2013.08.01 - Time in the clocktower

So it's not yet 'that time of the night' in Gotham. There's still crimes being committed and there's still people being harmed, but it's a different set of heroes that deal with it during the day. Dick Grayson just happens to be one of both. His shift at the PD ended almost an hour past and he'd usually be headed back to Bludhaven to get something to eat before the 'next' one starts... but instead he finds himself tracking down one last informat on a case he's working.

Which brings him to Old Gotham and by proximity, the Clocktower.

His unmarked pulls over a few blocks down, far enough that he can stop by a chinese resteraunt to pick up a little early dinner. It's only another twenty minutes until he's punching in his password with a glance up and down the street. Then the long elevator ride to the top.

Between his access code entry and the uncountable number of cameras, it is by no means a surprise when he's knocking on the door to the 'apartment' with the back of his knuckles, "Avon calling."

No. Not a surprise, at all. Indeed, Babs is thumbing an automatic door control almost before he knocks. "C'mon in," she says, reversing her chair away from her console and spinning it around to face him. She greets Dick with a warm smile. "Hey, you. Long time, no see. What've you been up to?"

She gestures lightly, indicating he should come in, the door closing automatically behind him when he does. Then, she pulls her chair back a little, indicating that perhaps moving toward the lounge area at the far end is a good idea.

"Eh.. little of this, little of that." Dick answer the question with a flip flopping of his hand and smile of his own, "I brought dinner. Doubted you'd eaten yet..." Eyes on the consoles where Oracle works her magic, "Business meetings and all." Nodding towards the lounge and heading that way to set the bag down and start pulling out containers.

"I was in the neighborhood. Working a case down in Old town and figured it would be rude as hell if I didn't stop in..." Handing her one of the take aways of shrimp and rice. "How're are... things? Everything, hell.. It's been forever." Awkward... He really doesn't get out to see... anyone... as much as he wishes he could have.

Barbara's smile increases, crinkling around her eyes, causing them to dance. "You are a wonderful man," she grins, as he offers dinner. "Have I ever told you that?" It's true. She hasn't eaten. And, he no doubt knows her well enough to know that when she does eat, it's scraps or nuke entres she can wolf down while sorting through intel feeds.

She takes the carton from him and inhales its scent, briefly, before moving her chair alongside the couch. "Things are alright," she says with a mild shrug, carefully setting everything on the coffee table in front of her while she works on unwrapping the chopsticks. "Stopped a terrorist from blowing up a gas refinery with a nuclear bomb in Russia, the other day." A beat. She chuckles. "Well. Superman did. But, he couldn't have, if I hadn't told him where to look."

In fact, she also stopped the passenger train carrying the bomb from derailing around a hairpin turn, using her funky cyber magic. But, she doesn't say that. That would be bragging overkill.

And Dick already knows the hot skills she has behind that keyboard anyways. His own smile doubles when she refers to him as 'a wonderful man', there's only a handful of people who can make the former Boy Wonder feel giddy like the first time he wore the tights... Barbara Gordan always had a direct line to it.

"Mmm.. yeah. I read about that." He steps around the far end of the coffee table and drops down into the couch. His gun and badge are set down beside one of the cartons of lo mein for comfort and he too opens one of the packs of chopsticks. "But I mean you, how are you?" There's a notable drop in his expression. Subtle to most people, but as clear as day to the people who genuinely know him.

'He' is out. Not that Dick would ever openly voice that question 'directly'.

Instead he'll dance around it uncomfortably. As they all do when the Clown is holding court in Gotham.

Ah. Yeah. Him.

Barbara knows exactly what Dick means. And, God knows, that will probably always be a button-pusher for her. She picks up her shrimp and rice and stirs it a little with her chopsticks before she answers.

"I'm okay," she says after a moment's thought. The smile she offers him isn't as bright as it was, and her eyes have certainly sobered. But, they're not automatically filled with the pain of memory. "I mean, I'm not thrilled, by any means. But, this is the Joker we're talking about. He's in and out so often, it's like he's got his own revolving door." She's being flippant, yes. And, yes, that usually means she's blowing smoke. "I can't afford to fall apart every time that happens."

She spears a hapless shrimp with her chopsticks and chews on it for a bit.

Dick watches the pseudo-mask fall into place and inwardly regrets mentioning it at all. There wasn't any reason for it. A mental whip cracks across his psychi, chastising himself worse than Bruce ever could. His eyes fall down to the little container of lo mein, chop sticks toying at the noodles absently. "I guess, yeah."

There was pain all around when it came to the clown, but only Babs and Jason really knew the man's touch first hand. It's not something any of them envy. It's not something any of them should have to think about until the bridge comes and they have to cross it.

"How's your dad?" It's weak, but he's peddling away from the difficult question with one that's at least moderately brighter. One that doesn't make him feel like a gawker watching a car wreck when driving by on the freeway. He knows she probably doesn't think of it like that, but... "You'd think I'd run into him more..." Laughing quietly before pushing some noodles into his mouth to fill the void.

"Good," Babs replies, grateful enough for the change in subject. A beat. She smiles. "Or, at least, well enough. You know how he is -- as much a workaholic as any of us." She chuckles dryly. "Last I spoke to him, he was intending to visit Metropolis to catch a peek of the visit of that mutant 'Imperator' from Genosha." Yes. There are air-quotes implied by her tone. She can't help but think it's a lot of megalomaniacal grand-standing. She knows the type, far too well. Consequently, she's been gathering all the information she can on the mutant known as Magneto.

What she'll end up doing with it, however, is anyone's guess.

She cants her head. "So, what's the case you're working on that requires a trip into Old Town?

"Mmm.." Dick says around a mouthful of noodles, chewing them back quickly before voicing his own opinion on the mutant 'Imperator', "I ran into a mutant in Bludhaven a few nights ago. She didn't seem all that thrilled by him.. to put it politely." Said with a quirk of his expression to mirror the contempt for the type that breeds defacto leaders. Especially finatical ones.

"Wish I could have been there for that, myself... get ahead of whatever reaction is going to come from his declaring his own 'nation'." Already has an embassey in Metropolis, though. So who knows what the 'reaction' will be. "Everyone I've talked to is calling it a 'mutant' problem, but these things have a way of bleeding over.."

Case, oh right. "Hah.. nothing special. A biker gang named the 'Land Sharks' running some chemical out of Metropolis. They have a chapter house over in Bludhaven, but I think they're using one of the families out on the port to ship it in." Shrugging a shoulder and shoveling more noodles into his mouth for a quick chew and swallow show, "Just keeping myself busy, honestly."

Yeah. The 'mutant problem' has had a way of popping up repeatedly over the years. But, no differently than any other meta- or vigilante-related problem, as far as Babs has been able to determine. And, frankly, there are heavier hitters more suited to dealing with that problem that Gotham's friendly, neighborhood info broker. So, all Babs is doing currently is monitoring it. If anything changes? She'll tell the JLA. Or maybe SHIELD. Let them figure it out.

"Land Sharks, huh?" She purses her lips lightly, considering that. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know." A beat. "Heads up, though. The District Kings are starting to gain influence. I ended up chatting with Green Lantern. He says there's alien weapons tech filtering down into the gangs, and I know that the Kings have some sort of hook in Bludhaven. I can prove clear links to DynamTech Electronics, at least." DynamTech being a small corporation operating out of Bludhaven. "But moving on them before I've got the full scope of their operation isn't going to be helpful."

Dick's opinion on the matter doesn't differ much from Babs', but a lot of his closests friends are meta. When the things pop into the street, as they have a tendency to do, none of the Gotham Knights are likely to sit it out on the sidelines. That's just not their style at all. For now, though? Everyone watches. Batman's paranoia has a way of bleeding over.

"Yeah... Land Sharks. Which is about a rediculous name for a biker gang, but they aren't exactly Ph.D. level intellects to begin with." Said with a little smirk around his chopsticks. At the mention of the District Kings and, more over, the Lantern being involved, Dick's brow elevates just a bit. "Well now.. That's something to keep an eye on. He doesn't usually get into things down in Gotham." Nodding, "Let me know when you've got enough intel to make a move. I'll see if I can't gather a little field information myself and wire it to you."

Babs smiles at that. "Thanks. If you hear anything about Shelby Knox, Christian or Carolyn Knox, or Marcus Balcourt, I'd love to hear it." Shelby is a kidnap victim who's now been gone too long for most cops to hold out any hope of finding her alive. Her parents own Knox Industries, which is a sizable enough firm, though no where near as big as WayneCorp. And Balcourt is the owner of DynamTech industries. And Oracle's pretty sure they're all connected, somehow.

The woman spends a few more moments enjoying her takeout, before she sits back and regards Dick pensively for a long moment. Finally, she gives a wry smile. "So..." she says, her tone containing a hint of a leading preamble, "you know how I hate to ask for help, right?"

Dick mouths the names and nods, committing them to his own memory bank. Whether he just hears the names or actively goes looking for them, chances are if there's information to find that Oracle couldn't herself, Nightwing will. Smiling around his chopsticks.

A bit more mischievously when she starts in with the wry smiles, 'mmming' quietly with a nod. "Sort of runs in the 'family'. But you know it isn't asking for 'help' from me. It's me volunteering to do it before you actually have to... unless you need me to dress like Santa. I can't do that." Pause, "I have a line, Babs..."

Babs laughs at that, a lightness returning to her tone. "You're too skinny for Santa, anyway." she smiles. A beat. She flashes a grin. "However, if you'd ever consider Death-as-the-Hogfather -- that, I'd love to see." (As seen in the Terry Pratchett Discworld novel Hogfather.)

She shakes her head now, and the smile fades slightly, the pensive look returning. "It's nothing too serious... well, I mean..." She lets out a rueful laugh and shakes her head. "It's more I'd like your opinion on something, than anything else."

Her smile becomes wry, small, still pensive. "I haven't said anything to anyone, yet, because I'm not really sure what to do with it, but... well... I've started doing some business with Tony Stark." Yes, she's rambling. Usually, she's much more direct when she wants to make a point. "He has this... treatment." Her nose wrinkles. She watches Dick for his reaction. "He says he can make me walk again..."

Dick laughs at the idea of him as the 'Hogfather' and shakes his head, rubbing at the side of his face with the palm of his hand and pinching the bridge of his nose to keep the chortling from choking him on the bit of noodles he hazzardously had in mouth when she suggested it.

A long drink of water settles the problme and has him looking to the rambling Babs with his head ever canting to one side.

At least until the reveal. That has his expression looking like someone just jumped out of his trunk as part of a surprise party. He blinks a few times and furrows his brow. "I...well." His eyes go wide, then narrow. "If anyone could do it, he can." He starts, trying to find the way to voice 'something' into the surprised silence. "Okay..." Setting his food down.

"How do you feel about it, Babs? Of course we want you to be able to walk again. None of us are ever going to say 'dont' do it. If that's what you 'want', I'll drive you there myself. All I care about is that it makes you happy... and I can't imagine how it wouldn't."

"It... looks... really promising," Babs says slowly, and a smile grows on her lips. "I've gone over all of the research data and it's remarkably solid. This treatment... it can... it can regenerate lost nerves and muscles. And he's told me it will be made available to first responders, casualties of military action... just about everyone." Which has always been her major reason for denying herself a lot of the more experimental treatments. Well, that and the fear of 'what if it doesn't work'.

She sets her takeout aside and glances toward the big clock window. "God, I've dreamed about something like this. Something that could honestly repair the damage completely. I just..." She looks back at him. "I just never thought it truly possible. No other treatment I've seen has been as through as this."

She wrinkles her nose again. "But it is still experimental. So... I'm just not sure."

Dick finds his apetite has suddenly fallen in favor of joining Babs in what could honestly be considered a technological miracle, if it actually works. His take away is put aside and he wipes at his mouth with a folded napkin, habitual, almost tickish, before turning to look on his closet, oldest friend with a pensive understanding of how... no. He cannot understand how it feels to her... but he can empathize. They've all empathized.

Some, more than others.

"Tony has always made it clear that the technology he pushes forward will be available to everyone.." He reasons with a nod, joining her in staring out the big clock face window at the bits of Gotham's night sky that is visible against the dingy glass. At the memories of the pair of them swinging through that same city when they were teenagers and again wondering how it must feel to see that possibility staring her in the face. "You have always had a strong head for these things... weighing the options and all the variables. If you make the decision, if you go through with it, you know we're going to support that choice. All of us."

Even Bruce... Especially Bruce.

"Nobody would ever think you're going into this sort of thing half cocked. We couldn't have made the difficult decision you did and... we probably still couldn't now. But, for what it's worth, I would love to see you dance again."

And Barbara would love to be able to dance again. And fly a zipline again. God, would she love that. It's the one thing she specifically misses -- that moment of freefall before the line catches and the swing begins.

The smile on her face is at once nostalgic and hopeful, lighter than it has been in years -- since before the accident. She nods to his words. "It would be... pretty amazing, yeah."

She lets out a soft breath, nodding again, though this time more to herself. She glances to him, again. "If I do decide to go through with it, I'd love you to be around for it." Though she knows that sometimes emergencies crop up and he may be pulled away. It's a reality of both his jobs.

A beat. "Oh. Just so you know, I haven't mentioned this to my Dad, yet. I... I don't want to get his hopes up too soon."

It's a reality that Dick is fully in control of, most of the time. Some things happen, but there's always backup and given the severity of the situation? Who would blame him if he took a rain check. So the comment has him nodding, agreeing, and voicing it, "I wouldn't miss it for all the world." Assuring her with a smile. An almost boyish smile, dispite his age. Sometimes, he's just that kid again.

This is one of those moments.

Gotham can steal things from a person, but it has never taken it from Dick. Grayson has always had hope. Always been unafraid to think 'what if'. And this time? He's not just thinking it, he's praying for it. "Yeah..."

Some more than others. Jim. Dick understands her not wanting to tell him, at least not yet. "I'll keep it mums, but he wouldn't really ask me anyways... so that shouldn't be difficult. .. How about Bruce?"

Now, Babs grimaces faintly. "No. I haven't said anything to him either. Truthfully? You're the only one I've told at all. I just... I needed some time to think about it before I said anything to anyone." And she's closer to Dick than most others. Dick and Dinah, really.

And, let's face it: Bruce isn't the guy you go to for things like that. He's the guy you go to when you need a problem solved, not when you just need to sort out your thoughts.

Each of them has a different relationship with Bruce, but they all can agree on that one point. Dick nods with his expression twisted into something like understanding... if a sour one. "Yeah.. well.." He's clearly flattered, but also understanding.

Because this is not a small deal. Not to him and certainly not to Barbara. "Wow.." He finally says it and leans back. It's been hanging there on his tongue, hidden behind a smile that started out as awkward but has become something like joyous. It may well be just speculation at this point... and who knows... but it's a 'real' speculation. "That... that would be incredible."

Barbara just nods, now, leaning back in her chair and smiling. Her hands rub the arms of the chair unconsciously. She inhales deeply and exhales slowly. "I'm going to speak with him," she decides, now. Her eyes start to dance just a little. "I could get my life back..." Not that what she has now isn't a life -- and a good one, at that. It's just... not quite what she ever imagined for herself.

And wouldn't it be a grand way to stick it to Joker?

In truth, Dick hadn't even considered it. How displeased it would make the Clown, but when one starts down that dark road... He's looking at it differently, he's looking at it from having his original partner in 'crime'fighting back. A grin on his face like he's just won the lottery, eyes dancing over to her with a brief nod.

"Well, clearly we would have to celebrate. How about we set it as a tenative date?"

Barbara grins at that. "You're on," she agrees. "A tentative date." Set for who-knows-when, given she's yet to speak with Tony. But, it doesn't matter. She knows that as soon as she makes the call, he'll have her over in NYC at Stark Tower as soon as he can physically manage it. He's just like that.

She savours the moment a heartbeat or two longer and then glances around. "Hey. Want something to drink? I'm sure I've got something around here." Okay. All the alcohol, what little she allows herself, is downstairs in her apartment. But, there's always other stuff up here. She keeps it on hand for Cass, when the new Batgirl comes home ravenous from beating down on bad guys. And for herself, for those times she just can't tear herself away from the computer terminals.

Dick hasn't had the pleasure of meeting Tony personally, but he's read the stories. Both the tabloid version and what Batman knows and he just sort of seems the type. "Good, I'll keep my schedule clear then..." Grinning and shaking his head. That could be one clear schedule for awhile.

"Uhh, yeah, yeah I think so." Glancing down at his watch, still a few hours before he'd be out on patrol anyways and there's sometimes when you just have to cut yourself a break. Batman may not, but Dick is definitely not Batman. "Maybe some coffee? I'm sure I saw a pot sitting over there somewhere..."

Barbara smiles again. She reverses her chair, spins it slightly, and coasts over toward the counter. There is indeed a pot of coffee there, though it's old. She grimaces as she looks at it. "Right, I'm going to make a fresh pot," she decides, and she sets about doing just that... almost cheerfully, really.

"So, have you got any plans to get away, at all, this summer?" Sure summer's nearly over, but, you never know. "I was thinking it'd be nice to hit a cottage somewhere. But, I'm having difficulty clearing my schedule."

Workaholic.

It's the same with all of them.

"I've got the personal time to get away from 'work', but..." Dick says, standing up to stretch his knee. Still a little tight, but its functional enough to carry him through patrol if he takes it easy for 'one' night. "You know how it is. Think things have calmed down enough that the city would go on without me there... then some interdimentional entity decides labor day weekend would be the perfect time to go through Bludhaven collecting souls." Smirking just slightly and leaning against the strong work station where Oracle does her magic, casually glancing at all the screens displaying god knows what data.

"But I wouldn't mind getting away, at all."

The laugh Babs gives is a telling one, a knowing one. She understands completely. "Supervillians," she scoffs. "No respect for holidays at all. The jerks." She makes light, but she knows it's true.

"Well," she says, turning her chair around, though lingering by the counter, as the coffee starts filtering, "if you do want to get away for a day or two, maybe we can take a drive, somewhere. Dad and I were talking about hitting the west coast, but I know that won't happen."

"I keep telling myself I should write them a strongly worded letter." Dick says, looking away from the screens and over to Babs with a huge grin and a laugh dancing in his eyes. "Dear villains, stop messing up my weekend. Love you mean it, Nightwing... but.." He even scrawls it out with a finger on an 'air pad'. "Maybe I should use twitter... you think Harvey is on twitter?"

Shaking his head, still carrying the chuckle with him into making plans, "I say, let's do it. I'd say 'we only live once', but I'm pretty sure the internet played that out... Instead, I'll say, I'd love to. Maybe not the west coast, but up-state New York? Nice camping up there."

Again, Babs laughs, a bright musical sound. "No. But, I'll bet Harley is." That's all they need. Villain twitter. Cue Dr. Horrible.

"Upstate is great," she agrees, however. "But, let's see if we can get a cabin? Camping is murder on my chair." Not to mention her tablet reception. Because, the chances are good she won't be able to stay offline completely. "See what your schedule looks like," she suggests. "I'll try to do the same."

Eventually, the coffee is ready and she pours two cups. She sets a tray on her lap and the cups on the tray, then, she coasts over to where he stands to deliver one to him.

"Oh sweet merciful god." Dick actually laughs the words out. Now, Harley is a mixed bag. Sure, she pals around with the Clown, but... there's still a spark in there, one at least he hopes can be fanned into defiance and eventual rehabilitation. Even if it is far fetched. "I can only imagine... that woman is 'all hands on sandwich' crazy."

Shaking his head, Dick reaches down for one of the cups and offers a salute thanks before taking a slow sip. "Can do. Cabin it is. I think I know just the place, too..." Mischief! Twinkling in his eye, right there. "I'll bring one of those portable wi-fi generator things Bruce is always carting around with him...." Head perking, eyes getting thoughtful. "We should set him up a twitter account..."

Again, more laughter. "Bruce. Twittering. Ri-ight." That amuses the hell out of Babs. The very thought of it. "I mean, which persona would we register? @TheRealBruceWayne? The millionaire, whose staff can handle it and put all the right corporate spin on it, if he really wanted an account? Or @ImBatmanReally, where we tweet out cryptic one-liners worthy of Riddler?" She shakes her head. "I don't think he'd go for either."

Dick just shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, and laughing in that shoulder racking way when someone is so amused they can't even breath to actually laugh. "Oh man.." His eyes squint and he takes a deep breath, glancing up at the ceiling with his eyes getting watery. "That would be brilliant. He would be so pissed..."

Taking on a 'remarkably' close likeness of the Bat-voice, "I'm not amused." Then he punches the air.

"Worth it."

Babs snickers helplessly, setting her coffee aside on the console so she doesn't upset it in her lap. "You know... it might be, at that." She grins. "At the very least, it could make a hilarious April Fool's joke on him." She'll have to remember that. If anyone could create a false cybertrail to back up the tweets, she could.

Dick wipes his eyes and nods, "He'd probably break the 'rule'." Not even remotely likely, but it's worth a laugh. The coffee is drank fairly liberally now that it's had a chance to cool a bit and Grayson glances down at his watch with a sigh. "Christ. I should probably hit the street, on that note. He really 'will' break the rule if I'm not on patrol. You on comms? It's been kind of inactive in Bludhaven-" Figuratively speaking, "-and I could use the conversation."

Babs nods to that, watching him down the last of his coffee. "Yeah. I'm always on coms. You know that. Happy to keep you company." Besides, he might find something interesting.

She smiles up at him. "Thanks for dropping by, Dick. I always enjoy it when you do." She glances to the discarded takeout. "Oh. And thanks for dinner, too. That was awesome."

He does know that, but Dick can't help asking anyways. Or grinning when he hears the answer he knew he'd hear. "Hey, my pleasure. Next time, we'll go out to some place fancy... Where we've got to get all dolled up in over priced clothes and people will snap pictures of us for the tabloids." Still grinning when he leans down to give her a hug.

"See you soon, Babs. I'll try not to be a stranger." It's been a rough couple months, but he definitely looks like a new man. (That's MU* humor). He collects up his badge and gun, but doesn't reclip them on his belt on his way to the door and the elevator back down to the street.