2012-11-29 The Past as Prologue

Rain. Always rain. Is the weather ever clear in Gotham City? The night has been cold and wet. Luckily for Gotham's vigilante population, that leaves more than a fair share of the local criminals indoors. Drug deals and prostitution go better in the dry. Anyone with more than half a brain would notice the increased lightning however. Electrical Activity is off the charts, and seems to be focused on a district of warehouses adjacent to Wayne Enterprises. The sky is continually rent by bolts of lightning, and peals of thunder. Overall, the night seems to be perfect for a scary story.

From the sky, a white hot bolt of lightning splits straight for the ground. It doesn't arch, doesn't branch, just archs straight down and through the roof a an empty warehouse. There is a bright light inside and the sound of a large explosion...then everything is silent except for the fall of rain.

It's always something. While putting the majority of crime indoors might make the streets quieter, no one with half a brain is likely to think it's a trend; or even a positive at the moment, for that matter. After all, it's time to plan, to congregate, and while Gotham's streets are frequently a savage place in the dead of night, a bit of thunder and lightning aren't going to prevent nefarious deeds behind closed doors.

It's been a busy night for the Batman, hunting a gang of human smugglers who've been preying on Gotham's poorest and most desperate denizens, even if the operation proves not to be tied to the disappearance of children on a wider scale-- a puzzle that vexes him still as the Batmobile roars through the sheeting rain, carrying the Dark Knight back to his patrol.. as the storm intensifies.


 * "I'm tracking abnormal weather patterns in the vicinity of Wayne Tower."| the Caped Crusader matter-of-factly informs Oracle as the armored vehicle takes the next turn. |"En route to check the area; get me satellite imaging of the system."| Meanwhile, the Bat pulls up the security grid for the affiliated warehouses; and a few that aren't. It's about that time that the destructive bolt crashes into one of the company's stockpiles, and the afterburning turbofan on the back of the hybrid supercar/APC blasts fire outwards into the rain, instantly accelerating the Batmobile towards the disturbance.

The bolt itself doesn't seem to have done too much damage, just punched a hole in the ceiling and lit a few small fires. The fires are quickly extinguished as it seems as though the bottom is dropped out of the clouds and rain drenches the streets. The lightning and thunder die down as the sky seems to settle on rain for the time being. A crackling can suddenly be heard over the radio, then a voice, "...to Cave..." It coughs and there is a sound of shuffling boards and debris. "...shorted out...Old man?"


 * "I see it."| The anomalous signal on the bat-network's communications protocols, utilizing a... frankly rather advanced version of the adaptive encryption algorithms that keep the team's operational security intact. It doesn't come through immediately-- Terry's codes may not be outdated, but they haven't been /created/ yet. The inversion is a problem.

Between Oracle's talented efforts and the computing power of the mainframe and its servers hidden throughout Gotham, however, it's not long before several garbled bits come through the static. The Batmobile's systems are reoriented to transmit and adapt to the keys in use, |"Identify yourself."| It's a voice that McGinnis likely can't mistake, if with intensity and drive that had somewhat diminished over the decades; alongside tone and content that suggests Bruce Wayne may have finally gone senile.

Terry McGinnis stands brushing off the batsuit and giving his surroundings a look around. "Kansas, I don't think we're in Toto anymore," He says to himself looking around. "Batman to Cave, you know me Old Man," He says, clearing his throat abit. "Did you forget to take your meds again?" Terry flaps his arms, and the wings adhere to his arms. A blast from his boots and he soars out of the hole he just made in the roof. As he clears the hole, he stops landing and taking a look around. "Whoa...this isn't my Gotham..." There is a moments pause, then he keys his mic again. "I dangerously assume this is Batman, I am talking to?" Its a shot in the dark, but...maybe?

"I really don't." It's not transmitted, rather mused darkly in the privacy of the Batmobile's futuristic cockpit, the arrival of the vehicle audible below once it pulls up close, its engine, intended for a jetcraft, subdued only in a relative sense as it roars its power outwards before tires scream momentarily, stopping nearly on a dime in an adjacent alleyway some distance below Terry's position. |"Oracle."| The channel is reopened to Barbara before McGinnis. |"If he's using our system, his device may have remote secure access."| To visual and sensor data from his (admittedly more advanced) suit. |"If it doesn't, make me a backdoor."|

Of course, that access is something Bruce Wayne has relied on many a time to guide and monitor Terry in the field-- even pull him out of the fire more than once. Or, will rely upon; it's confusing. There are a few minutes where the Batmobile sits idle as the datafeeds on the console light up with telemetry gradually unlocked from the Tomorrow Knight. It raises more questions than it provides answers, but it's difficult not to recognize the patterns in his own handiwork.

A gloved hand rubs gathering stubble on broad jawline as the Bat takes a rare moment to simply sit puzzled, watching the data come in from 'Batman'. Then, the car's roof slides open, and the Dark Knight flies upwards into the night, whipping through the falling rain and landing with grace that doesn't belong on a man his size on the very edge of the warehouse precipice, blank white eyes locked on Terry. "You would be correct." He answers simply, putting the ball back in the other man's court with as little disclosure as possible; after leaving him hanging for those tense moments.

Terry McGinnis tenses for a moment as Batman comes into view. There is momentary flicker of decision in his eyes, as he takes a step back into a defensive stance that Bruce should be intimately familiar with. It passes in a second and instead Terry steps up, letting his hands hang down next to him and looks back into those white eyes with a similar glare. His shoulders square, and his feet are set. "Batman," He says with an air of finality. "What is the current date, and what part of Gotham are we in?"

"Above a Wayne Enterprises storehouse a few blocks from the Tower." The Dark Knight informs Terry with little discernible emotion, direct and to the point. For his part, there's no immediately aggressive action, no telling body language. It's something of the opposite, outside those narrowed eyes. Long, black cape hangs forward over the Dark Knight's shoulders, hiding his arms as the grapnel is locked back into his Belt. Little but the middle of his frame thus remains visible, the Bat garbed in an advanced armored suit McGinnis wouldn't be entirely familiar with in the first place, but there is at least that stylized bat-sigil.

That symbol is of course immediately familiar, alongside the voice and the steady confidence. "It's 2012, the end of November. Not where you were planning to land?" The Dark Knight's own hypothesis rings somewhere between stating and doubting the obvious, as his own suit offers all sorts of intriguing readouts on the vigilante he now studies.

"Not the where or when," the Tomorrow Knight replies. "Geographically, this warehouse would be where the Wayne-Powers temporal Lab would be in November of 2032. Blight was trying to turn back the clock on himself. Couldn't let that happen." There is a long pause as Terry studies the younger-than-normal Bruce Wayne in front of him. "Found the back door yet? That's why you're stalling, isn't it. Who's running the computer? Robin? Nightwing?" He takes a step forward and comes to just outside arms reach of the Dark Knight. "Nice Armor." Rain cascades over his enclosed cowl, but the chill doesn't seem to affect him.

As Terry speaks, the Dark Knight is the first to break the confrontation, wordlessly, as he turns his attention to a small PDA-like device drawn from within his belt, one limb emerging from shrouded concealment to smoothly and unapologetically take readings of the Tomorrow Knight and their surroundings. "You're essentially trapped in an entirely cybernetic nervous system." That much, the suit's power distribution can't really hide. "If I wanted you shut down, I'd have you shut down." It may be a bluff; but probably only barely. He doesn't directly answer the question, either-- what else is new?

There's a moment spent studying the readouts on his handheld before a few taps share the data and it's slipped back away, out of the rain. It seems to dissuade and irritate Bruce about as much as it does Terry; which is to say not at all. "I don't detect harmful radiation, and the anomalous electrical discharge is dying back. You're practically suffused with tachyon emissions." There's a pause, all the consideration he needs at the moment. "Come with me." At which point Batman simply steps back off the rooftop, dropping down towards his transportation. It's not a conversation he's having exposed... and he could use a moment to assess further.

Terry McGinnis follows, gliding down on his wings before slipping them away again. "You've done it before, Old Man," He says, mostly as a joke. "I'd offer to drive, but I have a hard time driving non-hover vehicles. Something about not having a 3rd dimension just weirds me out." He lands next to the Batmobile. "Do you have a tracker on you're utility belt?" Of course he does, but Terry thought it polite to ask.

Batman's own descent is a bit more abrupt, but no less skillfull-- it's only that last span of distance where the remarkable fabric of his own cape catches and slows him enough to land smoothly. The Batmobile opens as if of its own accord at the Dark Knight's silent signal, and he wastes no time in vaulting into the driver's seat. "How do they possibly accomodate traffic patterns and human error in three dimensions of crowded street?" If the Tomorrow Knight gets situated in the car, or perhaps slightly before that point, the canopy would seal itself anew. "Several." One of the larger, though still miniature, longer-range variants is offered over; probably more in curiousity than trust.

Terry McGinnis takes the tracker and looks over it. "Good," He says, planting it on his upper shoulder. "I'll follow you." He retrieves his wings, and the boot rockets fire. "You'll excuse me if I don't immediately want to hop into an unfamiliar closed space with you," Terry says over the radio. "You have a track record...And so do I." The tracker he's planted begins to signal. "This is so you know where I am."

"You mean my.. eventual.. charm and affinity for camaraderie haven't won your absolute trust?" The dry note in the Dark Knight's voice speaks to his complete lack of surprise; or concern for the attitude, at present. "Why don't I follow -you-. You know where to find the secret entrance to the Cave, right?" It's something of a trick question, being that there's more than one, but hey. It's at that point that the canopy does slide shut and seal, and the Batmobile backs smoothly out of the alleyway to reorient itself-- intentionally pointing in the wrong direction, initially.

"I once immobilized the entire Future Justice League at your direction using your modified Doomsday methods," Terry replies quickly. "What does that imply?" Terry soars over the now shorter Gotham city. His rockets making little sound as he bobs and weaves through glass and steel canyons. "You never gave me a timeline of when they each were built. Who knows if an entrance is still there...or isn't there yet, rather?" He angles himself toward the coastline, going for the "Bat-Boat" entrance.


 * "That the Justice League was out of control."| Batman answers without hesitation or doubt; |"A threat to themselves or the world."| Is he warm? The Batmobile does a good job of keeping pace even as Terry takes the 'as the crow flies' approach, cutting out and along the coastal highway that leads out of Gotham and into its more rural surroundings. As far as the mechanics of finding the Batcave in another time, not to mention a seperate timeline? Well. |"Just do the best you can."| In this case, the vehicles may not be the precise models, the mechanisms may be rather alien, and the world itself full of beings that McGinnis has no recollection of-- but the geography of the rocky crags allowing access to that secluded, secured cove remains quite intact. Along with the actual location of the subterranean lair; probably the -real- test.


 * "Better than some possibilities."| Alien parasites are easier to deal with than the corruption of power, in the Dark Knight's book. He pulls in not long after Terry, where the Batboat docks hidden in its peaceful cove. The grotto is dark, unassuming even if one -is- there looking for something particular, but not only does McGinnis pick out the proper point in the rocks, he finds the hidden entrance to the rest of the Cave. Some part of the Bat -is- surprised at that, but it doesn't show by the time he vacates the Batmobile, and unlocks the aforementioned seal.

"Who are you?" Is the first, seriously intoned question out of the Dark Knight's mouth once he steps past Terry into the hardened tunnel leading deeper into the cavern system. "And if you say 'I'm Batman' I'm turning you over to R&D." It's worth noting that even after just meeting him, Bruce Wayne emulates Terry's bat-voice nigh-perfectly; whether that makes it more or less insulting is in the eye of the beholder.

Terry McGinnis raises his eyebrow at the voice emulation. "While it is refreshing to not have you as stern, it comes off as patronizing," He growls following behind Bruce. He remains quiet until they get all the way to the main chamber. He turns to look at Batman with a furrowed brow. He reaches up and pulls back the cowl, showing his own face and hard gaze. "Terry McGinnis," he says, his voice level as though he's giving his name, rank, and serial number. "Personal Assistant to Bruce Wayne, and unbeknownst to the people of Gotham, the second Batman." He stands stock still, like a soldier waiting for inspection.

"At least I'm listening." Batman responds simply, steadily. Patronizing or no, this is hardly a comfortable or familiar situation. Even if he IS familiar with distortions in time and space, they aren't exactly one's typical day at work; even when one happens to be Batman. The Cave isn't precisely how Terry remembers it, either, but the layout and technology is at least similar-- the aesthetic varies with his displacement, and then there's the fact that everything is in working order, expansive. It's not even just the Dark Knight operating out of it, anymore, and he's hardly limited to the remote efforts of an old man with a heart condition. Everything is kept up, and that military precision Terry's learned.. well, it's easy to see where it comes from.

The revealed face is studied carefully, as much for his own benefit as to transmit a precise profile to Barbara's feed. The Bat is nothing if not layers of paranoid. "McGinnis." It's a name that the Caped Crusader isn't immediately familiar with, even as the Oracle tracks down the modern branches of Terry's family tree. The name means little to him, here and now, and that seems to almost be a relief. Batman paces a moment before settling into his chair in front of the bank of monitors, turning to face the Tomorrow Knight instead. "Convince me." Patronizing, perhaps; it's still more chance than most people with this story would get. Too much doesn't add up to write Terry off as a liar.

Terry McGinnis narrows his eyes. "Would you prefer I told you something that everyone on the Justice League is vaguely familiar with?" He says, with a frustrated sigh. "Or would you prefer me to pollute the timeline further with foreknowledge of events?" Terry steps forward. "I'm not here to impress you, nor am I here to see just how all this got started. Derek Powers aka Blight was breaking into Gotham labs to reverse time on himself to fix his Radiation Poisoning...which I was responsible for." He growls the last part under his breath. "Now, I'm here. So unless you know of a Time Express, you're stuck with me."

"Tell me something I already know, that you shouldn't know." It's not quite patient, perhaps stern -is- the right word after all. It's spoken as though it's what he already asked McGinnis to do, and he should have realized that on his own /already/. "If you know who I am, you know more than that." It's that simple, right? "You've already changed the future by arriving and making contact, in all likelihood... assuming you're even in the past you remember at all." Quantum Theory may be something of a hobby. "Derek Powers... the arms developer?" There's a dismissive wave of one gloved hand, "Never mind. No, I don't have a time machine." Helpful. "But that doesn't mean we don't have options."

There is a long pause. Terry looks around and then turns back to Bruce. "Jason Todd," Hey says quietly. "You secretly hate and blame yourself for what he has become. You're greatest regret isn't letting him die. It's making him Robin in the first place. You wish you could have kept yourself from making him Robin at all. You told me his story when I included my friend Max into our future team." He crosses his arms. "I had figured as much, but I am not the smartest person when it comes to time travel. It's never happened to me, though you had some stories."

There's a bit of tension in the Bat's frame at the name, that doesn't really let up with the explanation. There's very few people who are even -aware- of the shortlived Robin between Dick and Tim, or that there -was- a Robin between the two; much less what became of him, and his subsequent resurrection, implied in Terry's words. "He wasn't ready." To chase his 'mother' into the heart of Arabia at the manipulative behest of Ra's al Ghul. These words do contain a spike of anger that builds, rumbling in the Dark Knight's deep intonations, "Not for the mask, not for the fight he wanted to pick. None of you ever are." But some listen before it's too late. For the moment, his own experiences with temporal distortion are completely forgotten.

"We didn't have a choice," Terry says quietly. "No one else was left, and Gotham was alone." He pulls his cowl up. "However, all that is in the past...relatively. Were you ever truly ready?" He steps closer and puts his hands on his hips. "You once told me that one is never really fully prepared for this job. One must simply do what he can, when he can, and how. Though in our case, with all the meta-humans and mutants around, preparation is key."

"No, none of you do." Batman agrees, if a bit cryptically. He's been accused of making the choice -for- his proteges, but even that doesn't seem to be what the Dark Knight is getting at-- there's none of the self-hate inherent in such an observation. "Gotham needs Batman." Two notes of concurrence, Terry is on a damn roll. "It's necessary; we do the best that we can." The agreement echoed into mantra. "Then we push for better." The Caped Crusader nods, once, as much in affirmation to himself as any acknowledgement towards Terry.

"Preparation and understanding are the key regardless of relative power. Otherwise, it's simple vigilantism and dice rolling." Doing his best and hoping for the best has never been a Batman mainstay. He doesn't comment directly on his own burdens or doubts, instead pressing a button off to one side of his console, "Alfred. We're going to have an extra guest, tonight."

"Very good, Sir. I'll see to it; and prepare something to eat." For all the enigma in Bruce's simple, terse request.. there's a moment's pause and sympathy in Alfred's tone. Some people just know.

"Alfred," Terry says, stepping forward. "The legend himself. Richard said that his pancakes were legendary. And Tim..." Terry stops himself. "...He said the same." He looks around. "I don't suppose you have an extra rack for a Batsuit. Wait. No, you probably do." He turns back to Bruce. "If you don't want me to go out, I can respect your wishes on that. However, I do have one of the most advanced suits at your disposal."

There's a slight narrowing of cowl-obscured eyes at the quick redirection, but the Dark Knight doesn't press the issue. "There's room. If you want something specific, just let Alfred know." Be it pancakes or an extra fluffy towel. As far as Terry and active duty? Well. "Before you're on the street, I need to see what you can do. I don't suppose I need to tell you the rules." It's eerie, seeing his training echoed forward from a student he never-- or hasn't-- trained. Eerie is part of the job description, however. "You'll need a name. No one is calling you Batman." Which sounds like a rather firm new rule, on its own. "Once I know what you're capable of, and you're familiar with the rest of the team.. /then/ we'll discuss deployment. Robin-- my son, Damian-- prefers to operate out of the Batcave. Don't be surprised to meet him down here." It's possible Bruce noticed that that particular name was not dropped.

Terry McGinnis's eyes go wide for a moment. "Son?" Terry says with a quizzical look. "Did you and Selina..." For all his serious demeanor, Terry can't help but have a flash of disgust on his face. "Um...Eww. That's it." He shakes his head to get the mental image out of his head. "I can take almost anything you can throw at me. You may have strength and speed, but the older you get, the more crafty you are."

"He's not Selina's." Batman clarifies, after a fashion, passing over the (somewhat curious) moment of McGinnis' squick. There are deeper questions raised by the lack of familiarity; not the least of them being Damian's face. For the first time in the conversation, the Dark Knight unmasks, leaving his cowl hanging over his back as he glances back to the monitor, thoughtfully. "You'll understand when you see him fight." At least, perhaps in part.

"Okay, good to know," Terry sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Should we eat first, before you attempt to kick my ass, or do you want to test my abilities now?"

"Go on upstairs; get a meal, get your bearings, we'll train in the morning." Batman instructs smoothly-- a moment to gather his own thoughts seems prudent, on top of everything else.

Terry McGinnis pulls his cowl down and off. "Okay, I assume Alfred will know me from sight," He walks over to the staircase. "Bruce," He says turning to look at Batman one more time. "Thank you." He continues up the stairway and into the Manor.

"I don't send too many people up from the Batcave." The Dark Knight affirms, perhaps a bit facetiously. At the utterance of his name, Bruce looks over from the workstation to his future-protege, and nods once. "If you're who you say you are, you don't need to thank me. If you're not, you won't want to." From anyone else, it would sound a bitter threat; Batman just wants to be clear.