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[6I] Application
HISTORY
PERSONALITY
Nobody in Gotham gets a real childhood, and Tim Drake is no exception. Crime touched his life from an early age, his mother dead or disappeared, his father a runner for Two-Face. When Stephen Drake double crossed the crime lord and was subsequently murdered, he left what he’d stolen for his street-urchin son, and in doing so painted a target on his back. Tim was only a little older than Bruce had been when he lost his own parents, but already resigned to the possibility, an early graduate from the school of hard knocks.
He could have found the bounty and run, could have talked his way into working for the capricious crime lord, or just let authorities pull him into Gotham’s bloated child services program. Even in his preteens, Tim knew those options ended with him in the river.
There was only one person in Gotham you could trust not to be in somebody’s pocket, and Tim had been following Batman’s career for as long as he could read, as long as he could hold a pair of scissors to cut the clippings from the paper. It had been an early act of rebellion against a life that had no hope: idolizing the man who terrorized his father and his cohorts, tracking his movements through the city, picking up batarangs and paraphernalia from crime scenes. Tim knew exactly what Batman was a symbol of, the fear he struck in the criminal element, and he’d reveled in it. Confronting Two-Face, he even tried to use it to his advantage, having trained himself to use the tools he collected in the Batman’s wake.
When he got in over his head and Batman arrived to bail him out, Tim hardly played sidekick-in-distress. He turned the favor back on him, swimming an unconscious Batman to his idling submarine and riding with him back to the Bat Cave. From there, he snuck up into the Manor and put together the truth of Batman’s identity: his hero had always been ditzy socialite Bruce Wayne. Finding himself unpunished but contained to the Cave while Batman went after Two-Face, Tim did what he’d always done: stole what he needed to get by, and took care of things himself. Taking Dick’s old costume and ransacking the Cave for supplies, he went after Bruce, and earned the title of Robin by helping Batman take down his father’s murderer.
In his tenure as Robin, he proved himself if not Bruce’s equal, capable of becoming so in time. He was the bright and carefree symbol Robin had always been, the thoughtful detective, and the dedicated soldier to Bruce’s cause. Reflecting later, somewhat bitterly, he admits that he had aspirations to replace Bruce as the Batman.
If no one gets a childhood in Gotham, adolescent dreams don’t fare much better. In his late teens, coming into his own as a hero and allowed to patrol outside of Bruce and Barbara’s shadows, Tim is lured into a trap by Harley Quinn, and subsequently captured by the Joker. None of his intelligence or mettle stand against the weeks of torture, and he breaks down, Robin bleeding away with all of the family’s secrets until the Joker has a blank canvas for his masterpiece.
Poisoned, filmed, tortured, and molded into the Joker’s image, Tim is twisted and folded into a parody of a happy family. The Joker transforms the abandoned and crumbling Arkham asylum into a sitcom stage, oversized childish props, dad’s lazy recliner at the television, mom’s bright kitchen and dining room. Physically and mentally tortured by the Joker and mockingly mothered by Harley, Tim breaks, unable to do more than play along and communicate his horror in a stuttering, hysterical laugh.
The mental stress culminates in the fight between Bruce and the Joker. Watching one father figure beat upon the other, the Joker finally stabs Bruce in the knee, leaving him vulnerable: he puts the gun in Tim’s hands, ordering him to shoot his mentor. Tim holds Bruce’s life in his hands--his savior, avenger of his father’s death. His friend. His family.
Tim fires the gun into the Joker instead, breaking the only oath he’d ever taken in his life by killing him. He finally breaks down sobbing into Barbara’s arms, and will wake from that breakdown in the fountain, some of his physical changes reversed, but none of his mental or emotional pain taken care of.
At least he’ll get a real chance at recovery in the canyon, the chip implanted in his neck to cement the Joker’s control unable to travel with him.
He could have found the bounty and run, could have talked his way into working for the capricious crime lord, or just let authorities pull him into Gotham’s bloated child services program. Even in his preteens, Tim knew those options ended with him in the river.
There was only one person in Gotham you could trust not to be in somebody’s pocket, and Tim had been following Batman’s career for as long as he could read, as long as he could hold a pair of scissors to cut the clippings from the paper. It had been an early act of rebellion against a life that had no hope: idolizing the man who terrorized his father and his cohorts, tracking his movements through the city, picking up batarangs and paraphernalia from crime scenes. Tim knew exactly what Batman was a symbol of, the fear he struck in the criminal element, and he’d reveled in it. Confronting Two-Face, he even tried to use it to his advantage, having trained himself to use the tools he collected in the Batman’s wake.
When he got in over his head and Batman arrived to bail him out, Tim hardly played sidekick-in-distress. He turned the favor back on him, swimming an unconscious Batman to his idling submarine and riding with him back to the Bat Cave. From there, he snuck up into the Manor and put together the truth of Batman’s identity: his hero had always been ditzy socialite Bruce Wayne. Finding himself unpunished but contained to the Cave while Batman went after Two-Face, Tim did what he’d always done: stole what he needed to get by, and took care of things himself. Taking Dick’s old costume and ransacking the Cave for supplies, he went after Bruce, and earned the title of Robin by helping Batman take down his father’s murderer.
In his tenure as Robin, he proved himself if not Bruce’s equal, capable of becoming so in time. He was the bright and carefree symbol Robin had always been, the thoughtful detective, and the dedicated soldier to Bruce’s cause. Reflecting later, somewhat bitterly, he admits that he had aspirations to replace Bruce as the Batman.
If no one gets a childhood in Gotham, adolescent dreams don’t fare much better. In his late teens, coming into his own as a hero and allowed to patrol outside of Bruce and Barbara’s shadows, Tim is lured into a trap by Harley Quinn, and subsequently captured by the Joker. None of his intelligence or mettle stand against the weeks of torture, and he breaks down, Robin bleeding away with all of the family’s secrets until the Joker has a blank canvas for his masterpiece.
Poisoned, filmed, tortured, and molded into the Joker’s image, Tim is twisted and folded into a parody of a happy family. The Joker transforms the abandoned and crumbling Arkham asylum into a sitcom stage, oversized childish props, dad’s lazy recliner at the television, mom’s bright kitchen and dining room. Physically and mentally tortured by the Joker and mockingly mothered by Harley, Tim breaks, unable to do more than play along and communicate his horror in a stuttering, hysterical laugh.
The mental stress culminates in the fight between Bruce and the Joker. Watching one father figure beat upon the other, the Joker finally stabs Bruce in the knee, leaving him vulnerable: he puts the gun in Tim’s hands, ordering him to shoot his mentor. Tim holds Bruce’s life in his hands--his savior, avenger of his father’s death. His friend. His family.
Tim fires the gun into the Joker instead, breaking the only oath he’d ever taken in his life by killing him. He finally breaks down sobbing into Barbara’s arms, and will wake from that breakdown in the fountain, some of his physical changes reversed, but none of his mental or emotional pain taken care of.
At least he’ll get a real chance at recovery in the canyon, the chip implanted in his neck to cement the Joker’s control unable to travel with him.
PERSONALITY
As with every vigilante on Gotham’s streets, there’s before the Joker, and after. No one gets to put on the mask without looking into that ugly mirror, and no one has been dragged through the looking glass as thoroughly and roughly as Tim Drake.
Before his torture at the Joker’s hands, Tim was made for the role of Robin. He knew Gotham and its streets, understood its heartbeat the way Bruce had to learn outside the bubble of his wealth and manor. Bruce had to train the physical aspects of Robin into him: make him a daring acrobat, a capable fighter for his size, a dazzling distraction that could go toe-to-toe with grown, gun-wielding maniacs.
But the mental and emotional foundations were already there: Tim adapted easily to the role of protector and detective. He could follow orders as long as they made enough sense, and he thought he understood the risks versus reward of the life he was taking on. He never really adapted to the socialite side of things, charming the Gotham elite with his rough around the edges manners, charming Bruce endlessly with his blunt social observations and to the point grasp of the system within which they worked. At one point, Bruce tries to stress the importance of Tim’s civics homework, which Tim replies he knows to be bogus. “How do you figure that,” Bruce asks.
“From watching you.”
Tim has always known the system is corrupt and pointless, especially in Gotham. As Robin, Tim is what the Joker only pretends to be: the young jester to Bruce’s King, the truthsayer, who questions and keeps in check all of Bruce’s goals and actions. When Bruce is dosed with fear gas and loses his compass, it is Tim who out-manipulates him, Tim who saves him from himself. This is why the Joker targets Robin, not as the weakest link, but as the one most important safeguard to Batman’s sanity.
The Joker undoes him.
As Joker Junior, and in the village, Tim has broken from his clear-cut view of reality into the funhouse mirror of the Joker’s world view. Life is a joke, a stage. Who we are is a performance built on tropes and lampshading and ugly, over-sized, over-bright props. Everything is something else, the rug is always about to be pulled out from under you, the flower spits water, the handshake gives a horrifying shock.
Tim will be coming off weeks of brainwashing, recovering from physical and mental torture, his identity completely broken down, rebuilt, and broken again in an act of violence. His throat will be scarred from poison and uncontrollable laughter, his cheeks from the surgery needed to release him from his constant grin. He will be broken, and he will be dangerous. But he is still Robin, and if he can find that again, there is all the world to be gained.
Before his torture at the Joker’s hands, Tim was made for the role of Robin. He knew Gotham and its streets, understood its heartbeat the way Bruce had to learn outside the bubble of his wealth and manor. Bruce had to train the physical aspects of Robin into him: make him a daring acrobat, a capable fighter for his size, a dazzling distraction that could go toe-to-toe with grown, gun-wielding maniacs.
But the mental and emotional foundations were already there: Tim adapted easily to the role of protector and detective. He could follow orders as long as they made enough sense, and he thought he understood the risks versus reward of the life he was taking on. He never really adapted to the socialite side of things, charming the Gotham elite with his rough around the edges manners, charming Bruce endlessly with his blunt social observations and to the point grasp of the system within which they worked. At one point, Bruce tries to stress the importance of Tim’s civics homework, which Tim replies he knows to be bogus. “How do you figure that,” Bruce asks.
“From watching you.”
Tim has always known the system is corrupt and pointless, especially in Gotham. As Robin, Tim is what the Joker only pretends to be: the young jester to Bruce’s King, the truthsayer, who questions and keeps in check all of Bruce’s goals and actions. When Bruce is dosed with fear gas and loses his compass, it is Tim who out-manipulates him, Tim who saves him from himself. This is why the Joker targets Robin, not as the weakest link, but as the one most important safeguard to Batman’s sanity.
The Joker undoes him.
As Joker Junior, and in the village, Tim has broken from his clear-cut view of reality into the funhouse mirror of the Joker’s world view. Life is a joke, a stage. Who we are is a performance built on tropes and lampshading and ugly, over-sized, over-bright props. Everything is something else, the rug is always about to be pulled out from under you, the flower spits water, the handshake gives a horrifying shock.
Tim will be coming off weeks of brainwashing, recovering from physical and mental torture, his identity completely broken down, rebuilt, and broken again in an act of violence. His throat will be scarred from poison and uncontrollable laughter, his cheeks from the surgery needed to release him from his constant grin. He will be broken, and he will be dangerous. But he is still Robin, and if he can find that again, there is all the world to be gained.