#cloudrides

“ I'll need the blessing of a certain goddess, divine intervention. ”

batman hated complications—yes, it didn't take him to be sherlock holmes to realize he couldn't be 'the batman' without them, but when those complications turned into surprises that literally laughed in his face? it went without saying that it annoyed all proportions of reasonings out of him. he didn't like to be one-upped nor mocked for it, especially at the expense of lives. when he received word on the resurgence of a particular old pain in his ass, he was obligated to follow up on the tips he was handed after some 'persuasive negotiations'.

                  a part of him wish he hadn't.

                  the sight below must have sent a poisoned phantom fist straight through the belly of his armored layers—bypassing the complex web of reactive fibers that amplified his neuromuscular system—and rotted him with disgust. a knot tightened in his stomach, knocking around like someone was playing handball with it inside. jokerz, he thought. grimaldi gave clowns their first real stage, and the world hasn't been right since.

                  the density of mist obscured most of the shipyard's suspicious activities, blanketing the presence of the colorful dregs with a near-impenetrable void. from his high vantage point, the average naked eye could only perceive looming cranes and groaning hulls, half-swallowed by the ashen cloud.

                  but for batman, the haze was no hindrance. through the sleek, red devil-tinted visor of the batsuit, advanced filtration systems hummed lowly, parsing through the thick fog and peeling back the layers until he achieved picture-perfect clarity with the visual mode of his choice. thermal heat signatures by the hundreds bled around a blued-out backdrop of the shipyard. each living jitter-brained, clown-faced craplet's position was traced, and their conditions logged by the biofeedback sensors.

                  they were all too relaxed and jolly for his liking. it was as if the possibility of being hunted down by the winged black devil of the bright-eyed, soul-weary city was nothing to fret over. a once-frightening, albeit fleeting, thing of the past. they'd sorely be mistaken.

                  feeling slighted aside, he had to wonder beyond the decoded readings over their hearts' micro-fluctuations and investigate why they were so calm and composed, despite being so exposed, in the first place. what was filling them up with so much false sense of security that they felt bold enough to gather in droves, not thinking there'd be any consequence to their curious assclown convention? he had an uncomfortable itch in the back of his head, telling him that there was a nasty devil in the elaborated details in his tips, and he was led to this specific location on purpose.

                  slag it, it wouldn't be the first time i winged it through some stupid plot the bad guys dreamed up, he thought.

movement detected from above.

                  the hairs on the nape of his neck bristled as the a.i.'s voice sounded in his ear ( he made a mental note to check in with grayson later and see if the alfred voice change was available yet.). the batman's neck snapped to the sky, brandishing a pair of batarangs that slid smoothly to his fingers, as per his thought-driven commands of the suit's sophisticated system—his reaction time tuned exponentially past the best of nature's predators, courtesy of the micro-sensors and the neural interface's intimate engagement with his brain.

                  ❝ huh?! ❞ confused, he stared quizzically at the unexpected company descending to him. when he saw who it was, not only did he have more questions, his mind tricked him momentarily into thinking the electromagnetic pads on the soles of his feet ceased working and his legs turned into mushed noodles. obviously, he wouldn't have died if he somehow slipped off the hood of the batmobile, but he wouldn't have been saved from the embarrassment.

                  ❝ slow-pulse with the jump scares, 'queen'. i was almost too quick to give you a free haircut. not your schwayest look, but i think you could've pulled it off. ❞ he half-joked, lowering his arm by his side then. batman erected his posture and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed, but he still held fast to his batarangs. maybe it's the edge of old mentors rubbing off on him—that'd be a guess, and only a guess. personal experiences with heroes entering his city unannounced informed him it's healthy to remain guarded, even against the ones he liked. what was she doing here?

                  ❝ do you wanna know what? that now, i even have more reason to clean up my city's less-than-appealing tourist attractions? i didn't know i'd be playing host to a special guest tonight. you should've given me a ring so i could tidy up the place for you faster. ❞ more complications? just what i needed.

an african game hunter who once attempted to poach him had fittingly dubbed batman ' the dark demon of the concrete jungle ' during their first encounter. he couldn't have been more right.

as the dark knight and teru, he navigates neo-gotham like he owns the night (and you couldn't tell him otherwise). he's a natural creature of the urban landscape, freely moving through the streets and uncovering new knowledge about her, with a passionate interest, despite the looming dangers. while it was impossible to see the stars at night, every corner blasted him with neon lights. and he felt the rush from the thrumming activity pumping life into his body. being caught up in the mix of a sleepless city was like having an extra heart that was being routinely overworked.

even when he was stealing bikes and traversing the highways at breakneck speed in his youth, he was captivated by the illuminated skyscrapers, never once sparing a thought about the skyglow that drowned out the imagination of the intergalactic marvels beyond the city.

his neo-gothic sandbox was strange, deranged, and religiously transformative, as though its technological metamorphosis was the work of a cult worshiping a technophilic death god. it was scary like that. but teru, having spent too much time in solitary confinement due to constant squabbles in juvie, couldn't stand the idea of being cooped up at home, living life like a homebody. the very thought was suffocating. he enjoys getting lost in neo-gotham's dark beauty, breathing in its oppressive air as he gradually learns about the burgeoning tech that's dominating the city's identity while carving out his role as its protector.

that being said, even neo-gotham, the home that he can easily get lost in, can feel limited and is. it was because of his nocturnal 'job' that he was granted more opportunities than he had fingers to see the outside world. he dreams of a long vacation in a warm, fragrant setting like tahiti or bora bora. neo-gotham had her beaches, but burying his bare toes and fingers in white sands and having the chance to inhale natural air, in front of the sight of crystal-clear waters was a golden dream of his. bungalows, idyllic shorelines, and waterfalls? he would like to see it.

teru imagined it would be the time he had a chance to spend quality time with dana tan (or verse-dependent love interest) without answering the call that seemed to make him feel less human and more robotic as time went on. he wanted to be positioned in a comfortable place where he no longer had to break his heart or hers. a rich tropical paradise that offered serenity and colors that starkly contrasted the artificial lights that lit up a cold, metallic world is possible for him—it has to be. because he refuses to let his life fall into doom and gloom, replicating his predecessor. he won't deny himself connections and the chance to enjoy the sun and actually see the stars with his loved ones.