#respectingfear

             He thinks, on some level, that his father will surely be proud of him. All his planning, all the detective skill he’d lavished to bring his scheming to fruition. It had taken him days to get to where he was now. Days since he’d first heard the name Bruce Wayne mentioned in this city, a single moment that sent Damian hunting for all the information he could. There lied the great time-consumer of his plans, for this city did not work like Gotham did. He could not peruse GCPD files, or hack into criminal databases. Here, his resources were limited. And so, the son of Batman had had to get... creative. He’d used his fists as much as his brain then, chasing leads and whispers in the city’s underground. Uncovered evidence of Bruce Wayne’s presence in Hive City, and, almost more importantly, of Batman’s presence. And from there, it had taken little effort to trace the line of data to an address. A home, in the mountains. Remote and inhospitable. Naturally.

        Finding someone to bring him there was harder. No one wanted to brave those snow-capped peaks... that is, until they were dangled upside down from a skyscraper’s roof. After that, things became simple again... until the traps, of course. Damian had expected them, but not to this extent. It had taken everything in him to avoid them, every ounce of agility and flexibility his body could provide. It had earned him a cut across the cheek, a blow to the chest. But, then, finally, he was through. He was there. Alighting on the windowsill of the second floor room, cape fluttering behind him. Damian raised his head as he dropped into the manor, taking a step towards the chair across the room, where a man sat, turned away from him.

“Hiya!  Been some time since we had a new installment, but it had been a hell o’ a rough time.  Them monsters an’ everythin’ destroyin’ whatever isn’t originally s’pose t’ be here an’ all.  Good news is that we’re in one piece.  Bad news?  Ain’t too sure.  Were all still stuck here.  I guess the better news may be that I’m here and able t’ supply ya with some good information ~  Tonight, we’ll discuss some pretty neat parental figures.  Protection, life lessons, and much more can be given from these folks.  If they seem rough on ya, they love ya.  If they love ya, then count yerself lucky.  Ain’t like half the city isn’t filled with parentless kids..”

“... I never knew my parents, y’know..?”

“Today’s show is brought t’ ya by...”

“Prince Edward’s Amazin’ Smile.  When yer feelin’ down, know that he’s ‘round... A happy endin’ must be comin’ yer way when that smile brightens the day.

Prince Edward’s Amazin’ Smile...”

“He’s.. very big, isn’t he?” She says it so flatly Io would be proud. “Just... very large.”

She remembers she’s supposed to be saying something of actual merit.

♚ MEME SUNDAY ♚

♚ – He should have paid more attention, or... At least not let himself be so gullible. But the man seemed nice enough-- he supposes that’s what made it so easy to drag him behind the store. Except, it’s not like he had anything valuable on his person. Perhaps that’s what prompted the man to react even more violently than before. A man as rich looking as himself certainly should have something worth grabbing from his pockets, right?

Whatever the man’s reasons was, the King still felt that there was a strange burning in his side, something strangely warm staining his wears. Water? No...

He tried to feel whatever was staining his shirt, something he assumed was underneath him, with his fingers, but the mere feeling of them brushing against exposed skin left him yelping in pain. He wanted so desperately to be angry, and yet...

Gods, he felt pain almost everywhere, and moving didn’t seem to be a liable option given how struggling only made things worse. Why didn’t he just wear his armor? Was blending in really worth this? Of course not. And yet, here he was, lying on cold cobblestone, another stupid mistake made by himself and himself alone.

He thinks over his options. He could try crawling? Or perhaps roll himself up and get to his feet if he could find the strength for it. Maybe if he... Maybe if he gave it an hour he could get his strength back? 

A quick nap didn’t seem much like a bad idea. In fact, despite the hard ground he’d been left on, the thought was almost comforting, and the feeling of lightheartedness almost made him feel like he was resting on a cloud. But just as he’d finally rested his eyes, someone was already moving him to sit up right, speaking low, something he thought was a whisper. Who was it?

Almost instantly, the King’s yelling Hungarian, words breaking into high pitched whines, desperate to get whoever his “assailant” was to stop moving him around so much. He half expected it to be the same man who made an attempt to rob him, but...?

Through his hazed vision, he sees the strangest damned thing. It looked like a Knight, but the texture of whatever the man was wearing certainly didn’t seem to resemble anything metallic. Whatever he just said to him slips in one ear and out the other, pain numbing his senses to a point where translating words was too much a bother for him. 

[meme] [accepting]

> [EXAMINE]

You hold it carefully, turning it around in your hands. His cowl. Funny. Most people are scared of this. You’ve heard people, on the streets or on the news, talk about the Dark Knight, the frightening figure that fights criminals and tries to keep Gotham safe. As safe as it can be, anyway. But to you the cowl isn’t frightening. It’s dark and mysterious and it’s supposed to frighten people, but it’s never frightened you.

When you first saw it, you were on a job with your father. Get the Scarecrow. You all escaped, but you managed a glance at Batman and Robin before leaving, before returning to Mother. Even then it hadn’t scared you. It made you angry. He was stepping in on your father’s assignment and making it more difficult. You were still so wrapped up in what he’d taught you that the hero was a villain in your eyes.

And then you were running, trying to escape your father and Mother and get someone to understand the danger everyone was in. That anger had become hope. Batman had nearly taken down Mother before, he could do it again. He was Batman. He was a hero. You went to him because there was nowhere else to go. You’ve seen criminals cower in front of Batman because of the air he carries with him, but when you were standing in front of him you felt safe. Safer than you had in a long time.

For a while you’d believed this cowl was him. The man underneath it didn’t matter until you were told he had another life, he wasn’t always a hero fighting rogues and criminals. A silly thought now but your life has always been just fighting, would it be too hard to believe that he was the cowl and cape alone? Even now, it’s hard to separate the cowl from the man or believe that Bruce Wayne is Batman.

> [PUT IT ON]

No.

You don’t deserve to wear his cowl. Not now. Not until you make up for the blood on your hands. You hope one day, when Bruce puts up his cape and the blood’s washed away, you can wear it. You can be Batman. You can do for others what he did for you. Give them a chance and put them on the right path.

You hope there is a day where you’d be worthy to do that. There are so many other partners he has that you doubt the cowl will ever fall into your hands, but it’d be enough to know that you’re worth the Batman title. You want to be Batman more than anything, to dedicate your life to doing good, and it likely won’t ever happen but you want to feel like Bruce would be proud if it did.

> [PUT IT BACK]

You place it carefully back where you got it, fidgeting with it in an attempt to make it look like it wasn’t picked up. He’ll notice and you’ll act like you have no idea who was messing with his costume.

          「 ♔. ❝ What a great night to wait for a train isn’t it? ❞ Her arms would be folded as she mumbled to herself a bit sourly. Perhaps she had taken a bit too long dining out and she should have gone with her gut to hurry up her meal to get to the train. Transportation was probably the most annoying problem in this city, at least for her anyway. The woman would way much prefer to have her own vehicle than ride a bus, car, or train with other people where they were loud and obnoxious.

     Luckily things weren’t too crazy and loud at night, unless you had some drunks around. She couldn’t forget the wonderful delinquents and criminals that ran around the city as well that made things go bump in the night as they would put it.

     ❝ Something crazy happening would just make this night even better wouldn’t it? ❞ It wasn’t the best humor, but at least she was trying to crack some sort of joke to the stranger beside her. That area wasn’t her forte though so that was enough of that. 

Rumour had it that HE was in the city. And Jason hunted him down, of course he would attempt to do so. Still, he took his time, gathering intel, figuring out his patrol patterns, scheduling the moment of their meeting in perfect detail. He wanted to be ALONE with him, with no intervention from anyone or anything. He needed this, he didn’t care if Bruce might have insisted otherwise. It wasn’t up to him to decide, no, Jason wanted this confrontation and he WAS going to receive it. 

Too many times he tried to reconcile, to FORGIVE him, but every single, every damn time something pushed him away, giving him more reasons to be angry at his old mentor, his friend and..the closest thing that he could ever get to a father. It wasn’t like he craved to be angry, full of anger and that feeling of satisfaction from seeing people in pain, and yet he still managed to receive it. There was a time that he wished for Bruce to DIE, so angry with him and his choices, but he grew up, grew saner after his return to the land of the living.

His anger issues were hard to resolve, and it seemed that meetings with Bruce and Dick made them worse. It wasn’t a coincidence that both of those people held the Batman mantle, and this was exactly what Jason hated; the Batman ideology, his lectures about morality that didn’t mean a damn to him, he made his own god damn agenda.

And yet, there he was, a wooden knife, carved to the most of its abilities, held against a petty thief’s throat, helmet on as he looked at the Bat’s shadow creeping in the alley.