I Am The Night

[😈 ➡️ Completely Batty] Of course, because you humans always want to blame your failings on /anything/ other than yourself! [😈 ➡️ Completely Batty] Oh, /magic/ stuff. Well yes, that does exist, but it’s really only a pale imitation of divine power. But if it got /you/ to finally believe, I guess I won’t complain. [😈 ➡️ Completely Batty] What, you aren’t honored to be getting texts from the Devil? [😈 ➡️ Completely Batty] But I do love to spend time bothering people, and you are a prime target!

Bruce’s immediate reaction put a smile on Zatanna’s face. It was exactly what she had expected, and even with the predictability; it gave her a small chuckle. And then from there, he started criticizing the music itself as if he had been a critic his entire life. Zee covered the grin on her face with her hand, trying to school her expression, but it was impossible. Not when Bruce was so readily giving his opinions. 

“I am proud of you,” she said, only making fun of him a little. “The party scene here is, frankly it’s boring here. It’s nothing like how it is in Gotham.” Then again, in Gotham, they all partied a little harder. Especially when they had people like the Penguin and the Joker running around creating chaos with every step they took. (Not to say she hadn’t been to any good parties in New York, but they didn’t have the same overhead she felt in Gotham.) “You ever miss having those parties at Wayne Manor?” She doubted any of his kids would have been into it. They all had a mountain of issues to deal with and none of them had any party aspirations from what she understood.

“Well,” Zatanna said, shrugging slightly. “Would it kill you?” 

          A smile. It was the exact opposite reaction he had expected from... Well, anyone he’d known at this gathering. He had planned to be called a ‘party pooper’, a ‘killjoy’, and the like, but not... Laughed at. Which wasn’t all that unwelcome, he found. It was a rare occurrence, one he could even rarely find with his family... To say he relished in it a little too much silently would be an understatement. He may have even let a small smile sneak it’s way onto his features. 

          He had to scoff, a slight shake of the head as he stared off again at the milling and dancing party-goers. He knew all too well what the Gotham night life was like. Half of it was funded by the underground, the other half was made up of it. Night clubs were good places to recruit henchmen and the like, especially if you had enough cash to pay for the private rooms in the back of the house. Gotham had Vigilantes over Heroes, and it showed even in the patterns of her party-goers. He’d picked out at least 10 in the minute he’d stared off into the crowd. “... Occasionally. But they were nothing like this. Not since I was... Younger.” And even then, he could barely remember the scene being anything like this.

Did that kid just swipe a drink? – @darkknxghts​

The thought that some kid would be running off with a drink from the bar made John chuckle, but the real kicker was who had brought that little tidbit to his attention. Bruce Soddin’ Wayne. Running into Ollie had been no surprise–they knew each other, after all–but he would have thought that no other toffs would be approaching him, considering how out-of-place John looked. He followed Bruce’s gaze towards the bar, not catching a glimpse of any kids. But hey, if a billionaire said he saw it, who was John to contradict him? “Could’ve been. Don’t suppose yer gonna get him kicked out or somethin’ now? All you movers ‘n shakers could probably each hire yer own personal army, so I definitely feel sorry fer that kid if you end up catchin’ him.”

/

          John Constantine. There were a few faces Bruce never expected to see tonight, his was one of them. There were far too many people to try to keep absolute track of, too many times he’d caught himself slipping from Bruce Wayne’s smile into the scowl of the Bat. He’d needed some kind of... Fun, if anyone could call it that. Fun for the billionaire usually involved making people he knew who tried to stand up to him squirm. Fond reccolections would include dropping Guy Gardner in one punch, and every time the members of the League would try to hide their flinches when he seemingly appeared in the room. It would seem uncharacteristic for him to smile at either of those points, but it made him laugh in the privacy of the Cave. That same, soft laugh sounded at the other’s remarks, the bright face hiding dim, icy eyes. “Frankly, it’s not my place,” Bruce mused. “No, I’d hate that bad press for both myself and Mr. Lord and his... Contract Heroes.” 

***

She knew Bruce wasn’t going to go for it without a lot of thinking. It was what made him good for the team in her opinion. He thought a bit too much while some of them (like the Boy Scout) were all too ready to jump the gun. A team needed balance. Dinah knew, because she’d been on the best team when she’d been with the Birds. But the Birds had disbanded and that was primarily her own fault, so she couldn’t expect them to band back together just because she was ready to try and get her shit together again.

“We’ve always been in the spotlight, Bruce, whether we wanted the attention or not.” Especially those like the Trinity – Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman. Those were household names before Stark had ever thought about building himself a suit of armor. “And the game is changing again. The government knows it fucked up. We would answer to ourselves again. We police ourselves so long as Supes doesn’t run into whatever had his cousin burning bridges. No more waiting on missions. We do what we think is necessary. If anyone hates government oversight, it’s me. But we’re getting older Bruce. We can’t fight the bad guys if the ones that are supposed to be the good guys are constantly on our asses for vigilantism.”

/

          The low, all too familliar hum resonated in his chest. His jaw set in a bit of an uncomfortable tightness, the stress almost making his face twitch further from the set-scowl. There had been... Ideas. Fleeting dreams, if Bruce could even call them that, that the League would indeed reform, go back to it’s original state, working with the World to stop Global-level disasters. It would be easy to take back their old haunts, to gather the old ‘gang’ again. Bruce knew he had a strong voice among the most powerful people in the world, which was a surprise in itself every day, and he knew he could make or break this proposal. Dinah might be stubborn enough to make it happen without him, if she was brave enough to meet him face-to-face to make the suggestion. He wouldn’t condone it or give it his form of bastardized blessing, but he would have a backup plan should the new organization fall. He always had a plan, even if he had to formulate it after the fact. 

          It was getting harder to come up with a plan.

          “... Don’t mistake the GCPD’s compliance with me for acceptance.” Bruce’s gaze wandered to the windows, floor to ceiling, overlooking the gloomy city skyline. “Vigilantism is as frowned upon as it has been. Maybe more so.” And yet, it was the only way he’d been able to do his own work. “Say we... Start the League again. We may govern ourselves again, yes, but... To be truly classified as heroes, we still answer to a government force.” Slowly, his icey eyes found their way back to Dinah. It was a thought, truly... 

          Bruce had learned through the years, even as a younger child, he was a terrible eavesdropper. He wasn’t sure where it came from as a young child, but he knew now that it was a reflex, an intense desire to control any situation that might get out of hand. Even without the pointy-eared cowl and it’s micro-tech installations, he found that he was particularly tuned into the quieter sounds in a crowded room. Under the cover of mutters and murmurs, the cacophony of party noise, he grabbed the smallest, singular conversation to latch onto. And... Well... Might as well find someone to talk to in this crowded environment. 

          “I’m not sure a bet will be necessary,” Bruce slightly grinned, reaching up to brush off some kind of imaginary dust off the shoulder of his suit. “I’m sure there’ll be hackers, malicious intent or otherwise, but if Ms. Luthor is smart, she’ll partner with Drake, or even Wayne, to get proper Security.” Not that Bruce disagreed with the notion. He’d come across multiple people more than capable of doing exactly what was hypothesized, being bet on. It wouldn’t be that difficult himself, provided the competing Company had the wrong software. Still, the Wayne was ready to believe in the positives first, but was always preparing for the negatives, the backlash, the clean-up. 

          “... You can’t be serious.”

          Maybe he was getting old... Scratch that, he was old. Perhaps even more old fashioned than some, be it the hardened soul or living in a City his entire life that oozed the traditional and the more modern Gothic atmosphere. If he was going to be brutally honest, most of his musical experiences were in Beethoven and Bach, with echoed melodies from other artists whenever the children took residency and decided it was worth it to break the silence of the massive, mainly empty Manor.

          Bruce’s unamused gaze went to his friend, the magician he’d worked with far too many times before, slightly squinting at the grin that was no doubt waiting for him. “I’m not sure this is exactly what I’d call music, but it is infectious… Repetitive.” Annoying. “Though, I have admittedly been out of the... Party scene for a while.” Focusing on making sure him and his families secrets were safe, first and foremost. Even though the Accords of the not-so-distant past were abolished, there was still that threat. Heroes unmasked, staying unmasked. There was no going back once your identity was revealed...

          To say Bruce had been dreading this meeting for months was an understatement. It was in that time he’d tried to think of a plan of action, to try and finally speak what needed to be spoken, but there wasn’t a proper way to... Explain himself. Not when he’d let the boy down. 

          A crowded Gala event wasn’t the time to tell his lost son that his greatest failure wasn’t him, it was his actions as a mentor, a protector, a father.

          He had been caught while sliding away from the crowds, hoping to find an opportunity to slink away into the night and keep Gotham safe from itself, listening to radio chatter like he’d suddenly needed to take an important phone call. Jason knew the move all too well, they’d trained and studied together as partners once. There’s no doubt everything Bruce could attempt to do, he’d predict it. This wasn’t a place to fight, not physically, they both knew that. It would be too much of a risk, though he wouldn’t be surprised if the former Robin got a few licks in. His eyes hardened, but his face went soft. Bruce Wayne, Billionaire, Playboy, Fraud. 

          “I was actually just getting off of a call from Lucius. Said our investments raised 10% just from tonight,” Bruce eased, the phone going back into his suit pocket. “I’ll have to see to it that the new investors get a personal ‘thank you’, and see how much I can raise the quarterly dividend.” Silence hung in the air, watching, waiting...

          It was simply a question he’d overheard, nothing more. He shouldn’t have responded, probably shouldn’t have even thought to reply, but Bruce Wayne had to sigh seeing yet another technicolor cocktail get snagged by some kid who’d obviously snuck into the party. Bruce didn’t laugh, didn’t really smile at the expense of the poor bartenders or waitstaff, nor did he really frown at the actions observed. He could only... Sigh. Short, curt, through the nose. Nothing to draw explicit attention to.... He hoped. 

“I’ll need to know your secret to putting up with her.”

@darkknxghts

Zatanna’s brow raised immediately, a small smirk on her face because she knew that as social as Bruce Wayne was on the surface — playing the part of playboy billionaire who refused to settle down — the real him was far more complicated. And that went hand in hand with his relationships as well. Zee however, was well adjusted to his demeanor. Having known him for years through her father and eventually forming her own friendship with Bruce (and of course, their infrequent team ups with the Justice League). 

“This is the exact kind of gossip that Alfred frowns upon, you know? Are you trying to get me in trouble?” Zee figured that neither of them would tell Alfred but he’d know. He was like that, a complete gentleman and a man who cared for all of those who stepped through the doors of Wayne Manor, and still, was probably more well connected than Bruce himself. Always in the know. “Give her the cheese-fest Bruce treatment. The black card and charming smile — if nothing else it’ll distract her. That tends to help. Or maybe that just helps me.” Zatanna shrugged her shoulders lightly, the smile on her face finally fading. “It’s not like either of us can be choosy with our friends, Bruce. Not a lot of people look at us and see people. Bruce Wayne is a ticket to a life of luxury and I’m just a girl who pulls rabbits out of hats while wearing fishnets.” They were objects to people. Fantasies that people didn’t care about beyond the surface. 

/

          Few people in Bruce’s social circles were allowed glimpses at his personal life. Even fewer knew of a time before Batman, before he devoted his life to his crusaide against crime, let alone heard the stories about the young Wayne child trying to find his place amongst the rich masses. Batman had become his life, his core being, and Bruce Wayne had nearly become an alias all on it’s own. It was a curse, a burden... And yet through it all, the tragedies and incidents he’d wished had never been brought to light, there are some people he’d met through his morose past that he wouldn’t trade for all the Earths he’d known. 

          That’s why he could smile for Zatanna.

(✉️ ➡️ Bruce ): It’s funny, when I was younger, we’d go out to get some quiet — a small restaurant or something.  (✉️ ➡️ Bruce ): [unsent] But you can’t do that can you? Not in public at least. (✉️ ➡️ Bruce ): What can I say? Jon takes after his father. He’s a very charming boy. But the quiet ones are still home? How are the boys doing? (✉️ ➡️ Bruce ): [unsent] And Jon mentioned that (✉️ ➡️ Bruce ): I only have the one, maybe that’s why I’m struggling. (✉️ ➡️ Bruce ): It just… feels strange not to have him around all the time anymore.

[😈 ➡️ Completely Batty] Ah yes, because everyone loves to blame me. I’m mankind’s perfect scapegoat. Maybe that’s why everyone always tries to stick me with goats. [😈 ➡️ Completely Batty] My my, what finally made you realize supernatural things existed? If meeting /me/ didn’t do it for you, what did? Did Dad come down to visit you? [😈 ➡️ Completely Batty] What, am I not allowed to reminisce? Or am I just not allowed to remind foolish people about how foolish they are? [😈 ➡️ Completely Batty] /Your/ help? Please. Maybe if I need my belfry cleared of bats, I’ll call you.

“ i really don’t want to fight. ” – @darkknxghts​

Really? A guy running around at night in a suit like that did not want to fight? Lobo made a skeptical face, his red eyes narrowing. “Yeah, I just bet you don’t. Probably ‘cause you know you’re gonna get your ass handed to you.” Maybe dressing like that was something the Earthers did for kicks? He rather doubted that, though, which meant this guy had to be one of the “powered” or whatever people that the other humans were on about. “Why’re you approachin’ me then if you don’t wanna fight? Hope you’re not thinkin’ we’ll have some kinda heart to heart, 'cause I don’t spill my guts to nobody. 'Specially not some crazy creep in a suit.”

/

          Bruce didn’t hate aliens. Far from it, he worked with alien and had come to know them as some of his best friends and trusted allies. It was the same with the metahumans he’d met, worked with, trusted. However, someone new, someone unpredictable, someone showing hostile signs and stalking far too close to his home for his liking. The scowl molded into the Cowl only deepened as the new adversary kept talking, Bruce’s fists balling at his sides, hidden under the draped and dramatic cape. “You don’t know me,” he grumbled, holding back an even rougher snarl. “But I don’t go down so easily.” Silently, Bruce attempted to size his opponent up, and hoped he had enough grapple line if they did throw blows. “Either you tell me what you’re doing here, or you leave Gotham.”

@darkknxghts​

Ten years ago her family had been murdered, ten years ago she’d lost her family and been sent to Sicily for her own protection, ten years ago was the last time she’d been in Gotham… until today. Mandragora she’d taken care of back in Sicily but the assassin, Omerta, she’d had to follow back to Gotham, a place she said she’d never return to. Tony had asked her to come back with him, but love hadn’t been enough for her to return, only revenge had been enough. She might have felt some regret as she saw him walk out of the church from his wedding ceremony with his wife, but it wasn’t a feeling she lingered on, she was here for one reason and that was to take down the man who had murdered her family right in front of her.

After failing to take him out at Wayne Manor and fighting Bruce Wayne she’d finally discovered Angelo’s plans and where to find Omerta… her family’s house in Gotham. She was waiting for Omerta to arrive, waiting in the same place he’d killed her family ten years ago.

          Out of all of the aspects of his role as the Batman, Bruce believed the most difficult part of the job was the Detective role he took. The training he pushed himself through to become a modern day shinobi, a less than lethal assassin, after the years of near-torture he’d found it all too easy to slip into the role of silent protector. It was when things required more than a passing glance, when they needed up close and personal views, printed documents and collected evidence, that he found himself tripping over his toes. Deep research required he say out of the field, where there could be misdemeanors turned deadly at the turn of a hat. Patrols demanded he stay in the streets, on the rooftops, and away from the Computer. It was a fine line he walked, between Dark Knight and Detective.

          However, getting him involved personally usually peaqued his interest severely. So severely, he ended up tracking, observing, stalking (for lack of a far better term).

\

Emma looked up to the man’s white lenses, her expression unamused by the simple fact he wouldn’t step aside. “And what a spectacular job you have done with the place.” Emma gestured around to scene they found themselves in. She was not one to frequent Gotham City if she could avoid it. It was far too gritty for her liking. Too depressing. She supposed it made sense why since they usually had a lot of crazy people including one dressed as a flying rodent.

Emma stepped closer as he began to speak. Of course, Emma always appreciated the challenge. However, she didn’t like not getting her way either. The thing is though, Emma often found she had ways to get things to work out for her whether it was a matter of minutes or years. She had patience. Emma rolled her eyes a little as he said he would have to deal with this personally.

“I’m not sure what you know about me but that mask can’t protect you.” Emma warned. He carried a lot of weight for someone who stood in front of a telepath. However, she presumed he would have something in place not to make it easy for her but, again, Emma loved a challenge. “I’m going to simplify the decision for you. I can scan this entire city before you even make it to the next block. I can find the culprit and have him willingly turned in.” Emma stepped closer again. “And if you think I am going to put a fate of a mutant in the hands of a homo sapien who dresses up as a bat then you are sadly mistaken.”

/

          Oh, a low blow. An attempt at one, at the very least. His scowl tightened the fraction of a millimeter that it could as he held his gaze, his ground. There wasn’t much else he believed he could do in the moment, especially if this was some kind of attempt at diplomacy. Hell, he partially preferred this to sitting in a chair, among Gods, feeling like he was the smallest in the room when everyone seemed to look to him for answers. Perhaps he was dealing with a God right now, someone who could tear him apart with so much as a thought. So far, so good, so he kept his course. 

          Even through the approach. This felt too familiar, everyone wanted to get up close and personal when the big bad Bat made his appearance. The years of keeping to the shadows, from staying a silent and watchful ghost on the wind, gone but not entirely lost. As this chance encounter continued, however, he found himself longing for just that. Without a proper assessment of the other’s abilities, he had no escape plan. Smoke pellets only worked so well when you could be assured the person you were trying to distract couldn’t sense you through it. Grapple lines only worked if they couldn’t fly and had terrible aim. 

It was just like Bruce to assume that the answer to her problems could be solved by money or something new and shiny. It was one of the things that used to make her roll eyes at Oliver Queen too. Billionaires. More money, more problems. As the saying went.

“Bruce,” her voice mirrored his gruff seriousness as she crossed her arms and leaned back in the ridiculously comfortable chair across from him. “You can’t just pay your way through this friendship. We’re having what us plebeians call a ‘conversation’. It doesn’t require any money to exchange hands.” Bruce could pretend he didn’t care all he wanted, but Dinah knew he had a soft heart underneath all of that macho exterior. “Maybe I want to catch up. Even if you don’t believe in that sort of thing.” She paused. “If you really want to do something for me… Supes and I have been discussing bringing back the League. We could use someone with a less sun-fried brain.”

/

          Well, Bruce thought, silently sighing to himself, he wasn’t entirely wrong in his assumptions.

          Hearing her own attempt at his vocal tone had part of the stern look dropping to tired annoyance. As if he hadn’t heard people do that one before. It was even worse when he was in the cowl, when he didn’t  have to pretend to use a heightened voice, when he pretended he was still the playboy billionaire at his age. “Pardon me for assuming,” He partially scoffed, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his cheeks, taking an actual swig of his coffee before she could say something to make him do another near spit-take. “A lot of my so-called friends outside of my other occupation are usually looking to dig into my checkbook.” Even if nine times out of ten he would flip them the funds, just to get them off of his back, off of his trail. 

          And there it was. Taking a hard swallow, Bruce set the Wayne branded mug down on his desk, mirroring Dinah’s motion and sitting back in his chair, one hand coming up to rest in front of his tightly pulled lips, a crease forming on his brow in his usual thinking position. His eyes searched her face, her eyes, her body language. She wasn’t joking, and that’s exactly what he was afraid of. “... Reform the League,” he echoed, looking off to the side, to the computer at his left. He flashed back to meeting halls, to wrangling metahumans and aliens and the like, working with government officials instead of running from them, alerting them instead of answering to them. The old system put in place that had broken up the massive ‘team’ had since been dismantled, to the best of their ability it seemed. “... You’re talking about bringing a massive group of super-powered individuals back into the spotlight, willing to bend to higher ups and wait for missions to demand our assistance. You’re asking for more people to willingly step back into that spotlight and face possible harsh criticism for doing so.” Leaning forward again onto his desk, worry clouded his scowl-framed eyes. “Did you two think about the complications?”