"No Dick, you weren't there. You were saving the world from another direction. It's what happened. If you hadn't lead your team against Trigon, all the rest of us did wouldn't have mattered."
Tim turns his face to Dick finally. "Doesn't make anything that happened any better."
"And look where that got us. Two whole generations of heroes, dead, in a matter of weeks. Two other generations crippled, left with only a handful of heroes. And why? Why?" Tim stares deeply into Dicks eyes, a fierce anger still burning.
"Because we thought being the good guys meant we weren't supposed to finish the job. Things are better now. Gotham city, the entirety of the west, has had an 90 percent drop in crime. Repeat crimes have dropped by 100 percent. We live in a paradise." Of course, his idea of paradise would make George Orwell proud.
"Because we don't let them do it again." Tim turns his back, stalking away a couple of steps to stare out over the city. "How many times has Joker been put in Arkham, Nightwing?" Back tot he code names. It helps him keep a distance from his emotions. This was so much easier when he had Raven to help him.
"From me, from you, from Bruce? Dozens, hundreds of times, we sent him back to that same damned Asylum, and every time he got out, and every time, he killed more people. And WE LET HIM!"
Tim takes a deep breath, reigning his emotions back in. "If you had stopped the Joker, permanently, the first time he killed, Babs would still be able to walk. All those people, they'd still be alive. And Bruce might be too."
"I'm not going to attack you Nightwing. You're one of the good guys. So am I. The only difference between us, is I make sure these bastards never hurt anyone again. Not you, not Babs, not my father, or Connor, or Cassie..." the list could go on. "No one. Ever again. I make sure no one has to go through the pain of losing a parent, or a child, or a loved one simply because some supervillain chose that day to rob the bank. Don't you understand Dick? The old way didn't work. There were only a handful of us left, and most of the villains still lived. They would have destroyed us, we were only handicapping ourselves."
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Tim turns his face to Dick finally. "Doesn't make anything that happened any better."
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And to more than just the voice now.
"...Tim?"
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There's too much to say; he can't think of any one thing.
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Dick frowns at him.
"Too much, maybe."
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"... more than too much."
Dick stares at him.
"What are you doing?"
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"... that's not ... Tim, that isn't how we work. You know that as well as me."
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"Because we thought being the good guys meant we weren't supposed to finish the job. Things are better now. Gotham city, the entirety of the west, has had an 90 percent drop in crime. Repeat crimes have dropped by 100 percent. We live in a paradise." Of course, his idea of paradise would make George Orwell proud.
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"Repeat crimes have dropped by a hundred percent." His voice is flat. "Do I want to know why?"
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"From me, from you, from Bruce? Dozens, hundreds of times, we sent him back to that same damned Asylum, and every time he got out, and every time, he killed more people. And WE LET HIM!"
Tim takes a deep breath, reigning his emotions back in. "If you had stopped the Joker, permanently, the first time he killed, Babs would still be able to walk. All those people, they'd still be alive. And Bruce might be too."
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"-- and if you do, then you're one of them."
He takes a step backwards, hand wary on an escrima stick.
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