Despite having complete confidence in his abilities, being able to wipe out an entire outbreak of Verothanes and even destroy a false god like entity, there was always some sort of lingering sadness in Mr. Spades’s eyes. Something that just screamed about his continuous confusion and doubts about what he should be doing in his downtime. At least that’s what it looked like to Bruce. Lately he has been doing nothing but flying around and finding places to mope.
The soldier blew smoke though his ragged ruby bangs and spit the unfinished half of his cigarette to the ground. The whole fact that he still had to follow the hero around every day really pissed him off.
Bruce pursed his lips in thought and tapped his knife against his leg. His distaste for the assignment was probably the driving force behind Jack’s instructions. It was always a bad idea to underestimate the vicious bastard. If Bruce had kept his mouth shut and his objections to himself someone else might have gotten the assignment. Oh, but no, Bruce had just had to say something smart assed about Jack expecting trouble from the goody-good Swarley and how there was no more lingering roots in your old home anymore. Jack had raised an elegant eyebrow and indulged himself in a malicious smile, which was terrifyingly rare, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in informing Bruce that he was now a babysitter.
Fuck. Bruce considered another cigarette, but his pack was getting low and Swarley showed no signs of leaving his perch on top the old mansion gate soon. Better to save them in case it was another night spent lurking outside the ruins of the old house. Bruce was under no illusion that Swarley knew he was there. Shouldn't he have been helping to clean up the destruction in Ralovale? It’s been years but the place is under several layers of ruin. Bruce thought all the environmentalists were giving their time to bring the city back to life. Even that scary fucker, Diamante, had been seen helping, but only after dark.
Instinctively, Bruce glanced around after daring to think of Diamante. The man was downright creepy and had the unnerving ability to just appear at any time you would think about him too hard. Bruce was willing to bet the last dollar in his pocket that Dia could read minds and knew when he was being slandered. Bruce bounced on his toes in the now rolling chill of early evening in an almost futile attempt to warm up his body. It was getting colder every day.
"C'mon, Swarles, hurry up. You're keeping me from actually going on an actually important mission," Bruce mumbled unhappily to himself.
"You could always stop following me."
The quiet words had Bruce swallowing a yelp and swinging his knife around in a head level strike. Metal clinked and hissed in the quiet stillness as the blade met the barrier of the protective white mask. Yellow eyes glared at him through the large black eye holes and Bruce shivered at the hint of anger in their eerie glow. Spades shouldn't have been able to sneak up on him like that. His fault for letting his concentration lapse.
"Don't you have anything better to do, Bruce?" Spades asked. "I’m not really doing anything particularly important or dangerous at the moment?"
Bruce narrowed his own eyes at the implied subservience. "Damned right, I do," he retorted. "but some people think you bear watching. My bad luck I got the job."
Swarley made a snorting noise turned his back on Bruce like he wasn't worth worrying about and walked away to make some distance to sprout his wings. It took another second for Bruce to lower his weapon and make his way to his bike. So, Spades knew he was being followed and didn't care. Even worse, he found Bruce only to be an annoyance. An annoyance to goody goody Swarley. How awful.
"You little bastard," Bruce murmured under his breath as he watched him take off silently back towards the city.
"Spades was at the mansion again all afternoon," Bruce drawled into his phone. "No, make that again, and you better be able to hear the sarcasm dripping from the word." He switched the phone to his other hand. "How long do I have to keep doing this? Uh huh. Look, Ja...,er Commander, in the past two weeks the man has only gone to three different places, a swampy, ruined mansion, all the way back and forth from Strathen, and this forsaken cliff to sit and stare into nothing. He's not even making any deliveries. I don't see him coming up with any plans to swoop in and do something about the Parejos."
Bruce's voice had steadily gotten more shrill and louder as the conversation continued. He was chilled from the gusting winds that whipped around the beach, hungry, thirsty and feeling decidedly uncharitable towards his employer. Not to mention he was still pissed that his request for better wheels to keep up with Swarley’s monstrous behemoth birdlike body had been denied as a waste of resources. He held the phone away from his ear so that Jack’s condescending voice only sounded like a tinny, canned version of its usual tone and glared at the worthless bike that personally offended him. When his boss quit lecturing him on doing his duty without question he put the phone back to his head.
"Yes, sir," Bruce snapped and folded the phone to slip it into his pocket.
Giving up on any chance of catching up to Spades, Bruce circled the rusting gate that was crookedly jammed into the hard packed ground.
"Pretty shitty job protecting the house," he mumbled under his breath and hunched his narrow shoulders against the wind to stare at the hazed view of the main building. A slight lessening of the wind at his back had him tensing and spinning on his heel.
"You're disrespectful and crass, Bruce," Diamante said, his painted mouth barely hidden by the clasped neck of his cloak. "I would have thought it wouldn’t be that way seeing how your direct family died here?"
"Nothing honorable about dead Vittorios," Bruce replied. "We’re all scum to one another and dying doesn’t change that.”
Diamante pinched his large black claws together, the inked slits for his eyes narrowing into even tinier lines. Bruce stiffened and returned the stare without flinching. He refused to give any indication that the suit unnerved him at all despite the fact his hand twitched with the desire to put a firmer grip on the knife in his grasp. After an uncomfortable moment Diamante stepped forward and crossed his arms over his chest to look in the distance as well.
"You're tailing Spades under Rival's orders."
"Yeah." Bruce didn't bother with denying it and that ghost white face turned to him once more.
"It makes me wonder why Rival is worried enough about Swarley to keep him under surveillance."
Bruce huffed a laugh. "Hello? This is the shape shifting head case that has a penchant for destroying or killing anything Jack is clever enough to judge as a threat. Apparently he started a little fuss in that city in California," he finished, frowning.
"I’m sure he’s just keeping a watchful eye out for anything that might creep out and become a problem later."
Because he didn't know his employer's reasoning either, Bruce didn't reply. He moved his head to glare at the city where the man responsible for him being at his old, windy deserted home was most likely enjoying a hot meal in his pleasantly comfortable office. When he turned back to ask Diamante if he was following Swarley or himself the suit was nowhere to be seen.
"How the hell does he do that?" Bruce murmured under his breath.
The sorry excuse for a motorcycle in his line of sight wasn't going to answer him so Bruce walked back to it and released the kickstand. With any luck Swarley was back at the hospital and he could at least get away from the cold wind and maybe enjoy a meal or two. Grumbling in anticipation of another boring evening fulfilling his duty, as Jack had so snidely put it, Bruce headed back for the city.
---
Back in town, Bruce was vaguely pleased to see a very quick flash of Swarley letting himself in through the automatic doors at the back of the hospital. He grumbled as he slid off his bike and adjusted the lay of his black coat. Bruce resisted the urge to give the hunk of machinery a savage kick. A motorcycle was far from his favorite form of transport. Give him a helicopter any day. That was just one more reason to be irritated. As long as he was playing watch dog over Spades he was grounded and couldn't fly.
The noise from the people inside got a little quieter as Bruce walked in the door. Several pairs of eyes flicked over his uniform, identifying him as a Rival. Bruce was darkly amused that a couple of people hastily excused themselves from their parties and crept out the exit. A quick perusal showed Swarley sitting at the end of one of the long tables with his back to the wall. Bruce settled on a seat and laid his knife on the scarred surface of the table. Running the fingers of his right through his hair, he used his other hand to wave to at the familiar nurse towards him.
"Please get me something to eat" Bruce ordered when the she hurried over to him. Tiffany just about slammed the tray of wrapped sandwiches on her tray onto the table, her face tight with disapproval. She moved off to serve another straggler without speaking to Bruce. Just perfect. Another pleasant side effect of doing his job. They had been getting along in almost a friendly manner ever since Bruce and Cristopher had helped her kids escape from the Zerothanes that had emerged from their school, but Tiffany had cooled to just short of outright hostility as soon as it became apparent that Bruce was keeping an eye on Spades.
Bruce wanted to laugh at the absurdity that Tiffany felt Swalrey needed protecting, but she was fiercely loyal to her friends. Bruce guessed that he didn't fall in that category. He twisted in his seat until he was facing the end of the bar where Swarley’s narrow frame leaned against the wall. There was something strange about the sloppy way that his face was arranged on the smooth curve of his mask. Like he wasn't getting enough sleep. Kinda reminds him of when girls lazily do their makeup in the morning. Bruce wondered if he even slept most nights then promptly wondered why he was even thinking about it. His job entailed watching Swarley’s activities, not concern over his health and well being.
Glaring at the object of his irritation, Bruce finished the rest of his meal in one swallow and motioned for another. It didn't look like they were going anywhere anytime soon so Bruce saw no problem with enjoying the constant free meals here. At least he was inside away from the rapidly chilling air and reasonably content.
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