thecapitol | Now, you shall deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of Hell.

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Now, you shall deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of Hell.

Who| Tim Drake-Wayne and OPEN
What| The dragon attack on the tributes is shown live at a party. Tim is forced to eventually witness Stephanie Brown's death. He is not happy.
Where| A random Capitol party. Feel free to claim it as something your character threw together, or make up details as you go.
When| Late evening. When the freaking dragon shows up.
Warnings/Notes| Probable extreme violence. The dragon nightmare will be on the viewing screens at the party. Characters may mention the Tributes getting burned, maimed, eaten, etc, as the dragon log itself unfolds. ALSO: If you want to use this thread to have two other characters watch and discuss what's going on, just let me know and I won't bring Tim into it.

Tim had begged to go to this one, as the gold-leafed invitation had proclaimed it to be an exclusive viewing party. He had hoped that there would be enough televisions that he would be able to keep a consistent eye on the games, and he was right. The ballroom - and it was a ballroom, albeit a small one, had televisions everywhere. All of the tvs were the same soft, buttery yellow that draws the eye without detracting from the beauty of the rest of the room. On the buffet tables, tiny screens sit amongst the serving platters and dessert towers, all of which hold skillfully crafted bite-sized portions. Custom-sized televisions were fit periodically into the paneling along the walls. Huge, 70" inch displays hung from the ceiling on chains that had been interwoven with ribbons and roses.

In front of these, there were U-shaped collections of comfortable chairs and loveseats gathered around round tables. This was not a party that has a focus on a large dinner, Tim surmised from the small size of the plates and tables. The party planner meant for each guest to regularly return to the buffet, perhaps meeting new people along the way, and find a different seat when they returned. By Capitol standards, the party was tame, with only quiet ambient music and no performers or dancers. A chance to celebrate on a Friday night without missing any of the late arena action while chatting about the Games, and that was the draw for the addicted attendees. The invitation had promised that all Tributes and Victors were invited, and, from the crowd, it appeared that not many had declined.

Tim had arrived an hour ago, not long after the party began, and had wandered around the room, waving occasionally at a stranger who caught him looking at them. He wanted to get the lay of the place and an estimation of the sort of Citizens who were in attendance. Wealthy was assumed, but he'd met plenty of rich at home who owed everything to the cleverness and connections of forefathers. Eventually, he had drifted to the food and then the tables, armed with two glasses of sparkling wine for the conversation.

When the dragon first broke the surface of the water, a woman screamed in shock and delight. Tim, returning to the viewing area with another glass of wine, didn't understand at first, until he looked directly at the television. A giant, black dragon was rising out of the river, water sluicing off its body. "Steph."

The flute cracked in his hand, and glass shards and wine hit the floor audibly, the room had gone quiet in awe of this show of Gamemaker ingenuity. Tim, who was slightly tipsy even if he had pretended to be worse, started to apologize profusely and was waved away from cleaning up the mess by a silent servant.

He can't stay here and watch this. It's worse than having them murder each other. That was violence that he'd seen before. That dragon would be ripping people apart in short order, Tim was sure of it. He didn't want to see it. He had to leave, now, and go anywhere that didn't have a television. Tim started edging away from everyone, towards the wall, in hopes of a discreet exit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"GO BABS GO!"

Harley Quinn was in attendance, looking decidedly sharp tonight in a red and black diamond patterned sweater. It would be tame for Capitol standards if the diamonds weren't constantly swirling around her body like planets in orbit. Her skirt and boots were of the same style which made it look like a diamond patterned snake was crawling around her.

She was cheering loudly as Barbra Gordon flashed on screen for a moment, barely avoiding a quick and painful death at the jaws of the beast.

"Not bad for someone who looks like their starving." She noted leaving a plate of treats from the buffet untouched as she watched her friend scramble for cover. When the camera chose a new target to follow she groaned.

"Pick an angle and stick with it you hack!" She shouted at the camera operators who could obviously not hear her.

"Go, Babs, go!"

The cheer halted Tim's retreat. Several things occurred to him at once.

Babs was on TV. Tim's eyes flickered to the nearest screen in time to see Barbara Gordon get thrown over a wall by a Tribute that he didn't recognize. Thank you, he thought as he memorized this woman's face. Somehow, he'll make it up to you for getting her out of the proverbial and literal line of fire.

Harley Quinn was here. He knew that voice. How many times had he heard her shout and scream and threaten? Too many, but there was this rush of comfort that came with familiarity, with knowing how this one person would act and move. Quinn was far from a constant, but she was a known quantity in a field of chaos right now.

He should be reacting like she was, cheering on the action. Enthralled by the promise of blood, like the majority at the party. Suck it up. You can stomach it, he told himself, as he scanned the room and found Harley.

Snagging another wineglass off a passing tray, Tim headed towards her, trying to convince himself that he could handle this. Barbara was one of the smartest people that he knew. She would recognize that the enemy was beyond her and run. Wouldn't she?

She was so young. He hadn't known her this young. Be the same, Babs. Run.

Tim came up behind Harley's seat and took a sip of the wine. He didn't want to have too much, but he was going to have to smile at some point. In his best imitation of Batman's voice, Tim simply said, "Harleen Quinzel."

Harley let out a yelp loud enough to draw half the attention of the party away from from the TV to her. The other half would turn to look when she sprang off the sofa and scrambled over the low table to hide behind it peeking out expecting to see a massive muscular nightmare in cape and cowl.

...old habits die hard.

Okay, maybe it wasn't going to be as hard to smile as Tim had thought, because that was honestly funny. Harley was peeking over the table, as if she expected Batman to flip it out of his way any second now.

When instead, there was just Tim Drake, and he wasn't sure that he should acknowledge that he was Robin. He said it only once in the Arena, to Blaine, but she might not know. It's tempting to do that particular flick of the wrist that's needed to get a good spin of a Batarang, but he restrained himself.

A little, anyway, because they've got the attention of the whole gathering, and that means they need to put on some sort of show. Tim hopped up onto the empty couch without spilling his glass and perched on the back like it's the natural way to sit, grinning down at her. "Animated as ever, Miss Quinn. Red and black has always suited you."

Harley blinked, then a grin spread across her features and she sprang to her feat "My adoring public!" She giggled and the crowd made some scattered unsure laughter not getting the joke. But Harley was never one to be put off by someone not getting a joke. She sprang onto the table again like a stage and bowed. "A fellow Gothamite I presume?" She purred still grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Oh, good. She was going along with it, or she was just being herself. Either way, Tim was finding ways to spin this, if he ever needed to. He had broken the glass because he was so surprised to see another person from his hometown. It was perfectly reasonable.

"Born and raised," Tim said with a nod. "I've seen you on TV, of course. Everyone knows Harley Quinn."

Let her figure out how to explain that she's been on television, if she even would need to hide that she was a criminal. It's not like being an accomplice to robberies, kidnappings, and worse could hurt her in the arena, but her knowing that he's a Robin might be dangerous. Tim was playing with fire here.

"I'm Timothy Wayne." There was the slightest emphasis on the last name, as there always was when he used Wayne instead of Drake. It was something that he'd picked up from Gotham socialites. When the name alone showed power, wealth, and connections, you had to flaunt it.

She gasped and clasped her hands to her face in shock, playing it up for the crowd of course. "THE Timothy Wayne? Great Googly moogly FINALLY someone else from my universe!" She cheered and the crowd was starting to lose interest due to not understanding.

She sprang down from the table and cackled. "So far only Diana has been from the same world, Babs and your old man don't seem to be up to date...or if they are something went really funny with their memories." She twirled a finger around her head in the universal sign for crazy.

Particularly ironic coming from her.

She froze and looked shocked once more. "Does Captain Trust fund even know you?"

Just because she knew who Tim Wayne was didn't automatically mean that she was from his universe, but it was a huge step in the right direction. It was certainly significant, implying a world where Bruce was Batman, Dick Grayson had become Robin, Jason Todd had been killed, Tim Drake had taken his place as Robin, the separate murders of both of his parents and his subsequent adoption by Bruce. An enormous pile of coincidences had lead to the creation of Tim Wayne. It was not easily dismissed, really. Harley was more than likely correct.

The crazy sign is ironic and sad, really. The tragic case of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, respected psychiatrist turned psychopath. Even she doesn't deserve this place.

"He does, yes. But he's younger here - he might just know me because he knew my parents." Tim could remember meeting Bruce once, when he was very young, at some sort of museum gala. He hadn't met the man very often, but Bruce never forgot anyone. It might be the truth. "He's not Captain Trust Fund. His name is Bruce, and he's my adoptive father. The money doesn't matter."

And it doesn't, except to keep them all up to the neck in souped up cars and smoke pellets.

"Well not here that's for sure." Harley brushed off his defense of Bruce easily. "He tried to talk me out of you know...fighting and stuff back in the arena. He's good people." She chuckled lightly. "Way better then I deserve considering all he's done for me. Too bad we never got to hang out more in there before..." she mimed herself getting choked till her head flopped to the side and her tongue lolled out. A comical interpretation of her death at the hand of Wesker.

"He's the best," Tim agreed with a slight modification, and the sincerity and hero worship emanating from him is palatable and real. He doesn't have to reach for this, because Bruce Wayne is the best man that Tim knew. Sure, he was a cynical, know-it-all drill sergeant, but no one came close to his dedication to justice and the greater good. Superman's close, but Clark is, well, super. He didn't have to earn it the way Bruce did.

However, the half-smirk at the death re-enactment and that amused huff of air - those, Tim manufactured for the benefit of anyone still deigning them of interest. It was back to their new reality. "Oh, come on. I'm sure you put up more of a fight than that, Harley. I can call you Harley, yes? You can call me Tim."

See, we're all friends here. Trouble has provided him with stranger bedfellows. "Anyway, you've got time to catch up with him here in the Capitol. He might even make an appearance tonight. Bruce never turns down a good party."

Harley grinned sheepishly. "Yeah well...he was kinda really super strong. And It was me or Babs. I couldn't let the kid get choked out so soon in her career." She explained almost embarrassed at the admission.

"Sure you can call me Harley!" She declared and lunged forward to pull Tim into an overly affectionate hug.

"We Gotham punks gotta stick together. No matter what Gotham it is."

As for Bruce she winked "If he shows up I'll have to thank him. Our last date didn't go so great. Crazy fake Joker trying to kill me. Go figure."

He was going to attempt some sort of thank you, for putting someone decent in ahead of herself for a change, instead of a maniac, but then...

He's being hugged by Harley Quinn.

Harley Quinn is hugging him.

No, there was no way to phrase it where it made sense. Tim hugged her back. It wasn't as affectionate as it was on her end, but it wasn't awkward either. That would have just asked for people to pay attention to them again. Acting friendly or not, Tim still discreetly ran through all of the necessary checks. There was nothing taken or added to his pockets, and there didn't appear to be anything on his back.

"But you knew that he was phony, right? You two are like the Romeo and Juliet of Gotham. No, the Heathcliff and Catherine!" Of course, in Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff turned out to be a bastard, and they both died miserable. No one ever knows that though, they only remember the romance.

She laughed and released him parting his back a little roughly.

"You got that right! It was this creepy midget who used to work with Mister J before I came along." She rolled her eyes and sighed "but for a minute I hoped it WAS him. Jealous and wanting me back.

She shrugged, "If he was around here just imagine...the crowd would love em! This place was made for him." It was a mix of longing and nostalgia. But there was a hesitance in her voice.

"I'm sure if you showed him you didn't need him, he'd get jealous and want you back. Maybe if you went out with the Riddler." Actually, Tim wouldn't wish that on Edward Nygma. He wasn't sure he'd wish that on anyone, which was why Tim would pray to every god he's ever heard of tonight that the Joker did not make an appearance in an arena. Not because the Tributes would die - they already were dying - but because he seriously doubted that the Panem government would be able to keep him contained her in the Capitol. Gotham couldn't keep him contained anywhere, and that was knowing what he was capable of.

"The Joker would... liven things up. I don't know how much they'd love his act, though. The Hunger Games are a part of their culture. People get funny when you mix jokes and honored traditions."

Harley burst out laughing.

"Me and Eddie?! Oh you're cute little Wayne. But you don't know a thing about villain politics!" She cackled some more till her tittering calmed enough to explain.

"Eddies a sweetie, he'll always be my pal, but Ivy and I kinda upset him. Then there was this whole thing with Dr. Aesop..."

She trailed off and brushed it away like a bed memory.

"Either way Joker and I...we kinda ain't seen each other in months. I've been staying with Ivy and Kitty...err, catwoman." She corrected herself assuming Tim Wayne wouldn't put the nickname with the most obvious choice in her social circle.

Tim put his elbow on his knee and leaned forward, propping up his chin on his hand. It was legitimately interesting, hearing Harley's take on her life without any threat. He had to fight the urge to try and wheedle all the information that he could out of her, something to take home with him if - when he made it back.

He didn't want to be rude though, and she was the one bringing it up. "Nah, you're right. I don't know anything about 'villain politics.' I try to fly under villains radar, you know? I've got enough on my plate without getting robbed or worse."

Or you know. Getting beat halfway to death in a sewer, but that sort of in-courtesy was only extended to capes. "On a break? I know how that goes. Dating is hard enough without bring psych issues to the table. Tam and me broke up or something. She thought I wasn't being honest with her."

She studied him with a look of playful curiosity. "Ooo~ So what's the truth of the matter?" She inquired leaning forward. "Come on, let's swap our heartbreak." Urging him on eagerly.

"The truth?" The truth was that he had lied to Tam, but he had had to do it. She knew too much as it was, and Tim couldn't risk her not acting and reacting as normal. Keeping her in the dark about her father was cruel, yes, but he couldn't relinquish control of the situation like that. It was the only way to guarantee the success of his plan. When the cards were down, the mission was what mattered. Emotions were irrelevant, and, although he'd felt bad about it, Tim had been prepared for the consequences.

"The truth is that I lied and got caught. I screwed up. I tend to do that with girls. Take Stephanie Brown, she's here too. She'd be the first to tell you that I'm a lousy boyfriend. Once she gets out of the Arena, anyway."

Edited 2013-05-11 03:36 (UTC)

"Ouch." She winced. "That's gotta sting, having your former girl be trapped here with you. She still mad? Or does she know that there's kinda more important things going on?" Harley questioned showing a surprising amount of sympathy.

"I haven't asked her," Tim replied uneasily. He didn't like where this was headed, talking about things that were supposedly from his personal life when really it was cape-related and had bled into everything else. This was Harley Quinn. "We were both thrown directly into the arena so it's not like it was on top of the list."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. Judging by the last couple of times that I've seen her, it's not anger."

Flipping the topic back at her, he asked, "Have you ever had a friend that doesn't quite fit into the 'friend' box, but you can't find any better term for it?"

Harley considered this for a moment, grinning brightly and snapping her fingers as she figured she knew what he meant.

"You mean like henchmen?" She joked playfully.

"Or friends with benefits that have yet to be cashed in because you're not quite more then friends but not quiet less then in loooove?"

"No, not like hen-" Tim cut himself off abruptly. That was way, way too accurate, and it's his own fault for overlooking how, somewhere underneath eight pounds of crazy, Harley still has the knowledge and perception of a very good psychiatrist.

It's good and bad at the same time. He thought that he could work with this and somehow make the complicated history between Stephanie and himself interesting. If they were interesting, they'd be invited more places, shown more things. He didn't want to remain an outsider; he needed to wheedle his way into the Capitol if he was going to get home.

But it's bad, because if Steph hears Harley suggesting that they're 'not quite less than in love' - yeah, he's never going to hear the end of it. "Yeah, uh. No, that's nowhere near right."

"Aw darn." Harley huffed "I was hoping it was. You two would be WAY more interesting then that Peeta and Katniss team." She sighed "I hear spicy near romances are popular among the crowds. I guess I can still count on those two nice gay kids at least." She smiled with good nature at him.

He was aware of how well romances played on television, even if he didn't know that much about the last Panem-born winners. Tim didn't want to ape what had been such a recent plot line in the Games, and, anyway, tv couples were more popular when they teased each other and the audience with their tension and attraction. It was all downhill once they got together.

It was still alarming how close she was to the truth. Spicy romance. Did getting hit in the face with a brick count as spicy? It probably would to Harley, whose affair with the Joker was the actualization of the song "He Hit Me (and It Felt Like a Kiss)."

Tim had to fight to keep smiling. He had just compared one of his relationships to Harley's. that was messed up. "I guess you'll have to wait and see like the rest of Panem, whether the ballad of Tim and Steph gets another tantalizing refrain. People like to watch train wrecks, right?"

"Some people." Harley clapped her hands together and gave a bounce of delight, "And some people like to participate in them!" Unfortunately for Harley, that sentence could have any number of meanings. And none of them good.

Now, you shall deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of Hell.

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