Exile 4: Decision is here!! Well, at least the first chapter, anyway. Reviews or suggestions would be appreciated, and like always, if you want to archive this somewhere, just let me know. This is continuing the Exile series that was started in Exile's Return, and continued in Conversations and Reunion.
Disclaimer: Not mine, woe is me.
These belong to DC.
Overview of past stories in this series: It seemed like it would be good to have something like this, so that in case you don't remember what happened before, you aren't totally lost. (Still need to read them once, though, these are not the whole story.) I dunno, tell me if this is stupid and I won't do it again.
-krt
Return: 18 year old Tim Drake returns from overseas where he has spent the last three years without even hearing from the clan. Sent there by his father after he learned about Tim's involvement with vigilantism, Tim returns to find out why the clan cut off communication with him. He enters town and eventually the cave, without anybody knowing exactly who he is. When the clan rushes to the scene to find out who has invaded their domain, a reunion ensues, after Tim discovers that there was a good reason for the lack of contact. The clan discovers that Tim hasn't wasted his time away, either. In fact, he's pretty dang good!
Conversations: Tim talks with Bruce, and discusses some issues that he has with his father. Then it becomes necessary for Tim to talk to his father, also. To put it mildly, this does not go well, and Tim discovers that time has only reinforced the fact that his father doesn't deal well with him or his chosen work.
Reunion: Tim goes to visit some old friends, namely the former Young Justice crowd, now part of the Titans. He reveals his identity to them, and discovers that they thought that he was dead. He also meets a seven year old Lian and gets a tour of the Titan's base. Leaving with the promise that he'll keep in touch, he heads back to Gotham, knowing that he now must make a very important decision about his future.
Hoo-kay, on to the (hopefully) interesting part...
Chapter 1: Practice
I pulled back into Gotham at about 5:00 pm. Dusk was just beginning to creep over the city. The lights were glowing already, most of them would not go out until dawn, if even then. I took the long way back to the manor, winding my way through one of the shadier sections of the city. This was the area that had usually been mine to patrol, either with Batman or on my own.
I pulled over to the side of the narrow street, wanting to get a better look at the area. I scanned the rooftops, since that was definitely the part that I was the most familiar with. It was surprising, even though it had been three years, I could still remember this area clearly. Oh, some things had changed, but the majority of the streets and buildings were still the same as they had been the last time I was through here.
Did I really want to stay here? Go back to the way that things were before? I didn't even know if that was going to be possible. Neither Bruce nor Dick had even broached the subject of me staying in Gotham and wearing a mask again. This could be because they don't care, or more likely, they don't want to say or do anything that might influence me.
Unfortunately, in this case I wouldn't mind knowing what they thought of the idea. I had been gone a long time, but I wasn't out of physical training, and I think that I might surprise Bruce himself with the extent of my mental training. But, there was a chance that Bruce would not be cool with the idea of my working in the area. There are few people more protective than Batman when you're talking about other people 'working' in HIS city.
My reverie was interrupted by the awareness that several guys were approaching me from behind. I watched them in my rearview mirror, while seeming to be totally immersed in casing the area. Gang members, obviously, wearing the customary black colors and all wearing something sporting a very distinctive shade of purple. Obviously, I was in their gang's territory. I knew that the smart thing would be to get out of here. I had no real important reason to be here, no ulterior motive, no possible goal that would be accomplished by sticking around.
I stayed anyway.
There were three of them, looking like they really wanted to be thought of as tough. Tattoos adorned nearly every visible part of their bodies, and it was obvious from their attitude that they expected no problems from me. I was only one person, after all. The leader stepped around to the front of the bike and got in my face. "Man, you on Vice turf. Leave the bike, and start running. Maybe we won't kill ya."
I looked him over through the tinted visor of my helmet. From the way that he stood, he was armed with a knife, but probably not a gun. Good. I wasn't wearing any body armor or bullet resistant shields. I could handle a knife strike, but bullets are a little harder to avoid. Not impossible, just a little more difficult. "I'll leave, but the bike goes with me." A direct challenge to his authority to give me orders.
At my words, the two other guys moved up, one on each side of me. According to their way of thinking, they now had me surrounded. I grinned underneath my helmet. I'd forgotten the adrenaline rush that accompanied these little jaunts. I think that I had needed to do this. Maybe it had been subconscious, but I think that I had needed to prove to myself that I could still face somebody down off of the mat. Somebody who technically could hurt me, no matter how unlikely it was. Someone who would kill me without a second thought. Well, if you want to get picky, at least two of my teachers had fallen under that category. But that was different. Admittedly, these three weren't much of a challenge, but it was still real conflict, the one type of combat that I hadn't had much practice at recently.
Leader seemed shocked by my defiance of his ultimatum. Obviously the Vice gang was influential, at least in this part of town. So, in order to defend his somewhat dubious honor, he pulled a knife on me and I took it away.
If I hadn't been concentrating so much on the others, I would have laughed at the look on his face. I honestly don't think that he even saw my hand move. One second he was pulling the knife from a sheath that hung at his belt, and the next I was glancing down at the knife in my gloved hand. "Nice knife. You weren't actually planning on using this, were you?" My peripheral vision watched the other two, who obviously were only waiting for the order to attack me.
It was given as Leader growled out a string of unintelligible curses. He waved his hand at the other two, but stepped back himself. I knew from that exactly what kind of man Leader was. The gang society was very much based on an Alpha male way of life. The strongest and the smartest became the leaders. It became almost instinct for a gang member to tell when he was out of his league, making him less likely to offend the wrong person and end up with a knife in the back. Leader should have let me go. He might have even been able to downplay my taking the knife away, and possibly retained his position of some respect from the other two. Letting me go would have signaled to his friends that I didn't really worry him.
Instead, he made a very poor choice. When he told the others to attack me, he sent the signal that he wasn't able to handle me and needed help, and then compounded his error even farther by not even stepping in to help his comrades. Leader would never get very far in the gangs. He didn't have the brains for it.
The two behind me weren't all that high in I.Q. either. They showed absolutely no coordination as they reached for me. I scanned quickly, looking for an opening that would help me decide which one to take first. The one on the right presented me with a perfect opportunity for a neck strike, and I took it, careful to hold it back so that it wouldn't kill him. It landed perfectly on the left side of the neck, and he crumpled, eyes going wide with fear at the terrible sensation of not being able to move his body.
It also had the effect of putting a little scare into the guy on my left, who was understandably surprised when his buddy fell to the cement, arms and legs flopping weakly. I could almost read the question in his eyes. It was something along the lines of, 'Just one punch?'. He hesitated for just a second, and that was plenty of time for me to turn towards him and punch him in the gut with a simple Hapkido extended finger strike. His breath exploded out of him and he stumbled back, jackknifed over, desperately trying to get air to his straining lungs. He was out of the picture for at least three minutes, and that was if he knew how to fight the effects of the punch. I was willing to bet that he didn't. It wouldn't matter anyway.
Leader was staring at me in utter shock. Maybe fifteen seconds and I had totally incapacitated two supposedly tough guys. I had never even rose from my seat straddling my motorcycle. I calmly handed him back his knife. "Care to make a try?" I was actually enjoying this. I was also not worried at all. From where I sat I could see five different ways to take him down. Giving him the knife back invalidated two of those, but three possibilities were still plenty.
Especially when it wasn't necessary at all, since Leader finally showed some brains and backed away, knife falling from nerveless fingers. Grinning underneath my helmet, I kicked the bike into gear and headed out slowly, still keeping an eye on the three, just in case one of them pulled a gun.
No one did.
Well, that was fun. I laughed as I speeded away. I knew I must really be one of Bruce's protegees to enjoy intimidating criminals so much. I knew then what I wanted. I wanted to stay here, to work here, with Bruce and Cass and Babs and Dick. I wanted to be home. Here, in Gotham.
It was still only about five thirty. I made the decision to talk to Bruce tonight, if he was home. Now that I'd figured out what I wanted to do, I wanted to know if it was feasible, if Bruce would allow it. I knew that I had to be able to do the work that I'd trained to do, though, and if he had a problem with letting me work in his territory, I'd have to move on. I didn't want to, but I had to help somewhere. If it wasn't here, it would have to be somewhere else. But Gotham was definitely my first choice.
I took the road back to the cave. I want to get it settled.
Disclaimer: Not mine, woe is me.
These belong to DC.
Overview of past stories in this series: It seemed like it would be good to have something like this, so that in case you don't remember what happened before, you aren't totally lost. (Still need to read them once, though, these are not the whole story.) I dunno, tell me if this is stupid and I won't do it again.
-krt
Return: 18 year old Tim Drake returns from overseas where he has spent the last three years without even hearing from the clan. Sent there by his father after he learned about Tim's involvement with vigilantism, Tim returns to find out why the clan cut off communication with him. He enters town and eventually the cave, without anybody knowing exactly who he is. When the clan rushes to the scene to find out who has invaded their domain, a reunion ensues, after Tim discovers that there was a good reason for the lack of contact. The clan discovers that Tim hasn't wasted his time away, either. In fact, he's pretty dang good!
Conversations: Tim talks with Bruce, and discusses some issues that he has with his father. Then it becomes necessary for Tim to talk to his father, also. To put it mildly, this does not go well, and Tim discovers that time has only reinforced the fact that his father doesn't deal well with him or his chosen work.
Reunion: Tim goes to visit some old friends, namely the former Young Justice crowd, now part of the Titans. He reveals his identity to them, and discovers that they thought that he was dead. He also meets a seven year old Lian and gets a tour of the Titan's base. Leaving with the promise that he'll keep in touch, he heads back to Gotham, knowing that he now must make a very important decision about his future.
Hoo-kay, on to the (hopefully) interesting part...
Chapter 1: Practice
I pulled back into Gotham at about 5:00 pm. Dusk was just beginning to creep over the city. The lights were glowing already, most of them would not go out until dawn, if even then. I took the long way back to the manor, winding my way through one of the shadier sections of the city. This was the area that had usually been mine to patrol, either with Batman or on my own.
I pulled over to the side of the narrow street, wanting to get a better look at the area. I scanned the rooftops, since that was definitely the part that I was the most familiar with. It was surprising, even though it had been three years, I could still remember this area clearly. Oh, some things had changed, but the majority of the streets and buildings were still the same as they had been the last time I was through here.
Did I really want to stay here? Go back to the way that things were before? I didn't even know if that was going to be possible. Neither Bruce nor Dick had even broached the subject of me staying in Gotham and wearing a mask again. This could be because they don't care, or more likely, they don't want to say or do anything that might influence me.
Unfortunately, in this case I wouldn't mind knowing what they thought of the idea. I had been gone a long time, but I wasn't out of physical training, and I think that I might surprise Bruce himself with the extent of my mental training. But, there was a chance that Bruce would not be cool with the idea of my working in the area. There are few people more protective than Batman when you're talking about other people 'working' in HIS city.
My reverie was interrupted by the awareness that several guys were approaching me from behind. I watched them in my rearview mirror, while seeming to be totally immersed in casing the area. Gang members, obviously, wearing the customary black colors and all wearing something sporting a very distinctive shade of purple. Obviously, I was in their gang's territory. I knew that the smart thing would be to get out of here. I had no real important reason to be here, no ulterior motive, no possible goal that would be accomplished by sticking around.
I stayed anyway.
There were three of them, looking like they really wanted to be thought of as tough. Tattoos adorned nearly every visible part of their bodies, and it was obvious from their attitude that they expected no problems from me. I was only one person, after all. The leader stepped around to the front of the bike and got in my face. "Man, you on Vice turf. Leave the bike, and start running. Maybe we won't kill ya."
I looked him over through the tinted visor of my helmet. From the way that he stood, he was armed with a knife, but probably not a gun. Good. I wasn't wearing any body armor or bullet resistant shields. I could handle a knife strike, but bullets are a little harder to avoid. Not impossible, just a little more difficult. "I'll leave, but the bike goes with me." A direct challenge to his authority to give me orders.
At my words, the two other guys moved up, one on each side of me. According to their way of thinking, they now had me surrounded. I grinned underneath my helmet. I'd forgotten the adrenaline rush that accompanied these little jaunts. I think that I had needed to do this. Maybe it had been subconscious, but I think that I had needed to prove to myself that I could still face somebody down off of the mat. Somebody who technically could hurt me, no matter how unlikely it was. Someone who would kill me without a second thought. Well, if you want to get picky, at least two of my teachers had fallen under that category. But that was different. Admittedly, these three weren't much of a challenge, but it was still real conflict, the one type of combat that I hadn't had much practice at recently.
Leader seemed shocked by my defiance of his ultimatum. Obviously the Vice gang was influential, at least in this part of town. So, in order to defend his somewhat dubious honor, he pulled a knife on me and I took it away.
If I hadn't been concentrating so much on the others, I would have laughed at the look on his face. I honestly don't think that he even saw my hand move. One second he was pulling the knife from a sheath that hung at his belt, and the next I was glancing down at the knife in my gloved hand. "Nice knife. You weren't actually planning on using this, were you?" My peripheral vision watched the other two, who obviously were only waiting for the order to attack me.
It was given as Leader growled out a string of unintelligible curses. He waved his hand at the other two, but stepped back himself. I knew from that exactly what kind of man Leader was. The gang society was very much based on an Alpha male way of life. The strongest and the smartest became the leaders. It became almost instinct for a gang member to tell when he was out of his league, making him less likely to offend the wrong person and end up with a knife in the back. Leader should have let me go. He might have even been able to downplay my taking the knife away, and possibly retained his position of some respect from the other two. Letting me go would have signaled to his friends that I didn't really worry him.
Instead, he made a very poor choice. When he told the others to attack me, he sent the signal that he wasn't able to handle me and needed help, and then compounded his error even farther by not even stepping in to help his comrades. Leader would never get very far in the gangs. He didn't have the brains for it.
The two behind me weren't all that high in I.Q. either. They showed absolutely no coordination as they reached for me. I scanned quickly, looking for an opening that would help me decide which one to take first. The one on the right presented me with a perfect opportunity for a neck strike, and I took it, careful to hold it back so that it wouldn't kill him. It landed perfectly on the left side of the neck, and he crumpled, eyes going wide with fear at the terrible sensation of not being able to move his body.
It also had the effect of putting a little scare into the guy on my left, who was understandably surprised when his buddy fell to the cement, arms and legs flopping weakly. I could almost read the question in his eyes. It was something along the lines of, 'Just one punch?'. He hesitated for just a second, and that was plenty of time for me to turn towards him and punch him in the gut with a simple Hapkido extended finger strike. His breath exploded out of him and he stumbled back, jackknifed over, desperately trying to get air to his straining lungs. He was out of the picture for at least three minutes, and that was if he knew how to fight the effects of the punch. I was willing to bet that he didn't. It wouldn't matter anyway.
Leader was staring at me in utter shock. Maybe fifteen seconds and I had totally incapacitated two supposedly tough guys. I had never even rose from my seat straddling my motorcycle. I calmly handed him back his knife. "Care to make a try?" I was actually enjoying this. I was also not worried at all. From where I sat I could see five different ways to take him down. Giving him the knife back invalidated two of those, but three possibilities were still plenty.
Especially when it wasn't necessary at all, since Leader finally showed some brains and backed away, knife falling from nerveless fingers. Grinning underneath my helmet, I kicked the bike into gear and headed out slowly, still keeping an eye on the three, just in case one of them pulled a gun.
No one did.
Well, that was fun. I laughed as I speeded away. I knew I must really be one of Bruce's protegees to enjoy intimidating criminals so much. I knew then what I wanted. I wanted to stay here, to work here, with Bruce and Cass and Babs and Dick. I wanted to be home. Here, in Gotham.
It was still only about five thirty. I made the decision to talk to Bruce tonight, if he was home. Now that I'd figured out what I wanted to do, I wanted to know if it was feasible, if Bruce would allow it. I knew that I had to be able to do the work that I'd trained to do, though, and if he had a problem with letting me work in his territory, I'd have to move on. I didn't want to, but I had to help somewhere. If it wasn't here, it would have to be somewhere else. But Gotham was definitely my first choice.
I took the road back to the cave. I want to get it settled.