Tim Drake; Robin (thethirdrobin) wrote in newalliance, @ 2012-06-01 01:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | red robin |
Who: Tim Drake
NPC: Jack Drake
What: Jack Drake is murdered, and Tim arrives just in time to receive his final words.
Where: Drake Manor, Gotham
When: May 31, 2012
Rating: SFW
Tim crouched high on the Ellsworth Building, from a vantage point where he could see almost all of Gotham below. It was one of his favorite places in all of the city, because from up here, he felt almost removed from all of the crime that ran through the streets below. From up here, all he could see was the beauty and splendor of the radiant city below him, without the evil he fought on a day to day basis. It was one of the few places he sometimes went on his nightly rounds that he could feel at peace. Leaning back and watching the dots of light below, he allowed himself the briefest moment of contentment, that was just as soon interrupted by an incoming call.
Turning his forearm over, he checked his communicator that he ran his phone through while in costume, and arched his brow. The incoming call was from his father. And while that was not in itself unusual, the time in which he was calling certainly was. At this hour, his father was typically either in bed, or off on some late night business venture. Either way, it made him worry that for once his dad was actually checking up on him.
"Hello?", Tim said, leaning back away from the ledge he had been perched upon.
"Tim!", said the voice of Jack Drake through the receiver in a shrill tone that Tim almost did not recognize. "Where are you, son? Are you in the house? In your room?"
With a grimace, Tim bowed his head. He loathed lying to his father. "No, I'm out late with a guy from school. We were just-"
"Thank God!", his Dad interrupted. "Listen Tim, don't come home. Not right now. There are men in the house, and I called the police but I don't..."
A knife twisted in Tim's gut, as he felt himself enveloped by a keen sense of fear. "Dad!? What? Are you there?!"
"...Yeah", his dad whispered. "They're closer now. I don't know how much time I have before they find me. The police should be here soon, but until then I've just got my old pistol and..."
Tim was still listening, but by this time he was dropping through the air and swinging through buildings faster than he ever had before. With all haste, he knew it would probably take him some fifteen minutes to get back to Drake Manor from his current position, even with the motorcycle he was making his way toward.
"Dad, look, just hide. Don't try to fight them. And if they do find you, give them whatever they want." It wasn't bad advice, and was typical in such a situation. But Tim knew Gotham enough to realize that anyone who broke into a place like Drake Manor would not want to leave any witness behind.
"Just what I was thinking... are you in your car? It sounds windy.. oh nevermind, that doesn't matter, I..." There was another pause, and in it, other voices could be heard, though not quite made out. "...Look, I don't want any trouble. Take whatever you want, and leave."
Tim's heart froze as he realized that his father was talking to whoever had broken into their home, and nearly drove his motorcycle into a bus in his distraction.
"That's it, Dad. Just be calm. You're doing gre-"
BANG!
"DAD!?!", Tim screamed into his receiver. In answer, he heard only more gunshots.
Eight minutes later he burst through the door of his home to find his father laying in a pool of his own blood, face up, with his hands over his wounds. Tim immediately went to his side, oblivious and uncaring of the fact that he was still fully in costume. He knelt, and reached to lift his Dad up around his shoulders.
"Dad? Dad!?", he choked, trying in vain to shake life back into him. "Don't leave me! Don't do this! Help will be here soon, just hold on, hold on, hold on..."
"...Ti..Tim?" Jack Drake opened his eyes, and seemed confused at first, but only for a moment. "Ah... ah.. I had thought... I had thought it was you..."
"...What?" It took Tim a moment to realize that his father was talking about the costume he wore. "You knew?"
"...I suspected.. now I know..."
"Oh, Dad, I... look, don't talk now. Just save your strength... once we get you to a hospital, and you are well again, I'll tell you everything..."
Even as he spoke the words, Tim could feel the rate of his father's breathing dwindling. Could see the blood dripping from either side of his mouth. He had seen enough crime scenes to know that the wounds he was looking at were mortal, despite what hopes he otherwise had.
"...I don't... I don't think that is going to happen, son.. but.. but I want you to know that I am proud of you.. so proud... and that I am sorry for leaving you like this.."
"Dad, no! You're going to make it, just stop talking! Stop!" The tears fell freely now, and Tim had to toss his mask away to clear his vision.
"...I'm sorry for.. for leaving you alone... I.. I.." His father's head fell back, and his body began to go limp. "...I love you Tim..."
"Dad, no! No, no, no, no, no..."
Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, and Tim could hear the sirens clearly now, but they were already too late.