The Dark Knight

Zatanna soon her way gingerly towards her ‘patient’ on the couch, gingerly balancing a plate of chocolate covered fruit and two mugs of tea. She paused as she handed him his cup, cringing slightly as he mentioned being under a spell. “I don’t like to use it on people I care for so please,” she took a seat beside him with a small smile, “listen to me next time before I have to do that, okay?”

Cradling her cup of tea, she glanced towards the television and pursed her lips as she thought over their options. “How about one of the James Bond movies? I always enjoy the whole man of mystery thing.” she suggested, cutting her eyes back to him with a smirk.

Accepting his steaming mug, Bruce took a tentative sip, the liquid warming him from the inside out. “I know it wasn’t out of malice, Z, don’t feel bad. You’re taking care of me, and I’m grateful.” He was painfully aware of his lack of self-care, but it would be the last thing he’d mention aloud to anyone. He stretched his arm so it rested behind Zatanna, fingertips brushing her shoulder. “I’ll try my best to listen, though I’ve been told I’m a little stubborn,” he teased.

Zatanna pinched the bridge of her nose but kept her thoughts to herself. What was it with men that they were unable to ask for help? Like her own father wanting to take on everything himself, even when he didn’t have to. “You didn’t have to do it alone,” she offered, knowing full well that any of his adopted children would have been there in a heartbeat if it involved Alfred. She cast a furtive glance up to him as he pondered her words but she could tell that wasn’t an option in his mind. It brought endless worry on her end but she had learned long ago you couldn’t change someone when they were so set in their ways.

“I suppose…” she let slip a smile as he placed a tender kiss to her forehead, knowing even that simple motion was not easy for him right now - but it was quickly replaced with a frown as he stepped away from her. “tiaw..” she didn’t like to use her gifts on her friends but even injured Bruce had a size advantage on her - not to mention she didn’t want to accidentally hurt him anymore with a simple tug on the arm or shoulder. “I’ll get the ice and berries. I want you on the couch,” she instructed as she stood in front of him, hands on her hips in a clear sign that she wasn’t going to lose this argument. Lifting herself onto her tiptoes, in a sign of apology for using magic, she kissed his cheek with a sheepish smile.

“Please.”

He knew well that he wasn’t forced to walk this path alone, but he chose to whenever he could. The last thing he wanted or needed was putting someone else in harm’s way. He knew his team would come at the drop of a hat, but in a way, he felt like it was his responsibility to extract Alfred. After all, it was his fault his beloved butler was abducted in the first place.

Before Bruce could take a step toward the kitchen, Zatanna’s words had him frozen in place. Magic. His brows knitted together in frustration as he tried to move his feet, but his features softened when the magician stepped in front of him. Features softened as she placed a sweet kiss to his cheek, and he surrendered his attempt at ignoring his injuries for the time being. “Okay,” he sighed, his frame relaxing as he stepped slowly toward the living room. As much as he wanted to be upset at being manipulated so simply, he knew it was out of loving care, and not out of malice.

“Still as paranoid as ever Bruce,” 

Diana whistled a listless melody beneath her breath to compensate for the absence of elevator music. It was quite predictable that the interior of the one-way lift was not only stark silent but also fairly sparsely decorated. Quiet and unassuming, exactly like Bruce Wayne. She elected to disregard the sparking wires dangling from the elevator buttons, reasoning that she hadn’t caused too much harm and would gladly recompense the Caped Crusader if he requested it. However, he had not responded to the doorbell, and she had not traveled across town in vain.

Diana entered the room with leisurely yet graceful ease, an asymmetrical smile etched onto her features as she took note of his stern expression and subsequent relief. The click of her heels on the opulent-looking flooring eoched back to them sharply, and she came to a standstill a few feet in front of him. “It’s reassuring to know that you haven’t changed,” her nose wrinkled in amusement. Purposefully avoiding answering the question regarding how she received the elevator code, as she had not. She’d have to apologize later for the fist-shaped hole and frayed cables; it was act of impulse spurred by a desire to spring a surprise on the Dark Knight. “Lovely to see you again as well, Alfred,” she called gently in the direction she assumed Alfred was taking refuge.

“I’m simply making my rounds, I’ll be staying in the city for a while I thought I should stop by” she finally explained, her head tilted. “May I sit?” 

The chains of anxiety that wrapped around his chest loosened at the sight of Diana, grateful that it was friend and not foe that arrived unannounced. Bruce cocked his head to the side, brows pulling together. “What do you mean by that?” Was it his over-protection and defense over the ones he loved so dearly? Was it the way he decorated the penthouse so similarly to Wayne Manor back in Gotham? “Though, I suppose I could say the same about you. Coffee?” He offered, turning away from the woman after grabbing his own empty cup to refill.

The familiar voice made Alfred smile, cracking the door open, despite Bruce’s request to stay put. “And you, Miss Prince!”

A breathy, nearly inaudible growl rumbled lightly in the Dark Knight’s chest as he heard Alfred’s voice echo back towards them. His attempt at protecting the man who raised him from such an influential age was slipping between his fingers, and Bruce’s lack of control was incredibly frustrating. “You could have called or texted, you know. Actually, that would be preferable in the future, especially if you’re planning on stopping over here. I can get an elevator code programmed for you, I’m trying to keep security as tight as I can.” His lips pressed into a line, his eyes staring at the edge of his mug, the navy blue World’s Okayest Dad lettering fading against the white ceramic. 

Bruce turned his head as he heard the one-way elevator engage, lowering to the ground floor. “Alfred? Were you expecting any visitors?” He called from his position at the table, lowering the paper he’d been engrossed in during his late breakfast.

“Certainly not, sir. Perhaps Master Drake or Master Greyson are dropping by for a visit?” Alfred replied over his shoulder, carrying a basket of laundry down the hall.

He cocked his head either side, weighing the possibilities. “Not entirely out of the question, but Dick left town a while back, and Tim has been flying under the radar, from what I can gather.” Bruce rose to his feet slowly, listening intently as the elevator changed direction. “I’m not taking any chances, so please close the door behind you, Alfred. First and foremost, I need to ensure you’re safe. I’ll let you know if and when it’s safe to emerge. Copy?”

“Understood, Master Wayne.” The door clicked behind his beloved butler just seconds before an audible ding signaled the elevator doors opening. Despite his still-healing frame, Bruce braced himself to fight, unsure of who he was about to come face-to-face with. Though, the face he saw was one he never imagined he’d see so unexpectedly. He straightened his spine, not without a groan as his hand cradled his ribcage. “Diana? What the hell are you doing here? How’d you get the elevator code?”

“I’m not asking you to do much….just turn a blind eye while I rob this place stupid"

The curve of that masculine jawline, sharp enough to cut glass, that brooding pucker in his chin, all of those rippling pectorals, and the leather. How was a girl supposed to resist a little mischief when the Dark Knight took time out of his hectic schedule putting junkies in the hospital to pursue little ol’ her across rooftops? It had become a highlight of her nights, anticipating his appearance and his attempts to admonish her for her misdeeds. It was a delightfully intoxicating dance, that chase. Like a well-choreographed tango. His efforts to influence her fragile morality in his favor were ludicrous, but Selina allowed him to believe he was succeeding. If only it meant he would continue to show up like Vengeance itself personified, cast in Gotham’s eerie moonlight every night to play. Tonight was no different, apart from the romantic expectations of the day. For the city of Gotham Valentine’s day was a one of love and spending time with those you cared for. For Selina, it meant that jewelry stores were putting their shiniest pieces on displays to entice young lovers. She’d raid a few storefronts and then treat herself to a bottle of Merlot for a job well done. It sounded like a perfect Valentine’s to her.

But, she wouldn’t have minded the appearance of her favorite hunk beneath the cowl.

Which was presumably why she triggered an extra alarm or so on the off chance the Bat would appear before the local force. And then there he was…oh, she could just spread him on a cracker. She watched him stalk forward, her lips twisting in a smile. “I’m guessing that’s a no then?” suddenly, Selina was in his hold, something sharp pressed against her spine. “Is that a Batarang in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she murmured, her tone low as she cocked her head back and fluttered her lashes at him. “Go on, admit it?” As soon as she felt the blade dislodge from her personal space, she swung her elbow back, striking him square in the ribs, and then swept her leg beneath him to knock him off balance. Wasting little time, she prevented him from righting himself by straddling him against the ground. Her expression the epitome of composed smugness. “I know I’ve kissed you before" she whispered, lowering her lips just inches above his “but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?” breaking eye contact only long enough to lick from the tip of that broody chin dimple to the crook of his nose.

Ugh. Valentine’s day. Another holiday that was stuck in the firm grasp of the retail economy, overpricing flowers and chocolate for a week so couples could have a reason to dote on one another. Perhaps the brooding billionaire would enjoy the holiday more if he had someone to spoil rotten, but he hadn’t had a stable relationship for more than a month or two in quite sometime. Though, there was one woman that continually perplexed him, and while he was trying to keep her out of trouble and therein out of handcuffs, her languid phrases enticed him immensely. When they’d part ways for the night, her words would linger in his mind, the sultry tone invading his mind.

~

Bruce had intended to stay home, brooding and working to complete upgrades to his equipment, but he was far to wired to not sulk in the shadows of Gotham, no doubt looking for trouble to lock up at GCPD. He stood at the edge of a building, his toes hanging over the edge precariously as he tuned into the police scanner. Though, before he picked up on anything, a security alarm sounded just below. Jumping into action, he thought he was ready to face the perpetrator, until he saw it was her.

Her deep blues watched him maneuver with concern as every movement seemed to cause him pain. She knew he put his life on the line quite often and his extracurriculars were quite physical but she had never seen him in this state before. Or maybe he just hadn’t allowed her to see him in this state before. “None of the boys were on hand to help?” out of all the adopted bat siblings, none of them were available to help when Alfred needed them? Or had Bruce just not asked.

Zatanna began to reach out when he made an effort to get to his feet but withdrew as he found stability in the equipment beside him. “Pushing yourself when your body needs rest won’t help you….mentally, emotionally or physically.” she pointed out back to him as she stepped aside to let him start towards the door. Stubborn. Why did she always have thing for stubborn men? “As fun as that would be, I don’t think you’re in any shape to indulge in each other’s company too much.” she interrupted as she slipped under his arm and took some of his weight on her shoulders, sending him a cheeky wink to show it was all in good fun.

“But chocolate strawberries sound good too, I suppose.”

“I —” Bruce started, taking measured breaths as he reluctantly let Zatanna take on a fraction of his weight. “I didn’t call anyone. Kate was the only one that was privy to the fact that Alfred was out of harm’s way. Even so, that information was only given because I was barely holding on.” The words were bitter on his tongue, still beating himself up after allowing himself to get jumped. He was far too proud that night to call any of his kids, not wanting to have them see their adopted father in a crumpled, broken, and helpless heap. The stubborn vigilante would have certainly suffered in silence, if he would’ve had the choice. “Hmm,” Bruce hummed in his chest, lips pressing into a thin line while his brows furrowed. He despised asking for help, even in small tasks. Taking time off felt like torture, especially in a city riddled with crime. 

“Certainly we can indulge in other ways, no?” As they exited the small weight room and entered the living space, he was careful to not be overbearing as Zatanna walked alongside him, his arm draped over her shoulders. “Though, simply having you here is more than enough,” He smiled, daring to stretch his neck to place a kiss on her forehead before separating from her. “I’ll grab some ice and those berries, you wanna find a movie or something to put on?”

❑

There was something to be said about the batfamily intuition. It took much more than donning a cowl and sewing a bat signal into her chest to take on one of the numerous bat affiliated vigilante identities. It was willpower; a drive both unrelenting and oftentimes single-minded to a fault. A commitment to maintaining the peace via steadfast justice – with a dash of situational violence as a failsafe. It was ever shifting morality; and a perpetual barrage of external forces designed to put that ethical resolve to the test. A declaration of the greater good in the face of opposition, criticism, and ostracism. It was bravery; that sweet spot between foolhardy and cowardice. And with it came sacrifices, some so little that the disappointment was easily swallowed, while others were so severe that they wounded deep. Carved a little bit more each time until there was a hollowness. 

It was family; despite the tendency for brooding seclusion, always knowing there was someone to call on. Someone to protect. It didn’t matter who it was, blood or not. And finally, it was that intuition. They had it in different shades, and it was frequently the dividing line between life and death. The tingle that something wasn’t right. Kate had been feeling that tingle all evening, face contorted into a frustrated scowl from the moment she stepped into the penthouse. Her cutting board bore the brunt of her aggravation as she ruthlessly sliced onions for supper, and later her punching bag suffered as she hammered into the leather until her knuckles throbbed. Finally, she sat at her hub and tuned into the local police scanners, but there was no sign of any monumental criminal activity. 

She would swear she sensed the signal before before she saw it illuminate on her monitor. Bruce.

I swear to god if you aren’t alright I’m going to kick every square inch of your ass from here all the way back to Gotham..

From rooftop to rooftop, Kate darted through the shadows. Her Crimson cloak billowing behind her and the moonlight almost guiding her to the location of the beacon. The urgency of the situation and her worry for her cousin’s safety propelling her on. There wasn’t even enough time to contact Luke for assistance. And she did not stop until she reached where the signal originated, where she immediately spotted Bruce slumped against an air vent, near motionless. She exhaled a quick sigh of relief and exertion, her breath producing a transparent fog of frost before dissipating. “Shit” kneeling by him, she attempted to ascertain the extent of the damage. His breathing was obviously labored, as evidenced by the way his chest raised weakly. 

Bruce shifted just as she was about to inspect properly. “Try not to move,” she gently advised, only for him to do precisely the opposite. Her brow lifted in response to his exclamation of discomfort. “I said, don’t fucking move,” this time with a considerably more aggressive tone. “What the hell is going on Bruce?” she hissed, if he wasn’t already injured she would have punched him right in the ribs for whatever reckless stunt he must have pulled. “And whose fucking skull am I kicking in?” Regardless, she desired to know who was responsible and how far they had gotten.

Not far enough.

If he were in any other state, Bruce might have laughed at her second command to stay put. Though it was sucking enough energy as it was to merely stay conscious at this point, he didn’t dare expel more than necessary. “Doesn’t matter who,” he breathed with a weak shake of his head. “Alfred is safe. That’s all that matters.” It didn’t matter that he’d taken a beating, that was just an unfortunate turn of events. All he cared about was Alfred’s safety after all this time.

It truly was a relief to have his beloved butler out of harm’s way, even if it meant he was pulled in. “I was foolish,” he breathed, closing his eyes as he pressed his cowl-covered skull into the metal duct he sat against. “I let my guard down. Broke my own rul—” Words stopped short as his eyes flew open, trying to pull away from the pressure of Kate checking his injuries, his chest lighting on fire with the pain. “Fuck,” he gasped, unsure whether or not he’d catch his breath as his head swam. “Jesus, K. I. Can just. Tell you.” His sentence was chopped, each breath taking more energy as he tried to push through the pain. “Concussed. Broken Ribs, I think.” The more he spoke, the fuzzier his vision grew, his oxygen levels dipping as he struggled to catch his breath.

Despite the pain that was occupying the majority of his attention, Bruce still found an ounce of energy to beat himself up for not calling for backup in the first place. “Somethin’ else, too. Worse than before. I can feel it.” 

@brucexthomasxwayne​

CLOSED

“This is a little excessive, don’t you think?" 

Oh, they were all the same. Men. Perhaps not all of them, but most certainly the majority. Selina had grown weary of the arrogance. Give a man a smidge of control, allow even a little crumb of audacity, and watch them morph into those stereotypical misogynistic caricatures, with unjustified egos complementing their self awarded swagger. Mansplaining all the air out of the room and calling it intelligence. What a fucking joke. ​To be clear, Selina was not a man-hater. That would require too much energy. Besides, she could attribute a significant portion of her accumulated wealth over the years to the gullible, patriarchal imagination of man. So easily manipulated to work in her favor, it had become a sport. Flutter her eyes a little, sway her hips in just the right way…show a man what he expects to see, and he won’t look beneath the surface. And she’d admit, the leather bodysuit certainly did wonders to aid her campaign. "Not that I’m opposed to a little bondage, mind loosening these zip ties a little boys. I’m delicate”

Walter Crockett was just the type of scum of the earth male that Selina didn’t care for. A little stump of a man that Gotham hardly considered an established criminal – but at least he wasn’t proclaiming some outlandish gimmick. Not a face painted henchman in sight, what a delightful surprise. He did, however, possess an inflated pride and a delusory sense of authority. Though she knew someone had to be financing Walter, she couldn’t fathom him organizing something this intricate with such a pitiful reputation. And that was the tricky part. “You broke into my warehouse, made fools out of my security team, and stole my property. I think this is just what you deserved” he sneered. Crockett alone was small potatoes and Selina would have had little issue squashing him beneath her expensive stiletto boots. Even as he attempted to impose his meager five foot three figure of her – tied to a chair with his lackeys surrounding her – she could easily overpower him. But, she had to play it cool to figure out who his backer was and weather she actually was in serious shit. “All this over a tiny little diamond? Walter, be reasonable”

Selina clenched her teeth against the looming eye roll as she felt the cool barrel of a handgun press against her temple. Rather than that, she tilted her head toward the henchman brandishing the weapon, offering him an intentionally sultry simper. “Perhaps it would operate better if the safety was off, darling,” she observed, evidently irritated the tiny villain. Selina cocked her head back as Walter drew his gun and aimed it squarely at her delicate nose. “Shut up!” his outburst was uncalled for and unwelcome. Selina only cocked her head around the barrel and pressed her lips forward in an enticing pout, releasing a sigh. “No need to shout Walter, I’m sure we can work something out,” she purred, unfolding and refolding her leather-clad legs. As he took a glimpse down, she could see the tremble in his grasp. Poor men, always confusing their pistols with their privates.

Bruce remained crouched in the rafters, his form completely concealed in the deep, dark shadows that were cast above the dingy warehouse lighting. He’d been tracking Crockett for some time, mostly from the comfort of his penthouse in Central City, tapping into Gotham’s CCTV and traffic cameras from time to time. He was a crook, and it was high time he paid for his crimes behind bars. Sure, he wasn’t a big bad, but a low-bar criminal was exactly what he needed for his first run back in the cowl.

As far as he could see, there was only one hostage, but they were restrained, so that put a bit of a kink in original plan. When Crockett pulled a gun on the woman, Bruce knew he couldn’t wait a moment longer to drop into the action. Hooking his repel gun to the rafter, he quickly descended from his perch. His feet landed on the ground harder than anticipated, sending a jolt though his body and aggravating his nearly healed ribs. 

“Let her go,” he growled, giving Crockett a chance to yield before he went about disarming the man. The other man’s head whipped around so quickly, his grip tightening on the gun as he tried to hold it steady. “Crockett,” he started, hand moving to grasp a batarang as he spoke. “You have failed this city.”

Wait, no. That didn’t feel right; Did that just come out of his mouth? 

“You could have did so much good for this city, but instead, you followed the wrong path. Let her go, and maybe we can chat. Perhaps I might even talk to Commissioner Gordon about taking some time off your sentence.” He could almost feel the agitation in the other man rise. Before anything dramatic happened, Bruce flicked his wrist, sending a batarang flying through the air. For a moment, it felt like everything was in slow motion as the light reflected off the metal, the sharp edge skimming the surface of his hand, causing Crockett to drop his gun before clutching his bleeding hand. “Or maybe we’ll add on a few years for attempted murder,” He commented with a whisper of a smile, his voice full of mirth as he closed the distance, kicking the gun further from the man before restraining him.

Zatanna wasn’t going to lie, she didn’t exactly mind the view she came across when she entered the room Alfred had shown her too, but it was obvious he was hurting. Walking over to him as he took a break, she crossed her arms at his very blatant lie. “Bruce…”

She chewed on her bottom lip, snapping her fingers and a bottle of painkillers appeared in her hand and she held it out to him. “It’s been weeks of you barely resting. I doubt you were just sitting around these last couple of weeks.” A small chuckle escaped her and she stifled it quickly - she didn’t want it to seem as if she was laughing at him. “Trust me, it’ll be a long time before you go soft.”

He took a few gulps of the icy water before lowering his arm, trying his best to keep his breathing even. Though, with each exhale his body betrayed him as his breath shuddered and hitched on it’s way out. Bruce looked up at Zatanna as she offered the painkillers, taking them reluctantly before shaking a few tablets into his hand. Tossing them back, he chased them with a few more gulps of water before settling both bottles on the ground, being mindful of his healing ribs as he sat back up slowly.

“Okay, so maybe I haven’t been taking it as easy as doctor wants me to, but I am taking it easy, relatively speaking. Alfred needed someone to take care of him while he recovered, and I surely wasn’t going to bring a stranger in. Not after what happened.” I can’t lose him again. Bruce used the framing of the nearby squat rack to pull himself up to stand, his frame unconsciously slouching as he leaned lightly against the frame. “I don’t mean soft in just one sense,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I mean it mentally, emotionally, and physically.”  

“Bruce….”

Zatanna stood at the doorway with her arms crossed, watching the man attempt to go through his usual workout routine. Stubborn as always. She had come to see how he was doing and judging by each wince and grunt, he was doing as well as she expected. Tsking under her breath, she approached him as he finally took a water break. “Bruce. you need to rest.”

@brucexthomasxwayne​

It was the first time in a long time that Bruce let his guard down, and he was still paying for it, even weeks later. The relief that Alfred was safe put him in a vulnerable place, allowing the captors to beat him to a pulp before he was able to escape from their assault.

The position he lay in doing chest press reps was causing aching pain to radiate through his upper body. With every repetition, a sharp pain was layered atop the aching, causing Bruce to wince, inhaling through clenched teeth with a hiss. Zatanna’s voice pulled him back to reality, and he finished his set before sitting up. He leaned forward to place the dumbbells down and grab his water bottle, sitting up slowly as his free hand crossed his body to brace his ribs, groaning as he straightened his spine once more. “I’ve rested,” he replied in a half-lie before letting out a sigh. 

His doctor’s voice echoed in his head, ‘6 to 18 weeks, Mister Wayne. Take it easy and follow the discharge instructions, and you could be looking at a quick recovery.’ 

“It’s the annual Wayne Enterprises Holiday party, it’ll be fun. I promise.” A box adorned in a large red bow sat upon the table for Zatanna, and inside was a neatly folded dress that complimented the suit he’d chosen for the evening. “The first of many Christmas gifts, I hope you like it.”

High above the chilly streets of Central City, the Wayne penthouse was decorated from wall to window, thanks to Alfred. Bruce knew better than to interfere with his beloved butler’s love for the wintery holidays, remembering how much joy the decorations brought. Though, each year Alfred hid mistletoe in unexpected places, almost always catching Bruce off guard.

Standing on the invisible threshhold between the kitchen and dining room, Bruce’s hands held Zatanna gently as they swayed softly to the jazzy Christmas music that played throughout the penthouse. “I think we both know I’m not always great with words, but I just need you to know how grateful I am that we get to spend the holidays together,” he smiled, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with Zatanna.

Just then, as if on cue, Alfred passed through with a barely audible snicker. “Mistletoe,” he commented, voice lilting in a sing-songy tone.

Bruce looked up, and sure enough, he was caught off guard. “Well would you look at that. Tradition is tradition, right?”

With Alfred finally safe, the sleep he’d been avoiding the last few months was finally catching up to him. Not that he could avoid it, given the state that he was in after the way his rescue mission ended, needing a rescue himself from Kate. Bruce was hurting, that much was clear. Though, given his stubbornness, he would never openly admit to it until he was utterly incapacitated. 

After their dinner of Chinese takeout, the pair found themselves on the couch, sitting comfortably close and sharing a blanket as they got settled. Bruce tried stifling a yawn, his expanding lungs causing sharp pains to radiate through his chest. Swallowing his pain silently, he stretched an arm to wrap around Zatanna. “Oh, I meant to tell you; I found Alfred, thanks to you. He’s safe, being cared for by the best in the city. Things have been less than ideal here, so I haven’t really told anyone, other than you and Kate.” He lay his head back on the couch, yawning once more. “You can pick the movie tonight, and I’ll try my best to stay awake, though no promises.”

After weeks and weeks of chasing leads and winding up at a dead end, there was finally a promising tip that led him to go out without Kate by his side. With Alfred successfully extracted and en route to the hospital, a weight felt as if it was lifted from his shoulders as he let his guard down. As he let out his breath in a sigh, something simultaneously pulled his cape, causing him to tumble backward into the dark, wet alleyway. 

“Your ass just cut us out of 3 million,” one of the thugs grumbled, kicking Bruce across the face. With his cape still tangled between two other thugs, he struggled to regain his bearings. Each time he attempted to stand, he was pulled back to the ground with a boot to the ribs. crack. Bruce coughed, a metallic taste coating his mouth. Shit, this was bad. Their words became muffled as he focused on staying conscious, undoubtedly pushing through a concussion as his vision went blurry. Fingers fumbled at his belt as he lay in a heap, one hand grasping at a repel gun, the other wrapping around a smoke bomb. “C’mon, Batman, forget how to fight outside of Gotham?” As one hand rose and fired the gun toward the rooftop, the other pulled the pin and dropped the case that was now spewing thick smoke, allowing for a swift getaway.

He hung from the edge of the building adjacent, using every bit of strength to pull himself upward toward safety. With his back propped against an air duct, he cursed himself for going at it alone as he pushed one of many small buttons on his belt, sending his precise location to Kate. Grateful for the S.O.S. signal Alfred insisted on so long ago, Bruce closed his eyes before laying his head back, praying that Kate would answer the call at this time of night.

‘ try not to move. ’

There was a light knock at his office door, and he quickly slipped the polished batarang into his desk drawer before sliding it closed. Rather than looking up to see his assistant, he saw a familiar face, that of one Luke Fox.

“Luke, it’s good to see you,” Bruce greeted, standing from his desk to welcome the other into the spacious office. “I assume you received my message. I would have come to you, but things are a bit dire at the moment.”

@ccfstarter​

OPEN

“I like your mask” 

The unhinged blonde beneath the mask in question might not have even heard the gentle spoken voice beside her, having spent the past ten minutes completely zoned out. Thoughts tumblng in all sorts of unwelcomed directions as her eyes stayed fixed on the brick wall across the street. She could still see the imprint of her fist in the fractured surface if she strained her vision sufficiently, the fist that had nearly slammed into the lovely skull of her former infatuation. Those gentle wisps of black hair stroking the flesh of her neck as they skimmed past her ear. Framing lovely, deep eyes that peered back at her with dread. Eyes that still captivated her with such ferocity, but now with vengeance and taunt. Nonetheless, the softly uttered complement drew her away from further reliving that memories. 

She turned slowly, disturbingly slow, to stare down at the child. Fitted within was what Anya could only surmise was a tribute to a western cowboy, complete with a little silver revolver and a matching cactus-printed candy bag. The child had a sickening aura of innocence as it gaped openly at her. She watched it in silence, completely immobile. Not even a single breath stirred her chest or inflated her lungs And then, with the same measured pace, she approached the child, bending so that they were eye level.

Another beat of silence passed before she lifted two fingers and…thrust them towards it with enough force to knock the child to the ground. She cocked her head, her hand still poised in the air, as it let out a piercing cry. Striving to replicate its gestures of anguish. But her efforts were masked by the emotionless guise of the swine. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers,” she cooed, snatching the bag of candy from its fingers and curtsying mockingly. She was unaware she had an audience until she turned, and naturally, she was unconcerned that they had witnessed her little stunt of debauchery. “Would you like a candy?”

Watching from afar, he cursed himself for choosing to not don the cowl for the night, but rather try and enjoy the night as a citizen. His costume wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Batman, and he highly doubted anyone would take him seriously as Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, dressed as Sherlock Holmes for the night.

The Dark Knight turned intuitive detective for the night, the last thing he planned for was a run-in with with ​a particular black cat on this Halloween night. Though, not clad in head-to-toe in black leather, it was still a shock to see his on again, off again old flame. 

“Why is it that when I’m seemingly at my lowest, we always run into each other?”