Ｔｒｕｓｔㅤ ＭｙㅤＲａｇｅ

                     There isn’t anything terribly gripping about the New Years Eve party. The girls are pretty, the champagne is dry and expensive. The company’s decent enough, at least to those social climbers eager to get their way to the top or those interested in superficial conversation. Unfortunately for Bruce Wayne, who has a party hat on his head with the numbers 2014 splayed across the top, he is interested in neither. And, despite the blaring music, he finds himself lulled to sleep by the simple dullness of his guests.

                     Unfortunately, he can’t exactly duck out, considering this is his party and it’s New Year’s Eve, so he’s stuck in the middle of the dance floor, forced to listen to Blurred Lines for the fifth time tonight and letting some model grind up against him. At some point, he gets the sense to squeeze away and leave the floor.

                     However, as he contemplates heading to the balcony or at least the periphery of the party, his eyes set upon a man adjacent from him, whose eyes are set upon him. It’s hard to focus in the flashing strobe lights, but he knows the familiarity of that face, knows that he knows that face. It’s a magnetic-like pull and he can’t stop it (and he doesn’t particularly want to stop it.) And so, he finds himself inexplicably following the man, who’s, thankfully, heading out to the balcony, where only a few guests remain. 

                     Bruce is grateful for the cold air that smacks him in the face once he heads out those doors, and finds himself suddenly near the other, perched over the edge, facing a city that he’s sworn his protection and his life to; a city that’s done nothing but slowly kill him over the years, like cancer. 

Callous Lovers.

Life feels so cold sometimes. Maybe we should drown each other.

Facebook

THIS IS MAYHEM  — ”Mischief is a small thing, a tool I’ve well used and discarded. This isn’t mischief, this is mayhem. Just watch.”

The man’s hair was slicked back, his lips curled in an almost malicious fashion, and his eyes were shadowed with something Selina couldn’t place a name on. But eyes cast upon her for such an extended period of time could make anyone suspicious, much less a thief like Selina who was taught to watch her back as much as she did already.