trans_9 | Secret Identities Come With Secret Lairs? [Open!]

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Secret Identities Come With Secret Lairs? [Open!]

For a while following his release from the pods, Tim had spent most of his time in the library (albeit as Red Robin), researching and reading. He poured over everything on the ship and the events surrounding it that he could find, making sure he had all of the information he could get, for now. He'd investigate more, soon...

But for the time being, he had finally torn himself away from the library. He had a place to stay, yes, but he wanted somewhere more private, that he could work out of when neccessary. A base of operations-- somewhere in the city. It hadn't been totally explored yet, after all. Plus, he needed to establish himself a bit more outside of Red Robin, especially if he wanted to keep up the distinction for a while (as futile as he'd heard it was).

So it was as Tim Drake that he was exploring the city at the time, feeling somewhat exposed without his cape or cowl, but his posture was confident, if slouched somewhat. Right then, he was a businessman and a teenager, nothing more.

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"Hey! I can see far enough!" the book said, glaring down the walls at the skeptic. "Besides, it's really more of a thing we say. It's a classic 'tyrant ruler' line. Gotta keep the image polished."

The Overlord cleared his throat, so to speak, then boomed, "Behold the mighty Fortress of the Overlord! Tremble before its majesty! I... damn. Fanfare! I need a fanfare!"

"Uh, got it, thanks. I'll keep that in mind," he said, but mentally he was sizing him up. A lot of villains were jokes-- and this guy was a book-- but he didn't want to immediately write off anyone who described themselves as a 'tyrant ruler'.

"I don't have any instruments, but will some applause do?" he asked, humouring him a little.

"It's just not the same without trumpets," the Overlord grumbled. "Something about the brass. Gives it a nice undertone -- PUT THAT THING AWAY!" The Overlord shot a death glare at a minion that had clambered onto the walls, then lifted a vuvuzela to her lips. Sadly, the minion clambered back down.

"I miss my Netherworld," the book sighed, then looked back down at the guy standing outside. "New out of the pods?"

"Well I don't have any on me, sorry," he said, sheepishly. So far, this guy mostly just seemed ridiculous. But you never knew, right? He did wince, however, at the thing on the wall with the vuvuzela-- he'd paid just enough attention to sports to know how annoying that thing was.

"Uh, yeah," he replied. "Still finding my way around, I guess. Figured I'd explore some. Have you been around for a while?"

"A few months," the book said. "It's not much for passing the time. You build a fortress, you train an apprentice, and you wish the damn ship would point you in the direction of some Ohm so you can go kick some ass."

This was good-- Tim was at least getting something on this guy (that term was quickly becoming liberal). "Isn't it good that we have time to... bide our time?" he asked, curiously. "To prepare, I guess." He shrugged.

"Hah! What's your plan for preparing to fight a few trillion bug things?" the book demanded, peering down haughtily. "Unless the rules of the game change suddenly, that sort of number situation isn't gonna work."

"... point," Tim replied, and it was a decent one. Of course, he was already preparing-- working on gathering information, planning, and training. There was that. "I guess it is pretty crappy odds, huh?"

"Hyaaa ha ha ha ha! As soon as I have my minions trained to their full strength, a million to one will seem like a cakewalk!" The book grinned smugly. "Let the ship prepare! I, the great Overlord Zetta, will forge out of it a fighting force like the cosmos has never seen! Uh...except for me, of course," it added quickly.

Tim raised an eyebrow at that, his expression fairly serious for a moment-- though he made sure to go back to acting a bit more meek right away. "Minions?" he asked. "I guess an 'Overlord' ought to have them, but on the ship? Do you train them regularly?" It was curiosity-- professional and in character both.

This kid just went up in Zetta's estimation! He understood how things freakin' WORKED in the cosmos!

"Alternating schedule. Real minions one day, loyal battle monkeys the next." He spoke with absolute pride, and for once, not in himself.

Tim nodded to that. So it was a regular schedule, then, something stable. "At least you're keeping up. I mean, if we're stuck in a war... Mind if I ask who these 'loyal battle monkeys' are, though?" It was a genuine question.

"Hmph. Constructs." Almost as if on command, a few of his minions appeared from behind the ramparts, to wave in vapidly cheerful greeting. "If this was my Netherworld I'd bind wandering souls into them, but there aren't any here, so... just a bunch of constructs, imbued with mana power."

Tim blinked up at them, looking curious and maybe a little sceptical. "So they're just like empty shells?" he asked. It was a question he really wanted to hear the answer to, though he was dubious either way. "And they do whatever you want them to?"

"Yep. Got it in one." He fixed the kid with a stern look. "They're not intelligent, they're not sentient, they don't have souls, so don't go claiming I'm some slavemaster. The last thing I need is that damn Council trying to claim they gotta take 'em all away and rehabilitate them or some crap."

Tim nodded seriously, fixing a stern expression on Zetta for a moment at that. He wasn't going to take that at face value. After a moment, though, he smiled sheepishly, "No, I get it, don't worry. I'd kind of hope that 'Stacy' wasn't bring on someone crazy like that, anyway." He didn't trust her not to. He'd have to investigate some more, anyway.

"Sure she would," Zetta said, absolutely not helping. "There's all sorts of crazy nuts on here! Probably a bunch of people who'd start enslaving left and right if they could get away with it, but that whole tentacle-no-fighting thing keeps 'em down."

Zetta made something of a disgusted face at the memory of Punishment.

"I just want to make damn sure that no one tries to go hauling off MY loyal battle-monkeys!"

Tim frowned. That was exactly what he was afraid of. Which was why he refused to trust Zetta, even if he seemed to be pretty adamant. Tim knew about the violations and about punishment, but he was far from willing to let anything happen, before those precautions. He'd be keeping some definite tabs on some people on the ship.

"Uh, well. I'm glad you're not one of those people, then," he said, sheepishly. "So hopefully I can keep quiet for you, since they're not alive."

"Damn straight I'm not," Zetta snapped. "I'm an Overlord! I don't NEED slaves!"

Though apparently he needed loyal constructs. Then again... he IS a book.

"Right," Tim offered, frowning. "I guess an overlord just has 'followers' and 'minions' then? Instead of forcing people to follow him." It was slightly sarcastic, but it was also meant to be playing along while he sized him up. At least he was getting a good idea of his personality.

"Hyaaa ha ha ha ha! All those who serve the Overlord are my minions! Only a couple have earned the distinction of being my disciples, though," he said, an emphasis on the word that spoke to a fairly deep meaning for the Overlord.

Yeah, Zetta's personality is pretty much written in large flashing neon letters.

"Okay, fair enough," Tim conceded, eyeing Zetta. "So the 'minions' are just whoever, and the 'disciples' are people you trust more, and have proven their worth?" On the bright side, Tim was used to both sides of the subtlety scale-- incredibly, and not at all.

"They're the people I'm taking a special interest in training," Zetta said. "They have a lot of potential and skill, so I've taken one as my apprentice and one is my student."

Yes, he has an awful lot of names for the people under him.

"There's a difference?" Tim asked, sheepishly. He knew it was probably semantics, and maybe just a subtle difference-- but it'd be useful to know anyway.

"My apprentice is in training to be an Overlord," Zetta said. "My student's too heroic for the life of evil thing, so she can't be an apprentice, but I'm training her anyway."

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