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[sub][ [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4998469]Prev[/url] ]  [color=#9fc5e8]“[b]FEAT OF CLAY[/b], Part X”[/color] [ [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5017481]Next[/url] ][/sub][/center][COLOR=steelblue][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]B L Ü D H A V E N[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=goldenrod]1012 Parthorne Avenue[/color][/sup][/INDENT]
[i][color=#ffd700]“You really think that this’ll be the next place he hits?” [/color][/i]

[color=silver]The doll hadn’t actually spoken aloud, though back at Dick Grayson’s brownstone, the man heard the boy’s voice all the same. 

[color=#9fc5e8]“Now that we know it’s Hagan, the robberies fit a pattern. He’s been working his way down one of the sewer mains.”[/color] Dick was kicked back in the man cave that was carved out inside of his condo, eating a Lean Cuisine that he’d microwaved for dinner as he checked in with the Toy Wonder through the remote connection that Charles had set up. Voice recognition protocol produced a transcript inside that was routed through the robot’s processor in the same manner in which he processed normal audio input. It kept the entire exchange between them completely silent, eliminating the risk of [s]Toyboy[/s] Jason being overheard while on an assignment.

Lounging back in his chair, the plastic tray balanced on one thigh, Dick was amazed by what he was able to see. The secure feed from the upgraded software and remote networking capability that S.T.A.R. Labs had been able to install on Jason allowed Dick to tap into the boy’s visual field the same as if it were a video feed.

The glimpse on how the doll perceived the world around him was illuminating. Schott had designed the doll to alternate visual scanning along a rotating band of spectrum frequencies, producing an image that seemed to sweep from left to right, right to left, top to bottom, bottom to top. As it did, it shifted from the visual spectrum to infrared and back again.

Jason was atop the Blüdhaven Municipal Bus Terminal Building, which overlooked a jewelry store from the west side entrance. From this vantage point, facial recognition protocols that Dr. Charles had adapted tagged what it could identify as unique individuals. Amazingly, social media matching produced more than just a couple of matches in what was close to real time.

If George Orwell had ever met Jason, the man would likely have felt that 1984 had indeed come to pass.

[i][color=#ffd700]“Hey, it’s that girl!”[/color][/i]

Looking up from where he had a fork full of food, Dick was greeted by an enlarged image that framed a young brunette in the picture. The girl looked scared, constantly casting nervous glances over her shoulder. It was another moment before recognition hit. Dick had seen that same look, that same girl, before.

[color=#9fc5e8]“Stay focused. We’re trying to catch Hagan,”[/color] Dick said, though the dizzying manner in which the visual field was now spinning told him that Jason had already moved from his surveillance point.

As if to confirm, the childlike voice cut in with, [i][color=#ffd700]“Can’t talk. Hero time!”[/color][/i]

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[b][color=#9fc5e8]BLÜDHAVEN MUNICIPAL BUS TERMINAL[/color][/b]

The girl was running scared.

Her attention more concerned with what was behind her, the bob-haired waif only realized that she’d stepped out in front of a city bus when the headlights had caught her eye.

She’d gasped, but didn’t scream until something grabbed her.

Hoisted up into the air, she hadn’t realized what had happened until she was back on her feet again. A boy -- the same one in the red suit and black cape from before -- had swooped in to pull her out of the bus’ path at the last second. Then, swinging through the air, deposited them both safely on the other side of the terminal. 

No sooner had he let her go than she had thrown herself at him. Arms wrapped tightly around the doll, the girl buried her face into his shoulder and sobbed. 

For his part, Jason was frozen in place. It was the robotic equivalent of being speechless, as his program had pre-loaded a selection of human behaviors that it had anticipated, with appropriate responses waiting in the L2 cache. But this? This sent the doll back into the L3 cache in order to compose a response.

After the seconds ticked by of just awkwardly standing there, like a mannequin, the boy gently returned the hug. Then, his hands, placed on her arms, pulled her away so that he could try to look her in the eye. [color=#ffd700]“It’s okay,”[/color] he offered, though her face was turned away. 

She planted a hand in the center of his chest, pushing him away as she started to break into a run.

He caught her hand, stopping her in mid-step. At last, she turned to look at him. When she did, he let go. [color=#ffd700]“You don’t have to keep running.” [/color]

The sleeves of the pink cardigan she wore hung over the tops of her hands. Using the sleeve, she wiped away the tears from her eyes. [color=#f4cccc]“There’s a man after me.”[/color] It was a simple statement. Risking a look back over her shoulder, the panicked look returned before she looked back at the masked boy. [color=#f4cccc]“I... I have to keep moving.”[/color]

[color=#ffd700]“Who is he?”[/color]

The girl’s mouth fell open, as if to answer, but then she seemed to pause there. [color=#f4cccc]“I... don’t know,” [/color]she admitted, before adding, [color=#f4cccc]“But, he’s always there. Even in my nightmares.”[/color]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]“Be careful. A lot of runaways have underlying psychological distress. This girl probably needs a professional counselor.”[/color][/i]

Jason had forgotten that he was still connected with Dick. The remote network operated through a virtual drive that was intentionally walled off from his normal processing, making the whole process appear to run in the background. Putting on a smile, the doll again reached out to take the girl by the shoulders. [color=#ffd700]“It’s okay to be afraid,”[/color] he stated frankly, giving her shoulders a slight squeeze as he added, [color=#ffd700]“I just want to help you.”[/color]

[i][color=#9fc5e8]“Her face isn’t coming up in the database of missing kids,”[/color][/i] Dick’s voice supplied inside of the robot’s head. [i][color=#9fc5e8]“See if you can get her to give you a name.”[/color][/i]

Withdrawing an arm, the boy gestured to indicate himself as he offered, [color=#ffd700]“I’m Robin. What’s your name?”[/color]

The same pained expression. Her hands came up to either side of her head, as though she were trying to viscerally pull the answer out. [color=#f4cccc]“I...”[/color] she stammered, before shaking her head. [color=#f4cccc]“I can’t even remember that,”[/color] she uttered finally.

[i][color=#9fc5e8]“There’s a shelter about three blocks over. They have counselors on staff that should be able to connect her with the resources that she needs.”[/color][/i]

Ducking low, the masked doll put his face so that it was beneath hers, looking up at her with a smile as he nonchalantly said, [color=#ffd700]“That’s okay, we’ll improvise.”[/color] Straightening back up, the boy craned his to peer through the interior of the bus terminal. [color=#ffd700]“How about...”[/color] he began, even as various lists began to spool in his memory. 

A girl was about to board a bus, carrying a Little Orphan Annie doll under her arm. [color=#ffd700]“...Annie,”[/color] the doll concluded, turning to look back at the dark haired girl.

Still wiping at her face with the edge of her sleeve, the girl gave a weak laugh. At the name, or maybe the goofy boy who had offered it, or even just the fact that this was the first time that she could remember anyone caring. [color=#f4cccc]“Okay,”[/color] she answered meekly.

Then she panicked, her breath frozen in her lungs in a sharp intake of air.

[color=#ffd700]“What’s wrong?”[/color]

[color=#f4cccc]“He’s near,”[/color] the girl answered, ominously. Then, looking left, pointed to an open door cast in the shadows as she proclaimed. [color=#f4cccc]“There!”[/color]

To both Jason and Dick’s amazement, as the doll’s visual field swept over the doorway, it revealed that there was someone there. Watching. While the infrared imaging was unclear, the passing headlights of a bus at last supplied a better visual inspection.

He was tall. Powerfully build. With a face like that of Borris Karloff. And a pair of piercing, inhuman eyes.

[i][color=#9fc5e8]“That’s Hagan,”[/color][/i] Dick’s voice warned sharply.[/color][/indent]