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Post by Conner Kent on Apr 28, 2021 15:18:08 GMT -5
Conner laughed into the night air at Tim's grumbled point. They both knew that that wouldn't have happened. On top of so many other reasons, he was a gentleman, after all, and the least he could do on this forced evening of fun was make the venue one that his victim was more comfortable in. Superboy stared at the back of Red Robin's head, considering the cowl and thinking about how much he preferred seeing his tousled hair instead.
He folded up that thought and set it aside, instinctively nestling closer to Tim as the bike careened through traffic - which was somehow worse at night in Gotham? Conner craned his head, looking at businesses and pedestrians and the ominous architecture that inundated every building. Red Robin was just taking them under the shadow of a giant statue of a man that held on his shoulders a branch of building connecting two skyscrapers when the scanner went off.
"Gotham doesn't disappoint in some things, I guess," Superboy snarked, leaning his head over Tim's shoulder to be heard more easily. Sooner than Conner felt he'd have been able to get there, even flying, they had pulled up behind the bank and the soft purr of the bike cut off. He was busy casing the surrounding buildings, scanning them to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary-
Hands on his snapped him to attention. "You can let go now." Suddenly Superboy was aware of just how close he was to Red Robin, especially with his muscled arms wrapped around the vigilante's narrow waist. His cheeks and neck burned while he retrieved his hands, hoping that he untangled himself from Tim in a totally normal, bro-like way. His best friend helped clear the air, grappling into the shadows above them.
Conner floated up to the roof obediently and nodded when Tim indicated the ventilation access. His pupils glowed a dull crimson, surgically focusing just enough heat onto the bolts holding the grate in place to make them malleable and soft. The result had him easily - and soundlessly - pry it loose and set it aside, propped against a wall. Superboy had hardly done that when Red Robin was already slipping, in that unnervingly silent Bat-way, into the shaft ahead of him.
He followed suit, using his flight to make squeezing his muscular frame through the narrow space a little less difficult. Conner looked up ahead of him to check on Tim and- His neck and cheeks burned twice as hot as they had before. He blinked hurriedly and looked anywhere other than Red Robin at that compromising angle. What was his problem? He'd had these kinds of reactions to Tim before - ever since they met, really - but not so close together or intense.
Superboy shook those distractions away and followed Tim through sound instead of sight. Not that it helped him feel any less warm.
Tim Drake-Wayne
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If Bruce taught me anything, it's that you have to have a game plan. For everything. Even for death.
KF / Anna
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Post by Tim Drake-Wayne on May 5, 2021 19:57:59 GMT -5
Tim waited just long enough to be sure that Conner was in the vents with him before crawling silently forward. He trusted his best friend to keep an ear out for anything - including creaking that would indicate the vents very much didn't want them in there - and let him know be it with words or a tap on his ankle. He knew Conner well and in turn Conner knew him well - probably too well. The list of people who knew him far too well for it to be comforting when he didn't want to be comforted yet just well enough to comfort him when he needed it was far too long for his liking.
The vents creaked and he froze, stretching a leg out behind him to use his foot to stop Conner in case the other teen had gotten distracted listening for the robbers. There was an exit right below his head that he could look through. He could only see a few of the armed robbers but he could hear more footsteps, some hushed voices, talking amongst themselves. Probably twenty, possibly a little more. He couldn't tell where the hostages were. They had to be there, though, unless the robbers had more people somewhere else in the bank that were watching them.
He'd have to leave the hostages to Conner. He reached to his belt, getting out the right tools to quietly get the vent open. "I'll create a distraction," he whispered, knowing Kon would hear it. "You get the hostages out." He waited briefly - about a second - for acknowledgement, be it a hushed voice or a tap on his foot or ankle, then gently pried the gate off, setting it aside in front of him. He reached to his belt, grabbing a smoke bomb right as he slipped headfirst out of the vent.
The smoke bomb was thrown before he hit the floor, erupting in smoke to hide him as he landed expertly on his feet. The whites of his mask adjusted to help him see through the smoke and he quickly got to work, getting on the nearest robber and painfully - for the robber - relieving them of their gun. He didn't worry about Conner, he couldn't worry about Conner because he was trying to get all of the robbers' attention so Conner could zip in, find and get the hostages - however many there were - and zip out. With Superboy's powerset, he knew it wouldn't be long until the clone was at his side, helping take are of whatever robbers still remained.
That was, of course, if everything went according to plan.
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435 words Conner Kent
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Post by Conner Kent on May 6, 2021 9:37:40 GMT -5
Tim's booted foot checked him, and Conner stopped. While the other man removed the ventilation cover where he'd stopped and spoke in hardly more than a whisper, he nodded - not like Tim could see. Obediently, Conner turned his attention elsewhere. His vision adjusted and quickly zoned in on the clump of individuals huddled in the bank under them that were undoubtedly the hostages.
Red Robin had spent that same breath of time setting aside the vent, opening a direct way into the large room underneath. Then, with all the poise of an Olympic-level diver, Tim darted through the gap. Conner was hot on his heels, worried that the moment things got dicey the hostages would be put in even more peril. He resisted the urge to watch Tim work - no matter how many times he saw it, it never got old.
Priorities and all that.
Superboy moved at speeds that would make Bart proud. One-by-one, he slipped into the back corner where the hostages were grouped, carefully picked one up, moved them behind the GCPD barricade out front, and repeated. Conner might've pumped the brakes or not gone as all out if the stakes weren't so high. He could have fun with Red Robin once innocent lives weren't in jeopardy.
Only a handful of heartbeats after the smoke pellet had gone off, Superboy rematerialized, smirking and with his arms crossed over his chest in the air above the dense cover. He floated there, watching unabashedly with his x-ray vision as Tim danced through the haze, putting a world of hurt on the armed robbers. Conner's attention flicked to a figure coming up in his best friend's blind spot.
"Uh-uh," he tutted. Superboy reached down and snatched the guy by the back of his bulletproof vest, yanking him into the air. "It's rude to interrupt." Conner quirked a brow at the gasping, fumbling man in his grasp. The guy shoved his hand into a pocket and clumsily pulled out some sorta necklace or something. "Get back!" he yelled. Superboy chuckled- or started to. That necklace flashed a bright turquoise right about then and leaped through the air, fastening around his throat.
Conner grunted in sudden pain... and fell to the bank floor below.
Tim Drake-Wayne
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