Batman: Sons of the Bat IC

One Week Ago

The polished door of the Wayne Manor opened slowly as Timothy Jackson Drake slowly entered. A bag slung over his back, he had finally returned from his training with Lady Shiva and his mastery with his Bo Staff. His stint of training was a long one and he had missed his home more then anything. Well not more then his actual family but, that was something would never change. For now his mind was on his adopted father Bruce Wayne, wondering just when he would get back. They had talked an hour ago and Bruce mentioned that he would out for the night doing a solo mission, leaving Damian at the manor. Tim and Damian weren't on the best terms and it just made him wish that Dick would come back or maybe even Jason.

As he walked through the manor and toward the kitchen, Tim came face to face with the butler Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred was never truly treated like a butler with Tim but, more so an uncle as the man would go out of his way for anyone that had lived in that house. More then a butler would normally do. An exchange of words took place before Alfred took the young adult's bag to Tim's room. Tim, on the other hand, decided to go down to the bat cave. Reaching the cave, Tim heard the sound of the Batmobile's platform raising. Tim walked over to the platform, smiling as the Batmobile's door opened. Soon that face would turn to confusion and then worry as Batman climbed out and immediately dropped to the ground.

Tim dashed over to Bruce's body with a yell to follow, "BRUCE! FUCK!"

Present Day, Day of Bruce Wayne's Funeral

The Batcave was alive with the sound of the keys being clicked as Tim sat at the Batcomputer. He had been there all night since Bruce's death. Today was the day of his funeral, messages having been sent out to Jason and Dick immediately after Bruce's death by Alfred, and Timothy sat at the Batcomputer with only Bruce's thoughts in mind. There was literally only an hour left before the funeral was to take place and Tim was not even ready, still sitting in his night clothes but, luckily he at least smiled good. Finally Tim laid his head down upon the overly large keyboard. He had not been able to even find the clues to who killed Bruce and it tore him up inside.

"Damn it all." Tim said under his breath, his words low and sorrow filled.

do you mind if i am barbara gordon/Batgirl?

Wayne Enterprises Office

Blüdhaven, one week ago

It had been a long day for Dick Grayson. Running even a small branch of one of the world's largest corporations was proving to be a challenge for the former Boy Wonder. Sure, he had led the Teen Titans against the likes of Deathstroke and Gorilla Grodd, but leading manual laborers in construction projects and making presentations in business meetings wasn't something the young man was fond of, though, it wasn't all bad, Dick had requested the employ of one of his adopted father's most trusted acquaintences; Lucius Fox. The man who had turned his parents' small trust fund into a small fortune had helped Dick not only improve the life of workers and civilians alike in the former whaling community, but miraculously turn a profit out of it. Without the economic expertise of Mr. Fox and the natural prescence of the man known as Nightwing, the Blüdhaven office and very well the city itself, might as well be dead in the water.

Dick dropped himself onto his king sized bed in his luxury apartment on the south side of the city. "I hate my job." the words were muffled as Dick spoke into the plush pillow he had fallen onto. The silence of drifting off to sleep was broken some minutes later by the sound of the Star Wars cantina band echoing in the room. Dick turned his head just barely enough to peer out with one eye as he grabbed the phone from his nightstand. Reading the name "Alfred" on the screen, it only took Dick a second to slide the accept logo to the right of the phone, putting the phone to his ear as he kept his mouth still halfway buried in his pillow. "What's up Alfie?" the words came out as a yawn.

Alfred cleared his throat as Master Richard answered his phone. "Master Richard, I have...." Alfred paused for a moment for even he was not truly prepared to break the news to Richard. Dick nearly shot up from his position and threw his legs across his bed. "Alfred...that voice is never a good sign...what happened?" Dick's voice suddenly changed from tired, to deadly serious, lowering his head to stare at the floor as he prepared for the bad news. The last time Alfred had used that tone of voice, Bruce had been broken in half by Bane. Alfred continued the urgent news, "Last night, Master Bruce passed away." Alfred's voice was not as calm, breaking in the middle, "Master Timothy was with him during his passing. I cannot imagine how you must feel Master Richard."

The words hit Dick like a brick. It took him a few moments to even open his mouth and attempt to make words, but the sounds that resulted sounded like nothing more than gibberish. "That...that can't be true..." Dick's body was entirely still before he suddenly looked out of the window in front of him to the skyline of Blüdhaven. "How...." he sighed. "What about Damian?"

"Young Damian was not with him when it happened. He has not spoken to anyone since last night." Alfred could hear the sigh of relief on the other end of the line. "As to how, Timothy has begun upon the computer to try and figure it out. I can understand the hurt that he is experiencing like you are." Dick rose from his bed, already starting for his desk. "He was a father to all of us...but Alfred." Dick's words fealt heavy in his throat. "He was like a son to you. We all knew that. I'm sorry." he stood in place for a few seconds, waiting for any sign of life from the trusty butler.

"Yes. I remember being there the moment that his parents brought him for the first time. Now, like his parents before him, I must watch as my family is buried." Alfred stopped speaking. Suddenly there was a rustling sound and another voice pierced the speaker of the phone. "Dick, this....I'm going to find out who did this."

Dick sat down in his chair once more as Tim began talking, booting up his computer as he switched the phone from his left to right hand. "Tim...wait until I get there. I don't want you working yourself to death over this." Dick entered his password as the log-in screen appeared on the monitor.

"I can't just wait. Bruce would stop at nothing if it was one of us so, I plan on doing the same." Tim replied, his voice lacked the subtle, calmness of usual, "He died....in my arms, Dick. I'm not sitting around and doing nothing."

Dick tightened his grip on the phone. He knew Tim would do something like this, he and Jason were always in danger of...becoming more like Bruce than any of them, and that frightened Dick more than anything. "Tim...trust me. We'll find out who did this, but first we have to...you know what we have to do."

Tim didn't say a word in response instead handing the phone back to Alfred. "Well Master Richard, I am afraid for young Master Timothy. To see one so cooped up within the cave could be harmful." Alfred spoke clearly, "On to the funeral arangements, I must sadly attend to them. Within one week shall be the funeal."

"I'll be there tomorrow. Lucius can take care of Blüdhaven for the time being. I need to make sure Tim and Damian don't do anything....rash..." Dick was already typing an email to the man in question. "Try to keep them out of the cave until I get there." Dick hung up his phone, finishing up his official leave of absence letter to Lucius, now all that was left was to pack and he'd be on his way, to help his adopted family get through what would no doubt be the toughest part of their lives.

Wayne Manor
Gotham City, present day

Richard Grayson-Wayne, that's what this city knew him as. To his family, he was Nightwing, and to the papparazzi, he was that blasted adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Dick stood in his old room in the west wing of Wayne Manor. Alfred had taken the liberty of preparing it for his arrival. Dick tightened the small black and blue tie around his neck. This was one of the few times the man would take on a serious face, and it was not an occasion to be laughed at. Dick had the Manor locked down to the press, he wouldn't have their time of mourning besmirched by the flashing of cameras. He stared at himself in the mirror for but a few seconds. It was a fine suit, Bruce had spared no expense dressing his adopted children, although he never could've forsaw the occasion that they'd be dressing for was his own funeral.

After one last deep breath, Dick made his way out of his room and down the stairs to the center hallway of the mansion. He didn't need to ask to know where Tim would be. It didn't take long for Dick to find himself at the grandfather clock in the library of the manor. Only seconds later, the marble wall slid open to reveal the ominous staircase leading to the one and only Batcave. The lair that only the closest allies of the Dark Knight could see. Dick's loafers clacked on stairs while he made his way down, only stopping at the bottom of the stairs for but a brief moment to look at the display case of the various Robin costumes, reminscing about his time as the right hand of the bat. Shaking his head, Dick silently moved directly behind the Batcomputer, sighing as he saw his younger brother with his head laying on the keyboard.

He stepped ever so silently behind the boy and put his left hand on his shoulder. "Come on Tim. I know it sounds appealing, but you can't attend a funeral in your pajamas."

Dick's voice entered Timothy's ear and out the other as the boy sat up from the keyboard. "I'm still trying to sift through the data and any clues that I could have possibly missed. There is no time. Something....has to come up." Tim's voice was nearly as desperate for clues as it was on the night Bruce died.

Dick simply peered onto the monitors of the batcomputer. "Tim." he sighed "I'm begging you. You've been at this for over a week. You don't make mistakes." he turned his head to his brother once more. "He died. We can't change that. The least you can do is be there with me and Alfred."

Tim wanted so much to tell Dick to back off and let him keep going but, Dick was currently right. He needed to back away from this all and at least attend Bruce's funeral. Though he wanted to show his older brother something first. Pressing a few keys, the sound of rapid clicking almost Bruce-like, one of the monitors on the batcomputer lit up with an all too familar image. "Look at this Dick. I'm sure you know what it is." Tim cleared his throat, his going over how he preceived a moment like this going, "A Lazarus Pit. This image I found while looking through Ra's file. What if....."

Dick tightened his grip on Tim's shoulder, causing a sharp pain running through the later's arm. "No." Dick's voice was almost furious before he released Tim from his grip. "No. I've seen what the Lazarus Pit has done to Ra's al Ghul, and I will not let that happen to Bruce. How can you even consider something like that?" Dick placed his hand on his forehead. "Just....go get dressed Tim."

Gotham City Airport.

The young man stepped out from the airport. He took in the sight. Civilization He thought. He hadn't seen the western world in over two years. He hadn't spoken English for that long, either. He had left as a boy, and in his mind, he had returned as a man. He had grown, quite a lot in his time away. His hair had lost a lot of it's black color, as he now had red lines of hair, on the sides of his head, as well as in the front off his rather short hair. He stepped outside. He wasn't wearing anything fancy. A pair of thorn jeans, a scarf around his neck, a black T-shirt and a brown leather jacket. He soon made his way, by walking, towards an abandoned part of the sewers, that was no longer operational.

It had been converted into a make-believe warehouse, by Jason himself. He had made it before he left, someplace to put his stuff. He didn't think his leaving would last for this long. He was sure he'd be back in a couple months, maybe half a year. That then, he'd be able to become his own hero. To not lurk as Bruce's sidekick, and to not be compared to Richard by everyone. He sighed, as he thought about it. Richard.. Tim.. He thought, as he walked over to a big grey piece of leather, that was covering something. He dragged it off, as under it, there was a wooden crate. Grabbing a random pipe that laid on the floor, he pulled up the crate. Inside, a black Harley Davidson stood. a red helm to accompany it. As Jason led the bike out, he picked up the helm. In one of the saddle bags of the bike, there was a wallet. The wallet was filled with Jason's identification. His credit cards, his ID. But also 3,000 dollars. Sure, he had lost his sense for money during the last couple of years.

But he hadn't lost his sense of civilization, if anything, he had gotten better at reading people. He had gotten better at masking who he really was. What was it Bruce always told him? " You should be able to fight crime maskless, and people still wouldn't be able to recognize you." Or something like that. Though, to Jason, that sounded more like Kent's agenda, than Bruce's. He sighed.

The Funeral was gonna start in about 20 minutes. Jason would have to get there late, he couldn't help it. He was however a tad bit afraid, off seeing everyone. How would he possibly face them? Would they blame him? He hadn't talked to Alfred, but only gotten a voicemail from him, about a week ago, the news of Bruce's demise had made him cancel his training with the all-castle, and leave for Gotham. Boy o' Boy, was the headmaster gonna be grumpy when Jason would get back.

If he would go back. He was uncertain.

He got onto the motorcycle, and drove out of the underground pipeline. And up onto the streets, on the other side of the city, from the Manor, where the funeral would be held. Bruce would be buried next to his parents, of course.

The motorcycle kicked off, and he would arrive in about 35 minutes.

Wayne Manor East Wing

Gotham City,some time before Jason Todd's landing.

There were more than a few holes along the wall of Damian Wayne's bedroom in the eastern hallway of the Wayne family Mansion. Alfred had taken the liberty of patching up the majority of them, and the boy who had made the imprints stood ever so solemnly, staring outside one of the large windows that decorated the lavish set. Many thoughts were swimming in the boy wonder's head, everything from rage, to depression, to hatred. Hatred for his mother, who had used his father for the sole reason of making her own perfect little 'Warrior'. Hatred for the Robins who had come before; Grayson, who had left his father's side to lead a team of idiotic teenagers before returning just to manipulate his father in order to use the Wayne name to fund his own little harem known as Blüdhaven. Todd, the deadbeat that abandoned the Dark Knight without so much as a goodbye, and was more than likely dead. And then there was Drake. Damian had a particularly rough relationship with his predecessor. Ever since Damian had so much as been virtually dropped on the Wayne Manor doorstep,
Drake had deemed him a threat to the so called "Bat-Clan". Damian remembered the way the teenager's eyes looked into his following his father's death, how they tore into Damian's being, formally destroying any level of understanding the two had.

The child had kept a serious face when he was around the remnants of his adoptive family, but it was obvious that the boy was deeply hurt, and spent nearly the entire time following the Batman's death held up in his room. Tears dripped from Damian's chin as he found himself looking at his father's casket. "It isn't fair..." the boy's voice broke for a split second before wiping his eyes with the straight black sleeve on his formal suit. Damian did not yet know if he could keep his facade when he would be within arm's length of his father's corpse.

After having dealt with the situation of the batcomputer and Dick slapping some sense into him, Tim had put on his suit and cleaned up. It had only taken a little time to get ready and now he was standing in the hall outside of Damian's room with Dick. "You know I probably should have came here first before I got ready. When encounter between us has not been violent on some level." Tim commented while fixing his tie, "Well Mr. Charisma. You'll have the spotlight." Taking a step forward, he leaned forward and knocking on Damian's door and then took a step back so, that Dick was slighty before himself.

Dick couldn't help but shrug at Tim's remark. Normally he'd expect Tim to be gritting his teeth this close to Damian's proximity. After a few seconds of standing by the door awkwardly, Dick rapped his knuckles on the oak just as Tim had, just to be met with a rather loud "I'll find my own way to the ceremony." the eldest of the Boy Wonders rose an eyebrow and glanced at Tim for a brief moment, who merely shrugged just as he did. Leaning against the door and reaching for the door handle, Dick turned it ever so slightly. "Damian?" he opened the door to reveal the boy standing vigil by the window. "What do you two want?" the words sounded almost like venom.

Tim was not in the mood to deal with Damian or any of his attitude. "We came to get you." Tim replied. His tone was blunt with little care, "The funeral is in ten minutes. Time to go." He leaned against the doorway with arms folded. He already knew Damian would probably throw some anger filled retort back and Tim would attempt to hold back any fustration. A small sigh left his lips.

Dick tsked his tounge for a brief second at Tim before rubbing the back of his neck. "I think want Tim was trying t-" his voice was suddenly cut off as Damian made his way to the door. "I'm well aware of when my father will be buried." Dick could tell Damian was trying his best to look emotionless. "Well, let's go." the boy walked past both of his elders and began his way down the stairs leading to the back exit of the manor. Dick shared a glance at Tim before they began making their way slowly behind him. "He tries so damn hard to be emotionless..." Dick sighed.

Wayne Manor Gardens, two hours later

As expectation had it, the Bruce Wayne's burial has brought certain people together to mourn the loss, a hard moment for everyone there. Most especially for Tim or, so that was what he believed currently. His eyes were closed, several tears sliding down his cheeks but giving out no sound of his sadness. Beside him stood Stephanie Brown, his current girlfriend, holding Tim's hand. She couldn't understand how he felt but,she would at least be there for him. There was no embracing hug to stem his tears or his sadness. "Tim." Her soft voice spoke and a tear forming in her eyes for him.

"Yes, well, I'll be in touch, Commissioner." Dick shook the hand of one James Gordon. Officially, Gordon was here due to Bruce Wayne being a fervent supporter of the Gotham City Police Department, and a friend. But, if there was anything Dick knew about the Police Commissioner, it was that he always knew more than he was letting on. Richard shared a glance at one Barbara Gordon standing next to her father. A flaming red head. An old fling.

And, more importantly, the woman behind the all too familiar voice of "Oracle". The almost all-knowing information dealer and coordinator of the Bat-family. Gordon and Grayson shared a solemn nod to each other before turning their backs on each other, Dick looking to see the assembled guests such as Clark Kent and Oliver Queen beginning to make their exits. All that were left in the gardens of the Wayne family Mansion were the butler known as Alfred Pennyworth, the adopted (and biological) sons of Bruce himself, and one of those adopted son's girlfriends.

Dick decided to avoid walking in on Tim and Stephanie's conversation. Tim needed to learn to handle such things on his own. Rather, Richard Grayson-Wayne found himself standing next to his "adoptive grandfather" next to the gravestone.