Who: Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake and a very freaked out mugger When: April 17, 2 a.m. Where: Yeaverly Park, uptown What: Barbara turns up in an unlikely place. Rating: R for language
The mugger was a young scraggly guy, not terribly threatening on his own, but he had a knife. Even though his victim had been trying to cross the park quickly, he'd found her, and now he had her purse. He gave her a threatening look as he backed away, making a throat slicing motion as a way of a warning.
With that, he took off, disappearing beneath some trees to keep out of sight.
Tim Drake tried to adjust the ski mask as he ran, sprinting quickly over the grassy terrain the mugger had thought would give him the advantage. He gave up on the mask, pulling it up over his face to wear like a hat. He'd pull it down when he caught the guy. Which he was almost about to do. The criminal scum had been stupid enough to swipe a purse in front of a two-time cross country state finalist.
The mugger started to really scramble once he realized he was being followed. Goddamn this guy was fast. The mugger was struggling, wheezing, his chest pounding with effort, but suddenly he was flying, sailing through the air as he tripped on something. He landed with a thud, and dazed, he glanced back to see what had gotted tangled on.
"Oh, shit man! That's a dead body! Shit! Fuck this!" He was in over his small-time criminal head, and he knew it. He tossed the purse aside, running away as fast as his legs would carrying him.
Tim saw the mugger fall, heard him scream, and barely knew what to do for a moment when the crook ran away. There was in fact a body crumpled on the ground, small and pale, barely a pair of legs sticking out from a bush. It was a body, it was a girl Christ it was Barbara. "Barbara! Barbara oh god oh god!!" He put his hands on her to shake her, thought against, it, and cupped her face in his hands. "Barbara!"
It took some time before Barbara was truly responsive. Her face twitched in protest at being woken up, and then her eyes opened, not quite registering anything yet. She'd clearly been doped, and it was doing funny things to her brain. When she could finally make out Tim's face and his voice, she smiled and started to cry. This wasn't something her fear addled brain had made up because...well because how could she be afraid of Tim?
"Oh god, Barbara, are you OK? Are you hurt?" He didn't notice any immediate, gushing blood, and her toes seemed to be moving as she shifted and woke up slowly. He started fumbling for a cell phone, hurt or not, it seemed like calling an ambulance was the best move to make. "What happened to you, are you OK?"
Barbara brought her hands up to her face, covering her eyes. She didn't want to think about what had happened to her recently. "I'll tell you later, Rockin' Robin...ugh." She splayed out on the ground. It wasn't entirely comfortable, but it was heaven compared to being strapped to a table.
"Hey, hey should I call an ambulance? Barbara?" He still found himself defaulting to her opinion, knowing that she would complain if he did something against her wishes, if not now, then when she'd recovered. She was weary, probably dehydrated, she needed a doctor to look at her. For all he knew, she could have broken bones or other horrible things that he tried not to think about. He started to dial, his hands shaking too hard to press the 1 key only twice.
"Good idea Timmy," she murmured, patting his leg. Barbara was tired, that much was certain. She frowned, turning her face to watch him. "It's a good thing he let me go...nobody would've come for me otherwise..." It was grim, thinking of how she'd been one decision away from death or permanent insanity.
"Who let you go, can you tell me who it was?" He leaned down to hear her better, she was speaking so softly, not her usual barking commands. "The cops are gonna have questions, if you can't tell them you can tell me and I'll tell them."
"I didn't see his face...he wore a mask," Babs murmured, letting her eyes slip shut. "Burlap. And he was thin. Like a scarecrow."
On the phone, a static-filled dispatch operator asked for the nature of the emergency. "Yeah, Yeaverly Park, east of the bridge, off of Race Street. I found a fr--a girl, early 20s, she's been left here, I don't know for sure what happened here but she's in bad shape, we're gonna need an ambulance." He turned to Barbara and brushed some hair out of her face. "Yes, I'll stay on the line. Oh, and um, no sirens if you can help it?"