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thejusticelounge2014-03-29 04:44 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-03-29 04:44 pm
snakeskin
Ollie hangs up on Cass without saying goodbye.
He goes into the library to get his bow and arrows, and then heads into the south-facing sitting room, the one that’s the warmest in the house. The one Talia likes best, where she takes her tea at this time of day.
She isn’t there.
He bites down on the swearing and moves over to the house intercom, slapping it on. Ollie keeps his voice casual with effort when he calls into it, “Alfred? I need you in the library, pronto.”
Ollie barely lets the intercom go before he’s moving, into the library, calling up the Manor’s surveillance system on the series of screens and consoles hidden behind a display of artwork. If Talia’s in motion, she might have done something to Alfred, and the sooner Ollie figures it out, the better.
There is no response from Alfred, nor word from Talia, but Titus’ feet pad against the floor, nails clicking as he approaches Ollie. His tail doesn’t wag, ears perked high, and he takes a seat next to the archer.
Ollie looks down at the dog. Surveillance hasn’t turned up anything yet, which in itself is alarming. “Titus,” he says, copying the snap in Bruce’s voice when he gives the dog a command. “Find Alfred. Titus, Alfred!”
Titus’ ears perk, and when Ollie insists again, he takes off, nose to the ground. Despite the newness of the command, it’s one the dog knows well, and soon, his long legs are loping through the Manor, until they get to the ballroom.
The room is illuminated with the last dregs of sunlight over the tops of the trees to the west, and Titus doesn’t yap at the glass but releases a resounding bark, that makes the panes tremble in their setting.
"Is he in here?" Ollie blinks at the echo of Titus’ mighty bark and turns on the lights of the ballroom. It’s mostly clear — when there’s no events going on at the Manor, all of the furnishings of great rooms like this are put in storage — but there’s plenty of closets where Talia might have stashed Alfred’s —
Might have stuck him after she knocked him out.
"Good boy, Titus," Ollie says, rumpling the dog’s ears briefly. "Now if you can point to the door he’s behind, that would be even better." Ollie starts doing a quick perimeter himself, though, opening and shutting doors. "Alfred! Are you in here? Can you hear me?"
Yet Titus doesn’t round a corner and point to a window, instead, he moves to the paned-doors, sniffing and then clawing at the jam, looking back at Ollie. Beyond them, outside of the ballroom, the wooded area expands before them both, night settling.
Titus whines and looks up Ollie, a plaintive, Wayne look flickering below his brows.
Outside, you idiot.
"Oh jesus, now the /dog’s/ giving me a hard time." Ollie throws open the doors and moves through them, bow at the ready as Titus lopes past him. "Go on, then, take me to him, boy. Take me to Alfred."
And Talia better have left him alive and healthy, or else.
Titus hits the ground running, nose stopping him at a stone or two, before he moves back into the wooded area, cutting a hard right as changes direction. Latching onto a clear set of drag marks—they rip up the turf as they go—the dog pauses, stops, and then takes off running.
The apple orchard, towards the south of the property.
Apples. Like the one Talia had been carrying around earlier, when she was talking to Kate. Ollie picks up his pace and chases after Titus, running hard to keep up with the enormous dog, but he barely feels the strain. Alfred’s been out there for hours, at this point, and since it’s Talia and her symbolism and insanity he half expects to get there and find black dahlias planted into the man’s corpse, or him beheaded like a flower stem, or —
— or him coming up the path, a shovel in hand, eye glasses dangled precariously on the tip of his nose. The Englishman smiles at Oliver, patting Titus on top of his head when the dog approaches (Titus turns to look at Ollie, tail wagging, expecting a treat— see, I found him) as he drags the burlap sack behind him. He stops when he sees the look on the archer’s face. “Young Master Queen, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he chides, gently.
"Talia," Ollie gasps. "Alfred, where is she? Bruce got fucking arrested for the bombing at the Ambassador, we have to move her out of the Manor as soon as we can!" It’s desperate triage at best, slapping a bandage too late on a gaping wound that just keeps getting worse and worse, but it’s all they’ve got at this point.
It’s all a credit to the type of man he is—the man who raised Bruce—that he doesn’t stop do do anything foolish. Like ask questions. Or react.
Alfred sets the handle of the shovel down upon the sack, and moves towards the Manor, at a brisk pace. It isn’t a run, his knees can’t take that, but when they arrive at the Manor, Alfred is panting, discomfort written across his features.He moves through the silent corridors, staricases, up a level to the library. Moving the books, he shifts towards the sliding door and to the Computer, that scans them both—Alfred is recognized first, then Ollie—before nabbing Titus, behind them, last.The passcode comes up, and Alfred speaks, to the Computer: “Belize.”
Talia’s GPS dot pops up: downtown Gotham.The Englishman turns his eyes, dark and hard, on the other man. “How long ago?”
"Cass called me at ten and that’s when the news footage came up, too." Ollie crowds against Alfred, his bow clacking against the man’s shoulder. "Is she near Wayne Enterprises? GCPD? Where?"
Alfred turns to look at the screen and does not look back at Ollie back to answer: “The Ambassador Hotel.”
Ollie nods, moving out of the computer alcove to the side where there’s the attached door down to the Cave. “I’m headed there now,” he says. “You have my frequency. Tell me if she moves. Key her out of the Manor security and if anything happens, Alfred, anything at all, get to Queen Tower. You got me? She’s bringing all the fucking horsemen out on this one.”
He goes into the library to get his bow and arrows, and then heads into the south-facing sitting room, the one that’s the warmest in the house. The one Talia likes best, where she takes her tea at this time of day.
She isn’t there.
He bites down on the swearing and moves over to the house intercom, slapping it on. Ollie keeps his voice casual with effort when he calls into it, “Alfred? I need you in the library, pronto.”
Ollie barely lets the intercom go before he’s moving, into the library, calling up the Manor’s surveillance system on the series of screens and consoles hidden behind a display of artwork. If Talia’s in motion, she might have done something to Alfred, and the sooner Ollie figures it out, the better.
There is no response from Alfred, nor word from Talia, but Titus’ feet pad against the floor, nails clicking as he approaches Ollie. His tail doesn’t wag, ears perked high, and he takes a seat next to the archer.
Ollie looks down at the dog. Surveillance hasn’t turned up anything yet, which in itself is alarming. “Titus,” he says, copying the snap in Bruce’s voice when he gives the dog a command. “Find Alfred. Titus, Alfred!”
Titus’ ears perk, and when Ollie insists again, he takes off, nose to the ground. Despite the newness of the command, it’s one the dog knows well, and soon, his long legs are loping through the Manor, until they get to the ballroom.
The room is illuminated with the last dregs of sunlight over the tops of the trees to the west, and Titus doesn’t yap at the glass but releases a resounding bark, that makes the panes tremble in their setting.
"Is he in here?" Ollie blinks at the echo of Titus’ mighty bark and turns on the lights of the ballroom. It’s mostly clear — when there’s no events going on at the Manor, all of the furnishings of great rooms like this are put in storage — but there’s plenty of closets where Talia might have stashed Alfred’s —
Might have stuck him after she knocked him out.
"Good boy, Titus," Ollie says, rumpling the dog’s ears briefly. "Now if you can point to the door he’s behind, that would be even better." Ollie starts doing a quick perimeter himself, though, opening and shutting doors. "Alfred! Are you in here? Can you hear me?"
Yet Titus doesn’t round a corner and point to a window, instead, he moves to the paned-doors, sniffing and then clawing at the jam, looking back at Ollie. Beyond them, outside of the ballroom, the wooded area expands before them both, night settling.
Titus whines and looks up Ollie, a plaintive, Wayne look flickering below his brows.
Outside, you idiot.
"Oh jesus, now the /dog’s/ giving me a hard time." Ollie throws open the doors and moves through them, bow at the ready as Titus lopes past him. "Go on, then, take me to him, boy. Take me to Alfred."
And Talia better have left him alive and healthy, or else.
Titus hits the ground running, nose stopping him at a stone or two, before he moves back into the wooded area, cutting a hard right as changes direction. Latching onto a clear set of drag marks—they rip up the turf as they go—the dog pauses, stops, and then takes off running.
The apple orchard, towards the south of the property.
Apples. Like the one Talia had been carrying around earlier, when she was talking to Kate. Ollie picks up his pace and chases after Titus, running hard to keep up with the enormous dog, but he barely feels the strain. Alfred’s been out there for hours, at this point, and since it’s Talia and her symbolism and insanity he half expects to get there and find black dahlias planted into the man’s corpse, or him beheaded like a flower stem, or —
— or him coming up the path, a shovel in hand, eye glasses dangled precariously on the tip of his nose. The Englishman smiles at Oliver, patting Titus on top of his head when the dog approaches (Titus turns to look at Ollie, tail wagging, expecting a treat— see, I found him) as he drags the burlap sack behind him. He stops when he sees the look on the archer’s face. “Young Master Queen, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he chides, gently.
"Talia," Ollie gasps. "Alfred, where is she? Bruce got fucking arrested for the bombing at the Ambassador, we have to move her out of the Manor as soon as we can!" It’s desperate triage at best, slapping a bandage too late on a gaping wound that just keeps getting worse and worse, but it’s all they’ve got at this point.
It’s all a credit to the type of man he is—the man who raised Bruce—that he doesn’t stop do do anything foolish. Like ask questions. Or react.
Alfred sets the handle of the shovel down upon the sack, and moves towards the Manor, at a brisk pace. It isn’t a run, his knees can’t take that, but when they arrive at the Manor, Alfred is panting, discomfort written across his features.He moves through the silent corridors, staricases, up a level to the library. Moving the books, he shifts towards the sliding door and to the Computer, that scans them both—Alfred is recognized first, then Ollie—before nabbing Titus, behind them, last.The passcode comes up, and Alfred speaks, to the Computer: “Belize.”
Talia’s GPS dot pops up: downtown Gotham.The Englishman turns his eyes, dark and hard, on the other man. “How long ago?”
"Cass called me at ten and that’s when the news footage came up, too." Ollie crowds against Alfred, his bow clacking against the man’s shoulder. "Is she near Wayne Enterprises? GCPD? Where?"
Alfred turns to look at the screen and does not look back at Ollie back to answer: “The Ambassador Hotel.”
Ollie nods, moving out of the computer alcove to the side where there’s the attached door down to the Cave. “I’m headed there now,” he says. “You have my frequency. Tell me if she moves. Key her out of the Manor security and if anything happens, Alfred, anything at all, get to Queen Tower. You got me? She’s bringing all the fucking horsemen out on this one.”