Of Train Stations and Doctors Horrible.
Who: Tim Drake and Dr. Horrible
What: Only in town a few hours and already getting into trouble
Where: The Train Station
When: After midnight
Rating: PG-13?
Status: Closed , Incomplete
The problem, really, wasn't that Tim Drake was in a different country with no money, no ID, and only a vague idea of how he got there; the problem was that when he got back home he was dead for no other reason than Batman needed him and boy had he bungled it this time. The shipment of whatever new chemical Scarecrow was toying with had been due in at Gotham Station-- Tim glanced up at the giant, pale-glowing clock face on the platform-- ten hours ago, and he needed to be there.
Instead, Tim Drake, a slight boy of about thirteen with wild black hair and wide, dark eyes stood on an empty train platform in Aternaville, Canada and watched the seconds tick away; shivering in his tights and cape.
And that was another thing. It was cold. Gotham had been having a mild autumn, so he hadn't exactly thought to wear something more practical.
'Oh, the trials and tribulations of The Boy Wonder.' He thought wryly, doing his best not to let his teeth chatter. 'Funny how one year of a clean, warm, bed takes the street instincts out of you. Oh, hell with it, there's gotta be a crash pad somewhere in this dump.' Just as he made up his mind to leave, the long shadow of another figure moving cautiously through the dark flitted past the corner of his eye.
"Hello..." Eyes narrowing, Tim moved with the shadows, following the figure as close as he dared.
What: Only in town a few hours and already getting into trouble
Where: The Train Station
When: After midnight
Rating: PG-13?
Status: Closed , Incomplete
The problem, really, wasn't that Tim Drake was in a different country with no money, no ID, and only a vague idea of how he got there; the problem was that when he got back home he was dead for no other reason than Batman needed him and boy had he bungled it this time. The shipment of whatever new chemical Scarecrow was toying with had been due in at Gotham Station-- Tim glanced up at the giant, pale-glowing clock face on the platform-- ten hours ago, and he needed to be there.
Instead, Tim Drake, a slight boy of about thirteen with wild black hair and wide, dark eyes stood on an empty train platform in Aternaville, Canada and watched the seconds tick away; shivering in his tights and cape.
And that was another thing. It was cold. Gotham had been having a mild autumn, so he hadn't exactly thought to wear something more practical.
'Oh, the trials and tribulations of The Boy Wonder.' He thought wryly, doing his best not to let his teeth chatter. 'Funny how one year of a clean, warm, bed takes the street instincts out of you. Oh, hell with it, there's gotta be a crash pad somewhere in this dump.' Just as he made up his mind to leave, the long shadow of another figure moving cautiously through the dark flitted past the corner of his eye.
"Hello..." Eyes narrowing, Tim moved with the shadows, following the figure as close as he dared.