luke henry ; robin (notjustsidekick) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-09-23 03:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, robin |
Who: The Bat Thomas and Robin Luke
What: A visit, in which there is bonding despite what Thomas says
Where: The Bat's awesome warehouse headquarters
When: Monday night, after this
Warnings: None
Luke had been glued to his laptop for nearly an hour, and he’d never typed so fast in his life - but there was a lot to keep up with considering all these vigilantes behind anonymous accounts were posting every five seconds, and he wanted to offer as much input as possible. Maybe he was a rookie, but he was still one of them despite what anyone else might say. Once the cryptic message from Batman popped up on the forums, however, he slammed the laptop shut and was up in a flash. This whole mess worried him, and he wanted to know what an older, far more experienced vigilante thought of it. Since it wasn’t exactly a patrol, he left his costume in the closet - it would attract too much attention, and once again he made a mental note to find something else to wear that didn’t have any red in it. He tugged on a pair of black jeans paired with a black sweater, tucking his mask into his pocket until it became necessary. The only vigilante-like thing he had on him was the grappling belt thing Blytech had given him, because it made getting around a hell of a lot faster than if he just went on foot.
He had the route to Batman’s warehouse memorized, having expected to return at some point in the future. Although it meant that the entire trip would take a little longer Luke stuck to the back ways, keeping in the shadows and out of sight so the device around his waist wouldn’t attract attention when he used it. There were a few times when he had to pause in order to reorient himself, because the last thing he needed was to get himself lost.
True to his word, however, he made it to the warehouse within the hour and only put his mask on once he’d slipped through the entrance - after ensuring that he hadn’t been followed, although he knew he’d been careful enough. It was all too easy to find the “MUFFLERS” crate again, and he made sure both doors were shut before going inside. Positive that Batman would have heard him coming, he only took a step forward after moving through the crate-door before stopping. “It’s Robin,” he called, to prevent an attack from the shadows or something like that.
“I know,” the familiar grating voice came from within. The warehouse was not as lit as it could be, with only half of the massive overhead lights on, and as a result the warehouse did not seem quite so empty. There was a strong chemical smell (chlorine) that wafted from the corner that he would remember to be the pseudo-laboratory, but he wasn’t working there now, and the squatting lamps that provided extra light were all off. As he came forward, however, the figure waiting gained definition, lit largely by the scrolling computer screens behind him. “You set off the alarm.” He gestured over his shoulder, where a tiny red LED light blinked, and where one of the screens featured a black and white image of the front of the isolated warehouse. If Luke looked around again, he’d notice that other little red lights were blinking at different points inside the warehouse, silent sirens to alert the occupant to intruders--or in this case, a visitor.
Batman didn’t have doorbells.
He came forward, anyway, to greet him. Unlike the night they had met, Batman presently looked disconcertingly human: he wore normal clothes, comfortable but trim gray clothing that he must wear for exercise, though there were no wrinkles nor sweat-stains, and he showed no sign of fatigue. He wasn’t wearing the sling, but it had been five days in the warehouse (fighting cabin fever), and he looked shockingly fit considering his state a week and a half previous. There was no mask. Batman at ease, then. Or as close as you’d get.
Luke began to reply, but the mention of an alarm made him stop and follow Batman’s gesture to the blinking red lights and the screen that quite obviously would have had him on it mere moments ago. “Oh. Right.” Of course he’d have a security system - he was Batman. Even though he remembered the warehouse well from his last visit he couldn’t help but glance around, wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell of whatever chemical was strong enough to be scented from the entrance. Sticking to the lighted part of the room, he shuffled forward slightly even as the other man came forward to greet him, surprised at how great of a difference about a week or so had made. He looked better than fine, and he realized that this was how Batman usually looked like; and even without the cape and cowl, he still gave the appearance of a formidable opponent.
“Thanks for coming,” Thomas said, in the same serious tone, which seemed to be all-purpose, with or without the mask. He tipped his head; for some reason Luke looked vaguely familiar, even with the mask on, and he couldn’t figure out why. Setting the issue aside temporarily, he said, “You are planning to walk into this fiasco the Corbinian is setting up?” He began walking, toward some of the long steel tables set up to one side, scattered with documents. Obviously he expected Luke to fall into step.
Luke raised his eyebrows at that, since there was no chance that he wouldn’t have come. “You’re... welcome, I guess.” It was said rather offhandedly, since he’d been seized by a sudden feeling of recognition that he couldn’t quite place. The last time he’d visited, Batman hadn’t seemed the least bit familiar... but now he did, beyond the boundaries of the warehouse they were currently in. He kept turning it over in his mind even as he followed him towards the tables, trying to focus on his question at the same time. “Yeah, I am. Not alone, though,” he added. “Are you?”
Thomas nodded, and reached up (good hand, right) and turned on one of the crouching lamps, this one pointing down at the metal table. Blueprints, photos, most of the latter featured an indoor pool, and closer photos indicated that it was rather worse for wear, showing rust, or what looked like rust, in many detail images. “This is the meeting place I chose. I’ll leave directions at the place Corbinian gave me.” He pointed at the blueprint. “Here, the only visible entrance from the outside. Here--” his finger shifted, “an additional one. It leads inside. This pool is sunken, and it’s almost a basement. The Mask Killer prefers firearms; it will make it impossible for him to shoot at us unless he comes completely into the room, or from the house entrance. The ceiling overhead, here, is weakened--chlorine on the polybutane--bad plumbing from the ‘90’s.” He pulled the blueprint over to reveal the first floor of the house. He hadn’t glanced up; he assumed Luke was keeping up. “I’m setting very small charges at certain points. If activated, the ceiling will come down. The entire first floor will be open once it comes down.” He was laying out a contingency plan for Luke, indicating what he would do if the Mask Killer attended the meeting and basically started killing everyone there.
“I need you here, behind the exit to the house. You guard it if anyone tries to get in that way, and you are in a good bottleneck if you need to contain--or well-placed to help if there’s a panicked retreat from the front door.” He looked at him for the first time since the speech began. “You said you were coming in company?” His brows arched very slightly, his first real expression. He was asking for Luke’s help. Without, of course, actually asking.
Luke’s plans for the vigilante meeting hadn’t gone very far beyond the point of meeting up with Quinn and Wren and going from there. It was a relief to see that Batman had something much more concrete laid out, though. This right here - the blueprints, his plans - was just part of the reason why he admired the older vigilante so much. He took what he did seriously, and the fact that he did a damn good job while he was at it also happened to be admirable. Luke leaned on the table as he studied the blueprint, forcing himself to analyze and memorize every spot that Batman pointed out while listening to his descriptions with rapt attention. Sure, sometimes he dozed off in class, but this was important; probably even more so than anything he could learn in school. He even managed to keep quiet, leaving his questions until he finished.
He couldn’t help but feel a small rush of pride knowing that Batman trusted him enough to guard the exit, and he nodded with firm determination. “Okay. I can handle that.” Glancing up again, he was once again reminded of that annoying feeling that he knew him from somewhere. “Yeah, I am. Two other vigilantes - young, like me. But I trust them... plus I’d feel better if they didn’t go on their own.” Despite his inexperience, Luke wasn’t stupid - and he didn’t give his trust easily. Besides, he worried about Wren and even Quinn, despite the fact that she was very capable of taking care of herself.
“You’re sure?” He was satisfied by Luke’s attention, but he had not seen him in action--in combat, really, to use a term that many thought belonged overseas in foreign places. He worried that this was putting him in too dangerous a position too early--but the boy was smart, and he was fast. Even if all he did was run, it was better than having him in that room. He admitted to himself, in a rare moment of honesty, that there was no one else he trusted to be behind that door. Max was too full of her training, and too like to run off and do what she thought best when she should be part of a plan. The fight was not hers, nor Jane’s. It was his fault, bringing the masks here...
“Your friends would be better in that room apart,” he said bluntly. “Any associations there will be obvious and evident to everyone, and such things might be better kept secret.” His hand came away from the blueprint, and he seemed to struggle a moment, then he said, reluctantly, “But that... is up to you.”
Luke nodded. “I’m sure,” he told him, without a hint of hesitation or uncertainty. He realized that the entire thing was dangerous, but never once had he considered not going; just as saying no now simply wasn’t an option. “Thanks,” he added after a long pause. “For trusting me enough to do this.” It was honest, and having Batman’s trust meant more than the man probably knew.
A flicker of uncertainty passed over his face, and he thought for a moment before speaking again. “But we don’t know each other outside of the masks. I’m not sure if I know their real names, and they definitely don’t know mine.” He didn’t see the harm in it, although he did wonder what Batman saw. “Why do you think it would be better to keep associations secret? We all do the same thing... we’re all fighting for the same thing. And we look out for each other, too.” Batman looked out for an entire city, and constantly put himself at risk for it - but did anyone look out for him? Luke doubted it, and as he studied him with a curious expression it suddenly hit him. The newspaper, last Tuesday. There had been article about the ball, which he’d read and laughed over because of the mention of underage drinking - but that wasn’t what mattered. It was a picture, a picture of Thomas Brandon - that was what he’d been trying to remember.
Because the man standing before him and the man in the picture were the same person... which meant that Thomas Brandon was Batman. The realization made his eyes widen, but he quickly tried to hide his surprise - at least until the shock wore off and he figured out what to do.
His chin tipped upward, Thomas had been thinking about Luke’s question when the change in the younger man’s expression caught his attention. He examined it for a moment, but then his mouth twitched. It was a very small twitch, short and without any accompanying warmth in his eyes, but it was definitely a twitch. “I hope you will stay out of my champagne in the future.” There it was again!
Toneless once more, he continued on as if there hadn’t been an awkward realization seconds before. “When we’re all together like this, associations will indicate how you will behave under stress. If you arrive with your friends, I know that if I hurt one of them, you will move to support, and that gives me an edge on you I would not otherwise have.” Thomas Brandon had boring, inexpressive eyes, somewhere between gray and brown, but when he looked at something for a very long time, as he was looking at Luke, the sheen of intelligence there made them look like polished steel. It was no surprise they were visible through the cowl at the right angle, no doubt the source of the stories about Batman looking into your soul. “At least for this night, don’t give that away.” It was an easy jump to understand why Thomas was asking Luke to guard an exit when he would be inside. It put him in easy reach to support, out of easy danger, and also hid their association, which he was clearly so concerned about revealing.
Apparently Luke didn’t need to worry about whether or not to voice his recognition, because being the most transparent person on the planet took care of that for him. It was bad enough that his antics had landed in the paper, but clearly he and Bunny hadn’t been quite as sneaky as they thought. Luke couldn’t tell if the twitch was meant to be amusement, but he decided to take it as such regardless. “Yeah, I... I’ll do that,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. At least Batman, or Thomas, knew that Luke had recognized him - so the awkwardness was quicker than it could have been.
He couldn’t think of an argument in response, and it seemed to override his initial idea of safety in numbers. Besides, what he said was true - helping friends in need was an instinct embedded too deeply to change. In a room full of masks, it was best to be careful. “We’re meeting up beforehand, but I’ll make sure we arrive separately. We were thinking more along the lines of safety in numbers... but you have a point.” They’d still all be there, at least - he’d just have to make sure they weren’t overly familiar with each other. Luke did his best to meet Thomas’ gaze, but even he had to admit that there was something unsettling about it - if he was a criminal on the wrong side of Batman, his eyes alone would have been enough to make running in the other direction seem like a very appealing idea. “Do you think this meeting can solve the problem of this vigilante killer?” He was honestly interested in why Thomas was going, and what his opinion of the entire thing was.
Nod. Even approval. It was hard to tell when Thomas approved of Luke’s judgment. So far the catalog of Thomas (when he wasn’t in Armani, anyway) was only that a grunt meant yes, a twitch was amusement, and the little nod was approval. He wasn’t the most social of creatures. It was increasingly obvious how hard he tried to be social when he was doing the charity circuit. He was abysmal at it even when he tried. “Numbers are good on the streets. Especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.” This was not meant to be an insult, but it had sting, nonetheless.
He turned from the table, moving again, toward the cabinet on the opposite side of the warehouse that stored a lot of his equipment. Again, he seemed to expect Luke to fall into step. “I don’t know what it will do. But it is inevitable. There are many vigilantes now, and it was only a matter of time before some attempts at organization came through.” It was clear from his tone that he didn’t expect it to happen so early, and he didn’t necessarily count himself as a vigilante.
Luke had pretty much realized that Thomas wasn’t the most sociable of people, and since it wasn’t necessarily easy to figure out what he meant when he decided to reply in a way other than with words, he figured a little assuming couldn’t hurt. Nodding was good, at least better than a head shake, so he decided to take it as positive reinforcement. “True,” he shrugged, trying to ignore the instinctive wave of defensiveness he felt even though Thomas hadn’t specifically said that he didn’t know what he was doing. “But even those who do know what they’re doing could use some help every once in a while. Numbers benefit everyone, depending on the situation.” It was said innocently enough, although there was the hint of a smile in his tone.
That earned Luke another mouth twitch.
It didn’t require much thought to realize he was supposed to follow, keeping pace beside him while he talked. “I figure it’s better to attend than to not, even if it is dangerous. Not attending would be like alienating yourself, which isn’t a good position to be in either.” Once masks started turning up dead, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone stepped forward to attempt to do something about it. He’d never really thought about the distinction between vigilante and hero; since what he did seemed to fall into the first category, he usually just went with it - besides, it seemed kind of pretentious to think of himself as any kind of hero.
They’d have to have a talk about being a hero. Thomas didn’t think he was one of those, either. Heroes were the kind of men that stayed in the lines and made great speeches and lead good lives to inspire others. Thomas was sure he was no hero. Thomas reached up and turned on another of those local flood lights. Long tables of molded steel projectiles, including the equipment to manufacture them, made up the border of this area. Large steel closets held different types of armor all in the matte black Batman favored, ranging from extremely heavy to extremely light. There were more working tables, and a device that looked like a cross between an industrial staple gun and a sewing machine.
Thomas pulled what looked like a stiff shirt out of one of the drawers, and put it on the table. “Wore this when I needed something light,” he said, pulling the armor closer. It was like the more common suits hanging nearby, but it was much thinner, and there was more ribbing in between the sections, clearly giving the wearer far more flexibility at the sacrifice of protection. This particular torso had obviously been modified. It was smaller, and definitely wouldn’t be as heavy. Stripes of red, like sergeant’s stripes, spread out from the outside of the chest, crossed over the biceps on the outside of the shoulder. The design looked very much like wings without actually depicting feathers, and the lines didn’t meet over the heart, but the impression was that they did. “Had to make some changes. These others are too heavy for you.” He tapped his knuckles against the chest plate. “Advanced kevlar. Bullet proof, but only from twenty yards. Watch out for small caliber weapons, they find the holes.” He indicated the ribbing.
He paused, watching Luke’s expression. “The design is meant to distract from the chest. They aim for the red, they don’t hit your heart, maybe they don’t hit you at all.” He looked, unbelievably, faintly uncertain. “Not as flashy as what you had.”
He blinked a little against the light, eyes widening slightly once his vision focused and he saw what this part of the warehouse held. Clearly the steel things were some kind of weapons, and pretty cool-looking ones at that, but what really caught his attention was the armor. The sheer number of choices was, like nearly everything else about about Batman, impressive - but not altogether surprising. Now that he knew the man behind Batman was Thomas Brandon, who obviously had quite a bit of money at his disposal, all of this now made a lot more sense. Luke leaned over the table slightly when the shirt-like armor was pulled out, noticing idly that it didn’t seem to be as large as the others hanging in the closets. It made his own costume look like, well, something that a kid really would wear out on Halloween. Admittedly he was a little slow on the uptake as he studied it with poorly disguised admiration, at least until Thomas’ words sunk in and things started to click. Kevlar, bullet proof... and it was for him.
Luke glanced up sharply, brow furrowed in momentary confusion before it shifted into an expression of honest surprise. “This is for me?” Obviously it was, but he found the prospect more than a little unexpected and almost too good to be true as his gaze was dragged back to it again. The way he’d made the design, purposely meant to add protection along with the kevlar - it suggested that thought had gone into it, and he realized that despite his exterior Thomas wasn’t quite as indifferent as he appeared. “This... this is way better than what I had.” He looked back up, this time with a grin that clearly displayed the fact that he was beyond thrilled. “It’s awesome. ‘Thanks’ doesn’t even seem like enough.”
Thomas relaxed a tiny amount, visible mostly in his shoulders and back, since he didn’t do anything so obvious as exhale. He pulled another drawer, pointing at each item in turn. “Arms, hands, shin, leg, boots. Boots might need more modification, it depends on how well you move and what you’re doing. Skip them until you have time to train in them, they change your weight distribution a lot. The rest, wear if you go out. You will be slow but that kevlar is more important, especially for Wednesday night.”
He got a little more gruff, as if to cover up for any excess concern he had about the boy being in battle without even knowing how to move in armor. “Sit down, I’ll show you how to activate these charges, and then you can try the rest on.”
The fact that there was more just made things even better, and his grin only widened as Thomas pointed out each of the corresponding items. He’d have to work on his speed now that he had a different costume, but he could manage that - taking some time to practice rather than actively patrol would probably be enough, and at the very least it would be a good starting point. “Alright. I’ll work on getting used to it,” he added, because all of this would be pointless if he didn’t learn how to adapt to moving in it.
When his gruffness returned, Luke barely even noticed. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have minded - he knew better now.