all about finding a balance, he reasoned. He needed to find teammates who could do share his ultimate goal, and also whom he could trust beyond a shadow of a doubt. Easier said than done. A byproduct of hanging around Bruce so much was that trusting people became more and more difficult over the years. Tim hated that. He never wanted to be the guy who had second thoughts about his teammates, or had a contingency plan for if one of them went rogue, or who never allowed himself to just be him around his friends. Unfortunately, he knew that while he wasn't in Bruce territory, he had taken some large steps in that direction. It was second nature by now to consider all possible outcomes of a situation - especially the negative ones - and what he would do if such a scenario were to arise. He couldn't afford not to think that way. That was partially why he was reluctant to completely agree with everything Dick said. Tim knew he was becoming more like Bruce with each passing day, which in some ways was good and in some ways was very bad. He wasn't exactly eager to aid that process along even further, but would he have to for the sake of his goals?
Tim let out an acknowledging grunt as he prodded his rice with the chopsticks and rocked forward so his chair settled back on all four legs. He valued Dick's opinion immensely, but it was one he would need to reflect on more. His brother wasn't wrong, he at least knew that. There had been plenty of drama among the Titans due to their ties to each other. He almost visibly cringed thinking back on his short-lived relationship with Cassie. "Yeah, I know," he agreed, making a face. "I just can't imagine being on a team with people I can't completely trust, which usually happen to be my friends." Dick was definitely right in that they all needed to be on the same page as far as their team objective. That would have to be something that Tim, as a leader, would have to put more focus on. He shoveled a bite of rice into his mouth, then made another attempt at snatching some noodles from the box that Dick had claimed earlier and now drowned in soy sauce. "Speaking of being friends with everybody," Tim grinned, "how's everything going with the JLA?"
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Post by Batman on Nov 14, 2012 0:37:24 GMT -6
Dick knew that Tim valued his opinion highly. It was part of the reason why Dick strived to be honest with him. There would be a day when Tim wouldn’t need advice from his big brother. That day would be coming soon and when it did he wanted it to be because Tim was ready to strike out on his own. Not because he felt that Dick was holding him back or thought little of him. Yet that day wasn’t here and Dick knew that withholding his full opinion wouldn’t help the situation. He trusted that Tim would do the right thing. He’d just have to be sure to guide him along the way. Bruce had done the same thing and had gracefully backed off when Dick was ready to strike out on his own. You could say many things about Bruce but he hadn’t failed to teach Dick nearly everything he knew about crime fighting and being an effective leader.
Granted Dick had realized that many of the things Bruce had taught him simply didn’t work for Dick but that was because of their differences. He had enough in common with Tim to trust that his advice about leadership would actually stick. That’s where the contingency plan comes in. [/color] He thought silently. He didn’t say that out loud. He knew that Tim was hesitant to do such a thing but he’d learn that it was necessary. Personally Dick felt that Tim’s choice not to choose team members he couldn’t implicitly trust or not creating contingency plans was out of fear of being like Bruce. Dick had learned that this could be both a strength and a weakness. It was something he had struggled with before he had come to terms with it. He wasn’t afraid of becoming Bruce. He had enough confidence in his character to know that he couldn’t. Which made him wonder if Tim had this same confidence. “Tim I hate to bring this up but remember when Conner went renegade and attacked your team? You trusted him. I’m not trying to tell you not to trust people. I’m just telling you not to be afraid to not trust people. Sometimes relationships grow when you don’t initially trust the person you’re dealing with. When you first approached me about becoming Robin I didn’t trust you. Yet look at us now.” Dick knew this was hard to pitch but he was going to try anyway. “If you need to recruit your friends go ahead. But a team without a fresh voice or opposition isn’t always a team. Sometimes you need that one person you don’t know so you can have clarity. If you don’t then you’ll just wind up working with a bunch of yes-men and trust me. You don’t want that.”He realized that he might have offended Tim’s friends at this point and quickly amended his statement. “I’m not saying your friends and teammates are a bunch of yes-men but it could turn into that. I’m just telling you what I know. I’m not telling you what to do. I tend to do the opposite of what Bruce tells me and from time to time it’s worked well for me. Maybe if you do the opposite of what I tell you it’ll work out for you too.” He grinned and held out his hands neutrally to show that he was dropping the topic. He paused at Tim’s question about the Justice League and wondered if he was following his own advice. “We’re fine. It’s rough leading the new team but I think I have some promising members. I’ve decided to balance the team by areas of expertise rather than veterans. They all know about their respective arts better than I do which is always a good thing.” Dick’s pride was wounded on more than one occasion as a result of this. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that yet.[/blockquote]
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Post by Red Robin on Nov 14, 2012 16:56:27 GMT -6
Tim scowled. Perhaps without meaning to, Dick had brought up a very sore subject. His best friend's death had been one of the most difficult things that he had experienced in his life - which said a lot - and even with Conner's recent resurrection and their rebuilt friendship, the suggestion that his friend couldn't be trusted wasn't one that sat well with him. He understood what Dick was saying, though, which was the main reason he didn't immediately snap back. His brother always meant well and had good advice, even if his delivery wasn't always stellar. Tim wasn't afraid to have some new faces on board, at any rate. He appreciate the value of an outsider's perspective and it would be good to mix things up a bit. He would never restrict a team to solely his closest friends, nor did he feel the need to cast his friend out from the team simply because they were such. While he rarely if ever trusted anyone upon meeting them, not being able to trust the people he lived and worked with...
Tim wouldn't admit this fear to anyone - not even Dick - but he had seen his supposed future multiple times and, each time, he hadn't been like Bruce; he had been worse. If they all thought that Bruce could be a nightmare sometimes, at least he had never traded in a batarang for a gun. It had been a long time since he and his future self had last met, but their encounters still haunted him. If he allowed himself to start surrounding himself with people he couldn't trust, was that what would happen? Or was it the opposite? His friends had all been right there with him in those disastrous realities... but it was when he had separated himself from them and everyone else while he had been searching for Bruce that he had become most like his future self. Tim knew that he couldn't allow himself to get back to that solitary place of anger, obsession, and paranoia. He needed people he trusted to keep him in line.
Dick's advice was sound for himself or for Bruce, but Tim knew that he wasn't like either of them. He hadn't been doing this for as long as either of them, and while he knew that may make him seem naive to a degree, it was as Dick said; sometimes a fresh point of view was necessary. Tim knew that this was something he was going to have to figure out on his own, as much as he was grateful for Dick's advice. The younger brother's expression softened as the topic shifted to the newly JLA, then evolved into a smirk. "'Areas of expertise,' huh?" he snickered. "Is that why you invited Starfire onto the team?" Tim was well aware of the impending doom such a comment was going to guarantee him, but the opportunity to torment his brother was worth it. While there may have been a jab at the hypocrisy if Tim hadn't chosen his tone properly, it wasn't intended as such; the day that Dick missed an opportunity to surround himself with beautiful women was the day Tim gave up doing calculus for fun.
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Post by Batman on Nov 24, 2012 22:54:55 GMT -6
He could tell that Tim really wasn't going to follow his advice. Not that he could blame him. Dick rarely followed his own advice. Yet he was glad that he had voiced his opinion. Tim wasn't hard-headed enough to ignore an alternative opinion even if he disagreed with it. He always took things into consideration. That's why he was the smart one. "Then again what do I know?" Dick decided that he'd at least smooth things over. He was hardly the expert. "I have more blood on my hands than you ever will." He smiled bitterly as he dug into his noodles. Dick would never be able to wash his hands clean but if Tim played his cards right he'd never have to. As Dick swirled the noodles around his fork and stuffed them into his mouth Tim's next statement made him gag.
It was part-joke and part-accusation. He was definitely going to give Tim all kinds of hell for that. In a playful manner, naturally. It just so happened that he was right. What was the point of having Starfire on the team? Her powers were similar to Supergirl's and while she was a gifted strategist there were other members of the team that covered that department. She was an expert in alien technology but so was Martian Manhunter. Basically Starfire served no purpose on the team that other members didn't have. Dick rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. He definitely needed to come up with a better excuse than staring past at the wall next time. "Hey, Starfire was on the Titans. You know she was good at...things." He waved vaguely at the air. "Besides, you're probably just jealous you can't keep her on your roster."
He scraped the bottom of his box and only came up with brownish grease from the noodles. "Sorry, Timmy-boy. If people had to choose between mine or yours they'd definitely go with the former. It comes with the cowl." He stood to his feet and swigged down some water. "I'm surprised you haven't complained about Damian yet. The kid's out of town in case you want to make a case for murder or treachery on his part." Dick rolled his shoulders slowly in an attempt to relieve the tension in his muscles. He was getting old. Aha! That's why Starfire was on the Justice League. She gave the best back massages.
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