mon-ie

Current Age: Twenty-Eight

Being redeployed was never something on your agenda. Why? Because since day one in the Marines, your agenda has been full of ranking up, assignments, missions, having to take care of team members that were under your command, reports and so on, so forth. So, you'd imagine the reactions your team gave you when you announced your redeployment... If you thought, "they are in distraught", you're wrong. They felt happy, not because you're a bad Captain but rather, you'll be finally relaxing after ten years of never leaving base and ten years of having no life outside of base.

That being said, after an entire day of bidding farewells to your teams and giving them an entire folders work of reports and assignments to be done, you were gone. The plane ride back to Gotham was long but, smooth besides the small space between seats and the always occupied bathroom. On the plane, you tried you hardest to not focus on the crying baby, the air that hit your face after one of the passengers directed it away from them and towards you, the need to use the bathroom after drinking three bottle of waters, and the ache on your back.

It. Was. Awesome.

After the entire day of being on the plane, you finally landed in Gotham's Airport. It was nostalgic. Not in the best or worst way but, it brought back memories. For a long moment, you didn't bother to move from your spot, ignoring the murmurs and irritated whispers from other passengers that were disembarking and walking around you to get through. Staring out the window, all you could see was the normal gloomy and air-polluted Gotham, which made you frown. Finally, deciding to move, you tightly held your duffle bag and military-tactical backpack as you moved between crowds of people to get out of the airport.

Had you not been from Gotham, you would've thought it was nighttime, seeing how gloomy it looked but you knew better. These were one of Gotham's gloomy mornings. Slowly, and with measured-heavy steps, you moved out of the airport before pausing at the edge of the sidewalk, watching and observing everything and everyone around you. Eventually, you raised your hand, flagging a cab and watching it roll up to you. You weren't a fan of cars or any moving vehicles but, you knew that walking from Gotham's Airport to the manor wasn't going to do well on the whole "relaxing" that you were meant to be doing.

With the cab now in front of you, you reached out and pulled on the cab's backdoor handle, opening it slowly before tossing your duffle bag and backpack onto the seat and the, you finally seated yourself. With all the weight from your duffle bag, you backpack, and your own weight, the cab shifted a bit. But what did you expect? You are a damn, huge, hulking Marine Captain. With you now seated in the backseats, door harshly closed with a thud, you sat stiffly and looked into the rearview mirror, catching the driver's eyes with an uneased glare. Naturally, the hawk-like stare made the driver shift and sweat in his seat before clearing his throat, "Go-... Good morning, I'll be your driver... Where to?"

At the driver's nervousness, you raised a brow before looking away from the rearview mirror, frowning deeply as you looked outside of the backdoor window.

"Wayne Manor. Thank you... and make sure to keep your eyes on the road."

The drive to the manor was silent. The driver didn't bother, didn't dare, and didn't try to speak to you--at all. Honestly, you were thankful because you were too tired to deal with some man who was practically pissing himself, in his seat. By the time the cab got to the manor, it was a little well past 0700, which was fine since the traffic to the manor wasn't too bad. Once the cab went into the manor's round-a-bout at the front of the entrance, you readied yourself by pulling the backpack around your shoulders and pulling your duffle bag into your lap, inching closer to the door. It was almost laughable, a Marine Captain being ready to jump out of a cab, as if it were some aircraft.

At the soft braking that the driver managed to pull off, you didn't waste time to simply toss money at the man, saying something along the lines of "keep the change" before stepping out the cab with your belongings and slamming the door shut. Just as the door slammed shut, the cab was quickly driven away from you and the manor. Now, standing in front of the manor, all you could do was simply stare up at the large building, fingers wrapping too tightly around the straps of your duffle bag and a strap of your backpack. With the morning's gloom and the gloom that came with the manor, it felt as though everything just got gloomier.

"It's been too long...", you said between your teeth. Oh, how you wished to call back the cab to get you back to the airport but, you knew that was impossible. You clicked your tongue in annoyance before approaching the manor's door, accepting fate. Just as you stopped at the door, looking at the door handle with hesitance that would've gotten you killed on the field, you reached out and just then, the door was opened.

You didn't bother to pull your hand away, not when your eyes were focused on the boy in front of you and standing at the doorway. Quickly, your eyes moved over the boy's body, making your already apparent frown deepen. Gotham Academy's uniform, around ten-years-of-age, Arabian, and-

"Tt. Who are you?"

Demanding. Annoying.

Deeply, you sighed before letting your hand drop to your side, considering if you should answer the boy's question. In a way, it felt nice to not have someone scared or instantly pissing themselves.

"Don't ya' know, you should introduce yourself before demanding someone else's introduction, kid?"

You didn't mean to cause any trouble with the kid but, seeing how the kid visibly stiffened and looked like he was turning red from being called a "kid"... you already knew that you pissed off whoever's spawn this boy belong too. Though, what you didn't expect was for the kid to lunge himself at you, making you instinctively switch grip on your duffle bag's straps and using your free hand to catch the boy's wrist. Due to on-field training, it came to you naturally to twist the boy's wrist inwards before tugging him forward, making him stumble, and with a swift motion, you managed to turn the boy around.

The boy started to curse out loud, something along the lines of "release me, bastard!" and "do you know who I am, idiot?!" Making you tighten your grip on the boy's wrist while holding it against his back. Just who was this kid, you mentally asked, not minding the boy's struggle and just when you were to speak, you heard rushed footsteps approaching the still opened door. Slowly, you turned your gaze up and you were met with the eyes of the manor's butler. Alfred Pennyworth. You, nor the butler said anything for a long moment, letting the boy's angered yells disappear into the background and also, disregarding the other approaching footsteps.

After a moment too long, Alfred cleared his throat before glancing to the boy and back to you, frowning slightly. "I see that you're back, Master... if you'd be so kind, unhand Master Damien."

So, the boy's name is Damien. You hummed quietly in contemplation before releasing Damien's wrist, gently shoving him away from your body before straightening yourself properly. Instantly, you felt Alfred's eyes scan over you, seeing the built and produced muscles, seeing some scars around your face and neck, seeing the exhaustion, and seeing how you looked far more different than what did before you left the manor. Just before you could address Alfred and his greeting, your eyes shifted to the few bodies standing behind him, eyeing my very existence. There were only two recognizable faces, other than Alfred's being in front of mine.

"Dick... Bruce... seems like the manor has gotten rowdy." Your words were dry, especially as you gave them a blank stare. First, your eyes went to the girl standing in front of Bruce, almost identical but, obviously belonged to someone else. Then, to the dark-skinned boy, eyeing him before turning to a blonde girl, seeing her eyes lit up for some odd reason. Finally, to a tired and pale looking boy, almost as if he was ready to drop dead in front of everyone. After looking amongst the pre-teens, teens, and young adults, your eyes drifted back to Bruce.

He was still tall as ever but, he looked exhausted, something you weren't sure that came from age, from his little secret night affiliation, or from both. From beside Bruce, you could see Dick shift between his feet, unsure what to do or say, not when the eldest amongst all came home. Feeling the moment prolonging, Dick finally coughed into his fist, one that he brought up to his lips slowly before saying, "H-Hey! It's been s-so long, h-huh? Missed y-you, big sib..."

The silence after Dick's words were deafening... though, it didn't last long. Not when everyone, slowly turned their head to Dick, all except Bruce and Alfred, before slowly looking at you.

1.

2.

3.

"YOU'RE THE ELDEST?!"

This was not what you were expecting. You weren't expecting to be questioned about being the eldest, not expecting to be pulled into the manor and dragged to the dining room's table, not expecting a plate of breakfast to be placed and in front of you, and not expecting for Bruce to be there. You also weren't expecting the other new face, the one with a scar that ran over his cheek and down to his lip. This was all too overwhelming but, as a Marine Captain, you hid that well.

After a long list of introductions, you finally learned everyone's name. Jason, the one that came after Dick and is currently twenty-three. There's Tim, the one who looked half dead and is currently, twenty-one. Then, there's Cassandra, Bruce's look-a-like but not, and is a few months older than Tim. There there's Steph, who's twenty, and Duke, who's eighteen. Finally, there was the demo- Damien... Bruce's biological son.

As questions flew across the dining table, all of which were directed to you, you answered some and ignored others while eating pieces of pancake from you plate that seemed to be never-ending due to Alfred putting more eggs, sausages, or pancakes when the quantity decreased. After a moment, you fell and everyone seemed to sense it before looking at you, watching as you looked at Bruce as you took a forkful of eggs. For a good three-to-four-seconds, you simply stared at Bruce before pointing at him, with your fork, then, shifting your fork towards Damien.

"I would've never thought you'd create your own bundle of joy... well, not necessarily joy but, you get me. Also, is my room still available or was it taken over by these demon-children?"

𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 : From Pinterest 𝔗𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 : @majoringinfanfiction @starrydustedwinter @valinat

𝓟𝓡𝓔𝓥𝓘𝓞𝓤𝓢𝓛𝓨 𝓒𝓞𝓝𝓣𝓘𝓝𝓤𝓐𝓣𝓘𝓞𝓝

𝓓𝓐𝓣𝓔 : 06/07/2026

𝘈𝘨𝘦: 𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦

Gotham.

Goth--am.

Gotham, a cruel place to live in but, what were you meant to do? Leave? Run away? Yeah, no. While Gotham was cruel to the lives that lived there, you still stayed. Not because you didn't have anywhere else to go, not because you couldn't but rather, what was the point. Gotham reeked, the people who lived in Gotham reeked of Gotham so, why try to leave the one place that would follow you with its stench.

You're probably wondering about your parents, huh? Well, you got none. You do got parents but, they aren't in the picture. No, they aren't dead and no, they aren't some rich people who are out on a business trip--they just left you with a neighbor. Not a family member, not at an orphanage, and not at some church's doorstep. You don't know why they left but, they did. Truthfully, you gave up asking questions about them and, truthfully again, you gave up caring.

As a pre-teen, you did what most pre-teens do... went to school. Seriously, you were quite literally forced to raise yourself so, you took advantage of each, and every opportunity given to you. You might not have parents but, the second-best thing to have is basic knowledge that was freely provided. Truth be told, you weren't some "Straight A" student but, you did your best and are a "Straight B" student. Now, besides the whole 'not having parents' and 'decent student', you were always great at helping... which brings you to your current position.

It was a Monday morning... it's always on a Monday when everything goes sideways. You were already changed in your school uniform, backpack heavy on your shoulders, black shoes scuffed at the front, and hair brushed. Though, just as you left your neighbor's home with a quiet "bye", you noticed the neighborhood's elderly lady making her way to her car with her arms full of paper bags. Being the respectful and helping person, you approached the old lady while your hands gripped the straps of your backpack.

"Good morning, Mrs. Davis. Would you like some help?" You asked with a quiet voice, afraid of disturbing the morning's peace. Without waiting for an answer from the Mrs. Davis, you took one of the bags from her arms before following her to her car.

From in front, you heard the small coo and quiet laugh from the old lady, watching her shift the bag in her arms. "Good morning to you too, sweet pea. Aren't you supposed to be heading to school?" Her voice was shaky, probably just as much as her hands, as she placed down the bag onto the hood of her car. Upon her question, you avoided answering her and instead, you opened the backdoor of her car and placed the bag in your arms down onto the backseat. Quickly, before Mrs. Davis could move to do the same with the other bag, you snagged it from the hood and placed it in the backseat as well.

Ironically, just as you were going to leave and bid Mrs. Davis a farewell, your designated bus drove by. As you stood straight between the opened car door and the car's body, you simply watched the bus drive away. In the most tired tone that a twelve-year-old could muster, you said, "That was my bus." "It seems so." At Mrs. Davis voice, you gave her a side-glance before sighing, already knowing your day was going to turn bad. To console you, Mrs. Davis placed her shaky hand on your shoulder before saying, "Since you missed your bus, why don't you spend the day with me? I'm going to run a few errands."

Instead of telling you to go to school or "I'll go drop you off", the old lady offered you a day off. You found it odd since, school was important but, seeing the opportunity... you took it. I mean, how could it be, right?

Right?

Oh, it was bad. After a long day of grocery shopping, picking clothes up from a local dry cleaner, going to the flower shop and other granny activities, you found yourself in the strangest and scariest predicament.

It was dark outside and Mrs. Davis and you were heading back to the neighborhood. You were in the backseat, tightly holding a few cartoons of eggs in your arms while listening to Mrs. Davis drone about her late husband and about her kids. That was when a sharp whizz and pop was heard. Instantly, just after the sounds, the car swerved out of control.

SKRRT.

CRASH.

The eggs were long forgotten, hands moving to grab onto anything to steady yourself and ear ringing. Mentally, you cursed in your head, annoyed by the ring and the small ache against your chest from the seatbelt. After a short moment, the ringing diminished and yet, the silence increased. Your chest heaved from the rush of adrenaline and once able to move, you detached your seatbelt before leaning over to peek at the driver seat. "Mrs. Davis?" You whispered quietly, afraid of disturbing the silence. Just as you caught a glance of the front seat, you stiffened up before shooting right back against the backseat.

Blood. Hole on the side of her head. You've never seen so much blood before but now, it made you gag at the burning sight you just saw. Though, just when you thought that was all, the air bag burst open from the steering wheel, making you flinch at the movement but, nothing prepared you for the disgusting sound that came next.

SQUELCH.

You couldn't bring yourself to be compose, immediately turning your head to the side and emptying your stomach onto the car's carpeted floor. As you emptied your stomach, you heaved and cried, unsure if you were meant to panic or scream first. Once your stomach was empty, you sat up-right and didn't move. How could you move? You were terrified, you felt unsafe, and you had to stay. Not because you couldn't run away, not because you didn't have anywhere else to go but, what was the point.

You weren't sure when minutes turned into hours but, you stayed. Occasionally, you'd hear laughter, chants and voices talking from outside of the car but, it didn't faze you. What did make you fazed was the sudden change of sounds. The grunts, the sounds of yelling, the sounding of crushing, it all made you want to look. So, just as you were reaching for the car's door handle, the car suddenly shook. Instinctively, you moved away from the door, imaging the worse of the worse, not caring that you might've slid too far away that your shoe was on your barf. One shake. Two shakes. Another shake. Finally, the door was flung open.

You expected something. Probably some gang member, probably some drunk guy, probably a police officer but, not some man dressed in black with a cape and cowl. Immediately, you shrunk as far away as you could and stared at the man, not trusting him. You didn't care who he was but, you weren't trusting anyone. Not even, Batman. With frightened eyes, you watched him. You watched the way he bent down to look into the backseat of the car, watched him scanned around the destroyed food, messed up clothes before looking at you in the eyes.

You weren't sure about what to do, so you said the first thing that came to mind. "... She-... She's dead..." You didn't bother to point, to nod your head or make a signal to whom you were talking about--just hoping that Batman would understand. "Let me help you," that was what he said. He didn't bother to look at the driver's seat, didn't bother to check on Mrs. Davis--as if he already knew. Why didn't he help Mrs. Davis? Why did he want to help you? You weren't the injured or dead one. So, why?

Why help you?

WHY?!

WHY?!

With a gasp, you shot up from the lightweight-tactical cot that you've laid down on the ground the night before. Sweat was built up at your forehead and brows, chest heaving, and hands gripping onto where you rifle would've been. How long has it been? How long has it been since you left the manor? How long has it been since you became a Marine? After a long moment of contemplation, you groaned as you leaned forward, hands moving up to your face to rub away the tiredness and the memory away. After being in the Marine Corp for ten years, you've made it up the ranks, especially since you never left base to go home, earning you the rank of O-3 or Captain. You had no reason to go back to the manor, not because you couldn't or didn't have a room to stay in but rather, what's the point.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up from the ground and immediately, you moved to clean up your space with practiced ease. This was the life you chose and practically invested you whole body, mind and soul to. After giving your team strict instructions about cleaning and doing some drills before leaving the base's provided field, you made your way back to the base with your uniform perfectly situated on your body, backpack hanging from your shoulders, and tan boots scuffed and dirty. The walk back to base was fairly ease, only 18.6 miles--a walk that you've grown used to over time with different teams and other Captains.

Once you got to the base, barely sweating and breathing heavily, you were approached by Maia, your OH or Operation Handler. You kept walking, not pausing to stop and talk to her or pausing to throw her a glance, especially when you knew she'd follow right behind you. And just as you thought, you heard the familiar steps of feet following you from behind and a quiet sigh from the woman. "Captain, I wanted to give you a small brief of today's schedule," Maia said. While she looked and sounded like a soft woman from behind you, everyone knew in the base to not mess with Maia because she was far from soft.

Instead of verbally responding to Maia, you simply hummed in reciprocation, wordlessly telling her that she had your attention. From behind, once again, Maia sighed and you could already imagen her head shaking in disappointment before saying, "Today is Monday, you have a briefing at 0900 with you team, in regards of the field exercises and field drills. You have uniform inspection at 1200 and lastly, by Major Rondolf's order, you are going to be redeployed."

Major's orders.

Redeployed.

Monday.

Finally, after processing Maia's words, you stopped before throwing her a glance and seeing her smile. You already knew it was her doing. You've had her as your OH from the very beginning so, all you could do was give her a small glare since she took the request up to the Major's attention. Slowly, looked back ahead with a quiet scoff coming from your nose before continuing you walk back to your quarters. This time it wasn't to get ready for the briefing or uniform inspection, it was to get your duffle bag ready.

"It just had to be a Monday, huh?"

𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 : From Pinterest 𝔗𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 : @majoringinfanfiction @starrydustedwinter @valinat

𝓟𝓡𝓔𝓥𝓘𝓞𝓤𝓢𝓛𝓨 𝓒𝓞𝓝𝓣𝓘𝓝𝓤𝓐𝓣𝓘𝓞𝓝

𝓓𝓐𝓣𝓔 : 06/07/2026