Gotham's Story
The pain lingers with you for a long time. To fill the void, you sought to bring Batgirl- or Barbara Gordon- into the fold. She proved worthy, but the two of you never bonded in the way that you had with Robin. Perhaps it was the time she spent working independantly, or maybe it is the strained relationship you have with her father. Or perhaps it was never meant to be.
Far too soon into your partnership, Barbara was shot by the Joker and lost the use of her legs. Batgirl was gone and you sank farther into the pit left by Jason. Barbara has become an invaluable asset by becoming your information nexus and calling herself the Oracle, But the void is not gone. It had never left, but had grown instead.
But now you must carry on. Jason must not have died in vain.
"Bruce," the electronic voice crackles over the comm device in you ear. It must have been going off for several moments, judging by the urgency of the voice, but you had been lost in your reverie.
"I'm here," you respond with your voice barely reaching a whisper. The throat microphones in your suit are designed to pick up the message audibly.
"We have a bit of an emergency, Bruce," Oracle was on the line as she always was. "Why haven't you been responding?"
"Busy," you lie as you methodically check the readouts on the wristpad of the Batsuit. Through the extensive use of Wayne Industries' technology, Oracle's computer knowledge, and your own ingenuity, the Batsuit now monitors biometrics and suit integrity, detects ulraviolet and infrared light, displays echolocation, and remotely commands the Batmobile. "Where is the emergency?" you ask while pulling up a map of Gotham and turning on the Batmobile's engine.
"Well, funny you should ask. My computer says the Batcave has been breached. I've locked it down remotely, but you still have an intruder in the Cave."
Immediately your body and mind jolt into action. You look at the alert on your oversized computer module and pinpoint the exact location of the intrusion. Good. He-or she- came in through the lower levels. You have the high ground.
"Hello?" You hear the voice echo throughout the cave as you observe from your strategically placed ledge. "Is anyone here? It's kind of dark and cold and all the doors are sealed..."
He's just a kid. You notice his backpack and flashlight, but he seems to have brought nothing else in with him. You have no idea how he found the Cave, but he didn't seem to be a threat. You won't take any chances though.
You decend and you see a flash of fear cross the boy's face. In a moment, you have him in the air, gripped by the collar of his hoodie.
"Who are you!" you demand with the most intimidating voice you can muster.
The boy gulps. He can't be older than fourteen years old; you're surprised that he hasn't wet himself yet. "I'm Timothy- uh, Tim. Tim Drake?" he stutters. "And you must be Batman."
Before you can respond or ask him more, he jerks and slips out of his hoodie in one fluid motion. When he hits the ground, he rolls backward towards the discarded backpack. He pulls out a manila folder brimming with paper and adds, "Or should I say, Bruce Wayne?"
In less than a second you grab the folder, wrap him in one of the nets from your utility belt, and knock him to the ground. While he groans from the impact, you skim the folder. It contains photographs, news articles, cross-references, computer documents, transactions and map locations. This was enough definitive proof to reveal your secret identity twice over. Is he a blackmailer? Who does he work for?
"What do you want?" you decide to ask.
"Well, I mean- I guess what I'm trying to say- if it's not too-"
"Spit it out!" you yell, harsher than is probably necessary.
"I've come to volunteer. To be your partner. Maybe another Robin?" The honesty is written on his face as well as his ignorance. He knows you, but he could not possibly know what happened to Jason.
But could you accept Tim's offer? Immediately, the sound of it is enticing. You have been in pain since the loss of Jason, and perhaps a new Robin would fill the void. Tim certainly has detective skill that rivals your own, and he has the agility and stamina that would give him the ability to train. But then you realize the risk. You broke your back, Barbara lost her legs, and Jason died. Everyone you bring close to you is at a great risk, and every injury and death is a weight on your conscience. As you stare at the boy laying on the ground, full of hope and potential, you consider. Will Tim Drake be the next Robin, or is the risk too great to even think it?
Far too soon into your partnership, Barbara was shot by the Joker and lost the use of her legs. Batgirl was gone and you sank farther into the pit left by Jason. Barbara has become an invaluable asset by becoming your information nexus and calling herself the Oracle, But the void is not gone. It had never left, but had grown instead.
But now you must carry on. Jason must not have died in vain.
"Bruce," the electronic voice crackles over the comm device in you ear. It must have been going off for several moments, judging by the urgency of the voice, but you had been lost in your reverie.
"I'm here," you respond with your voice barely reaching a whisper. The throat microphones in your suit are designed to pick up the message audibly.
"We have a bit of an emergency, Bruce," Oracle was on the line as she always was. "Why haven't you been responding?"
"Busy," you lie as you methodically check the readouts on the wristpad of the Batsuit. Through the extensive use of Wayne Industries' technology, Oracle's computer knowledge, and your own ingenuity, the Batsuit now monitors biometrics and suit integrity, detects ulraviolet and infrared light, displays echolocation, and remotely commands the Batmobile. "Where is the emergency?" you ask while pulling up a map of Gotham and turning on the Batmobile's engine.
"Well, funny you should ask. My computer says the Batcave has been breached. I've locked it down remotely, but you still have an intruder in the Cave."
Immediately your body and mind jolt into action. You look at the alert on your oversized computer module and pinpoint the exact location of the intrusion. Good. He-or she- came in through the lower levels. You have the high ground.
"Hello?" You hear the voice echo throughout the cave as you observe from your strategically placed ledge. "Is anyone here? It's kind of dark and cold and all the doors are sealed..."
He's just a kid. You notice his backpack and flashlight, but he seems to have brought nothing else in with him. You have no idea how he found the Cave, but he didn't seem to be a threat. You won't take any chances though.
You decend and you see a flash of fear cross the boy's face. In a moment, you have him in the air, gripped by the collar of his hoodie.
"Who are you!" you demand with the most intimidating voice you can muster.
The boy gulps. He can't be older than fourteen years old; you're surprised that he hasn't wet himself yet. "I'm Timothy- uh, Tim. Tim Drake?" he stutters. "And you must be Batman."
Before you can respond or ask him more, he jerks and slips out of his hoodie in one fluid motion. When he hits the ground, he rolls backward towards the discarded backpack. He pulls out a manila folder brimming with paper and adds, "Or should I say, Bruce Wayne?"
In less than a second you grab the folder, wrap him in one of the nets from your utility belt, and knock him to the ground. While he groans from the impact, you skim the folder. It contains photographs, news articles, cross-references, computer documents, transactions and map locations. This was enough definitive proof to reveal your secret identity twice over. Is he a blackmailer? Who does he work for?
"What do you want?" you decide to ask.
"Well, I mean- I guess what I'm trying to say- if it's not too-"
"Spit it out!" you yell, harsher than is probably necessary.
"I've come to volunteer. To be your partner. Maybe another Robin?" The honesty is written on his face as well as his ignorance. He knows you, but he could not possibly know what happened to Jason.
But could you accept Tim's offer? Immediately, the sound of it is enticing. You have been in pain since the loss of Jason, and perhaps a new Robin would fill the void. Tim certainly has detective skill that rivals your own, and he has the agility and stamina that would give him the ability to train. But then you realize the risk. You broke your back, Barbara lost her legs, and Jason died. Everyone you bring close to you is at a great risk, and every injury and death is a weight on your conscience. As you stare at the boy laying on the ground, full of hope and potential, you consider. Will Tim Drake be the next Robin, or is the risk too great to even think it?