Part two.
Once again, I don't own Batman, Robin or any related characters.
Enjoy.
It had started to rain about half an hour before sunset. Bea had rushed through the gathering dusk in desperation, hunting for a place to shelter as the chill water sluiced down, saturating her hair and clothes. The first few places she had tried, ruined shops and lobbies of the buildings that surrounded the park, were occupied and she was shooed away by people made selfish and territorial by the cataclysm. Eventually, she found a tourist information kiosk that had remained unconsidered as shelter due to it's size. After a few minutes struggling to undo the latch through the crack in the slatted blind, she managed to roll the whole thing open enough to climb in.
Inside it was cold, and she couldn't get the blind closed all the way, so she was sitting in a draft. But at least it was dry. She squatted under the tiny desk, going through the contents of the office; maps, pamphlets, business brochures and little books of vouchers, not much use to anyone now. But she decided to take a map, so as she travelled round the city, she could make notes for herself on what condition different parts of the city were in. She took a pen, and then she started to think about what she would need as time went on; stuff to barter seemed a high priority, as she had no idea of how to go about getting her own food, so she took the boxes of pens and pencils from the cupboards beneath the desk. She also took a few of the maps, and stuffed the whole lot into her school bag, relieved that she had gone against fashion and bought a big backpack. She had eaten that day, people had been giving out food in the hospital parking lot. She could worry about food as each new day came, she was certain she could cope. She had never had that big an appetite.
As night began to set in, she realised that freezing was a very real concern, and searched around the little office for something to warm herself with. She found a large box of bad quality copier paper near the old PC, and began screwing sheets of it into thick flat-ish shapes. Then, she slipped off her drenched jacket and waterlogged boots, stuffed the wadded paper into her sweater and jeans, and curled up on the thinly carpeted floor to try and sleep.
At about an hour after sunset, Bea Harsnett fell asleep to the sound of the pattering rain on the roof of her small sanctuary.
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Tim had been out for nearly twelve hours now. Having headed out just before dusk, he had raced the rain down into the streets of the city to try and offer what little help he was capable of. After giving around thirty people emergency first aid, rescuing four teenagers from a collapsing building and helping the remains of a neighbourhood construct a tank to collect rainwater, he had spent the night trying to fight down the mass of crime that possessed the panicking city. Looting, he decided, could be overlooked, as he thought it unfair to deny the people of Gotham any comfort that material things could give them at a time like this. Murder, assault, rape and arson, however, had to be stopped. Now it was getting near to 6am, and he was allowing himself a well-earned rest, out of sight in an old bandstand at the northern edge of the park. He collected rainwater to drink in his open palms and ate one of the energy bars he kept in his belt. His uniform was waterproof, essentially, but rain was creeping into the sleeves and under the edges of his mask, making it uncomfortable. Now that day was gradually breaking, he felt that maybe the city would start to settle down a little, so he could go and get some rest, before heading out for another night tomorrow.
Tim stepped out of the bandstand and stood in the pre-dawn among the dripping saplings, wondering how so brief a rest could leave him feeling so rejuvenated. It crossed his mind that a boy of his age shouldn't need to feel rejuvenated. Then, something strange jumped out of the landscape at him, it took him a moment to place, and realised that a tourist booth stood, almost pristine, in the middle of the little square at the entrance to the park. It struck him as odd that no one had tried to use it for something, given that it's small structure had survived the 'quake. Then it occurred to him that the blind on the front of the booth was rolled up a little at the bottom. Somebody was using it.
Reaching the booth, he peered through the few inches of space above the counter and saw a figure lying asleep on the floor. At first glance it seemed deformed somehow, but then Tim realised that they had stuffed something into their clothing to keep themselves warm. Admiring the ingenuity, a sound drifted to his ears, and he turned away from the booth to look for the source. It was a rowdy gang of young men, storming down an avenue that connected with the park gate. He had seen them before, last night, dragging people out of their shelters for the hell of it. There were too many of them for him to stop alone, then and now. He realised he had to get the person out of the booth as fast as he could, the only way to keep them safe from the horde. Shoving the cracked blind as far up as it would go, he leaned over the counter and yelled "Hey, morning!"
The girl, whose face he could now see, stirred sharply, and twisted herself to look up at him, startled. She was in her early teens, maybe a year or two younger than himself. Her skin was pale and dull, her clothes crumpled, but her long light brown hair was surprisingly clean. A large bag, a school bag probably, lay on the floor beside her, along with a dark green anorak and a pair of hiking boots. He could see now that she had crumpled paper stuffed into her clothes. Looking up at him with frightened eyes, she quietly asked "Wh-who are you?"
Tim smiled down at her. "You can call me Robin."