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pl-panda · 3 years

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To Marry a Vigilante: Part 13

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To Marry a Vigilante: Part 13

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Marinette wasn’t sure what to expect from school after her reveal. Their plan was to make it public that she was ‘dating’ Damian Wayne, but not her identity as the MDC. That plan failed when she panicked and tweeted about it. By now, pretty much everyone knew about it. Especially after Jagged Stone went forward and confirmed it. She loved the rockstar, but he was like a wild six-years-old when left without supervision. It was impossible to reverse it.

The other problem that was making her very anxious was the new Hawkmoth. Her class was already called the Akuma Class not without reason. Now, they would be probably split into different groups, which could serve to make her suffer more. Not to mention how much Lila would be making her life a nightmare now.

She dressed in the standard Gotham Academy uniform and waited for Chloé to finally arrive. The blonde’s arrival was foreshadowed by the sound of a loud rant.

“...they can’t expect me to wear these rags!? The purple will totally clash with my lipstick! And the black and white? What is it, the Seventeenth century?” She was already dressed, but clearly unamused by what she was forced to wear.

“Hi, Chlo.” She greeted her best human friend.

“Mari-bear! How can you stand by this fashion disaster?!”

“I don’t mind. We must wear it only at school.”

“Ugh! I need to pack spare clothes then!”

“Or you could… you know, stay in the uniform?” The bluenette smiled. “I mean from what Damian told me, it’s pretty common to see groups of students still dressed in their uniforms after school.”

“These rags?!” Chloé shouted, slightly agitated

“I’ll make you an MDC original uniform once I get my hands on specifications. Deal?” Mari giggled at her friend’s antics. She was supposed to be the one criticizing fashion here.

“Fine. But it’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! After classes, you and I are going shopping for some better make-up for me and actual make-up for you.”

“Sure! We can also visit the Botanic Gardens again. Just the two of us?” The girl suggested.

“Perfect. Won’t Lover-boy have a problem?”

“Nah. Damian won’t mind. We’re not bound by the hip, you know?”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Chloé smiled.

“You…!” Marinette giggled. “I heard you’ve been spending whole days in the gym with my cousin. What’s that about? I thought you would be more interested in pestering Tim about detective stuff.”

“I decided to start exercising. Cass is a great trainer for your information,” she huffed, but the smile on her face let Mari know it was just Chloé being Chloé. “Besides, have you seen your mother? She is nearing fifty and looks drop-dead gorgeous. My mother would kill for that body at her age.”

“Suuuree.” The bluenette giggled. “Let’s go. Alfred will drop us at school.”

In the entrance hall, they were met by Damian, who wore his own uniform. Sabine, Tom, and Bruce were there to see them out. After the standard round of goodbyes that awaited children when they were supposed to start a new school (Sabine filling the mother role for Chloé), Bruce looked critically at Damian.

“You know that you can only bring the sword on Tuesdays and Thursdays when you actually have practice?”

“Tt. I’ll need it today.”

“Damian…” He glared at the boy, only to be met by an equally fierce gaze.

“Fine. But I’m keeping the dusters.” He bargained. “That’s not negotiable.”

“You know the rules.”

“Tt. With a madman after my wife, I reserve my right to having means of self-defense.”

“Fine. But only if Akuma shows up and the two of you can’t transform. I hope I don’t need to remind you that Gotham is not Paris? People are much more observant here.” He warned them.

“Don’t worry Mr. Wayne.” Chloé dismissed him. “I’ll make sure those two are behaving.”

“I already feel better.” He deadpanned.

“Hush! They are smart kids and can deal with their problems. Right, sweetie?”

“I… I hope?” Marinette was not exactly convinced but tried to smile.

“You’ll do great.” Her father reassured her.

“Okay. Let’s go.” She put on her sunglasses. The thin black frame surrounded the twin large tinted glasses that hid a large part of her face. Nobody would know it was Kaalki in disguise. She would need the glasses to not be bothered by the press. At least she hoped they would help.

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They arrived with half an hour safety cushion, which made them one of the first on-site. Damian led them to the Principal’s office first to get their schedules. Mr. Hammer was already waiting for them. He wore formal clothes with a green vest over a white shirt, yellow-brown trousers, and to finish it he had a dark-green cape with a white collar made of fur.

“Ah. Mr. Wayne with his girlfriend,” He spoke the word with utter loathing, which was pretty strange. Marinette never met him before. “I seem to remember to have expelled you last semester”

“Tt. You also expelled me the previous one. Four times. And the semester before. Two times.” He didn’t bother to hide the grin. “Except the paperwork never left your office.” He pointed at the large stack of papers on one of the shelves, with a golden plaquette reading ‘Damian Wayne’.

“Hm… Indeed.”

Damian stopped himself from interrupting him to educate him on how to talk with and about Marinette.

“Um… Professor Hammer?” speaking of the angel. “Thank you for accepting my class for the exchange program.”

“Yes. Your school was kind enough to send the records of all the students. Yours including.”

“Great. Is there anything…”

“I didn’t finish.” He snapped at her. “You have a very interesting file, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He dropped a rather thick folder on his desk. “Class president for three years, engaging in various charities, supporting drama club, brilliant gymnast and martial artist.... thief, bully, conflict child.” He added in an angry tone. “I don’t know about France, but here we often call such girls H.B.I.C., which is an acronym for…”

“Tt. I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to refer to my Angel as such. She is the victim of theft, bullying, and ostracization by her class. If you read the files, you know that each person in that class holds significant sway, and the headmaster of that school is easily swayed. I’ve spent a semester at Françoise Dupont and that establishment is in simple words… lacking.” Damian almost spat the last word. He wanted to tell the headmaster more, but Hammer was ignoring him.

“In Gotham Academy, we pride ourselves as a prestigious institute that helps students develop their full potential. I don’t care how it worked in your previous school, but I expect you to behave. If you start conflicts with the students, I will be forced to expel you, as per the exchange program regulations that your parents signed. And this time, the papers will leave my office.” He glared at Damian, who in response grinned. “The school is surrounded by a high wall and a river, so you don’t have to worry about paparazzi. If such is caught on the premise, he will be dealt with harshly.”

“What about students taking photos?”

“I’m sure you can deal with them.” It was Hammer’s turn to grin.

“But… But…! That’s unfair! And enabling!”

“Life is not fair. If it was, I would be living in a castle somewhere in the stormy peaks of Scotland. Instead, I’m here.” He handed both of them their schedules and ushered them out. Chloé was waiting outside.

“So? How did it go?”

“He doesn’t particularly seem to like me. It might’ve been because I’m dating a boy he expelled six times last year.” She glared at his husband.

“Tt. He just dislikes me because in the first year I accidentally detonated the head of his statue. And then the next year I detonated the replacement.” He shrugged.

“How do you even accidentally detonate the statue’s head?” Chloé asked.

“Chemistry homework?” Damian suggested

“Archery practice?” Marinette supplied.

“Science class gone wrong?” He continued

“Secret weapon cache activating by itself?” She added.

“All of the above.” Damian finished.

“Okay. Honey, are you sure you want him? We can still return him to the store and find one that is less rabid?” The blonde joked.

“Tt. Over my dead body.” He growled and grasped Marinette’s hand.

“Calm down, Damiboo,” she grinned at the name, “nobody will be separating you two. But for now, we need to go to the chapel for the welcome party.”

“Tt. Call me that again and I’ll…” He started, but then Marinette’s glare shut him up.

The girls walked away and Damian almost rethought his stance when the blonde dared to whisper “Whipped” when she was passing him. Marinette didn’t notice, already too focused on describing the meeting with the headmaster.

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“...furthermore, the North Hall remains off-limit to all students. You will have your rooms assigned before the lunch break.” Hammerhead finally finished his long and boring speech. The girls were lucky enough to have a peaceful if uninteresting welcome ceremony. Sabine sat next to them, which served as a very strong deterrent from any idiots trying something stupid, like taunting her or bullying. Caline was sweating each time she looked at the other chaperone. Sabine didn’t bother with niceties and could (and would) totally destroy her at moment’s notice.

“Hi. I’m Erica Layton. I’m the school president and it’s my pleasure to welcome you to our great school!” A cheerful blonde walked onto the stage.

She wore a standard GA uniform, but Marinette recognized it as tailor-made, with high-quality materials. Marinette immediately took to dislike her. She had an aura similar to Lila. Falsehood and malevolence. Her smile was precarious and she swept the students with her gaze. She zeroed on Marinette for a second too long and the bluenette could feel the headache coming. She tried to remember what Damian told her about the school president, but the position was supposed to be held by a girl named Boyle.

“I hope you’ll fondly remember your time at our school. There are many clubs that you can join. If there is one that you wish to start, you’ll need a group of at least five students and signed permission from one of the teachers. You can find more information on our website. Each of you will be assigned a dorm according to the survey you filled…”

“Excuse me!” Kim, who just received a whisper from Lila, stood up. “From what we were told, we were supposed to stay with host families. What gives?”

“Oh! I’m sorry nobody informed you before. Sadly, we didn’t get enough volunteers, so the plans had to change.”

“But… but… Marinette is staying with the Waynes!” Alya protested before sending the girl in question a hateful gaze. Sabine glared back and the bespectacled girl shivered and quickly turned back to the stage.

The woman stood up and addressed the class herself. “Marinette is staying with me and I’m staying with my niece and her guardian. I hope that will clear any and all confusion.” Her glare told them that the conversation was over.

“Yes…” Erica awkwardly started again. “Let’s continue.”

Marinette made sure to note everything the school president spoke about. She was certain her class had more important gossip to focus on and later would have no idea about anything. She would just have Chloé send them the picture later.

After the event was over, Marinette and Chloé stayed back to photo the notes. Sabine made sure that all other Parisians left them alone, urging them to run to classes. The two left maybe two minutes later, walking calmly to their new classes. The girls would have all the same classes and there was hope that none of the other students from Françoise Dupont would pick the same.

When walking through the corridor, Chloé finally brought up Alya’s reaction to her mother. The two laughed at how scared she was of Sabine.

Out of the blue, a hand pulled Marinette to the side and the doors closed behind them in complete silence. She managed to give a weak squeak before that, but her best friend didn’t notice. It would be a moment before Chloé realized her best friend disappeared. By then, the doors had been already locked and she would not differentiate them from other locked doors in the corridor.

“So… You’re supposed to be the famed girlfriend of Damian Wayne?” Marinette heard once her head finally stopped spinning. She was sitting on a chair with ropes tying her down. Five girls stood there, surrounding her like vultures.

“Huh? Yeah. Damian and I…”

“I didn’t give you permission to speak.” The middle one, blonde stopped her. Marinette recognized her. It was Erica!

“Yeah! You think you can just swoop here and try to steal Erica’s man?” One of the companions asked indignantly.

“Damian was not dating anyone when he came to Paris.” The french girl confidently defended her right.

“Of course he wasn’t. He is the Ice Prince of Gotham Academy.” Erica dismissed her. “But I had the first claim to him.”

“I don’t exactly follow…” Marinette, for all her shrewd tactical mind and lessons from Damian, was still mostly clueless of how rich, bratty teenagers worked. Chloé was supposed to be a unique case, not a rule.

“Sorry. We started on the wrong foot.” The lead blonde changed her strategy. “Erica Layton.” She extended her hand. Marinette shrugged, took a deep breath, and tightened her muscles. The rope they used to tie her snapped and she stood up to take her hand. Other girls stared at her with a weird expression.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Her handshake might’ve been a bit too strong, she did it on purpose.

“Listen, Dupain-Cheng. There is a social hierarchy in this school. I just so happened to be on top. We can be friends and peacefully resolve our differences...”

“I’m sure we can be at least neutral to…”

“I didn’t finish.” Erica seethed. “Of course, friends don’t steal other friends’ men. So, if you’ll break up with Damian, I can get you to the top of the food chain. You will be safe from that Lila girl and untouchable by anyone. It would be a shame if something happened to your online store after all. Or if your social media suddenly ended under attack by bad reviews.”

Marinette stopped smiling halfway through that speech. By the end, she was openly scowling. She broke the handshake and glared at the blonde on the opposite side. Her mother taught her the glare. It was the ‘you’re in over your head’ glare.

Only one of the girls had the decency to shiver. Others seemed too stupid and too convinced of their own superiority to take Marinette seriously.

“Let’s make it clear.” The girl started with a very cold voice. “You want me to break up with Damian, just so you can try, and fail, to get him for yourself? And if I don’t comply, you threaten my online shop and my social media? All for protection from Rossi and her lapdogs?” She allowed herself a laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“You little bitch!” Erica shouted. “Do you have any idea who I am? I am at the top of the food chain here. I rule this school. I’m the Gotham Academy’s golden princess!”

“And I’m above the food chain.” She quoted Damian. It took all her willpower, acting skills, courage, and boiled-down anger to continue. “You might be the princess, but I’m the queen here. And you have nothing that you can take from me.”

“Everyone has some dirty secrets. When I’m done with you, you’ll be too afraid to even show up at school!” Erica shouted. Marinette’s cool gaze swept over the room.

The bluenette didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she walked over to the locked doors and grabbed the doorknob. At first, it was locked and didn’t want to budge, but with a stronger twist the old mechanism gave over, and the doors opened.

Outside, Chloé was already on the phone with someone.

“...Nevermind. I found her.” She hung up and turned to her best friend. “Maribear! Where have you been?”

“I just met the Rossi of this school. She thought she could offer me friendship in exchange for Damian. Like that would ever work.” She gave a cold giggle. When they turned the corner Chloé found the nearest bathroom and dragged Marinette there. Once they were safe from any prying eyes, shel broke into sobs in the blonde’s arms.

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bigfan-fanfic · 3 years

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Who is Batdad closest to outside Wayne manor? Does he have much of a life outside of the Wayne's? Who would Batdad consider his closest friends besides his family?

Honestly, Batdad doesn’t have much of a life outside of the Waynes. He doesn’t really have anyone other than the League to talk to. Clark would probably be his closest friend outside of his family because in a lot of ways they are similar.

Okay, let me talk about this. ( I came back up and decided to answer more concisely above and put this under a read more because it’s very, very long, and I cried three times while writing it and I have never had any visceral reaction to what I write ever before... oof. Just be warned if you ever feel anxiety or pressure that basically, that’s what follows)

Batdad basically denies his own wants and dreams because he wants to help Bruce. What this means is that no matter what Batdad wanted to be before (maybe he and Bruce were dating and he confessed his desire to be a writer and Bruce allowed himself the fantasy and said they’d buy an island somewhere, and Bruce would lounge on the beach and supply Batdad in kisses while he writes the best book ever), by the time Bruce gets back to Gotham from his training, Batdad has had to become what Bruce would have been if Thomas and Martha were there.

He’s a public figure and philanthropist, carrying the legacies of Martha and Thomas on his shoulders. He has to keep Martha’s business running - no, not just running, thriving - and deal with corrupt officials, corporate espionage, and greedy businesspeople all but threatening him to take Wayne Enterprises public so they can trade stock, all while making sure Thomas’ charities are well-funded and the money is actually going where it should (see earlier greed, corporate and personal). This is all while having to attend galas and functions and fundraisers and events or risk pissing off any one of these people who can turn his life into hell - missing one event can lead to being blacklisted and then that means nobody goes to a charity gala, which means that there’s no hospital built for those in the Narrows.

All this and also consider that everybody in high society sneers at you because the only reason you’re there is because you’re engaged to Bruce and you lived with him ever since Martha and Thomas died. You’re besieged on all sides, because the snobs hate you, the press wonders if you’re even qualified to run a business, and there’s always envy and hatred from below because why aren’t you doing MORE to help them? You haven’t been trained in this - your parents were upper-middle-class at best; you met Bruce by chance, so it’s just you and Alfred and this crushing, all-consuming PRESSURE and the fact that none of it is enough, you aren’t doing enough, it’ll never be enough.

Oh, and at this point, you’re probably only in your mid-twenties at the latest. And it only gets harder because Bruce is back and crime fighting and now you have to worry about him dying on patrol, so every night you’re there to assist him (sleep? don’t know her) and patch him up and support him every day even though he pretends a little too well to be a drunken boor and a cheating asshole (sometimes he isn’t even pretending) and help him when he gets frustrated and then you adopt a kid after your first day off in years (day off, what’s a day off, you haven’t slept enough since you were eighteen and Bruce left you and Batman came back but you haven’t said a word about it) and now there’s school and making sure Dick eats enough and is happy and doing good and doesn’t get overworked on patrol and stressing on whether or not Dick is okay whenever he leaves the Manor and again, none of it is ever enough.

You feel like you’re in your fifties by the time you hit thirty and the Justice League forms and that means SO much more work not just physically but emotionally because Bruce can’t meet anyone new without determining a thousand different ways to kill them if necessary (except for Talia, apparently. And Selina. And Silver Freaking St. Cloud. And Julie Morrison. And any number of dalliances Bruce has had because somehow they’re all smarter. or stronger, or maybe he just has a weakness for tall women who don’t take his crap. Is that what you do? Is your loyalty and consistency and unconditional love actually what lets Bruce walk away so often to a woman’s bed? Is it because he knows you will still be there? Is it because you have put so much of yourself into this life, into your children, into the Wayne Legacy of Perfection and Excellence that it would kill you to leave? Is it because you’re just another tool to him, one that will be quickly replaced when you succumb to sleep-deprivation, or that thing you’ve heard about in the news where people are dying from overwork so often the Japanese have a name for it, or the fact that you’re doing the work of ten, no, twenty people and not once have you ever complained to Bruce or begged him like any reasonable person would to stop this vigilante nonsense and actually LIVE), but now you have to coordinate meetings and a thousand different secret identities and make sure everything’s kosher and nobody’s fighting and of course Bruce has a beef with the nicest freaking guy in the League and Clark keeps coming to you to see if you can help them work it out.

Oh, and then there’s Talia, aka the thorn in your existence and her child who literally has tried to murder you for the crime of being married to Bruce years before he had even heard of Talia, and now on top of all the above, you have to balance getting to know the kid and be reminded day in and day out by him that you aren’t enough, that Talia has such a deeper connection to Bruce, that you are an obstacle to his happiness, that she’s so much smarter and stronger than you, that you are weak and everything you touch becomes weak and tainted by you. And not to mention that you still aren’t doing enough because Gotham’s underprivileged are screaming in pain from everything they deal with and at least you are fed and clothed and you have a family you can support and you are rich and you need to be doing MORE.

And nobody else in the League can even come close to understanding you because wow, you do so much, do you ever take a break? You come this close to crying when Oliver remarks that if he had to do that much work, he’d go back to the island he was stranded on for five years because he’s joking. For anyone else your life would be a living hell and he’s joking. How do you do so much; do you ever sleep; hah, Bruce, your husband is showing you up! And this is when they even acknowledge you, and you feel like a major-league prick for even thinking these thoughts because Bruce and the League put their lives on the line every day (oh god they’re always in danger and the stress of losing your boys - which has happened to you already - and Bruce and your friends who are the only ones you can ever actually talk to without worrying that you’ll give away someone’s identity) and you’re complaining about a little bit of paperwork? You get to go to parties and meetings while your husband fights to save lives and you’re complaining? How selfish are you? All you do, everything you do, it isn’t enough, it’s never enough, there’s always MORE MORE MORE and it never ever stops.

Jason is dead, Jason comes back, Dick is beaten within an inch of his life, the Joker kidnaps Tim and you are hanging by a thread because the last time the Joker took one of your kids and you couldn’t find them meant that there was an empty bed and too many memories but no time to grieve because Bruce threw himself into work without a care and you needed to do even MORE because you can’t lose him too. And even the League was supposed to help with this but it doesn’t because you can’t bear to lose anyone, because they’re family and not only that, the world has gotten careless because the supers will save them and crime is actually going UP somehow and if even one of the League dies, a city could be overrun by now because the police and government are all but useless and the skies are filled with supervillains and the only thing stopping the world from falling into utter disrepair is the League, and thus you. And through all of this you have to be doing better, have to be doing MORE because every new thing means all the rest of your work becomes that much harder and you haven’t slept properly in a decade now and you feel ancient but still, you can’t complain, you haven’t earned the right to complain because you are never hungry and you never go without and there are so many people who need your help and charities that depend on you to function and kids that need fatherly advice and affection and a League that needs managing and you don’t have time for a breakdown because if you’re gone for too long everything collapses and everyone you love suffers and forget about therapy because who the FUCK could you ever talk to about any of this without either revealing a hundred secret identities and putting everything at risk or sound like a whiny crybaby?

Selina and Talia are back and hovering around your husband again and they flirt with him like you don’t exist and it’s not his fault and you love him but you see Talia every day in Damian’s voice and manner and don’t even think about talking to Bruce about his infidelity because he has so many more important things to worry about and he’s already apologized profusely and anything else makes you feel selfish and you HAVEN’T SLEPT in what feels like all your life and every moment not filled with work is filled with stress about work and worry because every time you don’t see your boys is a moment they can be dead and you don’t know it and every moment Bruce isn’t at the Watchtower is another moment Lex Luthor has to enact some horrifiying plan or the Joker gets ahold of a nuclear weapon or something else unforseeably terrible happens and it is TOO MUCH but you still need to be doing MORE because it isn’t enough and you aren’t enough and nothing is ever enough.

Is there even a you anymore? There used to be a kid there who just wanted to help his friend when he lost his parents. A kid who got left behind to stay with that friend. A teenager with dreams and hopes and wishes and a sweet boyfriend who could maybe get past his grief and lead a good life with you. A young man with the chance to stop his lover from leaving, to stay with him and not give in. Where did he go? Is he still there, underneath the years? Or is he gone, and this being made of stress and fear and feelings of inadequacy and stifled complaints and sadness gone unsaid and trauma left to fester all that you are? That kid you once were gets further and further away with everything you do to help, every time you keep silent because what good would it do to scream the way you want to, the way you’ve needed to for so many years but never let yourself?

And yes, your boys and your husband make it better, make it worthwhile, but it remains that you feel old, you’ve been tired since you were still 19. Your days are consumed with stress and your nights are filled with fear. And you can never say this now because it has been years, and you’ve lost that chance. The guilt would throw Bruce off his game and if he’s off his game, he could die and all of this would be for nothing. Quite against your will, you’ve been trapped in a no-win situation, and even death is no escape because you know that without you, it all comes crashing down and game over. You are Atlas, holding up the world and knowing that you have just enough strength to hold it up for eternity. And no one will release you from your prison.

But you have to endure it, and smile while you do so because if Bruce ever knew (or if he even cared to look), it’d all go falling down. You are the support, and the support’s support, but no one ever thinks that you might need assistance. What do you have going on? Being a dad? Working? Attending parties? It isn’t enough and you know it isn’t enough and everybody knows that it isn’t enough and they always, always need MORE.

I wonder now how Batdad does it. How he doesn’t break down crying. And part of that is because he is fictional, and I never thought about what it would be like to go through that level of pressure every day of your life. I hope someday Bruce comes to his senses. That even if he doesn’t let go of his grief, maybe he stops being Batman. And stops training Robins. Because yes, he gave them a home, but he manipulated them into being what he is. Who knows what good Dick could have done if he had just been Bruce’s adopted son. Maybe a philanthropist. Maybe he just would’ve had a happy life instead of one where he could die every day. Where he constantly has to reopen the wound of his parents’ deaths to convince him to keep at it. I want them to realize that they don’t have to, anymore.

But they won’t. Because they aren’t real. And they exist for our entertainment. And because we’ll keep reading the comics and watching the movies and playing the games, Bruce will always be Batman and never come to terms with his parents’ deaths in a healthy way and there will always be more threats to existence and even just to him personally.

And Batdad too, is trapped.

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batfamscreaming · 3 years

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Dick’s first day of school snuck up on them.

Bruce drove him down in a rusty small blue honda civic from the 1990s. They’d picked it up off the lot for under 3,000 and were using it as a way to ferry themselves to the junkyard to pick up parts for their special car--but for now, they were using it to drop Dick off at school.

Drop Richard Malone off at school.

On paper, Alfred paid for Dick to attend Gotham academy. A private school. It had both boarders and day students. Dick would be a day student, so long as it was feasible.

...on the first day of school, Bruce drove Dick down to his alma mater (which translated to ‘place you never wanted to visit again,’) and dropped him off outside the gates.

“Want me to walk you in, Chum?” he asked, despite it not being any Malone’s alma mater yet, and Dick glanced back at him and shook his head sharply, mumbling a quiet “see you later,” before going off towards the gates.

Bruce turned to drive home and realized, belatedly, that Dick had never not been homeschooled.

He waited for afternoon to pick Dick up again, and resolved to remember to pick up milkshakes on the way back, so he can ask how the day was with a backup plan.

“It is not the right time of year to prune,” Alfred told him. It was far too close to school starting. Far too close to fall. “But, I suppose, it isn’t impossible . It will just be a good bit trickier to know which branches need it.”

Bruce obligingly bought a new plant from a chain store--a nursery would’ve properly pruned it weeks ago, but chain stores didn’t have that same attention. Alfred brought it home in a little green planter: a tiny bush cut into a lopsided circle.

“This isn’t, in fact, how to do it,” Alfred said, setting it beside Bruce on the patio table. “Can you tell me why?”

“..it doesn’t target the dead branches,” Bruce said, and Alfred gave a nod.

“It’s indiscriminate. And quite sloppy.”

He handed Bruce a pair of pruning shears.

“With it cut like this, it’s a little difficult to find the dead branches, but you’ll manage.”

...after a moment, Bruce shoved his hand inside the bush and just… gripped one of the little branches that didn’t have any leaves on it between his fingers. He glanced at Alfred, who nodded obligingly and gave a smile that felt far too much like it was meant for a child.

“How far back do I cut?”

“As far back as you can.”

Bruce nodded and pushed the shears in. And snipped.

The metahuman had power over plants, the paper the day before had said. She argued she’d been acting in self-defense. Her children were crying out for help. And so she helped.

(“‘ I is hearing the scream of a flower as its stem is twisted from the ground,’” Dick read aloud by Bruce’s bedside, trying to work through the recommended reading list for his level. One year behind his age level wasn’t bad for three years on the road, but it was a lot to catch up on all the same. “‘ I is hearing the soft moan of the old oak, like an old man dying, weeping, when it is felled.’ ”)

As the state of New Jersey did not recognize plants as people or her as the property owner, her appeal was denied. She would spend several years above minimum in Belle Reve for aggravated assault.

(even though the one she assaulted wasn’t there. Bruce hadn’t stepped into court. Bruce hadn’t said a thing. There was one phone call, and a woman, naked, trapped outside on a Gotham street, and then five other people stepped forward, claiming to be someone she’d attacked.

And he didn’t know what to think about that. If what everyone said was true was true, or if it was just falling into the fallacy of mob mentality. If it was easier to accept what was said as true. Even if he'd seen the violence first hand, it was him being attacked, that was different--)

He kept his mouth shut, and reached for the next dead branch, and clipped.

“...and how would I trim something that’s not dead, but it might… be overgrown? Or the wrong height?”

“Hmm,” Alfred said, still watching him. “Well, first we will need to get you a proper ladder.”

Justly imprisoned or not, the metahuman--a former botanist called Pamela Isley--would be in Belle Reve for several years.

Maybe he could change something in this town while she was gone.

Therefore, Mr. Malone came to the Gotham Parks and Recreation office, asking if when he got this 501c3 approved that he be allowed to enter Robinson Park and clean up the place.

And the budget-starved Parks office said fuckin’ do it if you’re brave enough, man , and sent him on his way.

It was… much easier than he expected, really. But perhaps the Parks department carried so little influence no one had even bothered to bribe them to keep people out. All the same, he’d listen to that backwards warning.

He drafted the papers in two days. He worked over it at dinner, trying to fill the gap that had once been occupied by discussing with Dick where to travel next and how to best avoid a million impending dooms. He had a free consultation with an attorney in the morning who looked up at Bruce over his glasses, eyebrows up, and reminded Bruce that the park was where mob deals went down and that grassy lady attacked a fella the other day.

Bruce said that was fine. He knew. He wasn’t here to cause a ruckus.

Legal documents. Articles of Affiliation. Mission Statement. It was helpful to have a second pair of eyes that actually expected the little bureaucracies innate in law, things that Dick and Alfred preferred to grumble at rather than knot through. Not that Bruce had been trained in law himself, but his school friend, Harvey Dent--

(was still in the hospital. Burn ward. He’d stabilized, but wasn’t often conscious--)

...Bruce submitted the paperwork after the Parks commission met with him, and then all he had to do was draw up a budget and wait. Alfred ‘lent’ Mr. Malone the startup money to establish a paper trail. After the initial donation, Bruce could make periodic donations to himself in various names; have miraculous windfalls whenever cash grew thin. Even without any backing or campaigns, he could make this startup impossible to fail.

...the problem is, Bruce has long proven his judgement is impaired.

When Dick returns from school not sniffling but vibrating with stress all the same, Bruce’s first thought is to run and start over somewhere else.

He thinks it might be an averted suicide response. The need to pack up and leave the current problems behind. With a hardline against being able to die, his mind latches onto another option. A fight-or-flight response that only hits flight when the problem isn’t something that can’t be physically fought off, like a tween coming into the car and sitting down in the passenger seat with a deep sigh.

...Bruce asks how his day was.

Dick says it was fine.

Bruce doesn’t ask if he wants a milkshake. He goes through the drive-through and buys some anyway. They go home and work how to install tail fins on the car frame slowly coming together in their garage.

...the ‘suicide’ response isn’t the only thing that lingers. Bruce isn’t really sure ‘lingering’ is the right term, actually. The flight response only arises when things can’t be handled directly in front of himself anymore, but the fight response--

Bruce has impaired judgment.

He proved it as soon as his first ‘suicide’ response sent him to the League of Assassins, and he decided to not flee the moment they made it clear nothing would continue until he took a life. He proved it when he wasn’t able to avoid dragging a literal child in the middle of a personal crisis into his mess, rather than leaving him somewhere safe and far, far away from him. He proved it with each near-death experience from Deathstroke in Metropolis to Isley in Gotham.

And yet, here he was again, finding himself cleaning up the Batman suit long after Dick was put to bed, adjusting it with better material to withstand a bullet’s penetration.

The people at the parks department weren’t wrong. It would be dangerous to work the area while the mob still operated widely inside it, and he would not cooperate alongside the mobs for protection. The alternative was therefore relatively obvious: get rid of the mobs.

Mobs weren’t exactly like a snake, but they did function well enough like one. Cut off the head. And like a hydra, if new heads sprouted--smother them.

...that, at least, he knew how to do. Kidnapping and recon, and finding information. Find proof of a mob boss’ wrongdoing and get a prosecutor not so cowardly to be bribed. Hand the information over. Don’t let them fail the charges. High profile dangerous people wouldn’t be kept in a local jail, but would likely be transferred to a higher-security prison, circumnavigating the cluttering, and with a focus on high-priority prisoners rather than most random people out on the street, they would be moved through the system more quickly, hopefully at least stalling out their operations in the meantime, if not shattering the whole system beneath them with the sudden departure.

This was the best plan he had, and it relied far, far too much on too many external variables--finding a clean court, getting a jury that felt safe enough to actually put their foot down, finding witnesses willing to testify, a prosecutor who wouldn't be bribed--

(fuck)

--and dealing with a Commissioner whose good graces he might’ve worn out.

…

But the alternatives were to allow this to continue growing, complicit by his own inaction.

(he was already complicit enough in too many crimes.)

(How did you clean up a world that you yourself aided in the destruction of?)

Prosecutors that couldn't be bribed?

They ended up like Harvey Dent.

Batman appears without Robin that evening, because it is a school night and Dick needs to sleep. He stops what crimes in progress he comes across and starts watching Robinson Park more closely.

He doesn't interfere inside it. He just watches. Plants cameras in the bushes and on the branches of trees, and zips his way out, to watch the footage and get to know the day and nighttime patterns of the area.

It… will take time. That's something he's not used to. Dick and he worked fast on the road, and even before that he was either handed his information by the ones lower down the chain or only spent a handful of days doing legwork to verify things that'd been missed. Instant gratification, he guessed he could call it. Just… dealing out a death and being done with it.

(And somehow, he'd drawn the line at known violent mobsters and Deathstroke.)

...he had to do a lot of meditation to get through the park video feeds. He had a lot of work stacking up between tracking down faces from the feeds. Police database of mugshots helped more than he expected. He started a tally of how many people in the mugshots were brought in bloodied and who brought them in to look into later.

After all, if Gotham was going to get rid of its mob problem, the police force would need some pruning, too.

Gotham recidivism was above 80%. Bruce gargled his coffee and tried very hard to not spit it out somewhere, because somehow, he was more tired by this statistic than shocked. A bit of, ‘oh, I knew it would be high, but really?’

No fucking wonder there weren’t enough cells in the world.

(What do you do when you can’t put anymore garbage in a landfill?

Learning what a fucking recycling program is might be a good first step.)

It's okay, though. He's totally got a handle on this. He's already been looking into what makes recidivism lower, and the difficulty of access to jobs for felons seems like a big one. Lack of change to living situations that caused pettier crimes like reselling material or shoplifting. The inside prison situation has an effect, according to Norway, which has a prison system Bruce isn't even hoping to replicate, even if he were a living millionaire with a clear conscience.

Reading other people's’ writings on recidivism has… definitely helped clarify things for him, even if all he can think of for the worst of criminals is still to lock them in a cell far away from everyone or until the death penalty finally takes it out of his hands.

But it is one thing to lock up a murderer who sabotaged a family performance and killed in front of an audience, and children, and child … versus locking up the child who killed trying to protect their family from an abusive partner.

They’re different. They have to be.

If Bruce has any right to be alive, he has to be able to believe in gray areas.

Bruce drops the first of several Maroni forerunners on Gordon's desk in the northern precinct. When he finds the precinct desk vacant, he pays a visit to the commissioner’s house instead.

The thought process is that it would probably be best to clarify that the dropoff isn’t an attack on the commissioner's authority. It’s an opening for compromise. Bruce will be mindful of the incarceration rates, but he won’t be leaving Gotham and he’d like cooperation from the police when it came to prosecution.

Unfortunately, he proposes it in the form of a paper note (written in his off-hand) slipped onto Gordon’s bedroom table where the man will notice it as soon as he returns for bed, which is much more threatening than he fully realizes.

(He doesn’t imagine Gordon’s daughter will find the note first and replace it just as she found it after reading. Then again, he doesn’t ever find out it happened, either.)

The county’s defense office wants to cut a plea deal with the gangster brought in, because no one wants to be the next Harvey Dent. The Assistant DA, a woman named Rachel Dawes, seems willing to try, but the department is extremely reluctant to support her, even as she steps up to take Dent’s place until another election can be held.

In the precinct, Bruce’s audiobugs catch officers he’s tracking placing bets on how long until someone finishes Dent off in his hospital bed.

Bruce decides he needs to be more aggressive.

Twenty-seven aggressive anonymous tipoffs and two synchronized FBI raids half a month later, and Bruce is startled when the door to his bedroom opens and Dick walks in. Bruce doesn't really jump in surprise anymore-- it’s more of… half reaching a position to fight, and stopping in a split second as he realizes the threat doesn't exist.

“Ah,” he says, “do you need--?”

“I was at school,” Dick says, answering the question in an odd way. He didn't need anything, he'd just come back from school--

Bruce’s neck snaps up to look at the clock, while the other part of his brain realizes that it’s nearly dark outside.

“Did Alfred--” he says, a panicky shame he’s not used to rising up within him.

“No,” Dick says, shrugging his backpack off and slumping onto bed. “When I realized you weren't coming I walked home.”

Bruce's throat feels tight. “You should've called.”

“Figured you were busy,” Dick says, watching the ceiling, “you've got more important stuff than school.”

Bruce remembers, the pain less raw with years, the slow agony of a school day, knowing there must be more he could do than sit through the farce.

He remembers that agony of adolescent uselessness clearly, pain dulled or not, but he’s also wisened to its falsehood over the years. There was little he could manage at the time.

“...I’ll set an alarm next time, but school isn't unimportant,” he says, keeping calm and controlled for an extra moment, before doing a double-take on the thought he’d had just a moment before.

Adolescence?!

School is over a month in. Dick’s anniversary is coming up soon. Bruce has gotten the Feds back in Gotham and an internal investigation into the police force for corruption. His nonprofit is finalizing some paperwork and looking into how to hire nonviolent offenders and start training them for small-time landscaping and cleanup by contracting with a local pre-established landscape crew that mostly does the outer and northern Gotham estates. Harvey Dent is conscious but minimally verbal in the hospital. And Dick is thirteen, officially a teenager.

Bruce does not know how teenagers are different from younger children. He does not recall being any different than he is now at either age. Only morose haze interspersed by flashes of overwhelming tension and temper.

Harvey once knew him at that age. Not that Bruce could talk to Harvey--not… as himself. The man Harvey knew was long, long dead, (or, it would be simpler if that man was dead, and Bruce as he was now was a new man entirely--) and it’s not as though Bruce could ask advice anyway.

Still. Maybe he will send Harvey some flowers they’ve started in the backyard...

Once the Justice League gets out of his living room.

Aside from Superman calling over the phone whenever he seems to please, once a month Martian Manhunter seems to show up, posing as just another social worker or lawyer or family friend, here to check in on how things are going with adoption, or the 501C3, or the… latest cookies out of the oven.

And if it’s not Martian Manhunter helping Dick sneak cookies off the cooling rack, then it’s Wonder Woman, which is somehow even worse.

There are not a lot of situations when Bruce would rather a mind reader with incredible telekinetic powers who could mentally and emotionally cripple him with a thought be in his presence, versus just a very strong lady who could rip him in two by breathing.

Diana Prince has made that situation a monthly occurrence.

She came this time while they were in the garage, putting together a much-overdue car engine. Alfred had insisted on dinner before business. Diana Prince stands in his house for over an hour by the time the rope finally came out and they got down to business. It is an hour too long. Bruce doesn’t think he’s had more than a few words of conversation with her since they moved into Alfred’s townhouse late summer, but he has heard the same questions out of her mouth far too many times.

“Have you been hurt lately?”

“No,” Dick says, because he only patrols on weekends, and Bruce makes sure he’s kept well away from anything that looks like it will have guns.

“Are you being treated well?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

“Y…”

...Bruce blinks for a second, before he realizes that Dick’s teeth are clenched tight and his face is turning faintly to another color.

“Dick…?” Diana says, before Dick gives into the rope, and says the truth.

“No.”

He’s not sure if anyone else can hear the air leave the room, but it does, and Bruce feels his lungs collapse in the vacuum left behind. His stomach shrivels into a ball.

He wants to run from the room, but his feet are too heavy and slow to move, so he just crosses his arms even tighter, and digs his fingers into his ribs.

“...why is that?” Diana asks. She doesn’t even glance back at Bruce when she does it. She doesn’t even glance away in the first place, even as Dick is screwing his eyes shut. The color his face has settled on is red, and blotchy, and fast.

Dick drops the rope from his hand and hiccups.

Bruce can’t move to comfort him.

...Diana looks between Dick, and the dropped rope, and pulls it back into the lasso loop. She stands.

“...I’m going to head outside for a bit and give you two some privacy.”

She turns and walks out to the garden, where Alfred is still watering the flowers.

Dick hiccups again, and Bruce is a stranger in his own body as he sits on the floor cross legged, and pulls Dick into his arms.

...he’s a lot bigger than he was when he was eight and curled into Bruce’s side, just minutes after his parents fell. Bruce puts his hand on the kid’s head, fingers running through the cropped dark hair.

“...Dick?” Bruce says. “Dick?”

He doesn’t get a response. He sits there, uncomfortably rubbing Dick’s hair, until Diana returns some long minutes later, announcing it’s about time she headed out.

“I’ll see you next month,” she says, mostly to Dick, who still hasn’t looked up.

Even as Bruce wonders if it’s a threat, something in his chest loosens when Diana leaves and Dick stays behind.

Eventually, they get up, and try to get ready for bed.

—

Harvey Dent wakes up again.

The last thing he remembers is a gun being pulled on him; a court case that he had to win, no matter what—

The nurses are alerted to his consciousness by the sound of his screaming.

Bruce Malone has no reason to visit him. No clearance. No nothing. All he does is run a small nonprofit startup, currently sending out applications to the very criminals Harvey put behind bars.

He doubts Batman would be welcome.

—

Gotham elects temp-head Rachel Dawes to permanent DA to finish out Harvey’s term by seventeen votes. Bruce doesn’t rig the election, though he thinks of doing so. Instead, he spends the week beforehand trying to disrupt the bribery network connecting the ballot counters to the remaining mob and asking Robin to go make sure the paperless polls aren’t hacked the night before.

...Robin isn’t happy with Bruce going out on his own still. But they compromise, some.

They send Harvey flowers.

They leave a note on Dawes’ desk. An offer, if she needs anything. They don’t want her to end up like her predecessor.

—

In the morning, at the first hint of workable weather, Bruce has some on-parole inmates and recent-releases standing in the middle of the park, shivering, holding shovels and rakes.

This is the first day they’ll be working together and training on the job. There will be a stipend associated with the work. Tools are provided. There’s just—they haven’t done this before. And neither has Bruce Malone, who failed to shake off his kid, Richard, who is sitting off on a picnic table not far away, arms wrapped around his snow pants and pouting furiously.

...He stays quiet as Bruce starts showing the group what they’re supposed to be doing— first snipping the large bushes down to size, raking the sticks and leaves into piles, and then coming up the back with shovels to help define areas for mulch beds around the bushes. Generally they would not be pruning this early into fall, but… the bushes have to go.

It’s step one (ignoring Bruce’s personal twenty-step plan midway through execution) to help keep the park safe and free-er of illegal activities: just being able to see into the damn park.

Once they actually start working, Richard gets up from his perch and glumly takes a rake, helping follow along and pulling the old foliage and branches into a set of neat piles a couple feet out of the way.

It would be one thing if Dick seemed to be having fun, but… he doesn’t really. He’s tolerant enough with the car (whose construction has largely stalled) but he’s never really had the kind of brain like Bruce’s which likes the simple, repetitive patterns of gardening, or kata, or math.

(“I don’t want to stay home,” Dick had said that morning.

“Then wouldn’t going out with a friend be better?” Bruce said over breakfast.

“I don’t have any friends!”

Bruce did not respond to that, and had escorted Dick to the park.)

...they pack up in the later afternoon, when the sun is still high but before banks close-- Bruce gathering up all the direct deposit information for the ones who sound interested in coming back, and paying the rest with checks. Dick waits in the car.

When they drive back home, something big, and blue, and midwestern is already in their kitchen, and is talking to Alfred about pie crust technique.

( Hell. )

Superman is wearing his full goddamn uniform as they enter. He turns and smiles when they come into the living room, raising up one big hand to greet them.

“Hey there! Decided I’d stop by.”

“....You did,” Bruce agrees, while Dick seems to perk up, eyes widening at the very large and blue man leaning on the counter.

Dick had met Superman already. Spent a week at least on the same spaceship as him. Stared him down over Bruce’s unconscious body. Somehow, it wasn’t stopping him from having that bright excitement in his eyes, now.

Maybe Superman was more exciting when he presumably wasn’t here to arrest anyone.

Presumably.

“Uh-huh,” said Superman. “And Mr. Pennyworth was telling me some about how things have been going for you here! Community service work. Sounds good.”

Sounded innocent was more like it. Sounded like prisoners in bright orange vests on the roadsides picking up litter for fifty cents an hour. Doing time, paying back society for all he’d done to it— yeah, he figured it would sound good to Superman.

“It is,” said Bruce.

Dick, maybe in a better mood now that they were out of the Gotham smog, saves him again.

“Are you here for dinner?” Dick asked, not quite on his tiptoes—not on his tiptoes at all, actually.

He’d grown again, Bruce realized. Now he stood almost to Bruce’s ribs, where once he’d had to stretch to reach.

“No, I didn’t think I’d be that welcome,” Superman said, smiling sheepishly, and good. At least he knew. “I’m just the messenger this time. Because we are going to have to start cashing in on that deal we made.”

For a moment, Bruce’s heart stills, and he feels Dick tense just a little bit beside him.

(Is it wrong, for a moment, that he’s still glad that Dick tenses when they both know it won’t be him attacked?)

“Woah, woah, no scary faces—“ Bruce’s face had not changed. “We just need your input. Information sharing, remember? Flash has had some weird things going on in his neighborhood and we thought maybe it’d be something you’d recognize.”

...Right.

Right.

He was getting protection from This League in exchange for cooperation, not just his dignity.

Before he could pull himself back into his body, Superman added, “and Robin too, of course.”

“Robin doesn’t need to—“ Bruce began.

“—Robin would be delighted ,” Dick said, raising his voice unnecessarily high and drowning out Bruce’s own.

Bruce looked down at Dick, mouth flat. Dick stared back up at him, scowling and arms crossed.

“You hate busywork,” said Bruce.

“It’ll be fine!” Said Superman, suddenly in his face , arms moving between him and Dick, pushing them apart, like they were dangerous to each other— “Flash was just going to bring his kid, uh, flash along with him, and thought it would be good for them to meet. Should’ve led with that. Just, giving kids friends in their own age bracket.”

Bruce had stood rock still, staring at the same spot Dick had been, now blocked by Superman’s arms. He did not look away.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “You should’ve led with that.”

—

...the next evening, his attempts at trimming his hair were interrupted by Alfred, who was quick to steal the scissors away and finish things himself. Soon, it was short enough he could slick it back for the first time in… a while. He pulled on one of his better dark turtlenecks. Business slacks. Dark shoes. Dark. Maybe too obviously a hide-away-in-the-background type dark.

They met Flash… on the other side of a zeta beam. Bruce hadn’t ridden one since first being escorted from the Watchtower to Gotham.

He hadn’t forgotten how uncomfortable it was, but it was one thing to remember in the mind and another to be given a reminder in the body.

Neither he nor Dick were in costume. There was no reason for Batman and Robin to suddenly be in Central. There would hopefully be no reason for anyone to suspect Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson to travel so far away from their little safe haven and attack.

Flash, however, did have some things to protect still, and so he waited on the other side of the zeta with his bright red costume made darker in the night, and an unfortunately bright smudge of yellow standing beside him.

“Hey, Bats,” Flash said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you nicely this time.”

Bruce was really glad he hadn’t given in to breaking this guy’s legs. That would have made this reintroduction unbearably uncomfortable. As it was, he met the hand slowly, and enough of a sound for acknowledgement.

Flash didn’t say anything about it, turning instead to Dick. “And you! Also glad to see you’re doing fine; hooow’s the ankle. This is my sidekick, Kid Flash.”

There was no time to answer to the ankle before Flash had introduced and thumped the yellow teen him on the back, getting the very encouraging response, “I’m not a kid I’m a teenager, ” which was too obvious to have needed pointing out, considering the cracks in his voice and the speckles acne surrounding his lips. “Don’t embarrass me!”

“I would never do that.”

(While Bruce remained cold in his skin despite the warm night, beside him, Dick let out a little bit of a laugh. Almost a few huffs of one, really. It was softening. It was enough to unfreeze Bruce some and get him going again.)

“You needed help with identification?” said Bruce, stepping forward to end the introductions.

Flash’s expression changed back to serious in a… flash. At least he didn’t look disappointed. Or surprised. “Yeah. Follow me, there’s a place a little more private down the street.”

That place ended up being a deli bakery. One that had very much closed for the evening, and had shuttered its windows for good measure. This made very little difference to Flash, who pulled out a key from a very discreet pocket, and opened the staff door in the back.

“They donate the day-old stuff to me,” Flash said, grinning, like that explained much at all. “Why don’t you kids go see if there’s anything set on top of the counters in the back?”

The little yellow flash made a sound that wasn’t quite a whoop, but wasn’t quite quiet, either.

And then the little hand reached out, grabbed Robin’s wrist, and pulled him through the door behind the counter.

“Woah, easy, chief.”

Flash’s hand wasn’t touching Bruce, no, but it was in front of him, ready to block and restrain in a movement as Bruce took a step forward to follow.

He turned to look at Flash, and met his same hard eyes looking back through Flash’s mask.

“They’re just gonna look around and see if they can find some food. It’s fine.”

Bruce knew that was just what they were doing, of course. He just wanted to— check. Just to make sure. It was a closed up shop of people they didn’t know in a city that was too dark and empty at night, save for a few well-maintained streetlamps and a pair of teenage girls walking down the sidewalk to the seven-eleven, sticking close together in the Midwest fall—-

“Let’s just get a seat and wait for them, and we can get started. How’s that?”

Flash had removed his hand, and was gesturing now to one of the booth seats near the bar. Not by the windows. Maybe far enough from the windows that anyone who looked in and saw a book light on would just assume management was doing the books late.

(Bruce’s jaw was not tight , it was just his teeth kept pressing down together. He sat down across from the seat Flash gestured to. It was better to get through work quickly, and head home.)

“Okay,” said Flash, suddenly in the booth with him. Bruce almost still felt the breeze of the movement as a book-clipped green folder was produced and laid out on the table. “So, this is a case that’s been going on a little while. Take your time and let me know what you think of it.”

The file was pushed over to Bruce’s side of the table, and he took it quietly, removing the clip and flipping it open.

He disregarded the notes and bios and instead turned first to the photos.

...he did not like looking through other people’s photos. All he could think of was that he would have liked a bit closer look at the doorframe, or just a little bit out of angle, or frustration at someone’s focus being a little bit out. That was why you took lots of photos of course, but it was still a gnawing anxiety in him that they were going to just miss something. All he had were his eyes through someone else’s lense and someone else’s word to take for it.

Which he was very bad at liking.

….but that was just what this was, he guessed. The case was from five years prior. A body of an older woman on the floor of an enclosed porch. Broken glass. Gunshot wound to the left shoulder, close enough to the heart she’d probably been dead within a minute or two, long before the first police officers had arrived. A bullet hole in the wall behind her. Fallen out of her chair. Glass window of the porch had shattered. A bullet had been extracted from the wall, looking like a .22– moderately furnished house with plastic sheeting over the couches. Wicker chairs. An expensive security system had captured what were rendered as stills of the moment the bullets entered the cameras view, and a man a minute or so later on the front door at the other side of the house, running inside, presumably to inspect.

There were other things. They seemed comfortably middle to upper-middle class, from the photos, and finally turning to look at the profiles confirmed it. 68. White. Retired with a moderate stipend. Married thirty years. No priors or connections that Bruce might consider linking to any of the people he knew. Just things like public intoxication, driving violations, a few fines—

Her husband was found with her, and owned the same caliber gun that had broken the glass encasement, shot the woman, and knocked her out of her chair before lodging in the wall. He’d run in from across the street to investigate the gunshot, he said. He denied doing the deed, and circumstantial evidence was not enough to make a conviction on—

...Bruce flipped through the folder again, frowning.

Flash, who had pulled out his phone, looked up. “Something?”

“...what is it you want me to say about this?” It was a neatly put together file. Very neatly. No real loose ends, if everything in it was true. What was he supposed to be catching, here?

“Just, I guess, your thoughts. Anything stand out?” He took the moment to arch his back and stretch his arms out a bit, one hand still holding the phone. Smiled a bit. Friendly.

Bruce frowned while looking at Flash this time.

“This is a test,” he stated, “and I doubt just to see if I’d throw out a name just to be ‘useful.’”

Flash blinked innocently at him, but he was still smiling. “I mean, haha, can’t blame us too much…? You found a lot of trafficking chains, but, I mean—“

“The case has already been closed, and you’re certain of who did it,” said Bruce flatly. He flipped the folder shut and shoved it back across the table. “I’d rather see the scene myself, but if the numbers are right, the bullet hole is too steep an angle for a flat lawn if the husband shot from shoulder height. Someone half his height, or someone kneeling or lying in the grass. He’s old enough to have trouble getting up from that position, much less from the edge of the yard, to run around to the front of the house and avoid grass stains from a new cut lawn. There’s not enough other information to know who might’ve had a motive to make it professional or not.”

…

Flash blinked at him, leaning his elbows on the table to watch. He wasn’t smiling or laughing anymore. Good.

“Yeah,” Flash said. Moved the folder off the table, to the booth seat, out of view. “Some kids were playing with their new .22 in the yard across from the house and accidentally shot her through the window. They confessed a few months ago.”

It was a small enough crime that news wouldn’t have made it to Gotham. Or been widely publicized at all, if ‘kids’ meant they were still minors. That would make them thirteen at most at the time of the shooting—

Bruce wasn’t sure if his throat was full of acid or metal as he said, “Is there anything else for me to look over?”

Flash hesitated a moment (an eternity for him, surely) and said, “Well…”

Bruce stood and made a straight fucking line to the door Dick had been pulled in and not yet emerged. Flash called out, “Hey—!”

….even as the hand fell on his shoulder and tried to pull him back, Bruce had frozen in the doorway.

On the other side, he could only see a bit— the doorframe was too narrow and he dared not step closer—but he could see enough.

He’d wondered, a little bit, why Robin hadn’t emerged when he’d begun speaking. Surely he was loud enough to be heard from the back room. They were only meant to be separated minutes. Just a quick mission. Now, he could see, though—

Dick, sitting on an industrial chest freezer, his legs kicking, not near touching the floor.

He was holding a popsicle. One of the fudge ones. Partly eaten and the top of the stick beginning to show, and Robin didn’t see how it was beginning to drip down over the crinkled plastic wrap, and would soon run over his fingers.

He was busy, looking at Kid Fash. Kid Flash squatting on the floor with a creamsicle, holding it up to the color of his suit, and visibly whining with an orange tongue, a pouting face—

And Robin ignored his own melting ice cream to laugh.

...Flash’s hand tugged on his shoulder again, this time gentle enough that Bruce felt it. He turned with the pressure, and headed back for the booth.

He sat down in it, across from Flash and his already-solved case folder.

“...this was not for case files, was it,” Bruce said, staring at the table between them, feeling very stupid and small.

“I mean,” Flash said, looking almost as embarrassed as Bruce was shamed. “...we did want to know. But… we thought maybe my uh, my cousin could use someone who could relate to him.”

Ah yes. For Kid Flash’s sake. For the boy who they’d never seen publicized before, who was complaining about his outfit color as if he hadn’t chosen it, who didn’t know that in Flash’s ‘occasional empty diner hideout’ he was allowed to run off and eat before being told.

Not for the boy that for the past month Diana’s pitying face had hung over, the boy who had eagerly asked to Superman to stay for dinner, and who Martian Manhunter would deliver sleeves of choco cookies to, even though they had more than enough money to purchase a box for themselves.

...perhaps Bruce should be glad Flash wasn’t the best at lying. Perhaps Bruce was too used to looking for tells, and mistook super speed masking for the truth.

“I see,” was all he said.

When he’d been a child, there had been plenty of others who knew death, and who had never moved him an inch for all their crying. He’d done his best to make that untrue for Dick the past few years, and now they knew each other’s grief inside and out.

Bruce did not know what else to do from there.

It was grief all the way down.

“He’ll need to learn how to counter people who might actually know how to fight speedsters,” he said, watching the table. “There’s pads in the basement, if he’d like to improve sparring with Dick sometimes.”

Flash blinked at him again. Flash sat up straighter, grinning. “Oh?”

“Oh,” Bruce agreed, looking up to scowl. “But for fuck’s sake, bring more than one casefile next time.”

—

On Robin’s anniversary, a gang fight breaks out in the Diamond District.

Something gone wrong. A shootout.

Bruce isn’t sure if it could’ve been called a shootout before the police arrive. By the end of the night, the building is on fire, and a gas vein has blown. Heavy smoke drifting down the street causes a panic, and then a stampede—

He doesn’t want to let Robin out tonight.

On the news, it looks like there are fights breaking out in the stampede. There are people lying down, specks of color on the ground as the helicopter news anchor tries to describe the scene. She’s pure professional. Cold eyes. Clear eyes.

The smoke momentarily engulfs the helicopter, and she begins crying.

He does not want to let Robin out tonight.

He will deal with the outrage in the morning.

—

(On Robin’s anniversary, Harvey Dent sees the fires and hears gunshots from his hospital room. He drags himself and his IV stand away from the bed, towards the window, and fumbles with the latch with ineffective hands. The nurses come with the heart monitor alert. When they sedate him, Harvey is still screaming “Burn it down, burn it down.” )

—

...as often as it happens, Bruce doesn’t think Gotham knows how to deal with tragedy. Wasn’t it common by now? Weren’t they used to it? But as much as the flags should’ve flown half mast and statues been erected, the world stood still— the next morning, school busses take the children to school, and their parents march out to work.

Bruce has a distinct face, but with enough makeup and a red wig, he can seem to be a different person for a while. He can dress himself up as officer and with enough confidence and disdain walk right passed the caution tape and into the crime scene the next morning.

Is it still accurate to call several city blocks a crime scene? Is it a crime scene at all?

There’s caution tape around it. He knows what the words mean in his head. A shape, more than a real definition, with real letters attached— a block of space that has crumbled differently from the world around him. A depression of buildings, some with more tarps laid down than others.

Most of the bodies have been taken to the morgue by now. Not all of them. But most.

Is he going to sneak into the morgue tonight? Is he going to cut open an innocent person who gave no consent to him? To do more than what their family may have agreed to? Will he just steal the coroner’s report and assume they did their jobs properly?

….it is Gotham. He will assume nothing until proven otherwise. Even now it feels like the police are more rattled than usual, like something has actually gone and bitten them and made them pay a bit more attention.

Inside the building where the shootout started, he starts to look for the bullet holes and take pictures. He looks for scorch marks to track towards the origins of the blaze.

He doesn’t find a blown gas vein, no matter how hard he looks.

There was a difference between a storage building and a warehouse. This was a storage building. It had perhaps had a secretary and some organizers. Someone in charge of keeping track of records. There had been unused parts of the building. Bare rooms without much beyond stripped light switches and unpainted walls. One or two empty office spaces, for meetings perhaps. For presentations.

It was on the second floor where he found the lab. What appeared to be the remains of a lab, in any case. It had been shot up through the floors, and the papers had burnt up in the fire. Police hadn’t officially come up this high yet. The stairs didn’t seem stable. Bruce had not specifically used the stairs. As long as no one saw him slip back down, it would be fine.

It seemed as if the lab had not been in use at the time of the shootout. Fortunate. The beakers were broken, but they were all clustered together near the sink, clean, and so presumably had all been put away after any use. There was nothing sitting out that seemed to have been mid-use. He would’ve believed a Bunsen burner might’ve started part of the fire, but there was none of that, either.

...there was one thing. A broken tankard in the corner that had caused most of the damage, to be certain. A high caliber round seemed to have punctured it, either from the floor below or fired from the hall outside. Otherwise, there would’ve been another body up here, or at least the remnants of one. But the sudden decompression seemed to have mostly left just… a badly scattered room and shrapnel damage on the opposing wall.

He was about to move to the next room when he noticed the faint texture inside the tank and a matching sort of stain on the ceiling above.

...he moved closer to the tank, holding his breath and not daring to hope (should he be hoping for something?) and investigated.

A thin layer of green-ish white powder layered the insides of the tankard. An explosive cloud of the stuff must have also flown towards the ceiling and stained it during decompression. He’d assumed it was an oxygen tank. Assumed wrong.

Taking out a few q-tips, he picked up a few wipes and sealed them away in an evidence bag, did another once-over of the room, now trying to double check everything and ignore his ‘assumptions’, but the burnt papers remained largely illegible, and the cleaned lab materials yielded nothing new.

He moved on to the next room, and slipped out quietly from there to check the rest of the street.

—

He arrived back home in different clothes just about the time that Dick (picked up by Alfred) returned home from school.

The kid looks at Bruce as Bruce enters the front room, and a silent but perceptible drone passes between them.

For a moment, Bruce simply looked back, wondering what it was he was supposed to say here.

Eventually, he fumbles in his pockets and pulled out dust-covered q-tips. They’d done this lots of times on the road, hadn’t they? And it had been fun, then. “Want to help identify oddly colored dust?”

Dick lets his head drop back with an open-mouthed groan at the ceiling, but he does come to the garage lab without… any other response than that sound and movement.

...Bruce was not sure what that meant.

—

Who the fuck was rigging exploding nitrous oxide cans to deliver green-dyed powdered LSD?

—

Monday, at the park, he tells the ones who show up they can stay and work in the park as they’ve been doing the last two weeks, or they can come with him to help clean up the areas damaged by the fire.

Most of them, eight out of the ten, peel off to go help with the fire damage. He can’t say he expected that. But they wander out of the park, keeping together in a group, and spend the day with magnet sticks picking up nails and crooked metal and stacking bricks up out of the walkway. They hose down the ashes to stop dust and at Bruce’s insistence, scoop the ashes into garbage bags instead of just washing it all into the sewer.

It gets him some weird looks, but no one is ready to argue with him after only working for two weeks, because these are the ones who stayed for that daily stipend-- there’s not a contract here; these ten are the ones who hate this work less than anything else they might’ve had available, so they break out two flat shovels and bag things up, wearing cotton masks to avoid inhalation. Bruce trots back to the park to get the truck and pick up all those bags for disposal.

He’s prepared for the ones they left behind to have skipped out early, unsupervised, but as he rounds the (now lower) hedges to look at their base of operations he finds… they actually have acquired an extra person.

No, the shovels aren’t moving and the hedges don’t look that different from what they’d been like this morning, but that’s still not abandoning a position. And instead they have some soda cans from the nearby vending machine, and are leaning on a termite-eaten picnic table, talking with rapt interest to Dick Grayson.

Bruce paused to take it in a second time. Dick certainly clocked him coming into view even though the kid didn’t turn to look his direction. Dick was still there, though, sitting on the other side of the picnic table with a fizzy orange juice and his legs crossed under himself. It wasn’t Bruce’s day to pick him up, Bruce was certain, and yet he had a moment where he had to think of it again to make sure, and checked his phone, and his pocket schedule. But his instinct was right, and it was indeed Alfred’s day to pick Dick up from school while Bruce worked here in the park--

He started to walk over just as Dick turned and raised a hand in greeting, letting the recruits cue into his presence before he was close enough to startle them. And yet, they were still startled enough to look at their shovels and very obviously say “shit,” even when Bruce was still too far away to actually hear it. Then, one seemed to realize they had cursed in front of a tween, said “shit” again, and smacked themselves on the forehead.

Dick’s nose wrinkled up as he smiled. Bruce couldn’t hear it, but he knew it was a laughter snort.

(He did not acknowledge his jaw untensing as he walked up to Dick who was smiling and sociable again.)

He came over intending to smile and say words and have a nice conversation, and… then he was close enough and realized he didn’t know what to say. Did he tell them not to corrupt Dick? Would they take that as him implying they were poisonous to others? Would Dick take that as him being protective and spoil the mild good mood? If he told them to take the rest of the day off since clearly things weren’t going to happen, was that dismissal? Or was that chasing them off? Would it be a threat to their paycheck, even though he intended to pay the day’s wages fair as always?

Things seemed to be going almost well lately. The park was slowly being cleaned and Dick was in better spirits than he’d been for two days since the anniversary--

“Oh, he stalled out, don’t worry about it.”

It is not embarrassment, but Bruce does snap out of his train of thought and back into the present. “Sorry,” he says, and looks to the two grown men in their baggy jackets and laced up work boots and secondhand hats. “We’re just finishing cleaning up some of the ash. If you come help move the last bit, we’ll all call it a day.”

As they got up and started shuffling away from the picnic table, Bruce did glance at Dick, and after a moment of still confusion, say, “Coming?”

...the expression Dick gives him was not a smile. But he did come.

They throw the garbage bags in the back of the trunk, and pack it largely to the brim. Surreptitiously, before Dick can climb into the passenger seat, Bruce digs out a simple dust mask and hands it to him. With barely a second look, Dick puts it on and rolls down the window before settling in. It’s smooth, and no one asks questions or looks much askance, because he and Dick are good by now at not announcing something is happening that is different than normal to the world at large.

(And Dick has become very good at seeing through that with Bruce, but Bruce is… starting to wonder if perhaps, he has taught Dick too well to hide anything that would draw attention that something was wrong. Like a wounded animal could run on a broken leg, or a predator bleed from the mouth, and neither would ever make a peep.)

They drove the bags of ashes home to hide behind the house’s perimeter walls, and Bruce tried to explain. The dust, and the huge plume of heat and smoke that could’ve blown even heavy particles down the street, and the sort of cues that psychedelics took from the state you were in. How most people probably wouldn’t exactly get a good trip, surrounded by gunfire and smoke. And maybe there was something else he missed, in the ash, unsafe for casual disposal, how he wasn’t certain he hadn’t missed something--

Dick laid his head back on the car seat, sighing through his mask, and Bruce stopped his mumbling.

Glanced over.

“...maybe I can… arrange for Flash to take a look, if you want to come along,” he offered as they pulled onto their street.

Dick sat up a little straighter, a little light in his eyes.

...he wondered, maybe unkindly (but mostly tiredly), if Dick would rather move in with the Flash and his sidekick. He didn’t have any real evidence for this. Kids did tend to be fairly excited to see friends around their own age, and just because someone might enjoy a trip to a festival didn’t mean they wanted to live in one.

...yet, Dick probably would’ve been quite happy, adopted into a renaissance fair circuit.

Maybe it wasn’t that Dick needed more friends. Maybe the issue was Bruce.

But it’s too late to change that now, isn’t it? Dick drew his line in the sand in front of the Justice League, and Bruce had given him too many secrets to have to keep, and there was nowhere else to go.

—

Bruce goes to Gotham Academy early. Very early. Two hours before pickup is meant to be.

Dick has gotten into a fight.

The parents of the other kid are already there when Bruce arrives and is shown to the principal’s office (it is in the same place it has been since Bruce went here) and ushered inside to the sound of anger and snapping threats.

The office is wood, with a centered carpet and a large mahogany desk at the center, and surrounded by three adults and two children, one of them his.

Dick doesn’t have a scratch on him, unless you count a faint bruise starting to show on his knuckles. The other boy, who is bigger and taller in every way, has a tissue up to his nose and an ice pack on his ear, and is simultaneously shielded and towered over by his two parents, neither of whom have stopped arguing with the principal since Bruce arrived.

He barely gets a chance to get to Dick’s chair by the wall when he is also pulled into the argument by a “Is this little heathen yours, Mister Malone?” from the mother.

Things are not going to improve from there, he’s pretty sure.

“What’s going on?” he asks the principal instead, who is a balding white man with age spots on his face and horn-rimmed glasses on his nose.

“ Master Richard here has assaulted Master Reynolds--” the principal begins.

“--and we will be pressing charges if adequate disciplinary action is not taken,” says the father.

“But what actually happened,” Bruce says, and somehow the noise gets louder in the room. Not the physical noise of three or four people talking at once, but also the hot dissent from Dick in his corner, the hidden bloodied fear of the boy he attacked, the principal patting the desk with his hands over and over, trying to call attention back to himself. Fluorescent lights bright as static. Itchy polyester fake turkish carpets even though his shoes. The room is small and red-orange with wood stained to look like cherry, yellow copper accents on the studs of cushions and trophies and the frames of portraits and certificates hung on the clustered walls--

Dick is suspended three weeks.

Dick is curled in the front seat of the car, furious that Bruce didn’t defend him enough and fight back, and get his sentence reduced or vetoed entirely. His body is balled up tight enough he’s no bigger than he was at eight, curled around the seatbelt in a haze of fury.

“He was picking on people ,” Dick says in a way Bruce knows means Dick had seen it before, but this time it had crossed a line. “ He should be suspended.”

‘He’ is getting two stitches and a formal apology written (ostensibly) by Dick. Dick will not be the one writing it, even if it’s his name at the bottom. ‘He’ will be in school, not in trouble for bullying but now with free reign to his targets without Dick to stand in the way. If Dick was even in the way before at all. If being in the way without being physical meant anything in this case.

“You’ll just have to be more subtle about it,” Bruce says, trying to be encouraging. Because Dick didn’t do anything wrong to step in. Maybe it didn’t deserve a bloody nose, maybe it could’ve been handled some other way, but he still hasn’t been able to wrangle the exact story out of anyone but he is certain that--

Dick goes “RRR” and kicks the windshield hard enough that Bruce startles and slams on the breaks.

Their seatbelts jerk tight and a car horn behind them blares.

...there is the faintest tap on their bumper, but Bruce is already speeding the car forward again, heart pounding too hard to stop.

There’s not even a scratch when they get out at their house later.

He goes to Dick’s bedside in the evening. Dick’s lying on top of his covers with the lights turned off in a darkening room, staring at the wall opposite the door. There was music playing before, but the CD player turned off as soon as Bruce turned the door handle.

He sits by Dick’s bedside and asks if he’d like to go out for the evening.

Dick agrees, but there isn’t much laughter that night, except the sort Robin scares people with.

The mood is still there the next morning.

It is Superman’s turn to check in. Apparently.

The visit is unscheduled (and probably because of Dick’s suspension) and today involves casserole, which Bruce is primed automatically to dislike.

"Yes?" Bruce says upon seeing big blue and buoyant in their kitchen, hovering over the kitchen island with a glass dish covered in aluminium and Alfred looking over a handwritten paper beside him.

"Oh, hey, good morning there," Superman says, as if he's surprised to see Bruce here when there was no other person for him to be there to see . "I was just dropping off the casserole recipe Alfred wanted to try."

…one of the only people for him to be here to see. But Bruce still doubted a casserole was a real reason for a whole visit. So Bruce tries again. "Did you need something?"

Alfred looks up from the paper with a frown and without a word starts shooing them out of the cooking space if they're going to be talking business. "I dunno. Was there something you needed to talk about?"

They make it to the couches of the living room, though neither of them sit down.

"No," says Bruce.

"Alright then," says Superman, who Bruce is learning is an asshole. "I heard some stuff happened with Dick at school?"

Which is entirely unsubtle and a very clear sign that Superman is not leaving until Bruce asks some sort of question or resolves whatever this is.

So fine. Bruce hasn't even had some fucking coffee yet. He'll ask a question. "What would you do if your child, who is aware that at nightime they can go out and punch abusers and rapists, during the daytime attempted to defend an underclassman, and as a result are threatened with criminal action or suspension while you are trying to lie low and causing a big fuss about it and fighting the decision will do the exact opposite of laying low, severely limiting their freedom regardless of if we win."

Like a coward, Superman's expression says he had been thinking of Dick as a kid who was not Dick , and sheepishly says, "I guess, what would your parents do?"

Bruce thinks he feels it this time. The expression on his face turning colder. He feels it the same way Dick can always see the change. "I wouldn't know that, now, would I?"

...this was why he left in the first place, wasn't it. This eternal loop of days upon days surrounded by people who just forgot or never could let him forget. It's been easier as an adult, almost-- it's normal now for people's parents to be dead. It's normal to not have people ask after them like limbs they can't see have detached. Even if Superman doesn't know his old name, doesn't know that stupid story about a boy billionaire and his rich family, its jarring to realize that even the most alien being on earth just assumes--

--well, of course. He would know all humans have parents.

But the bite in Bruce's voice is cold enough, and the way Alfred's slight shuffling in the kitchen goes quiet, it's enough to get through apparently-- Superman's head is ducked down embarrassed and he says, "right, sorry," because perhaps Bruce returning to Gotham to the fucking Wayne Butler's House should've been enough reason to realize he didn't have any family left of his own. "The person who raised you…"

"Nothing they said," Bruce interrupts, "has ever done anything about this."

…

Maybe he's angry. He hasn't had any coffee yet. But he turns to end this conversation and walk out to the garden, and hears Alfred's sigh from the kitchen.

But he's telling the truth.

Even if Alfred had found something new to say in the years since Bruce tried to bite his therapist's face off, if he's tried to say it to Dick, it clearly hasn't been working.

There is a thing like a piston beating up against his head. A hammering rhythmically at the front of his skull. One thing, then another, then another, then another, and when he wakes up the next morning to one more ring there will still be all the ones behind him, echoing through the halls still unresolved.

He wasn’t made to live like this. How was anyone made to live like this? One thing after another and another and when he wakes up in the morning there are still more banal, useless things to do in a world that eats up and eats up and eats up--

How does the grocery store clerk wake up each morning? How does she go to bed at night knowing the same thing will happen the next day, but worse, and more tired, and less pay, over and over, for eternity.

#batman #dick grayson #bruce wayne #robin #fanfic #roadtrip vigilantes

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elementalwriter67 · 5 years

Text

The Void Chapter Ten

Pairings: (Eventual) Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 5072

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine

A/N: (Y/F/I)= your first initial (Y/S/I)= your second initial

Summary: The Void is a hellish place filled with screams that echoed throughout the place at all the hours of the night, and where pain is a very close friend. You’ve spent your entire life in the Void, having been there since you were ten and you’ve just recently gotten a new cellmate… Who’s a little more hopeful than you are that either of you are going to make it out of this place alive. Though you have to admit that maybe his hope is rubbing off on you because you slowly find yourself hoping that the two of you do get out of here.

~Downtown Gotham City~

~Early morning hours of the next day~

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Stephanie muttered as she stared across the street at one of Gotham’s many hospitals. The others were standing beside her with equal looks of disbelief on their faces as they watched people come and go.

“Nope, this is the address that Barbara sent us,” Tim told her as he looked up from his phone at the hospital. A moment of silence followed his statement as the others all pulled out their phones and triple checked that they had gotten the right location.

“Well, maybe she found the wrong address.” Stephanie offered utterly confused as to why they were looking at a working hospital rather than at an abandoned building like they had expected.

“Ha, yeah you go ahead and tell her that I’ll have Alfred ready on standby for when she’s done with you,” Dick commented as he walked up to the edge of the roof pulling out a pair of binoculars. Behind him, Damian tsked moving to stand beside him.

“Perhaps Brown is right, maybe Gordon found the wrong address I highly doubt a hospital would secretly be torturing people,” Damian stated with an annoying amount of confidence.

“No she found the right address, it’s the same one that I found. What probably happened is the old facility was torn down and this hospital was put in its place.” Tim said as he looked up from his phone and squinted at the hospital before looking back down at his phone. “My guess is that after they lost funding they moved locations and set up shop somewhere else.” He continued as his thumbs flew across his phone causing the others to sigh.

“So that means we’re back at step one again.” Stephanie’s voice was full of annoyance as she glared at the hospital. She had really been hoping that this was it, that this was the big breakthrough that they had all been looking for. They had already found more information here than they had in any of their other searches, that in any of their other leads so to have this one slam against the same wall as before was more than a little annoying.

“Not necessarily. I still want to investigate the hospital, see if anyone here knows about what was there before the hospital and if anyone knows anything about the Void.” Dick said as he turned and walked back to them.

“Right now?” Stephanie asked and he shook his head.

“No, but later today either I’ll come back later in civilian clothes and see what I can find. As for right now, right now we’re all going to go back to the Manor and get some sleep.” Dick stated and he was met with almost immediate protest but he ignored it as he heard them all towards the other side of the roof to head back to the manor. They would thank him later when they weren’t dead on their feet from exhaustion like they had been for the past couple of weeks.

~Later that day~

“Sir we have a problem.” A guard stated as they walked through the door of the Doctor’s office. The doctor looked up from his paperwork, the latest test results from subject 312469-(Y/F/I)(Y/S/I)-IM and subject 432675-JT-TBD, with an annoyed glare on his face. He had expressly told them that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances other than another attempted break out and this hardly looked like an attempted break out.

“What?” The doctor bit out at him and the guard paled slightly as he squared his shoulders and looked the doctor in the eye.

“One of the Wayne kids was spotted entering the hospital sir.” The guard informed him and the glare on the doctor’s face dropped to a deadpanned look as he stared at the guard.

“So? Perhaps they’re just coming in to see where all that money they give us from that Marth foundation of theirs is going, or they’re visiting a family member, either way, this is hardly important now leave.” The doctor ordered returning to his paperwork. When he didn’t immediately hear the door close behind the guard he looked up again the annoyed look back on his face as he glared at the guard.

“I said leave.” The doctor growled and the guard stood up a little straighter, at least the man had the decency to look scared at the moment.

“There’s more sir.” The guard said and the doctor sighed dropping the paperwork on to his desk in favor of reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes.

“Are you going to keep me here in anticipation guard or are you actually going to tell me what it is sometime today?” The doctor responded and the guard shifted nervously before clearing his throat and standing completely still.

“The Wayne kid is asking questions about the building's history sir. They’re also asking if anyone has come in recently fitting the description of the man who just recently tried to escape.” The guard informed him and the doctor immediately froze. For a long tense moment, the doctor was completely still with his eyes closed and fingers still pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes finally snapped open and locked on to the guard who shifted uncomfortably.

“And you’re sure that this is a Wayne child?” The doctor asked as he dropped his hand to his desk and the guard nodded.

“Stephanie Brown sir.” The guard said and the doctor nodded. His only solace was the fact that it wasn’t one of the older ones. Dick Grayson or Kate Kane or even Bruce Wayne himself would have been tricky to deal with but a little girl who went around trying to play in the big leagues was nothing compared to them and also easily handled.

“Send some men over to Scarecrow I want him taken care of, I don’t care how just get rid of him we can’t have him spilling any more of our secrets to the rest of the heroes. As for the Wayne girl, is she still in the building?” The doctor asked and the guard nodded.

“Yes, sir the nurses are keeping her occupied on the first floor at check in.” The guard answered and the doctor nodded as he stood up from his desk a smile appearing on his face as he walked towards the guard who stepped out of the way.

“Well, then we don’t want to keep the poor girl waiting, do we? Have the nurses page me and tell her that I’ll be down in a moment to answer any questions that she has.” The doctor ordered and the guard nodded pulling out his phone and calling the nurses station as he followed the doctor out of the room and to the elevator bank.

“It’s done.” The guard stated as they arrived at the elevators and the doctor nodded once.

“Excellent. Keep an eye on subjects 312469 and 432675, if a Wayne child is here I suspect those two have something to do with it.” The doctor ordered as he stepped onto the elevator and the guard nodded saluting the doctor as the doors slid closed.

~Stephanie’s P.O.V~

“Miss Wayne if you will please just have a seat the doctor will be with you in a moment.” The nurse at the front desk stated her tone exasperated as she urged Stephanie to go sit down for the seventh time already. Stephanie remained standing at the desk with a practiced pleasant smile on her face and her crossed arms resting on top of the notepad she’d brought with her.

“But why can’t you answer my questions? I just want to know a few things.” Stephanie pressed her voice slightly pleading as she bent her knees slightly so that it looked like she was begging the nurse to answer her questions. The other nurse at the desk sighed heavily and fixed an annoyed glare on Stephanie, internally Stephanie smiled slightly.

“Miss we have other people here who actually need our help, so if you would please go sit down and wait for the doctor he will be with you in just a moment.” The other nurse stated her voice firm and full of annoyance. Stephanie opened her mouth to protest but the nurse pointed with her pen towards the chairs pressed against the back wall and Stephanie sighed, taking the hint she sent them a fake smile before going to sit down. The nurses shared a look when her back was turned before getting back to work.

Stephanie dropped down into a chair her eyes scanning the staff and patients as they walked past looking them over to see if any of them were carrying anything not trusting a single person that walked past. Luckily she wasn’t waiting long though because a couple of minutes after she had sat down an elderly looking man wearing a lab coat and glasses walked up to her.

“Miss Wayne, I’m doctor Roberts I was told that you had some questions for me about the hospital.” Dr. Roberts said as he held out his hand for Stephanie to shake which she did as she stood up from her seat offering him a polite smile.

“That would be correct. I’m doing a project for school about the history of this area of Gotham and I was just wondering if this building had any special history.” Stephanie told him as she let go of his hand pulled her pencil out from where she had stashed it in her ear holding up the notebook where she’d scribbled down some of the things that Barbara had told her.

“Ah, may I ask what class this is for?” Dr. Roberts asked and Stephanie kept up her polite smile.

“History of Gotham class, so will you answer my questions? I promise this will be quick.” Stephanie promised him and Dr. Roberts was silent for a moment before nodding and turning around to look at the nurses' station.

“If anyone needs me I will be in my office answering miss Wayne’s questions.” Dr. Roberts told them and the two nurses nodded their eyes landing on Stephanie giving her a dirty look. A look that Stephanie returned full force, neither of them seemed phased by her look which annoyed Stephanie slightly but her polite smile was quick to return when Dr. Robert looked back at her.

“Would you please follow me miss Wayne, it’ll be easier to answer your questions in my office,” Roberts said and Stephanie nodded her grip on her notebook tightening.

“That sounds like an excellent plan Dr. Roberts, thank you so much,” Stephanie said and Dr. Roberts nodded giving her his own polite smile as he turned and motioned for her to follow him.

Stephanie waited until they got past the prying eyes of the check-in desk before clicking the hidden button on her pen turning on the hidden camera in the necklace she was wearing and the mike in the pen itself. As she followed Dr. Roberts she looked around, looking around as closely as possible without slowing down. Everything appeared to look like normal things that you would find in a hospital. Nurses were caring for patients, a few patients were walking through the hall with the aid of their IV drip and a nurse and a few of the patients even smiled at Dr. Roberts as they walked past, other doctors nodded to him as they passed. There wasn’t a single thing that looked like it was out of place and there wasn’t a single person that didn’t look like they belonged here so why was it that Stephanie still found herself being suspicious of the place. There was more than enough evidence to prove that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on here with the patients or with the doctors, and yet she was still unnerved. Unnerved by Dr. Roberts who seemed to put together for a doctor, unnerved by the nurses at the front desk who she was pretty sure wanted nothing else than to call security on her and kick her out of the hospital, unnerved by the split second looks she would get from the doctors and nurses that they passed that she couldn’t fully catch before they were gone. Subtle things that unnerved her but all had a rational reason to be the way that they were. The nurses were probably coming off of a long night shift and were just annoyed with a student coming in to ask unnecessary questions, doctors and nurses wondering why there was a girl with a notebook following after the doctor, and Dr. Roberts was probably just starting a shift. So why was the rationality behind everything not enough to settle the unease worming its way through her stomach.

“Right in here Miss Wayne.” Dr. Roberts said as he pushed open the door to his office and stepped to the side. Stephanie pulled herself from her thoughts as she smiled at the doctor as she walked past him and into the room. Dr. Roberts paused for a moment in the doorway eyes locking on a nurse standing a couple of feet away, the nurse nodded once before pulling out her phone while Dr. Roberts stepped into his office.

“So miss Wayne what questions do you have for me?” Dr. Roberts asked as he stepped into the room closing the door behind him.

~Elsewhere~

“Alright, the doctor has the Wayne girl in his office. I want a full sweep of the waiting room and the path that they took to his office.” The head guard ordered as he shoved his phone back into his pocket looking up at the CCTV feed of Dr. Roberts office watching as the doctor took a seat and as the Wayne child spoke.

“What are we looking for sir?” One of the tech guys asked and the head guard glanced away from the feed to look at him.

“Anything and everything, cameras, microphones, Wayne tech, Bat-tech, all of it. If she left anything in the waiting room I want to know about it and I want it destroyed as soon as possible.” The head guard ordered and the tech guy nodded tapping away on his keyboard. The head guard looked up at the CCTV feed glancing away from the screen that showed Dr. Roberts office and at the CCTV feed of your cell looking at yours and Jason’s forms lying on your bed.

“What about subjects 312469 and 432675 are they still asleep?” The head guard asked as he watched the two of you. Neither of you moved but that didn’t stop him from paying close attention to what the two of you might be doing, you’d attempted to escape two weeks ago and he needed to make sure that neither of you was planning another escape. The last thing they all needed was for you to get the fire back inside you, you’d caused enough trouble way back when they didn’t need a repeat especially not with the Wayne’s poking around or a Wayne in the cell with her.

“Yes sir, would you like us to wake them up?” A guard standing by the door asked and the head guard looked over his shoulder at him a musing look on his face.

“Once the doctor is done with the Wayne girl go and wake them up, I’m sure the doctor will have something planned for them.” Head guard stated and the one by the door nodded before falling silent as the head guard turned his attention to the other feeds.

~Back to Dr. Roberts’ office~

“Do you know when this building was built?” Stephanie asked as she jotted down the answer to the last question while simultaneously making sure that the mike was pointed towards the Doctor at all times.

“I would say sometime after world war two.” Dr. Roberts answered and Stephanie nodded writing that down.

“And do you know what building was here before this one by any chance? Or if there was a building here before the hospital was built?” Stephanie asked and Dr. Roberts gave a tired little sigh as he leaned back in his chair reaching up and rubbing his bearded chin as he looked at her. For a long moment, he was silent and Stephanie almost thought that maybe he hadn’t heard her, from the looks of him she wouldn’t find it that hard to believe that he had some hearing problems.

“No, I can’t say that I know what was built here for the hospital. I’m afraid that I didn’t grow up around here or in this city for that matter I only came here because they were looking for someone to run the hospital and I was the most qualified.” Dr. Roberts told her and Stephanie nodded her mouth pursed as she looked back down at the piece of paper, jotting down his answer and writing the word liar at the end of it.

Like Stephanie had said the questioning hadn’t taken long at all, in fact, they had only been in here for a few minutes and they were already done the doctor having been surprisingly forthcoming with the answers. Something that Stephanie had noticed immediately, she’d also been able to pick up on the fact that ninety percent of the time Dr. Roberts had been lying about his answers. Though to be fair at first she hadn’t been able to pick up on the tells, he was very good at hiding them, but all it took was paying a little more attention and then you would be able to notice the way his eyes darkened when he told a lie. And the way that the corner of his mouth would twitch with a lie or the slight shift of his eyes away from Stephanie as he looked towards the door like he expected someone to walk through the door at any moment. Clicking the pen off she set it down on the notebook, it was still very much recording, and smiled at the doctor.

“Well Doctor Roberts that’s all I have for questions right now, thank you so so much for answering them this will really help with my project,” Stephanie said as she smiled at the doctor who returned her smile standing up. Stephanie stood up with him, the pen sliding off of her notebook and landing on the floor with a soft clatter.

“Dang it, I’m so sorry, I swear usually I’m not this clumsy,” Stephanie said referring to the five other times that she had dropped the pen during their conversation, trying to make it seem like this was something that happened all the time. Crouching down Stephanie picked up the pen with the mike slipping a similar looking pen out of her sleeve at the same time. Quick as she could Stephanie pushed the pen with the mike towards the shadows of the desk hiding it in front of it before she stood up with the non-miked pen and a small smile on her face.

“It’s no problem miss Wayne I’ve been a victim to butterfingers before I quite understand. Would you like me to walk you out?” Dr. Roberts asked as the two of them shook hands and Stephanie shook her head dropping her hand to her side.

“No, I think I’m capable of getting back to the main desk rather easily thank you though, I don’t want to keep you from your work any longer,” Stephanie said and Dr. Roberts nodded following Stephanie out of the office at the very least.

“Well, then Miss Wayne have a good day.” Dr. Roberts said and Stephanie smiled at him.

“You too Doctor Roberts,” Stephanie responded as she walked away from the doctor taking the same route back as they did to get to his office. She waited until she rounded a corner to look over her shoulder and make sure that the doctor hadn’t followed her and when she found that he hadn’t she sighed in relief. Before returning to her walk back to the main entrance.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Stephanie apologized when she bumped shoulders with a red-headed nurse an apologetic smile on her face, a smile that the nurse happily returned.

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, just be careful next time we don’t want you ending up in one of these beds here do we?” The red-headed nurse asked and Stephanie nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that would be really bad, anyways so sorry about walking into you. Have a good day!” Stephanie called over her shoulder as she hurried away, missing the red-headed nurse’s reply.

Stephanie waited until she had gotten a few blocks away from the hospital and had taken as many confusing turns as she could just in case anyone from the hospital had followed her. Though she thought it unlikely considering it was a hospital but there was something about the place that unnerved her and she was unable to shake the feeling until she was more than four blocks away. Ducking into a random coffee shop she stood in line pretending to be getting ready to order coffee as she reached into her pocket pulling out a folded piece of paper. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she opened the folded piece of paper, Tim’s plan had actually worked and she couldn’t believe it. Now all they had to do was wait and see what happened.

~The Void~

“Subject 312469! Wake up!” A guard shouted as he banged on them with a heavy fist startling both you and Jason awake. You jerked awake your body moving on instinct shoving against the hard warm substance pressed against her, catching the person off guard and sending them tumbling to the ground.

“Ouch!” Jason groaned loudly from where he was currently laying on the floor but you ignored him climbing up on to your feet your legs shaking from the effort of it all as you leaned heavily against the wall and stared at the door.

“Subject 432675 stand up and back away from the door!” The guard shouted again as he glared down at Jason through the door. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you quickly glanced down at Jason to make sure that he was ok and then back at the guard who was now wearing an annoyed look.

“Subject 432675 move it! Now!” The guard ordered again as he glared at Jason who grumbled something before he grabbed a hold of the side of the bed and pulled himself up.

“Alright, alright, I’m going calm the fuck down,” Jason grumbled as he stood up, moving so that he was standing in front of you. You stared unashamedly at Jason’s back for a solid second surprised by the fact that he had moved to stand in front of you so quickly, your surprise however quickly turned to annoyance as you glared at him. You were the one who was supposed to be protecting him not the other way around, though you would be lying if a small part of you wasn’t touched by that fact.

“What are you doing?” You hissed at him. At this point, you weren’t sure if Jason was just stubborn or stupid with how much he seemed to fight against the doctor’s rules.

“Protecting you, what does it look like I’m doing?” Jason hissed back not turning his head to look at you as he seemed to enter a glaring match with the guard.

“Well, it looks like you’re trying to get yourself killed idiot.” You hissed right back peering around his arm as best you could to see the guard standing there with their jaw clenched and eyes ablaze. That was not the type of look you wanted to see on a guard.

“Subject 432675 step out of the way now of I will be forced to move you. Subject 312469 please step forward and turn around.” The guard ordered and you wished Jason had the common sense to do as he was told and move out of the way instead he stood up straighter and shifted so that more of you were hidden from the guard making it near impossible for you to see. You went to try and walk around Jason but his arm shot back and his hand pressed against your side stopping you from moving out from behind him.

“No. Why do you want her?” Jason shot back his voice calm and he would have seemed relaxed if it wasn’t for the fact that you were standing right behind him and you could see how tense his back muscles had become. The guard sneered at him as he opened the door and stepped into the room, there were at least five other guards standing outside none of them trusting that the two of you weren’t planning another escape.

“Subject this is your last chance to move or else you will be hurt.” The guard warned him and Jason tensed his jaw clenching as he stared the guard down not at all intimidated by him.

“No,” Jason growled standing up a little straighter glaring the guard down. The guard stared him down for a couple of seconds before a large sinister looking smile spread across his face and you were quick to grab Jason’s arm.

“Jason, don't. You just got your stomach cut open you can’t do this right now.” You hissed at him trying to move him out of the way but your legs shook even more when you stopped supporting yourself on the wall and you were forced to use the wall for support again before you fell over.

“Last chance subject step aside or be moved aside.” The guard warned him but Jason remained where he was glaring at the guard. Jason took a step forward his jaw clenched and hands balled into fists.

“Fuck you.” Jason spat out and the guard was moving before either of you could react and then suddenly Jason was thrown on to his bed slamming against the wall. A rough groan escaped him as he fell down heavily on to the bed but the guard wasn’t done with him yet. The guard grabbed him by his arm and roughly yanked him up on to her feet before punching him in the face causing him to stumble backward. Jason spits blood out of his mouth and took a step forward throwing a punch of his own the guard caught it and punched him in the stomach right where the wound was, the reaction was almost immediate. Jason doubled over in pain his arms wrapping around his stomach as he bit back a cry of pain and dropped to his knees, blood started to bloom on his bandages as he knelt there coughing.

“Aw now look at what you made me do, you made me go and break open the doctor's sutures.” The guard mocked him as he glared down at Jason the guard sending a swift kick to his side sending him sprawling on to his side. Jason spit out blood as he climbed back onto his knees and then up on to his feet the guard laughing as he watched Jason climb back up on to his feet.

“Leave him alone! You wanted me so just take me! Leave him alone!” You shouted pushing yourself off the wall and stumbling towards the guard crashing into him but you were so small that he didn’t even flinch he just shoved you off of him and you stumbled back. Your legs gave out on you and you dropped to the floor with a small cry of shock.

“Stay out of this girl.” The guard growled as he kicked at Jason again. Jason was prepared for this though and he caught the man's foot and shoved it back suddenly fueled by a powerful anger as he grabbed a hold of the guards other anger and yanked his foot out from underneath him before he could recover. Climbing up on to his hands and knees Jason crawled over the man pulling his fist back and punching him in the face a snarl on his face. He got two punches into his face before the guards out in the hallway ran into the room pulling Jason off of the guard. Jason acted like he hadn’t just pulled all of his stitches as he kicked and struggled against the guards snarling at the guards.

“You stay away from her! Do you hear me!” Jason shouted struggling against the guards kicking his feet out and hitting the guard he had knocked to the ground square in the chest with more force than any of them had predicted.

“Stop! Let him go! Leave him alone! I told him to do it! I told him to attack the guard it was my fault! Leave him alone!” You shouted trying to get back up onto your feet but a guard kicked you out of the way and you grunted as you fell to the ground as the guards dragged Jason back and away from you. He stopped struggling as they dragged him out of the room leaving you alone and you stared at them in horror. He’d just attacked a guard and so close after you’re guys escape attempt this wasn’t going to be good, you’d protected him from the worst of it but you weren’t going to be able to protect him from whatever was going to happen.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day bitch you’re not going to the basement for now.” The guard growled out as he stood up wiping the blood off his lip as he glared after Jason before stalking towards the door. He paused in the door before leaving turning around to face you a sneer on his face.

“Oh and if I were you, I would stop trying to protect him, the Red Hood can handle himself.” He stated before leaving the room, slamming the door closed behind him causing you to flinch as you stared at him.

“Red who?” You breathed out as you stared at the door in utter confusion as to what just happened.

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corrupt-heaven-and-hell · 2 years

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Andre Character Sheet

Name: Andre Blackwell

Nickname: Andre, Dre, Thief (by Lucifer)

Species: Human

Age (estimate) or status: about 16 in human years

Gender: male

Occupation: owns a pawn shop

Where they live: mostly at his pawn shop in Purgatory, but has a room in Heaven at the palace.

General personality (like a short description): Andre is a great thief. He always went around stealing everyone’s things, it didn’t matter who they were if he wanted it and could make a profit he would. God got tired of him storing all of his stolen items in various rooms in the palace that she built him a pawn shop for him to sell his things in Purgatory. Alejandro and Fernando both help him fill his pawn shop by stealing form God and Lucifer a lot. He steals more items from Lucifer because he thinks it’s funny to watch her get mad and tell God.

Fears: losing his pawn shop, Lucifer not getting anymore cool items for him to steal.

Habits: stealing, filming himself stealing items for his YouTube channel, helping Alejandro and Fernando prank god and Lucifer.

Negative traits: stealing, lying, disobedient

Positive traits: smart, independent, helpful, friendly

Backstory: He was stolen from a Walmart by Lucifer when God mentioned she wanted another child. He was a very quiet kid that kept to himself at first, so nobody really noticed when things started to go missing. He always wanted to go with Fernando to hell so he could always steal Lucifer’s collections of various items. Nobody knew he was stealing the items until Alejandro and Fernando told on him. Lucifer was not happy, but God was not surprised since he was also found stealing from Walmart when Lucifer kidnapped him. God ended up building him his dream pawn shop in Purgatory. Andre now spends all his days tormenting Lucifer by stealing her dead baby collection with the help of Alejandro.

Quote: “You have no proof I stole that”

Relationships:

God: Thinks of her as his mother. Never really had a good parent figure until he met God. Respects her more than Lucifer, so he steals from her less.

Lucifer: He respects her. Thinks she has the coolest items. (that’s why he steals them so much) He’s not scared of her thinks she’s really funny.

Ferdinand: thinks it’s really cool he keeps turning into stone (really wants to sell him). Respects him, but is tired of getting lectured on stealing. Thinks of his as like a father figure.

Thalia: really likes her. Thinks of her as his baby sister. He looks forward to showing her how to steal.

Fernando: enjoys hanging out with him, always supplies him with cool skateboards. Wishes he would be nicer to Roberto.

Alejandro: he thinks he’s cool for stealing Lucifer’s stuff for him. Enjoys hanging out with him, but wishes he was nicer to Roberto

Roberto: His closest friend. Really likes having him around, he helps Andre with the pawn shop paperwork. Tries to protect him from Alejandro and Fernando.

Jerry, Lance: thinks they’re a wimp, because they let Lucifer pick on them. Wishes they would stand up for themselves. “Lucifer isn’t scary”

Rick: finds extremely funny, loves that he terrifies Lucifer

Emil: doesn’t like, he always tries to stop him from stealing Lucifer’s Items.

Dracula, Xanthus, Skelly, Spike: thinks they are cool

Jim, Ringo, Alfred, Craig: thinks they party too much.

SeaBiscuit, JellyNugget: he likes them. He manages their only fans for them.

Gina: wishes she would make him cool things to sell.

Angel Zee, Demon Joe: loves them. Andre always pays them to mop to make God and Lucifer mad, thinks it’s hilarious

#character sheet

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ixiethepixiewrites · 6 years

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Royally in Love

Rating: G (some minor swears)

Warnings: USUK, nothing much else except this is Omegaverse but it’s sfw

Summary: It is the Queen of Spade’s Birthday, and the King is eager to make it their best memory too.

A/N: Made for @aliciatheanimefreak ‘s birthday!!! HAPPY BIRTH EVEN THO I’M LATE HAHAHAA

The birthday of a royal was always a big deal, no matter which of the Six Kingdoms you lived in. Festivals were set up weeks in advance in every major city, and smaller faires were held in the more remote villages. The biggest of all the celebrations had to be, of course, the ball held within the palace. Nobility and Royalty from all over gathered within the walls of the palace, and out in the courtyard a feast was held for the common folk, so long as there was no ill weather. If the weather happened to be bleak, the feast was held within the palace’s many banquet halls, as the main ballroom would be occupied already.

Joyous citizens paraded around the streets, excited for the games and merriment, as well as being eager to relax for a day. The buzz of excitement was felt within the palace walls as well, all servants in a tizzy over the preparations, but also eager to partake of their own staff feast. No one felt the rush of excitement this day more than the King of Spades himself. His Queen had only recently been found, and this was to be their first birthday celebration together. Alfred kept bouncing on his heels, much to the ire of the tailor who was making last minute adjustments to the young monarchs coat.

“Your Majesty, please hold still!” The tailor chastised as a frustrated sigh escaped his lips.

Alfred's cheeks lit up with embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry, I just can't help it! I have a Queen now! A really beautiful Queen and he's smart and he dances way better than me and-"

As he rambled on, the tailor merely nodded, smiling once more. It had been a long time since the chosen royals had been so in love after first meeting. Most had to take many years to finally be comfortable as more than just King and consort. The change was a welcome one, and the entire Kingdom rejoiced in the hopes for a future of prosperity under their new rulers. The changing of the monarchs had always been a time of nervous anticipation as the crown was passed, either by a simple death of one or more of the previous monarchs or by magical forces choosing the most suited to rule.

Alfred had been chosen, as the previous royals had passed away from old age. His mark appeared almost immediately after the news hit that the King was dead, and a Jack was found soon after. The Queen remained elusive for an entire year, only coming forward after a forced search was enacted. As it had turned out, Arthur was adorably unaware of his mark, the swirling spade design resting on the back of his left shoulder. He had simply never noticed.

Their first meeting was still fresh in his mind, those beautiful emerald eyes staring right at him from beneath the largest eyebrows he'd ever seen. Not that they looked bad, mind you, they suited him very well. His scent was subdued, but Alfred could catch hints of tea and flowering gardens. The look of annoyance was what had caught Alfred off guard. “This is to my King?” Arthur had asked the guards that escorted him. “This King is only a boy!”

Alfred tried not to take offense, reigning himself back to keep his own scent from souring. He got that often, his looks being much younger than he actually was. As delicately as he could, Alfred explained. “Um, actually, my Queen, I'm in my 23rd Summer this year.”

A flush of embarrassment from being corrected spread over Arthur's face, the scent changing accordingly. It smelt like a rose in full bloom mixed with a sour lemon. Alluring but also making him wrinkle his nose at the same time. His Queen sure was a wonder. After an apology for his assumptions, Alfred took his Queen for a tour of their new home. Just like that, some sort of switch flipped in them both. They relaxed, getting to know each other for a few days as their paperwork built up on their desks. It wasn't until the Jack himself dragged them both back to work that they had time to think on their feelings.

It was almost something like love.

The memories made Alfred smile, so many good ones in such a short time. Their first kiss in the gardens at night, the Jack having to pry them apart one day when Arthur's heat had started out of the blue, and the moment they had confessed to each other just how much they were in love. None of it compared to what Alfred had been planning for weeks now.

The tailor finished making adjustments to Alfred's clothes, and if Al knew anything about fashion, he would have said he looked pretty damn good. There were more important things on his mind, however, as he rushed out of the room with a thank you to the hard-working man. Racing down the halls, Alfred eventually came up to a small tea room’s doors. This was it. Arthur always had his afternoon tea in this room at exactly 4:00 pm. Opening the doors, Alfred saw his Queen sitting with a book in one of the plush chairs, a tray of small cakes stacked high and steaming hot tea in front of him.

Taking notice of Alfred, their eyes met and a slight smile came across Arthur's lovely pink lips. Alfred wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment, but he was on a mission. He played it casual, returning the smile and quietly sitting next to his Queen, one arm around his shoulders. “What are you reading today, honey?”

“I told you already, don't use pet names on me.” Arthur scolded, but Al knew that he didn't mean it. “I'm reading a book of poetry from Clubs. It's actually quite nice, if a little depressing. Perhaps it's all the winter themes that give it a cold undertone...”

Alfred could listen to Arthur mutter about books all day. It was one of his many adorable quirks that the King had come to love. “I didn't even know they had poets up in Clubs.”

“Everyone has artists, love, even from Kingdoms you have a childish rivalry with.” The Queen teased him, smirk on his lips.

Cheeks puffing like a child, Alfred crossed his arms. “That has nothing to do with anything! Ah, I'm getting sidetracked again...”

After taking a deep breath, Alfred stood from his seat, taking Arthur's hand. “Artie... you know I love you, yeah? You know that I'll do anything for you?”

He could smell the confusion and suspicion in Arthur's scent, but the Queen merely gave a nod of affirmation. Alfred could feel his palms getting sweaty, the smell of nerves filling his own scent as he fumbled to grab something from his pocket and kneel at the same time. “T-They make this sound so easy in books...”

Once he had the box in his hand, he could see Arthur's face switch from confusion to shock. Alfred couldn't help but smile. “Arthur, My Queen, My Consort, My one and only...” He paused to let it sink in, “Will you marry me? On our terms? I know we were married at our coronation and we had to mate to consummate that but, w-will you marry me again? Just for us?”

Alfred nearly knocked the tray of cakes over when Arthur had jumped on him, just repeating the word ‘yes’ over and over again. The feelings of happiness inside them both were pouring out through both their eyes now, tears streaking their faces. Alfred kissed Arthur's tears away, pressing his lips to his Queen’s forehead, then his cheek, then finally their lips met each other and it was one of the best feelings Alfred had ever experienced. This was truly the memory to top them all.

When that sparkling ring set upon Arthur's finger, Alfred let out a cheer, causing the guards to rush in thinking there was an issue. However, they quickly went back out, letting their monarchs have some privacy in the little tea room. Two royals so in love was certainly an adjustment the Kingdom would have to make, but it was a happy one.

#usuk #APH America #APH England #cardverse au #omegaverse au #ixiewroteathing #oneshot #this was way longer than I intended lmao #hetalia #HAPPY BIRTH #aph china #oops forgot yao is in here

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spamanosecretsanta · 6 years

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Spamono secret Santa for yami

This is my gift to @xherzasx / yami I hope you like it

from @pancakes1173

December 15, ah what a time to be alive, the streets are packed and stores are hell to get through, what with all the Christmas and holiday shoppers, yes a time indeed. Lovino was currently getting ready to leave the police department, where he worked, after all he had a hot date tonight, he knew with all the traffic he would have to leave early. Unfortunately fate had other plans “lovi where are you going?” Roma, his grandfather/police chief asked “I have a date tonight so if you would excuse me” “you have a date! With who, why didn’t you tell me. You guys grown up so fast!” He cooed as he tried to engulf the Italian in a hug, which Lovino couldn’t avoid this time “I’m 23 nono, the tomatoe bastards names Antonio, he just got out of the hospital so we’re going to celebrate” he said as the corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards a bit, barely noticeable to most but Roma knew his grandson was happy. “Hospital? What happened?” “Well it’s a long story” lovino said as he finally managed to wiggle his way out of his Nono’s embrace “how did you two meet?” The old Roman asked as he pulled out a chair “well I stil have time I might as well tell you

*flashback~~~

December 10, It was a normal night in the city, dark and cold but at the same time filled to the brim with life and city light. Antonio ended up being called in late to the office that night, something he hated doing because it meant more time away from his actual writing. Typically for nights like this he would just make his publisher wait until the morning but apparently it was an “emergency”, ‘yah because a misspelling couldn’t have waited till tomorrow’ he thought to him self, he ended up typing a page in Spanish rather than English by accident.

“Ahh, please don’t hurt me” he heard someone scream. He rushed over to the ally were it was coming from and saw a woman holding her child behind her as a man demanded her money at knife point. Antonio didn’t even waste a second and jumped into action, knocking the knife out of the guys hand.

“run! Go to the police!” He told the woman, she ran off still sobbing, mumbling 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 you’s through the sobs and holding her balling child close. While tony was doing this he didn’t see the guy get back up, he didn’t see him grab the knife that was carelessly tossed to the side but most importantly… he didn’t see the knife coming straight for him, until it was too late.

He looked down at the knife now adorning his abdomen and could only watch as a fresh red substance oozed out of the wound. He stumbled back and hit the wall causing him to winced as he slid to the ground. He could feel himself getting light headed and starting to see spots as blood gushed out of the wound. ‘So this is how I die huh?’ He thought to himself grimly. It had probably been about five minutes now he was starting to lose conciseness, the attacker had fled the seen long ago.

Suddenly he heard shouting“your sure it was this way Miss” a mans voice questioned “y-yes I’m sure”

he heard the foot steps getting closer and closer then a gasp. Every thing was going dark now but in his last few moments of conciseness, he could have sworn he saw an angel above him, hazel green eyes, beautiful brown hair and the most adorable, angelic features he’d ever seen on a face, and that was it, the world turned black

Antonio pov

I woke up in a hospital bed IVs stuck in my arms monitoring my heart and stuff. I then feel a sharp pain as I try to shift a bit, “ow” I yelped as I looked down to my abdomen…. wait didn’t I get stabbed, I thought with a slight frown. I heard the door open and the sound of papers shuffling around

“oh! Mr. Carriedo your awake” the person I assumed to be the doctor said with an Italian accent “what happened” I say, still a bit groggy on the whole event

“you were stabbed in the abdomen while trying to stop a mugging, the lady you saved came back with an officer, who luckily, had first response training and was able to save you. You came pretty close to deaths door though, you lost about 2 pints of blood but the knife didn’t go in deep enough to do to any damage to any vital organs” he said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood a bit

“dios mío, I thought I was dead for sure, I could have sworn I saw an angle” I say as the doctor walk over to me and fiddled with the machines off to my side “did they catch the criminal?” I inquired as I looked over to him

“oh yes Lovino, took the guy down after he tried another mugging, he’s in jail now” he said as he turned to fully face me

“lovino?” I look at him curiously “oh yeah, sorry, he’s my brother and the officer that saved you” he said as he wrote something down on his clipboard. Lovino, huh? The name of the angel that saved me “um I wouldn’t suppose you would mind introducing me to him so I can thank him would you?” I asked with a slight plea in my voice

“huh, oh sure, I’m sure fratello wouldn’t mind, by the way my names Feliciano Vargas if you need me just ask one if the nurse’s” He chirped as he walked over to the door “he gets off around 5 so I’ll ask if he’ll come see you then” and with that the small copper haired Italian was gone, I looked to the clock ‘3pm huh? Must have been out for a day or two then.

Lovino pov (Warning lots of cursing, this is Lovino) It’s been two days, two fucking days and I still can’t get that beautiful bastard out of my mind. Maybe I should go visit him today see how he’s doing. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the time

“damn, only 3, I still have to deal with these assholes for another 2 hours” I mumbled to my self, I then heard a loud obnoxious sound I had come to know as Alfred “hey Lovino, bro would ya mind taking over my patrol shift, I got this date with a super hot chick” the hamburger bastard shrieked as he burst through my office door

“why the hell would I do that!” I yelled back folding my arms over my chest “come on man, help a dude out, you still have another two hours till ya get of” he pleaded like the worm he is.

“ugh, fine, but only because it beats doing paperwork, also your taking my shift next time” I said as I got out of my seat. About an hour later I get a call over the radio “calling all nearby dispatcher, we have an agressive, possibly armed man, at Madison hospital on 12th street” wait that’s where Feliciano works!

“Oh shit!” I said as I put the pedal to the metal and speed down the street to the hospital, which was luckily only a block away. I burst through the hospital doors, I see Feliciano scurrying down the hall way “fratello!!!” He screeched as he ran towards me, engulfing me in an unwanted hug

“let go feli! Where’s the guy?” I said as I pushed my fratelino of off me “he’s up on the 3rd floor by the recovery rooms” he cried as he pointed in the direction of the elevator. I rush to it and hit the 3rd floor button, after the door opened I pulled my taser out of its holster, just in case, and head down the hallway. I hear muffled shouting and come to the conclusion that it was coming from a few rooms down and decided to check it out. I peak through the small glass window to the room and a man, around 5’9 mid 40s, Black hair, receding hairline and holding a pistol that looked to be 40 caliber, yep matches the description.

Seamed like he was trying to hold the rooms patient hostage but was kinda failing. Anyways, he started get more agressive with said patient, at this point I had burst through the door and tackled the guy to the ground “police. You are under arrest for assault and battery, breaking and entering, trespassing and possession of an illegal firearm, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law” I yelled as I cuffed his hands behind his back

“hey potato bastard I’m going to need you to come pick up this bastard” I said into my radio intercom thing “ok I’m on my vay” the potatoes German accent spoke through the radio.

A few minutes later the potato bastard hauled the guys ass off to jail, I was out in the first floor hall talking with Feliciano “hey did that guy hurt any patients up there?” Oh shit I forgot to check on that guy. I run over to the elevator but to my luck it was in the 8th fucking floor and wasn’t coming down fast enough, I run over the the stairwell and begin the decent up to the third floor. Man I need to do more cardio’ I though as I finally reached the 3rd floor, a bit breathless, and ran over to the room. I burst through the door again, panting a bit this time and there he was… the bastard who’s been occupying my thoughts for the past 2 fucking days.

Antonio pov

It’s him, the angel that saved me, twice now! I stared at him for a good minute until he broke our silence with an angelic voice “Hey are you ok!?” He said having just recovered his breath, I could only nod, I was all to star struck to do anything else

“are you sure you look a bit off” he questioned as he raised an eyebrow, again I just nod “are you mute or something?” He asked as he leaned on the doorway “oh, um no.. it’s just, your…”

“I’m what” he stepped away from the door and walked towards me, and let me just say dios mio the way those hips swing when he walks! I could die happy right now! “Your the gorgeous angle that saved me. Twice now actually!” when I said this he turned 20 shades of red within .05 seconds

“w-want are you talking about bastardo” he mumbled as he attempted to cover the blush spread across his cheeks “your the officer that saved me a few nights ago, I wanted to say thank you for then and just now” I said with a bright smile

“oh yeah, what’s your name?” He asked as he recovered from his flaming cheeks “oh it Antonio, lovi”

“wait how do you know my name?” He exclaimed suspiciously as he stared st me doubtfully “oh well, the doctor told me your name, I think his name was Feliciano” he face palmed and groaned

“of course” he mumbled as he sat down on the cushioned chair next to the bed “so Antonio, mind if I ask you what the hell you were doing out so late at night, the other night” he beseeched as he crossed a leg over the other and rested his elbow, supporting his head, on

“oh well I’m a writer and I might have accidentally typed an entire page in Spanish by mistake, so my éditer called me in, i was just leaving when I heard that woman scream and I just couldn’t leave a nice séniorita like her in trouble like that, to be robbed in an alley like that!” I professed as i emphasized my word with vivid hand gestures

“oh I see, so your a writer what do you write” he said, seemingly intrigued by the topic “well I write stories of passion, of love and life, stories like that”

“So you’re a romance novelist?” He asked “si!” We talked for about a hour after that about our jobs and interests, until the nurse came by and said that visiting hours where over. “Hey, um lovino do you think you could come visit me again tomorrow?” I requested, “sure, it beats doing paper work for that old man” he said nonchalantly as he walked through the door “addio pomodore bastardo (goodbye tomato bastard)” he said from down the hallway.

I sigh and relax into the bed “adiós lovino” I whisper to myself softly. The next day he came around 3ish, we must have talked for hour because once again, the nurse came by to say visiting hours where over.

“Hey lovino, before you leave could I ask you something?” I asked as he stood from his chair to leave, “aren’t you already. Make it quick, the nurse will get pissed if I’m not out of here in the next five minutes” he said as he pointed his thumb out the door

“yeah, sure. But lovino do you think maybe you would want to …um go get some dinner or something when I get released tomorrow afternoon” I asked somewhat shyly, I’m a romance novelist, dios mio you would think I would be better at this. He blushed softly but soon recovered

“I’ll meet you at Marcos restaurant on 5th street, 5 o’clock,” he countered with a smirk, as he walked towards the door, he turned “don’t be late” he added with a wink as he sashayed out the room.

End flashback~~~

And that brings us to now 4 o’clock, December 15 “oh shit” lovino said as he caught sight of the time “what?!” Roma asked worriedly “the dinners at five, it’ll take fucking 15 minuets to get home another 15 to get ready and 45 to get to the restaurant, I’ve got to run!” He responded as he ran out of the room and down the stairs to the first floor, he ran the whole way home which cut off about 5 minuets.

He ran to unlock his apartment door but ended up dropping the keys “fuck” he yelled. Feliciano, who was inside the apartment opened the door at the sound of his brother “fratello what are you doing” he asked “Feli, oh 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 god, no time to explain I have a date I need to be at in 48 minuets and I have 2 to get ready” he said as he pushed past his younger brother.

The green eyed Italian raced to his room and pulled out a nice purple button up shirt and black jeans, he through on the ensemble and scurried to the bathroom to comb his hair and put on a spray of cologne. Just like he came he went like the flash and raced to his motorcycles and speed down the road ‘40 minuets to go’ he thought as he neared a red light, of it wasn’t for all the traffic he could have been there in like 20 minuets but traffic is crazy around that time.

Finally he reached the restaurant, actually he was 2 minuets early. As he walked in he noticed that the restaurant was quite lively, except for a part in the back that was usually open but looked to be sectioned off. “Bonjour lovino, right this way,” Francis, the head chef and manager of the restaurant, said as he walked towards the sectioned off area

“what’s going on wine bastard, aren’t you supposed to be in the kitchen doing your job?”

“This is my job, well part of it,” he retorted he opened the sliding door to the room and motioned for him to go in. The room was dark except for the candle light that illuminated it, there was a table with two place settings and standing next to it was “Antonio? What all this” he asked as Antonio motioned for him to sit down across from him

“well mi amore, it’s our first date, so I figured I might as well make it the best you’ve ever had!” He mused as lovino blushed profusely, “also, you said last time that you like pasta so I went a head and ordered some pollo Alfredo pasta, for us” he said with a soft smile

“I can see how your a romance novelist now” he mumbled under his breath. After that the date went quite well they ended up staying till the restaurant closed for the night. The two love birds where walking back to Antonio’s place since it was closer and they may have had a few drinks so lovino didn’t want to drive home, just in case.

“Well this is it” Antonio said as they reached a moderately large, Spanish style, 2 story house “this is where you live?!” Lovino exclaimed while scanning the house “yep, I make some pretty good money off my books” Antonio boasted joyfully, the inside was more modest than the out side and had a few comfy looking sofas and chairs.

They decided to snuggle up on the couch and watch a movie, both of them falling asleep about half way through, both snuggled close together under a warm blanket on one of the overstuffed sofas. Little did they know many more nights would be spent like this, and many more joyous memories would be made in the future both near and far.

Bonus \(^^)/

Antonio had always been a early riser, always up when the sun was, this morning how ever he woke to a surprise laying in his arms. Lovino was laying on Antonio’s chest, on the couch, snuggled under a blanket, just as they were when they fell asleep. ‘Aaawww he looks like an ángulo (angle)’ he thought as he looked down at the smaller Italian in his arms, who began to stir, “Tom.. ato… bastard” he said softly in his sleep Antonio had to hold in a small laugh. He looked over at the clock on the side table next to them; 5:30 it read. He snuggled up against lovino again and decided to sleep in a little bit with him… they didn’t actually wake up till noon due to a Mary go round of on waking up and decided to let the other sleep a bit longer or wanting more time in the others arms.

THE END

#spamano #aph romano #aph spain #hetalia #fanfic #gift #spamano secret santa 2017 #submission

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arkhaminmate · 7 years

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Long Lost, Gotham FanFiction

Imagine finding out that Alfred is you long lost father

Your POV

You sat in the GCPD holding cell fidgeting with your ring, trying to keep your mind off what your foster father was going to do to you when he had to come and bail you out. All you wanted was to get the hell out of Gotham and away from your pathetic excuse of a life. Since your mother died 8 years ago you were left in the care of a string of foster homes, each one worse than the last. This morning you had finally had enough so you stole a neighbor’s car and headed for anywhere but Gotham, then one blown stop sign later you were hauled into the GCPD on charges of driving without a license and grand theft auto.

It had to have been a couple hours since they booked you and left you in this cell and your anxiety had been growing ever since. Then you saw him, your foster father, Hugh, red faced and huffing walking through the station. “how can I help you sir?” asks the officer who arrested you. “I’m here to pick up my low life of a foster kid” he looks around and his eyes meet yours giving you a chance to see the anger welling up behind them. He points his fat finger in your direction “that’s her, do I have to sign something or can we go?” he demands. “why don’t you have a seat sir and I’ll go over some paperwork with you.” Officer Schultz says as he ushers him to his desk.

Another hour passes and finally they unlock your cell and you’re led out and handed over to your foster father. Hugh grabs your arm hard and pushes you towards the door and right into an incoming detective. The impact knocks his coffee out of his hand and sends you both to the ground “I’m so sorry” you say as you pick yourself up. “don’t worry kid, no harm done its cheap coffee anyway” he smiles at you but before you can react you are back in Hugh's vice like grip and feel his open hand smack the back of your head so hard it makes your vision blur. “I swear to god you’re more trouble than you’re worth, Pennyworth. If the city had any other foster families willing to take you I would hand you over in a heartbeat.” “Hey! Calm down buddy, it was an accident” the detective yells but the two of you are already on your way out of the station.

Jim Gordon's POV

You kept your eye on the man with the kid as you mopped up the spilled coffee and you noted the license plate of the car you saw him shove her into. Back at your desk you ran the plates and found that the car was owned by one Hugh Crosby, a dock worker who lived out in the narrows. Apparently Mr. And Mrs. Crosby had a business of taking in foster kids no doubt for the money from the city. He had a rap sheet a mile long with multiple arrests for assault and battery, but still the city put children into his care. Most recently a 16 year old named y/f/n Pennyworth. Pennyworth you thought, maybe it’s a coincidence who knows how common a name like Pennyworth is. you tried to put the thought out of your mind and continued with your day, but deep down it nagged at you and finally you picked up the phone and called Alfred, the only other Pennyworth you knew in Gotham. “Wayne Manor” said the British butler on the other end of the phone. “Hey Alfred it’s Jim Gordon” “Hello there detective Gordon how can help you, Bruce is in the other room if you need to speak to him” “no, not this time. It may sound weird but I was actually calling to ask if you knew any other Pennyworths in Gotham?” you asked “I can’t say I do, it’s not such a common name here in the states I’m afraid. May I ask why you are suddenly interested in my surname detective Gordon?” Alfred asks. “it’s nothing really, we had a kid in here earlier named y/f/n Pennyworth and I was just curious if there was any relation” “Well I can’t say there is, what was this rogue Pennyworth doing in the GCPD?” he asks playfully.” “nothing major, joyriding. We turned her back over to her foster father. Look i’m sorry for bugging you Alfred I’ll let you get back to your day” “right then, thanks for the call and please don’t be a stranger, we would love to have you for dinner sometime mate.” The butler replied sincerely. “yeah thanks, I’d like that” you said right before you hung up the phone, but you still had a bad feeling in your gut and you finally grabbed your coat and headed off to the narrows.

Your POV

You splashed some water on your face and watched it turn red with the blood from your freshly busted lip. Your hands were still shaking and you were having a hard time catching your breath. You knew that a storm was brewing the moment Hugh put you in the car, his silence only increased your fear about the impending beating. And sure enough the moment you stepped into the house you were met with a barrage of punches and kicks. You crumbled to the ground and tried to protect your head and prayed that he would tire himself out. And sure enough a few minutes later he placed one more kick to your ribs and went off to the kitchen to grab a beer. You picked your self off the floor and winced at the pain screaming from you probably broken ribs as you walked up to the tiny broom closet you called home and passed out.

Jim Gordon's POV

The drive out to the narrows was uneventful and you pulled into Crosby's driveway and walked up to the front door and knocked. No one answered but you saw Mr. Crosby's car so you knocked again “GCPD, open up!” you yelled through the run down door. You were just about to knock again when finally the door opened and Hugh Crosby stood beer in hand in the doorway “what do you want, I signed all the papers at the station” he slurred, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath from where you were standing. “sir I’m here to see miss Pennyworth” “what do you want with her” he asked defensively “I just need to go over some things regarding her court appearance” you lied. “well she’s grounded and we already know everything about the court appearance so you can run on back to the station officer” he said as he began to close the door. “detective” you said as you stopped the door from closing “and it wasn’t a request, I need to talk to y/n” you walked into the house and asked where her room was. Hugh didn’t respond so you called out her name in hopes of getting her to come to you. A door down the hall opened and the bad feeling in your gut is confirmed as y/n limps out battered and bruised.

Your POV

You saw the detective you ran into at the station standing in the doorway you didn’t know what to do. “Did he do this to you?” he asked. You looked at Hugh and saw the anger behind his eyes and you looked down at your feet trying to avoid eye contact with either of them. The detective stepped towards you “hey, y/n it’s okay I’m a detective with the GCPD. You can call me Jim and I’m going to get you out of here.” His words sounded good but you couldn’t help but feel that this was somehow a trick so you stayed where you were. “look she doesn’t want to go with you, so why don’t you get out of my house!” Hugh yelled, making you jump. Detective Gordon pushed Hugh against the wall “I suggest you stay out of my way before you get a taste of your own medicine” he said making the tough guy look on Hugh’s face fade. This was the first time you saw a look of fear on the man’s face and it somehow gave you the strength to walk out the door. You felt a hand on your shoulder that made you jump, but you were reassured by Jim as he led you to his car. “where are we going?” you ask nervously as the car pulls away. “to the hospital to get you checked out” your breathing quickened and your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. “y/n what’s wrong? It’s okay, just breath, try to take a deep breath” he said as he pulled off the road. “please no hospital” you begged as you tried to get out of the car. Your foster mother worked in the hospital and had a deal with one of the doctors there that he would patch you up when Hugh got a little too rough in exchange for certain sexual favors, you only wished that it was her who had to do the favors instead of you. “okay, okay calm down.....uh....we don’t have to go to the hospital, just please stay in the car” he tried to comfort you but it wasn’t really working. Tears started to stream from your eyes and your body began to shake as you tried to curl into a ball in the seat. “hey y/n it’s okay we won’t go to the hospital, as it happens my girlfriend is a doctor. How about we go to her? Would that be better?” you try to say yes but nothing comes out so you just nod. “okay then” him says as he turns the car around. The further you drive the gentle swaying of the car begins to lull you to sleep and before you know it you are back at the GCPD. “I thought you said we were going to see your girlfriend?” you asked “we are, she works here as the medical examiner” he responds as he turns off the car and gets out. You try to open the door but apparently the child locks are engaged and you’re a bit embarrassed at his lack of trust in you. “Sorry, I didn’t know if you were going to run” he says as he opens your door. You hold your ribs as you stand up and wonder if you could even run if you wanted to. You walk back into the station and Jim leads you down a side hallway to a door labeled: Dr. Leslie Thompkins, Medical Examiner he opens the door and you see a woman with a plastic apron leaning over a dead body searching for something. The sight somewhat surprises you leading to an audible gasp that gets the woman’s attention. “Jim what are you doing here?” she asks “I need a favor Lee, can you give me a second?” “sure” she says as she removes her blood covered gloves and tosses them in a nearby trashcan. “hey kid, could you wait here for a second while I’ll fill her in real quick?” him asks as he ushers you to a bench in the hall “sure” you say as you take a seat. He walks into Dr Thompkins office and closes the door. You’re left to your thoughts and you automatically begin to twist the ring around your finger. It was a rather large gold ring with a seal of some sort engraved into the front. Your mom had given it to you before she died and said that it once belonged to your father, but she refused to answer anymore questions on the subject. The only clue you had were the initials on the inside of the band: A.P. You had the bad habit of twisting the ring whenever you were nervous and the design was beginning to be rubbed away. Just as you began to calm down the Dr's door opened and Jim came to get you. “y/n this is Dr. Lee Thompkins, Lee this is y/n” Lee put out her hand and you tentatively took it and shook “it’s nice to meet you” she said as she grabbed a clipboard and pen “now let’s get you patched up” she said as she clicked the pen. The sound triggered something and you felt a panic attack coming and you tried to leave, but Jim stopped you holding you by the arms which made you freak out even more, causing your breathing to quicken and your vision began to blur. You heard muffled voices and felt a stinging sensation in your arm as you crumpled in Jim’s strong arms.

Jim Gordon's POV

You lifted y/n up onto Lee’s examination table and wiped your brow. “that was……..sudden” you say as Lee begins to take y/n vitals. “I’ve seen this before back at Arkham, the patient would hear a sound they associated with a trauma and it would bring back all the emotions from the experience” Lee explained as she wrote some numbers down on her chart, avoiding your eyes. “what is it Lee, what aren’t you telling me?” she sets down the clip board “it’s most likely a response to sexual assault Jim” she says and you look down at y/n's face feeling the anger welling up inside you. Lee grabs your hands “look, we won’t know for sure until I finish my examination. I’ll call you when I’m done, why don’t you get a cup of coffee” she says as she gently kisses your cheek. “thanks for doing this Lee” you say as turn to leave. You notice the ring on y/n's finger and take it off to get a closer look. Though the design is worn you can tell that it is a royal air service seal, you turn your attention to the inside of the band and find the initials A.P. and know you need to make a call.

“Wayne Manor” “hey Alfred, it’s Jim again. I hope I didn’t wake you” you say as you try to figure out how to say what you need to say. “oh no worries mate how can I help you this evening detective?” “uh…..look can you just come down to the station? We need to talk.” you ask. “I suppose I could, is there something wrong?” he asks with a noticeably concerned tone. “I’ll explain when you get here, thanks Alfred” you add before you hang up the phone. You feel Lee’s hand on your shoulder as she sits down next to you, her face already conveying the news she was about to share. “so, how is she?” you ask “there’s considerable evidence of sexual assault but it appears to be from some time ago making it unlikely to get any DNA. She also has two broken ribs and substantial bruising and scars from what looks to be a belt or some kind of strap” she closes the file and places it on the desk between you. “Jim who is this girl, where did she come from?” she asks “she was brought in on grand theft auto charges after trying to leave Gotham most likely trying to escape her foster family. I saw her leave the station and heard that her last name was Pennyworth” “Wait, as in Alfred Pennyworth?” she interrupted “that’s what I thought, so I called Alfred and asked if he had any family in Gotham or knew anyone with that last name and he said that it wasn’t a common name to have in the states. But something was still bugging me so I went out to the narrows to ask her some questions but ended up finding her beaten and bruised. And then I see her ring” you place the ring on your desk and Lee picks it up “it has the royal air service seal, which Alfred served in. And the initials A.P on the inside” there is a silence between you “so you think y/n is some long lost relative to Alfred?” Lee asks as she places the ring back on the desk. “that’s what’s the evidence points to, Alfred is on his way over here now” “wow”, she says as she leans back in her chair. “well she’s going to be out for at least another hour but I’ll keep an eye on her, do you know how you’re going to tell her? Or Alfred for that matter?” “I’m open to suggestions” you say jokingly but somewhat seriously. She kisses you on the lips before she walks back to her office. You get up to pour yourself a cup of coffee when you see Alfred walk in. “hey Alfred thanks for coming” “well it didn’t seem like I had much of a choice to be honest” the butler says with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “right, well follow me I have something to show you” you say as you lead him to your desk and usher him to the seat opposite you. There is a sound of metal on wood as you slide the ring towards him “do you recognize this ring?” he picks it up and examines the hunk of gold and the color drains from his face. “where’d you get this?” he asks as he runs his finger the faded seal on the ring. “That girl I called you about earlier today, she was wearing it.” You tell him as he sets the ring back down “I gave this ring to a woman I met while on assignment here with the royal air service her name was Sharon and well long story short we ended up falling in love, but when I left for England we lost touch and I figured she had found someone else and moved on, and so did I. Are you meaning to tell me that this girl is…………my daughter?” he asked as he nervously runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know anything for sure but we can run a DNA test if you agree, look...there’s something else” “what, more surprises for me mate?” “Alfred, I don’t know how to say this but she appears to be the victim of physical and sexual abuse. probably at the hands of a number of foster parents she’s be in since her mother’s death” “bloody hell” his head fell into his hands “what did Sharon die of?” he asked “drunk driver hit their car and sent them into a culvert, y/n survived but her mom wasn’t as lucky” Alfred let out a heavy sigh as he tried to process everything he had just heard and you stayed silent until he said “well I guess we should have a go at that DNA test and make sure” he stood up but still had the look of shock on his face. “Right, follow me, Lee can take the sample and run it.” You said as you lead him back to the medical examiner’s office but before you opened the door you prepped Alfred “y/n is in there, Lee had to sedate her for the examination but she should be waking up soon” you opened the door and walked in, Alfred fixed his suit jacket and entered the room.

Alfred's POV

You walked in and saw the girl lying on the examination table, thankfully Lee had made it up to appear more like a bed than an autopsy table. You walked up to her and looked at her face, your heart sank as you saw that she was the spitting image of Sharon. Tears stung your eyes as you reached out and stroked her hair. “she looks just like her” you choked out as you turn back to Jim and Lee. “how long will the test take?” you ask as Lee pulls out a long cotton swab and places it in your mouth. “we should have the results tomorrow” she answers as she places the swab back in its tube and has you sign a release form. “so, what do we do now” you ask, never feeling quite this helpless since the murder of the Waynes. “Until we get the results she will remain in police custody” “so what she stays here in a cell?” you ask “of course not Alfred we'll take her back to our place” Lee says placing her hand on your shoulder. “can I at least stay and introduce myself when she wakes up?” you ask as you look back at her sleeping form on the table. Lee looks at you sadly “she’s had a very long day Alfred, I think it might be better if we do this slowly when she’s rested” “right, makes sense. I’ll just see you guys tomorrow then…….uh should I come here or to your place?” “I’ll call you as soon as I have the results, I promise” and with that you took your leave and headed back to Wayne manor with your head spinning.

Your POV

You opened your eyes to find yourself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. You tried to sit up but a sharp pain in your side made you lie back down. “hey take it slow, you have some broken ribs” you looked over and saw Dr Thompkins get up from behind her desk. She pulls out a penlight and shines it in your eyes “what’s your name? Do you know where you are?” you tried to block the light from your eyes as you replied “y/n Pennyworth and I think I’m in the morgue” you replied you went to feel your ring but noticed that it was gone, you shot up ignoring the pain and checked your pockets “whoa whoa what’s wrong” Dr Thompkins asked “my ring, where is it, I had it earlier but now it’s gone” you could feel the tears building in your eyes thinking of the one thing you loved gone forever. “relax I got it right here” Jim said as he entered the room. He placed the ring in your hand and you let out a sigh of relief as you put it back on your finger. “so where’d you get the ring?” Jim asked “my mom gave it to me before she died, it was my father’s but I never knew him. The ring is all I have left of either of them now” you looked at the floor trying to hide your tears. “so what are you going to do with me now?” you asked nervously “your going to stay with us for the night until we can work out a more permanent arrangements” Jim said as he helped Lee pack up her bag. “another foster home?” you ask bleakly. “maybe not, come on lets get out of here” says Jim as he ushers you and Lee out of the office and the station. The ride to their house was short and before you knew it you were falling asleep on their couch.

Alfred's POV

You barely slept last night, you couldn’t stop thinking of how you and Sharon brought a life into this world and you had no idea. When morning finally came you made Bruce breakfast but couldn’t help but be distracted by the thoughts of that poor girl growing up without a father or a mother being bounced from foster home to foster home. “are you okay Alfred?” Bruce asks as you place a plate in front of him. “just peachy master Bruce, why do you ask?” you say as you come back into reality. “you seem a little distracted is all” Bruce responds. “my apologies sir” you say when you hear the phone ring. You excuse yourself and try to hurry to the phone without looking too suspicious. “Jim!?” you ask trying not to sound too nervous. “good morning Alfred, we got the results in if your ready to hear them” Jim asks “well get on with it” you say “its a match Alfred she’s your daughter, we’re at the station if you want to head down, y/n still doesn’t know anything and I thought you should be here to tell her. “right, right I’m on my way now” you say as you place the phone back on its hanger “who was that?” Bruce asks making you jump “what have I told you about sneaking up on people” you snap “sorry, I wasn’t trying to be sneaky. Who was that on the phone?” “well master Bruce it turns out....... that I.....I have a daughter” you said, the words sounding foreign to you. “What? How?” Bruce asks. “that’s a very long story I’m afraid and I have to go pick her up at the GCPD” you say as you gather your coat and keys. “you want some company?” Bruce asks as he grabs his coat not waiting for your answer.

Your POV

You felt a little better after a good night’s rest but you were still sore when Jim woke you up and took you back to the station. “what now?” you asked “follow me, we have to talk” Jim says as he walks you to an interrogation room. “am I in trouble?” you ask nervously as your heart begins to pound. “no, nothing like that. Have a seat y/n” you sit down and instinctively begin to twist your ring. “that ring” he asks “you say it belonged to your father?” “yeah, at least that’s what my mom said when she gave it to me” you say looking down at the band of gold. “the initials on the inside, do you know what they stand for?” Jim asks “no, she never told me his name. But I assume it’s something Pennyworth” you had long wondered what the A stood for but since your mother was dead you had resolved to never know the answer. There was a knock on the door and a fancy dressed man stepped into the room “Hello detective Gordon” he had a British accent and the grace of a very sophisticated man. “Hello Alfred, I’d like you to meet y/n Pennyworth, y/n I’d like you to meet Alfred Pennyworth” the man stuck out his hand to shake but you were in a state of stunned silence and just stared at it. “I’ll give you two some time to talk” Jim said as he excused himself and Alfred sat down in his seat. “it’s nice to meet you y/n, I don’t know if you know this but I knew your mother back in the day” you still just stared at him “look, I want you to know that things would have been different if I knew she was pregnant” “you’re.......you’re my father?” you interrupted as a tear fell from your eye. “it would seem so” he said “Im……I’m your dad” he added with tears welling in his eyes he stood up and you backed away cautiously “there’s no need to be afraid my dear, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, but I am now. I promise” he held out his arms and wrapped you in them and for the first time in a long time you felt safe. Find part 2 here: https://arkhaminmate.tumblr.com/post/174710954921/long-lost-part-2-imagine-finding-out-alfred

#gotham #alfred pennyworth #alfred x daughter #alfred x reader #gotham imagine

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ellawritesficssometimes · 7 years

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Super Cold - RusAme Super Hero One-shot

Summary: Alfred ‘Hitman Jones’ is the lead Super in Heta city. That is, until Russian immigrant Iron Fist moves to town. What will happen when the two join forces to fight against the infamous villain, Red Devil?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12629631/1/Super-Cold

A/N: Finally! My first RusAme centric fic! Enjoy :D

How’s everyone doing tonight? The name’s Hitman Jones, hero extraordinaire and wonder boy of Heta city. For those of you who don’t know, I’m the lead Super in town. I have super strength and speed, so criminals usually don’t bother to mess with me, otherwise they…well, get hit. There’s also the fact that my muscles are literally impenetrable, as bullets bounce right off them.

As you can see, I have quite the infamous reputation.

I used to be part of a duo before my twin brother, who now goes under the alias Invincible Violet, moved up North to start over his heroing career. When we were partners, he often got outshone by me, so moving away was his only chance at being noticed for once. Lest we forget that he had invisibility powers, along with super speed like myself.

Honestly, I couldn’t blame him for leaving. In fact, I was happy to hear that he was making grounds in Canada, in Toronto to be more specific.

Anyways, for two years, I’ve been the Super to talk about. All the news outlets focused on me, and I had a pretty sweet deal going on with the police because of my popularity. I got paid to patrol the city, although, any other good deeds were unpaid overtime, like they should be.

Initially, I didn’t start my heroing career to make money. Now, it was just a helpful bonus that paid for most of my university expenses. A kid’s gotta live, am I right?

Too bad my way of living was threatened by a newbie in town.

Iron Fist, a recent Russian immigrant, was quickly gaining ranks and approval amongst the Heta police force. Despite never having an encounter with him myself, I’ve heard many things about him, all of which struck a petty tinge of jealousy in the pit of my stomach.

The rising hero had moved here to escape the mandatory military service clause in Russia. Supers there were forced to do at least five-years of service, unlike here in America, where enlisting was optional. Supers here often just co-operated with the police, like I did. We didn’t usually join the military, and mostly stuck to domestic peace-keeping.

Unfortunately, now that Iron Fist was rounding up bad guys left and right, I had to compete to stay in the spotlight. Rumour has it that his ice powers were like a hail storm – the air would freeze; you would feel a wisp of cold air by your backside, and then the last thing you saw was a fist before being knocked out cold, pun reluctantly intended.

Since all Supers were required to register with the government, they also knew each other on a first name basis. It was for reasons of national security that no secrets were kept. Iron Fist was on record as an Ivan, but that’s all I knew. If Supers wanted to get involved in each other’s personal lives and form alliances, then that was up to them.

I hardly ever went to city council meetings, so I rarely got to see the other Supers in their civilian forms. Not that I wanted to. I could honestly care less. Those meetings were lame, I knew what I was doing, and I didn’t need to listen to some fat old man harp in my ear about lowering damage costs.

I saved the day, that’s all the mattered.

Also, ew. I so wasn’t about to meet this Ivan dude. I wanted him to remain faceless; it was much easier to demonize him that way. I’m telling ya, I may be a hero, but I’ve put too much work into my image to worry about the media questioning my reliability as the best Super the police has to offer. Call me selfish all you want…

Damn you, Iron Fist… Ivan. Tch! What a phony kind of name.

Heta city didn’t need two super powers! One was more than enough.

Chief Kirkland didn’t seem to think so.

He was currently yelling his bitter head off into my earpiece. The downtown branch of the Vargas bank was robbed, again. This was the third time this month.

“ –Are you daft? Stop being a stubborn Neanderthal and know your place. You are to stay put until further orders are given!–” Arthur barked, sounding like a grumpy old-lady that all children avoided on the street for fear of being smacked in the head with a dusty umbrella.

Arthur was the Chief of police. Unbeknownst to the public, he was also secretly a Super. He was a psychic who could pinpoint the locations of criminals and their whereabouts. Unfortunately, his powers were useless in a crowd, as he often got distracted and couldn’t tune out background noise.

It was for this reason that Arthur never became an active Super.

“–What my hot-headed, stubborn as a mule partner meant to say is don’t be stupid–” Francis, Arthur’s Lieutenant, corrected. “–We do not know which villain we are dealing with this time. You may need back-up, Alfred. Strong as you may be, you are still practically a child, and as your superiors, it is imperative that we ensure your safety. You’re also a civilian. It’s our job to protect everyone, including you believe it or not.–”

Francis was also a Super, but his powers were more useful in interrogation. He had the ability to tell when a person was lying. He was also very apt at perceiving and planting false emotions in people to extract the truth from them.

“–Shut it, you cheeky amphibian. We are not partners! I’m your boss and you will treat me as such!–”

“–That’s not how you acted around me last night…–”

I cleared my throat. “Thanks for the advice, Dads. I’m 19, so how about you start loosening up that choke-hold you have on me?” I muttered sarcastically. “Besides, I’m already on the culprits’ tail. A black van just stopped in an alleyway on third street. I’m going in.”

“–There will be no such going in!–” Arthur snapped. “–Alfred Foster Jones, so help me God, if you jump off that roof, I’ll shove my gun so far up your arse, you’ll regret living in a country with such poor gun control!–”

“–Alfred,” Francis whined, “just listen to him. I’m going to have to watch Arthur fret like a suburban house-wife if you ignore his orders again–”

“Sorry, dude,” I said, glancing back to spot the crowd of police cars lined up in front of the bank. It was pitch-black out, save for the street-lamps and many flashing red lights bouncing against the glass windows of the surrounding buildings.

I had climbed onto a rooftop nearby to get a bird’s eye view of the city. From what I could see, the culprits weren’t moving, and didn’t look like they planned to anytime soon. They were likely counting their profits.

I sighed. This was such a bore. It would only take me forty seconds or so to reach the criminals, but Arthur was acting as if going in solo was a death wish. I guess it didn’t help that he had taken full responsibility for me. The amount of paperwork he had to fill out because of the property damage I regularly caused was pretty hilarious.

“Come on, step out of the van. Show your faces,” I whispered to myself. If possible, I also wanted to know who I was dealing with. The other two break-ins at the bank were minor villains. Today would likely be a toughie if we’re going by pure odds here.

I’ve always loved a good challenge.

I readjusted the mask on my face. Normal Alfred Jones wore glasses, and was everyone’s favourite geek. Meanwhile, Hitman Jones wore a partial muse of comedy mask that covered the right side of his face; a smiling face for an always successful hero.

“–Alfred, this is your last warning, young man! Stay put, damn you! I knew I should have called back-up sooner–” Arthur deadpanned.

“What?!” I spluttered.

“–That’s right,” Arthur said, I could hear the smirk in his voice. “I just called in Iron Fist. At least he’s reliable when it comes to preventing this city from falling into shambles on a daily basis–” he lectured.

SLAM!

Angered, I jumped off the building I was standing on, causing cracks to form in the asphalt below my feet. No one questioned my abilities as a Super.

No one.

“–Oh look, you provoked him,” Francis deadpanned. “I’m not even psychic and I saw that one coming. You both have the temperaments of toddlers, mon dieu. Everyone would be better off if you two weren’t working together. But does anyone ever listen to me? Non! It’s because I’m French, isn’t it? We’re not all drunks, you know!–”

I didn’t aim a single glance at the police, ignoring them as Arthur bellowed into his microphone. He was trying to embarrass me, but it wasn’t working. I had been belittled enough for one night, thank you very much.

“JONES GET BACK HERE, YOU TIT!”

“Artie, with all due respect, fuck off,” I growled into my earpiece. “Let me do my job, will ya? I’ve got this.”

Arthur returned to using his earpiece. “–The only thing you ‘got’ is an ego in need of being kicked down a few notches. I’ve just about had it up to here with your impulsiveness!–”

“What’s that? Can’t hear ya. I’m too busy saving your ass. Next time, maybe you guys should invest in a stronger security system.”

“–You are that security system!–”

“Nuh-uh! I’m a responder just like you!”

“–Jones, the next time I see you, you’re dead, you hear me?–”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time, father buzzkill.”

The earpiece’s audio broke out for several seconds. Arthur must have been screeching too loudly for the device to pick up on the sound. Whatever, I needed to concentrate anyway. Since Arthur failed to pin-point the criminals’ location, I was doing his job for him.

I sprinted around several street corners, making my way to the center-most part of the city. It was a place most people avoided due to the many operating drug and prostitution rings.

Thankfully, the people in the van didn’t notice me duck behind a nearby dumpster. I caught my breath, fixing my suspenders. Again, I had Arthur to thank for my formal wear.

Supers were discouraged from wearing bright colors, especially if they were on day patrol. If they could be spotted out in the open, then that put the civilians around them in jeopardy. We were instructed to dress ourselves so that we could better fit in with the public and attract less fights with villains, even if most of them happened at night, where criminal activity was at its height.

The outfit I had always worn consisted of a white blouse, black suspenders and leggings made of a spandex-like material, leather gloves, and the mask I’ve already mentioned before. I looked more like a murderer than an actual hero.

Hmmph! The media sure liked to poke fun at how lanky I was in paradox with my super strength. Again, I was 19! I wasn’t done developing just yet!

Carefully, I poked my head into view. “Come on,” I grit my teeth. “Show yourselves.”

“–Have you gotten a visual on who they are yet?” Francis asked. “I’m taking over for now. Arthur is too busy frothing at the mouth to form a proper sentence.–”

“No,” I grunted. “The van is just sitting there. I have no idea what they’re doing.”

The cameras had shown two people in black leaving the bank, but only one hopping into the get-away van. Perhaps this was their meet up place?

“–Good!” Arthur shouted in the background. “Hold your ground, Iron Fist should be there in a few minutes.–”

Arthur really ought to learn my triggers. I always did the opposite of what I was told.

Either way, it didn’t matter. A figure had already stepped out of the van. The first thing I noticed was that she was a woman. She had long brown hair that fell to her waist, bangs pinned to the side with a pink flower clip. She was also wearing all black, and had a cellphone sticking out of her pocket.

Before she could make her way to the trunk, I sped forward, casually resting my arm against the back of the vehicle.

“How’s it going, darling?” I mused, flashing my award-winning smile. “Got big plans tonight? A big spender, are ya? Go big or go home, huh? I have a suggestion. How about we skip all that and I take you straight to prison?”

Arthur and Francis’s fragmented yelling continued to crackle in my ear.

The woman gave a surprised yelp when she spotted me standing there, grinning under the dim lighting of the street. Her green eyes widened with fear before hardening with determination.

“Listen here, Golden boy,” she spat. “Not everything is black and white. I’m here doing a job, and if you get in the way, I won’t have any choice but to dispose of you. Bullets may not harm you, but they do stun from what I’ve heard. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to,” she wavered, almost looking regretful as she pulled out a gun from her cargo pants.

I simpered. I never liked seeing a lady in distress. “Sweetheart, life may get tough, but that doesn’t justify robbing a bank, no circumstances ever do. If you surrender now, I’d be happy to put in a good word for you. You don’t look like the kind of person who would kill someone in cold-blood. Work with me here, where’s your partner? This can all be over soon if you just co-operate; you may not even have to serve jailtime...”

I reached out to touch her shoulder, only to duck when the woman mercilessly shot at my head.

PING!

The bullet bounced off a nearby lamppost. On instinct, I stuck out my arm, blocking the bullet from rebounding straight into the woman’s chest. “Now that wasn’t very nice,” I smirked. “This is your last chance. I don’t like laying my hands on a woman, but if justice calls for it, I won’t hesitate; not again, doll.”

Even though I had just saved her life, the woman took several steps back, refusing to lower her gun. “S-stay away from me!” she shrieked. “I don’t need your pity. I’m doing this b-because I want to! I need this money! It’s the only way I-!”

The woman faltered when a laugh akin to the sound of scraping metal echoed across the street, sending chills up and down my spine.

Red Devil, otherwise known as Gilbert Beilschmidt, stood on a rooftop across the street, red eyes gleaming and upside down cross-themed cape billowing in the wind.

“Tsk! Tsk! Mrs. Héderváry! And here I thought you would honour your word by not getting caught. I should have known not to rely on a non-Super like you. I’m afraid I’m just too trusting. It’s a flaw of mine, but it does provide for much entertainment when your Plan A is already doomed from the beginning.”

I tensed, heeding Arthur’s warning to tread carefully for once. Red Devil was an ex-Super gone bad due to his poor treatment by the media. They had made fun of his strange looks, and had ended up paying for it dearly when their most well-known news anchor was hung in cold-blood, right in front of their headquarters.

“Jones, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Red Devil remarked dismissively, jumping down onto the street with a thundering thud.

The villain had numerous powers, most of which were mental. He played mind games, torturing his victims with horrid thoughts and threats until they finally gave in to his whims. He could also inflict real torture onto his victims, sending ghost pain flaring all throughout their nervous system – this was usually how Gilbert used to catch bad guys, back when he wasn’t one himself.

I caught on quickly, protectively placing an arm in front of Mrs. Héderváry. Gilbert was blackmailing her, I just knew it. “What do you want, Devil?” I asked, not referring to him on a first or last name basis since we were with company.

It was an unspoken rule that Supers were never supposed to out each other.

“Here’s a better question. What kind of dirt do you have on this girl? I know you, and what you’re capable of. You’re forcing her to do this, aren’t you?” I leered. “What kind of sick, twisted bastard gets a human to do his dirty work? Jeopardize yourself if you’re going to be breaking the law, you coward.”

“I can take care of myself,” Mrs. Héderváry growled to herself. “I don’t need some narcissistic Super to protect me.”

Unbeknownst to me, Mrs. Héderváry crept backwards, discreetly opening the trunk of the get-away van.

I furrowed my brows, preparing a mental block in the case that Red Devil attempted to pry into my mind. Judging by the deadly expression on his face, I had pissed him off real good.

Arthur had taught me how to ward myself against mental attacks – it was similar to imagining a brick wall between you and the person trying to invade your mind. To be safe, I made said wall iron; the irony of the figurative mind block flew right over my head, as did most things.

“Don’t get self-righteous on me, Jones. You act like there’s no corruption where you stand. The police are all scum, and you’re just the bottom feeder who eats up their lies. You’re not protecting anyone but yourself! You’re pathetic! Nein! A mutt! That’s what you are! Get your head out of your ass and look up for once. This city is not what it seems! Don’t be a cog in the machine, do what you want for once.”

“I am!” I shouted back. “Protecting this city is what I’ve always wanted to do. Sure, things aren’t squeaky clean, I’ll give you that. But I’m not here to pander to political agendas. I care about keeping the civilians safe, unlike you! Do you remember your brother, Ludwig? He used to look up to you, idolize you. Now he couldn’t be more ashamed of what his brother has become. The other Supers don’t trust him.

“Why? Because he has to live with the guilt of knowing that his brother continues to reign terror in this city, leaving a trail of destruction and blood in his selfish wake. You have no excuse! Self-pity and revenge turned you into a monster. At least one person in your family didn’t turn out to be a rotten apple. Justice will be served to you, Devil, I just hope it never has to come down between you and your brother.”

Gilbert growled. “Tch. After all this time, you still haven’t learned to mind your own business. Fine. Continue to become a slave for all I care. Die for all I care. You chose the wrong side, and now you’ll see what happens when you do.”

“Oh,” I grinned. “And what do you mean by that?”

“This!” Ms. Héderváry shrieked, prodding me in the back with something sharp. Only when the currents coursed through my body did I realize I had just been tasered. It was the one thing that prevented me from using my super strength; it paralyzed my muscles.

I fell to the ground, convulsing.

“I’m sorry, dear. He has my husband,” Mrs. Héderváry sadly glanced down at me before shutting the trunk door.

“Did you count the money?” Red Devil asked her.

“Yes, it’s all there,” Mrs. Héderváry scowled. “I held up my bargain of the deal. It’s time for you to honour yours. Tell me where he is,” she said, evident desperation in her voice.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Red Devil waggled a gloved index finger. “That’s not the deal, and you know it. Now be a good girl and start up the car. I can hear sirens; the pigs are almost here.”

“And what about you?”

“I have one last thing to say to this punk.”

“Fine,” Mrs. Héderváry sighed.

A slam of the car door.

I let out a sharp gasp when Gilbert kicked me in the rib-cage. “You’re lucky I’m letting you off easy, kid. If we didn’t have a past together, you’d be dead already. It almost makes me regret having you as an apprentice. I trained you to win, not whatever this is.”

“You also taught me to be ruthless, stubborn, to never give up! To fight for what I believe in! I believed in you, Gilbert! How could you betray us all like that?”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “You were always such a dramatic brat. The world never believed in me, so why should I believe in it? People change, time goes on, and new trends form. This is evolution, Jones. I’m merely trying to survive.”

“By killing other people?!” I countered.

Another kick to the rib-cage, and then jaw.

“Ja, by killing people. The next time we meet, I won’t be so lenient. Either you join me, or you die at my feet. History has a tendency to repeat itself, so I’m sure I’ll see you lying before me soon enough. Goodbye, Alfred. Perhaps God will grant you some mercy and knock some common sense into that stubborn head of yours.”

“Screw you! You’re despicable,” I hissed, spitting out blood.

Gilbert shrugged. “Despicably awesome.”

I struggled to sit up, watching with furious eyes as the van drove out of sight and skidded around the corner.

“–Jones, Jones!” Arthur shouted in my ear. As we spoke, he was tracking down my location through the earpiece. “What in the bloody hell just happened?!–”

“Red Devil happened,” I groaned. “That’s what.”

I winced, waiting for my muscles to recover from their brief paralysis. “Fuck!”

“–Language!–” Francis tutted.

“–Hang tight, we’ll be right there. Fist should be with you any minute now–” Arthur informed me.

“I told you I didn’t need him!” I snarled, slamming an angry fist against the pavement. The skin on my knuckles opened from the rough contact. Still enraged, I crushed the earpiece, discarding it with an irritated flick of the wrist.

“Need who?” A soft voice spoke into the night, coming from behind me.

I staggered to my feet, falling face first into something hard and very cold. It was a chest. A chest of another Super to be more specific.

“Ah!” I cried out in shock, stumbling backwards. “Where the heck did you come from?! Can’t you see I’m trying to-!” I paused, deadpanning when I realized that Iron Fist was standing before me. This was our first encounter, and he was already getting on my nerves.

Iron Fist was a hulking giant, easily over six feet in height. I was 5’11, and yet he made me feel small and inferior, what with his burly arms, strong shoulders, and chiseled jawline. Of course, you would never hear me admit this out loud, as my pride wouldn’t be able to take it.

He had ear-length blond hair that was almost silver, a white mask that covered his violet eyes and strong nose, and carried a chilly air about him. No, literally. The air had dropped a good ten degrees since his arrival.

I scoffed immediately as my eyes raked downwards. What a goon. He obviously didn’t get the memo about not being allowed to wear spandex or bright colours on the job. His outfit consisted of a tacky blue spandex suit, a navy cape, and silver and white trimming to match his mask. Strangest of all was the white scarf he had wrapped around his neck; I decided not to question it, since one, there were other things to worry about, and two, if I was perpetually freezing like him, I’d probably wear a scarf too.

“Ah,” Iron Fist, Ivan, held out a pale hand, waving it in front of my face. “Perhaps you took too hard of a fall. I can take over from here,” he offered.

“Hell no, dude!” I exploded. “This job is mine. Go home, beat it, scram!”

“I’m afraid that cannot happen,” Iron Fist sighed. His voice was very soft, almost childish but not quite. It was a shocking contrast if you considered his colossal size. “I do not break my promises. I’ve been asked to help. Whether you and I work together is up to you, but I will not back down from this fight. I’m more experienced than you are, I know what I’m doing. You can trust me, Alfred. If not, then I’ll be off. If you haven’t noticed, those criminals are getting away.”

Ha! As if him using my name would get me to trust him any more.

“Yeah, not going to happen,” I snapped, brushing off the dirt from my spandex. Just as I prepared to take off into a sprint, Iron Fist grabbed my wrist, immediately causing me to shiver from both the tightness and coolness of his grip.

“Perhaps I have not made myself clear. This is our job. I can’t have you running off diving into something you can’t possibly win. I read the records, Red Devil used to be your mentor. That’s why us working together as a team is ideal, da? Someone has to be there to ensure you don’t have another moment of weakness. That man is putrid, and used your past together to his advantage. It’s why he’s not in custody right now.”

I shrugged off Iron Fist, biting my lip angrily. “Look,” I huffed. “I don’t need you belittling me. You know nothing, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t butt into my life, you have no right. I was taken by shock just now, simple. I didn’t expect the chick to have a taser on her.”

“Exactly. If I was there, that would have never happened. You need someone to watch your back.”

“I DO NOT!”

Iron Fist’s facial expression darkened. The air got chillier, if possible. “Kirkland was right, you are an immature brat,” he spat in a flat tone. “Is that what you want? To follow in your mentor’s footsteps? To be selfish and feign being a martyr who doesn’t let anyone tie him down? Just look at where that led your idol, Ludwig’s idol. You never had someone to keep you in line. It’s why you’ll eventually fall too if you’re not careful.”

“SHUT UP!” I screeched, raking a hand through my hair. “Just… shut up. I don’t need to hear something that I already know, especially from a stranger like you.”

Iron Fist sighed in understanding. “Mr. Jones, you are still very young and have much to learn. But,” he paused, reaching over to place a gentle hand over my shoulder. “All you need is guidance, a friend. I may be new here, but I know how lonely living this life can be. You can trust me. Fighting by yourself is a hidden burden, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

The sirens in the distance became louder.

I glanced up into Iron Fist’s eyes, blushing slightly. His gaze was just so piercing. He had such an usual eye color. “Fuck it!” I nodded my head. “Let’s do it. We need a plan.”

Iron Fist smiled. The sight of it sent a strange surge of warmth in my chest. “I’m glad we could reach an agreement. This will be much fun. The city’s two most powerful Supers, fighting together? My, my, the media is going to have a field day tomorrow.”

“Ahem, there’s only one powerful Super here, and that’s me!” I protested.

Iron Fist bent down, mockingly inspecting me with pursed lips. “What? Do my ears beseech me or did this lanky kitten just claim he’s stronger than me? You should really learn to respect your elders.”

“Actually, I am,” I glared. “My powers are super strength and speed. It’s nice to see that your ice powers also translate into your personality. Because my dude, you are cold. Also, you’re only three years older than me. Talk down to me again, and I’ll go for your throat. I’ll fight ya man, the minute we’re done here, I swear to God!”

“Spasibo,” Iron Fist grinned. “Being cold is a speciality of mine. Oh, and I highly doubt that.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. Speak English, I’m not fluent in commie.”

“The plan, Alfred?” Iron Fist rolled his eyes. “You can be a jerk to me later. We need to focus on catching those deviants first.”

The police were just around the corner.

“Yes, yes fine, whatever. Okay, how much do you know?”

“Nothing. I walked in right after seeing a woman half your height taser you. Although, I have fought Red Devil before. I know he’s not a force to be taken lightly.”

I gave Iron Fist an unamused look. “Putting aside your sarcasm, this makes things easier for me. Red Devil is holding her hostage. He has her husband and is likely blackmailing her with his life, so I would be wary of her too, just in case. She’s desperate and isn’t in a right state of mind. If it comes down to it, we save her instead of the money, got it?”

Iron Fist didn’t voice any protest.

“Good,” I affirmed, only to yelp when I saw Arthur’s cruiser speed around the corner. The thick eyebrowed lunatic was using the microphone installed in the vehicle to yell at me, as per usual.

“Uh-oh, he doesn’t sound very happy,” Iron Fist smugly commented.

“What is up with your voice?” I hissed. “Stop speaking to me as if I’m a child!”

“I’m not,” Iron Fist shook his head. “This is just how I talk.”

I scoffed. “Oh, yeah, riiiiiiiight. Let me guess, you like also sunflowers, sunshine, and late-night walks on the beach?”

“…What’s wrong with that?” Iron Fist wavered.

“Ugh! Enough! I’m out. We need to get to high ground. That way I can spot where that bastard is heading.”

I bent my knees, preparing to leap onto the nearest rooftop. I stopped, realizing I didn’t have time to wait for Ivan to climb up the fire escape manually.

Sighing, I bent over, cupping both hands. “Step on, man. I’m giving you a lift.”

Not that I had much of a choice.

I kneeled down.

“…”

“Do it, Ivan. We don’t have time for you to pussy out now!”

Iron Fist’s nervousness must have affected his English. “I am being no such thing. I am not liking that…that mischievous look in your eyes!!”

I smirked. “Bock! Bock! Bock! Chicken!”

“What is this sound you’re making?”

“Bock! My name is Iron Fist! Bock! Bock! I’m a pussy! Cough Cough Bock!”

“You’re insufferable,” Iron Fist stated venomously, albeit stepping onto my hands. I held his entire weight as if it were nothing. I was strong enough to stop trains and buildings from falling, after all.

“Thanks dude, I really needed that ego boost. Here’s yours.”

I thrust Ivan into the air, revelling in his high-pitched shriek as he tucked and rolled onto the rooftop above. His instincts acquired from several years of military service saved him from injuring himself.

Meanwhile, I leapt onto the roof with ease, smooth and slick like a cat, avoiding the beam of Arthur’s beloved spotlight in the nick of time. Ha!

Iron Fist rolled his neck and arms, wringing out the kinks from his rough landing. “I think I just figured out your signature trade mark; obnoxiousness,” he said bitterly.

“Obnoxiousness, handsomeness, bravery, they’re all the same to me,” I waved him off. “Now, let’s catch some baddies, yeah?”

Iron Fist scowled.

Ignoring him, I scoured the city with my eyes, already having a faint idea of where Red Devil would be heading. There were several warehouses located in the east side of the city, near the port. He was likely storing both the husband and the money there.

Sure enough, I spotted the black van I was looking for speeding down seventh street.

“Found them!” I declared, pointing Ivan in the right direction.

“What now then?”

I grinned wickedly. “Hop on my back and you’ll see.”

“I’m really regretting accepting this job.”

“It’s not too late to back out now…pussy.”

THUD!

Iron Fist leapt onto my back, cussing in Russian.

When I began to sprint at an inhuman speed, intending to leap from rooftop to rooftop, that’s when Ivan panicked.

“Alfred, nyet! We’re going to fall!”

“You told me to trust you, now it’s your turn to trust me. I could do this in my sleep, bruh. We need to get ahead of those guys if we’re going to catch them.”

I pretended not to let the coolness of his body temperature, let alone his close proximity bother me. By the grace of God, the night was able to mask the flustered blush on my face. Also, I did have a mask…

Iron Fist tried to keep his whimpers to a minimum as I ran half-way across the city in the span of two minutes. I chose to stop at a rooftop three blocks ahead of the port area. That way, we had time to plan a proper ambush of the van.

While Iron Fist informed Arthur of where we were, using a wrist watch as his form of communication, I estimated we had three minutes before the van would be within ambushing range.

“Yes sir,” Iron Fist drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Da. Da. Da. Da. Nyet. We’ll be careful. Nyet. Da, he’s with me. Okay, talk to you soon.”

“How come you get a wrist watch and I get an earpiece?” I spluttered.

“I know how to follow orders the first time they’re given to me,” Iron Fist airily replied, passively smug. “I don’t need to be constantly reminded.”

“Hmmph!” I pouted. “Not fair. Anyway, that’s them right there,” I pointed at the van, directing Ivan’s gaze. “I think I have a plan.”

“Go on…”

“Freeze the road. They’ll slip on a patch of black ice. I’ll stop the vehicle before they crash, and bam! Red Devil gets caught, the bank gets the money back, Mrs. H gets her husband back, and Arthur can finally go to the hospital to have his aneurism treated.”

“I have no arguments.”

“Good, let’s roll out.”

Iron Fist climbed onto the edge of the roof, holding out his dominant hand. The air gathered around him in a cool wind as he absorbed its moisture.

A faint whooshing sound emanated as Iron Fist thrust his hand downwards, coating a small path of the road with ice. “Now we wait,” he told me.

“Yep.”

Unsuspecting, the van drove onto the patch of ice Iron Fist had concocted, spinning uncontrollably, tires shrieking.

I leapt down to ground level, creating another dent in the road. I would write it off as Red Devil’s fault if Arthur ever asked me about it…

Meanwhile, Ivan had to climb down himself this time.

Right before the van smashed into a city administration building, I dove in front of it, placing both hands on the bumper. I slowed it to a complete stop.

Mrs. Héderváry was at the wheel, wide-eyed as she pawed at the air bag that had haphazardly popped out to catch her crash.

“Miss me?” I grinned.

“YOU!” Red Devil bellowed.

The passenger door was kicked open angrily, skidding across the other end of the street.

Red Devil’s eyes glowed dangerously. Trouble struck when I was lifted in the air by an invisible force. What?! Since when could he perform telekinesis?!

Red Devil’s shoes clacked as he slowly made his way over to me, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. I gasped and struggled for oxygen, clawing at the invisible hands around my throat.

“Jones!” Iron Fist called out from the rooftop. “Hang on, I’m coming!”

I didn’t have time to respond, screaming when Red Devil punched me in the stomach. In moments of peril or confusion, the strength of my muscles weren’t consistent. Gilbert knew all of my weaknesses; he was the one who had trained me into the Super I am today.

“G-Gilbert!” I wheezed, red-faced. “What have you done? This! This isn’t normal.”

“I took something that will allow me to rise to the top. I thought I told you to back off. Tsk! Tsk! You’ve brought this onto yourself. Hmmm. Rebellious boy Alfred fights off against his ‘corrupted’ former mentor,” Red Devil mused, holding up a hand to the air. “I can see the headlines now. The whole press mourning for your early and unexpected departure. How tragic! I’ll have to remember to frame it once it’s printed.”

“You’re mad.”

“That I am. I’m angry at how the world works. But you know what? No matter who’s in charge, life will always be a bitch to someone. Just like it is to you now.”

“AHHH!” I grit my teeth. Red Devil had slipped past my mental block. It felt like my entire body was on fire, my nerves were fried.

“Come on, let it all out. No need to hold any formalities with me. It would be a shame to waste your potential, pathetic and grovelling as you are now. None of my students will ever excel past my own abilities; it’s both a disappointing and rewarding feeling. I mean seriously, is that all you have to fight back? My, I’m almost regretting adopting you under my wing.”

“Screw you!” I was beginning to black out.

“Ah, there’s that spunk I missed. It’s the only redeemable trait you have.”

Mrs. Héderváry stepped out of the car, rubbing her head.

She slowly approached Red Devil.

“Ah, Elizabeta, dear, it looks like you will have to take off on foot. Get the money and run. I’ll rendezvous with you later.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Gilbert?”

What the heck. She knows Gilbert personally…

“Ja, liebling?” Red Devil teased, mockingly looking over his shoulder. Every thirty seconds he would give me a chance to breathe before tightening the invisible grip he had around my throat.

“I agree with Mr. Jones, screw you! I’m done playing your games! I can’t take it anymore!”

Out of nowhere, Elizabeta pulled out a pan from behind her back, cracking it against the back of Red Devil’s skull. Fury crossed over his expression before his eyes became blank and his body crumpled against the street.

Clang! Elizabeta let go of the pan. Hell if I knew where she got it from.

I also fell to my knees, gasping for breath.

Elizabeta crouched next to me, sobbing. “I’m sorry!” she apologized. “I didn’t know what to do. He has my husband,” she explained to me again. “No matter what I do, he just keeps lying and refuses to let Roderich go. I thought listening to him would work, but I just got sick of it. God! He’s h-hurt so many people, r-right in front of me. Oh…oh no. I’ve gone completely mad, haven’t I?” she wailed.

I shook my head. With a pained grunt, I stood up, offering my hand to Elizabeta. “No ma’am. You’re not mad. If you were, you wouldn’t have helped me just then. Thank you, you’ve done this city a great deed. I’ll do everything in my power to clear your name, rest assured. We’ll also find your husband for you.”

“Thank you!” Elizabeta sniffled, gripping onto my blouse with a shaking fist. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Of course, any time,” I winked, patting her back before parting. “Now, if you excuse me, I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

“Jones!” Iron Fist called out, coming out of the building he had likely just broken into. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m –”

WHAP!

Elizabeta and I both shrieked as an invisible force knocked us backwards into a building. I had broken the fall. Since she had been standing in front of me, I was able to catch her, holding her protectively against my chest.

She wouldn’t have survived the impact had I not done this. Still, she was unconscious, likely with a severe concussion. Heck, I could hardly keep my own eyes open. Everything hurt. Everything was loud. There was a pestering ringing in my ears that just wouldn’t stop.

“HA!” Red Devil exclaimed. “Did you really think a mere kitchen utensil could triumph over me? Don’t make me laugh. I was just waiting for the stone-cold shithead to get his husky arse down here. I still have a bone to pick with you, you hear that, Fisty? You owe me an entire shipment of weapons!”

Ignoring the villain, Iron Fist took a few steps towards Elizabeta and I. To prevent this from happening, Red Devil waved his hand, moving the crushed van with his mind.

Weakly, I stretched out my leg to prevent the van from crushing us, pushing it out of view. I was too tired to move again, impatiently waiting for my strength to recover.

“Eyes on me, Fisty,” Red Devil repeated with a growl.

Iron Fist glared venomously. “Not only have you broken the law, but you’ve also hurt my friend. I will spare you no mercy, Devil.”

“Gut! I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Iron Fist cried out, unprepared as Red Devil sent his nerves on fire.

“Ivan!” I screamed. “Damn it!” I cursed, struggling to stand up. “Fight back, it’s possible to block him with your mind if you think hard enough. Imagine a wall around yourself! This ability – cough – comes easy to Supers! You can do it – cough.”

Red Devil, likewise to what he did to me, raised Iron Fist in the air so that he hovered above the ground by a few feet.

“You think you’re so cool, don’t you?” Red Devil smirked. “You’re no role model, Fisty. You’re a disgrace to your country, running away when the going gets tough. It’s even more pitiful than dear Alfie’s predicament. You’ve done some horrible things that the Americans don’t know about. It’s about time you told them.”

“Don’t let him get to you!” I protested.

“Can it, Jones! You’re interrupting my awesome diabolic monologue. Anyways, where was I? Ah ja, ja, that’s right. You’ve murdered innocent people, Ivan. You’ve tortured, mutilated, and driven people mad, all because some psycho in office told you to. There is no good and evil if you let go of societal rules, you’re just you. It’s in our nature to be selfish, to grab what we can so we can thrive. Join me, I know you have what it takes to turn this world around. You and I, we won’t just exist. We’ll live like Kings.”

Iron Fist trembled. “Unlike you, I did not choose to become a monster. I am not proud of what I did, but when your family is threatened, you will do anything for them. I came here to start fresh, to give them a better life. Cowardly as it may be, I know that abandoning my country was the right decision. I became a hero to show others that there is always a right path in life, you just have to find it. I decline your offer!”

Red Devil laughed. “How naïve. Don’t you realize? The Americans are no better than the Russians, they’re just more covert in their agenda. You’ll see, soon we Supers won’t have a mind to call our own. It looks like they’ve already brainwashed you. Who’s the real monster now?”

Red Devil stopped, releasing his grip on Iron Fist’s throat. “You will regret standing against me. The moment this world becomes mine, I’ll kill your sisters, listening to them cry out for the brother who won’t be there to save them.”

Something in Iron Fist snapped.

The air grew frigid, not just cold. Snowflakes danced in the air.

CRACK!

Pillars of ice jutted up from the ground, sending Red Devil ten feet into the air. His cape was caught on a pillar where he hung foolishly, feet kicking in shock.

“What in the ever loving fuck?!” Red Devil spluttered, silenced when the tip of another ice spear was placed dangerously close to his throat.

Iron Fist glowed a bright purple, waves of uncontrollable fury rolling off him.

“Threaten me all you want, but don’t you dare get my sisters involved in this!” Iron Fist seethed, his voice no longer soft but rather, harsh; brutal; frozen and devoid of all emotion. “You wanted the monster? Well here he is! Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Red Devil was trapped. If he made so much as one move with his mind, he’d get skewered in the throat. Acknowledging this, he grinned, running off the euphoric adrenaline of the moment. “Do it, I dare you. You’re not strong enough. You don’t impress me, you’re all talk,” he huffed.

The spear advanced one inch, poking Red Devil’s throat – his crimson eyes bugged out in genuine fear.

Horrified, I laid Elizabeta to the side, standing up. I was almost healed at this point.

“Ivan don’t!” I called out. “You’re letting him get to you. Damn it, I know you’re better than this. You’re a Super! For crying out loud, let him go. He doesn’t deserve such an easy end. What he deserves is to rot in prison! Do you think your sisters would want you to stoop this low? Heck no!”

The purple glow around Iron Fist faded. “Alfred, I… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what overcame me. You’re right.”

“It’s all good,” I wheezed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the first time he’s gotten under someone’s skin. It happens to the best of us… so I guess that would include you,” I squeaked.

“You should probably lower him now,” I advised, noting the sound of sirens in the distance.

Iron Fist nodded his head, shifting the ice pillars so that they still trapped the villain, threatening to pierce him at any given moment.

When the villain was at ground level, I walked up to him, pulling out the bracelet that all Supers employed by the police carried; a power neutralizer.

I wrapped the silver bracelet around Gilbert’s wrist, refusing to look him in the eye until the very last moment.

The ice hissed, beginning to melt.

“Ivan?”

“Da?”

“I’m going to do something morally questionable. Don’t tell the police about it, this is personal.”

Iron Fist didn’t say anything, silently communicating his approval.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt!” I commanded. “You are now under arrest. Oh, and go fuck yourself while you’re at it. That was for me. And this, this is for Ludwig…”

Gilbert looked at me with pure hatred.

WHACK!

Gilbert’s head jutted backwards. I had punched him in the nose, knocking him unconscious.

I dusted off my hands. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree is such a crummy expression. The apple fell away from the tree is more accurate if you ask me.”

Iron Fist gave me an incredulous look before smiling and fondly reaching over to ruffle my hair. “Are you always this dramatic?”

“S-shut up, will ya?!”

As always, the wrap up of an arrest always went by in a blur.

A still disoriented Elizabeta was escorted into a police cruiser under the promise that she wouldn’t be held accountable for what she had done under Red Devil’s orders.

Meanwhile, Gilbert, reduced to a normal human by the neutralizer, struggled amongst the team of officers holding him. “Beta, how could you?!” he wailed, dropping all professionalism, along with his act. “I’m…I’m sorry…”

Elizabeta glared at Gilbert, her eyes filled with hatred. “We may have been friends when we were children, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me. No friend would ever blackmail or hold someone close to them hostage. And you wonder why we fled town. It was to get away from you and your bullshit!”

Gilbert bowed his head in shame, succumbing to his fate. He didn’t put up a fight as three police officers just about shoved him into the back of a cruiser.

I whistled, waiting for Iron Fist to be freed of questioning. The other officers didn’t trust me, so they were taking longer with Ivan, wanting to get all the information right. I was used to this type of treatment so it didn’t bother me.

Someone had given me a bottle of blue Gatorade, so I was happily busying myself with drinking that.

The moment I saw a messy head of blond hair, I panicked, choking on my drink; dropping it. I weaved in and out of the crowd, but Arthur was a ruthless bloodhound if I’ve ever seen one.

He caught up to me in no time, grabbing me by the suspenders. “You little fucking cocky twat!” he cursed, throttling me back and forth. “Just look what you’ve done! The damages are through the roof!”

“Actually I was on a rooftop, but please, do continue.”

WHACK!

“Ooomph!”

Arthur let go of my suspenders, green eyes livid with anger, caterpillar eyebrows scrunched so that they were united together. He then resorted to pinching my cheeks.

“Just once, can you ever listen to me?! This all could have been resolved without this…this mess! Five damaged buildings, nine roads, two cars, and don’t even get me started on how many ogling children you must have influenced for the worst! And what is up with those bruises? Medic! Medic! Damn, where are the bloody medics? Can no one do their job in this blasted city?”

I shrugged off the Chief with a whine. “Artie, calm your non-existent tits. I’m good, man. The bruises will be gone by morning. I caught the bad guy, didn’t I? Rejoice, relax, unwind, get laid. You’re not even thirty years old. Why don’t you start acting like it?”

“I agree,” Francis purred. “It’s about time you stopped coddling him, cher,” he mused, draping an arm over Arthur’s shoulders. This gesture didn’t last long as Arthur shrugged him off on instinct. “It’s clear to moi that he can take care himself, eh, just not the city.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive!” Arthur shouted, only to wince and grab at his forehead. “God, this is all just too much.”

I shrugged. “You can yell at me all you want tomorrow. Let’s just work on getting everyone home safely.”

“Agreed.”

WHACK!

“Ouch!” I protested, grabbing the back of my now sore head. “The suspenders weren’t enough?”

Arthur flipped me off. I wasn’t talking to Chief Kirkland. I was talking to Arthur Kirkland, my next-door-neighbor.

“Good night, jackass. I’ll be looking forward to ripping into you,” Arthur leered in warning before turning on his heels and leaving with a smug-looking Francis.

“So do I!” I laughed, despite wanting to cry on the inside, just a little. “Hey, have you seen Iron Fist anywhere?

“Sod off.”

“He’s just coming out of questioning now,” Francis answered, pointing a lazy, languid hand to his left.

Sure enough, I found Ivan sitting on the hood of a parked cruiser, absently staring ahead.

Without a word, I sat next to him. “Hey,” I greeted after a comfortable amount of time had passed.

“Look man, I’m sorry about what happened in your past, in Russia I mean. I know things aren’t great here, but I sure do hope they’re better,” I rambled.

“Come, let’s go somewhere else.” Iron Fist grabbed my wrist gently, guiding us away from the cruiser when its angry owner began to yell at us for smearing the paint job. Yeah, you’re welcome for saving the city, buddy.

Strangely, I felt my stomach drop when Iron Fist let go of my wrist.

After putting some distance between us and the other officers, only then did Ivan speak. “The past is the past, Alfred. I try not to let it bother me. Still, I have to thank you. You got through to me. Nyet, you spoke to me. You were a voice of reason… you saved me from that monster. I don’t know if I would have been able to do what you just did. Fighting against the one who raised you into who you are must have been immensely difficult.”

“It was and will be when I have to face him in court again,” I admitted sadly. “But, I do know that whatever happens, it’s in his best interest. Who knows, maybe I’ll see the real Gil again. I can only hope.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, buddy?”

“Da?”

“I never thought I would say this, but we sure do make a good team. We, uh, should do it again if our paths just so happen to cross. And uh, thanks. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you either. You saved my ass.”

“Mhmmm,” Iron Fist agreed. “I would like that to happen too. You can be the sidekick,” he said, violet eyes smug.

“Like hell I will!” I exploded. “I’m always the leader!”

“We’ll see. Remember that I’m older, taller, and smarter than you. But not stronger, I can at least admit that.”

“Hmmph!”

Iron Fist smiled.

Suddenly, my heart couldn’t stop beating.

“Well, I’m sure my sisters must be wondering where I am. The youngest refuses to go to bed unless I kiss her forehead goodnight.”

“How cute,” I grinned.

“She’s nineteen, like you.”

“Oh…”

Iron Fist laughed. “I very much would like to work with you again. Before I met you, I saw you as competition, someone to beat. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Now I know that we work best when we’re together. As a team, we’d be unstoppable. Let’s stop this petty feud of reputations and focus on making this city a great place to live again instead,” he proposed.

“Yeah! That’d be great!” I grinned.

What Ivan did next took me by surprise. He brought my hand to his lips, feathering a light kiss against the gloved fabric. Still, it felt way too intimate to be real.

“Until next time, Jones.”

I flushed all kinds of red. “Uh-huh! G-good night!”

…

The next morning

…

Arthur waved a hand in front of Alfred’s flushed face, noting the latter’s dazed and overall vacant expression.

“Yoohoo! Earth to ignorant yank!”

Alfred’s face broke out into a dopey grin, giggling. “He kissed my hand. Can ya believe it?”

“No, but I do want you out of my office. You’re beginning to scare me.”

Alfred, like a zombie, shuffled out of the police chief’s office.

Arthur turned to look at Francis, incredulous. “Francis, I think Red Devil did something to his mind!”

“Non, you fool. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Oh? And how do you figure that?”

Francis rolled his eyes. Why did he ever bother? “He’s clearly lovestruck, you imbecile.”

-The end

#hetalia #aph #aph Russia #aph America #RusAme #Aph Prussia #aph Hungary #aph England #aph France #fanfiction #super hero Au #EllaAwkward

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