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

[the_hit_list]

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.

Comments

[battroll]

Bruce, like Tim, was here for appearances as much as anything else, though in his case there was a secondary motivation. Sponsors, in the arena, could mean life or death. He couldn't do much for Barbara, not anymore, but if making friends with one of the rich could give her a better chance....

Well.

Moving in the circles of the elite was second-nature for Bruce, what he'd done all his life, and tonight was very like the same thing he'd done for years. The difference, of course, was that he was in a room of those who'd cheer on death of hundreds of others. It was lucky that Bruce was a fine actor.

And then the dragon appeared.

[the_hit_list]

Tim never saw Bruce arrive, too caught up in the crowd and then the dragon, too busy trying to distract himself with whatever conversation he could find.

And then the dragon went to Frontierland.

And then the camera found Steph.

Tim had gone cold at the sight of her, and he realized how tense he'd gotten when he felt muscles in his legs begin to twitch. He didn't know if he'd start shaking if he relaxed. Maybe he already was, and his body froze up to contain it. He sat there at a table, ignoring the conversation entirely and not caring if he was being rude. His eyes never left the screen, never wavered from the blonde girl in the ruined gown.

She did everything right and, yet, nothing went her way. She ran. It followed. She caught fire; she rolled and stripped. Go, Steph, he should be cheering. He can't, not when she tried to blind it with that shot; he knew where she was aiming. It missed. Not her fault, it's not her weapon. The sai wasn't his.

Everything that went wrong felt like a punch in the gut. The arrows that weren't sharp enough to pierce the hide confirmed that this was an attempt by the Capitol to cull the herd. A beautiful girl killing a dragon should be high entertainment, but Tim knew when they bounced off that Steph would be joining him in the Capitol soon.

It wasn't a comfort. There was none to be had, and, when she took shelter in the crumbling building, he wanted to shout at the television. She wasn't being stupid. It was her only option. It sucked. When the camera switched to an interior shot, Tim knew that she hadn't escaped. They wouldn't have taken the camera away from the dragon. When the burning beam fell onto her, Tim laid both hands flat on the table to keep himself from covering his face or his ears.

He was still looking at the screen when she caught fire and started screaming, but he wasn't really watching it anymore. He was too busy trying to breathe normally. The rest of the building caved in, and the screaming stopped. Tim closed his eyes for a few seconds. With an audible intake of breath to steel himself, Tim got up from the table without a word and headed for the door.

He doesn't want to hear the cannon. He doesn't want to see if the dragon roots around for her charred corpse. He will punch the first person that complimented that death.

[battroll]

Bruce didn't know this girl, but Tim's reaction was more than enough to tell him everything he needed. That he knew this girl, knew her well, that they were friends or possibly lovers. He froze as he watched the screen, dropping all traces of the act, the persona he'd been so carefully constructing up until now. That was understandable, and was forgivable - he could always say he'd been engrossed in the screens. In the drama unfolding. Bruce watched Tim instead of what was going on, which made it more bearable, the death of this stranger who was somehow important. But, when Tim started to leave, that was something he couldn't do, not like this, without an excuse, unless he wanted his carefully constructed personality split apart. Unless he wanted it known that he'd been acting.

Bruce moved smoothly over to the younger man, and his hand went to the other's shoulder.

"Tim," he said, voice just bordering on the edge of the voice he reserved for business, with only as much as the charming, silly playboy as had to be there.

"You're going to miss the party."

[the_hit_list]

An unstoppable force met an immovable object.

The object won, because it's Batman. Tim stopped and looked up at the man. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He can't stay here. How can you even suggest that? He can't handle this; he wasn't as good at this. He didn't want to wreck everything he's been so careful about the past few days. He made it through Barbara's appearance. God, wasn't that enough?

The cannon shot was even louder than in the arena, enhanced by excellent subwoofers. Tim physically squirmed at the sound, shoulders rolling back.

"Bruce, that's Steph," he choked out, but it was all he could manage before the heat of tears stung his eyes.

He can't even look at him now. That's two friends that he's seen die in this arena, and both were people that he's lost before. He doesn't want to be comforted by Bruce and won't be. Can't fall into his arms crying the way he had once, still staring at the boomerang embedded in his father's chest.

His head dropped down to avoid Bruce's gaze, and his memory segued into something more recent. Tim can see the cutlass embedded in his own chest. His hand went up instinctively, resting over his heart. It's not there, but that's where the pain is.

Don't cry. Your face wasn't wet yet. This was salvageable. Focus. He'll let you leave if you show him you're under control. Tim wanted to lash out at him, but he tried to keep the act going. There's a waver in his voice, though. "Never stay to the end, it makes you look like you've got nowhere else to be."

[battroll]

"It seems like you know her pretty well," Bruce says, voice light. "I guess that's one of the hazards of coming from a parallel universe, or whatever this setup is supposed to be, because I haven't met her. Why don't you tell me about her?"

Report, Robin. Think of something else. Don't look at the screens, don't think about it, don't leave yet. Not until she's not the freshest death on the screen, the last face that had been seen, not until it doesn't seem like he's running. Tim has presented himself as too eager to follow the carnage of the arena to run, and running now won't do anything to help him, or the girl, or the Mission, the eventual goal to shut this place down. Bruce couldn't guard him from everything, but he could try to help him protect his act.

Bruce smiled a little, and though there was nothing honest in the expression, it would take someone who knew him excessively well to see that.

"You'll have to let me meet her, in a few days."

She would be fine. They were supposed to be enjoying this. Ignore the statistics, the percentage of tributes who even now were left dead when they died - maybe they'd kept that touch to add drama for the viewing public.

Bruce tried not to consider that he might not have the chance to meet her.

[the_hit_list]

Report. He can hear the order in his ear, even though he's not wearing a comm. Oracle, report. What's the status on Blüdhaven. Nightwing to Robin, report. When shit hits the fan, Batman will break in. Robin. Gunfire at the docks. Investigate and report. God forbid something goes wrong, and then report stops being their staccato comm lingo and turns into an impassioned plea. Red Robin? Tim! Report, now!

Bruce didn't have to say it aloud. Tim knew what he was being asked to do. Remove yourself emotionally from the situation and give the confirmed facts only. The frequency had to be kept clear for emergencies. Two casualties. One deceased: disembowelment. One breathing: call a bus. Following a blood trail. Will report again.

Tim followed the cacophony of Batchatter until he went on autopilot, sliding into the mindset that came with years of practice. He picked his head up and rattled it off in fragmented sentences. "Stephanie Brown. Batgirl. Formerly Spoiler. Temporarily Robin. My universe."

He has nothing to back that up - there will never be a way to prove it behind a shadow of a doubt, but she's close enough. He didn't pause to consider it; he knew it was true. "My ex-girlfriend. Faked her death as Robin in an attempt to return to a normal life. Returned as Spoiler. It's gotten in her blood. Became Gotham's Batgirl. Officially sanctioned by Batman, Inc. Current status: friend. Ally. Temporarily deceased."

Tim has retreated to the safety of being Red Robin. He doesn't have to wear a cowl to feel its weight.

[battroll]

"Spoiler?" Not a name he was familiar with, but Tim - or Robin, he was talking to Robin now - said it with the cadence of a name, which meant Spoiler must be a hero. She was Batgirl, good. She'd been another hero. Even Robin, though that was a little hard to imagine, as was the 'temporary'. Either way, she knew what she was doing. He'd watched the screen, and she knew what she was doing. Not as acrobatic as Barbara, more familiar with fighting.

Batman, Inc - this was another unfamiliar term, and perhaps the most bewildering yet. Batman had never been a corporation. Irrelevant. It was in this Tim's universe, which brought up the interesting, and important, question of what the other differences were.

He was watching Tim as he spoke. Yes, 'temporarily.' It wasn't permanent. Hopefully. Please don't let her be another victim of this world's capriciousness.

[the_hit_list]

And that question - that one word - confirmed what Tim had surmised on their first meeting. They were not from the same universe, that the differences between them wasn't just a time thing. He knew Tim well enough to recognize him without much questioning. Tim has known Stephanie since he was, what, thirteen? Bruce should have recognized the name Spoiler at the very least.

Tim held back the information that she was the Cluemaster's daughter. Given that Bruce didn't know her, Tim was glad that he'd made that call. He didn't want them to start off on the wrong foot, but he could explain the name, Tim thought, without hinting at any of that.

"She spoiled people's plans," Tim said wryly. That part of the name was obvious. "There's a bit of a double meaning. 'Spoiler alert' is used on the internet to warn that the contents of a new television episode or movie are going to be divulged. She's not a metahuman. She's just good at showing up when there's trouble. Frankly, she was a pain in the butt when she started. Don't tell her I said that."

He was getting off track and went quiet, unsure of what else was needed. Don't start coloring this with anecdotes. Don't think about how carefree the two of you were then. Before she 'died', before Warlock and the earthquake and the adoption. Before the mess that followed all of that. Just two kids on a date, thinking they could save the world. Don't remember how blissfully uncomplicated life was, when all you had to worry about was getting grounded.

There was also no point in mentioning how Bruce had screwed up with her. She was Spoiler, and then she was Batgirl. Don't worry about the in-between. She could explain it herself, after she woke up here in the Capitol. Tim stood at a more relaxed attention and waited to see if there was anything else that Bruce wanted before he left.