#mentropolis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elena-mayfair · 10 months

Text

Dreams - part 2

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating T+/M, strong language, unsettling images, themes of depression, depictions of mental illness Summary: You made a decision to enjoy the moment you were spending in Wonderland even if it was only a fleeting one. You made a decision to experience and feel every minute of the coming day as if it would never happen again. To create new beautiful memories that perhaps could at least slightly mask the bad ones you kept deep in your mind. If it was to be just a moment you decided to cherish it. Word count: 11k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

***

Bruce was used to sleepless nights. To nights of stillness, without words, without needless conversations, by himself alone with his thoughts, in suspension listening to his surroundings. Gotham spoke to him every night, sometimes with gratitude, but more often with a warning. It whispered quietly in trepidation, telling him what he needed to know, directing him, giving him purpose. He knew the hum of its blood, the beat of its heart, every sigh, every quiet murmur, so familiar and so distant. Lying on the couch with his eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, he could not help but listen. How foreign every quiet breath was, how forlorn every soft sigh was, how startling each rustle of the bedsheets was every time she shifted. For years the only one he listened to, the only one in whom he found understanding was Gotham, now on a restless autumn night Bruce discovered how much he had forgotten what it was like to have someone so close.

She was so near. Within his sight, at his arm's reach, so close and yet so far away. And so was he. Every day he saw her, even when she didn't see him, he saw her sincerity, her truthfulness, her courage, her strength. He saw the passion in her eyes, the joy in her smile, the strength in her demeanor and the secret in her eyes. A secret hidden deep, hidden beneath the precariously crafted version of herself that she presented to the world, that she presented to him. He could discover it. He had the ability and the tools to do so, he could have learned all he wanted about her and yet, he consciously chose not to. He was attracted to her, he had to admit it even if only to himself, she drew him with a magnetic force of genuine humanity he hadn't seen in a long time. Her smile seemed contagious, her attitude made him smile more often than ever, and in her eyes he saw a reflection of himself. Not a version of himself, but the real him as he was, every version of him and all of them at once. For no matter in what circumstances he met her, no matter if in a restaurant or on the edge of a bridge, in the glare of flashes or in the darkness of sewers, whether in a cavlar suit or a silk shirt, she was the same, and he longed to be close to her.

He got up quietly from the couch as she rolled to the other side snapping him out of his reverie. The sun was slowly rising over Mentropolis bringing the cool morning brightness. Another quiet night in Metropolis was coming to an end, another restless one in Gotham was also fading into the sunlight. He threw a sweater over his shoulders, put a receiver into his ear, and cautiously so as not to wake her, went out onto the balcony. A few clicks on the phone and he was connected to the Batcomputer. With each finger swipe across the screen, he fought within himself the urge to abandon TechX and return to Gotham. The case file from the night before presented a further fragment of the pattern. Gotham had another supervillain and it was only a matter of time before he would strike again only to show up in full glory shortly thereafter.

"Shouldn't you sleep? Two days away from Gotham wouldn't hurt you," a message displayed on his screen. Not thinking much, he activated his voice connection to Nightwing's commlink.

"You've had a rough night," he said quietly as soon as he heard the familiar beep in the receiver.

"Strange more like it," Dick corrected him, "did you read the whole report?"

"I did."

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Strange night."

"Strange or interesting?" Dick's playful tone implied.

"Strange. Dick, you noted in the report that before throwing himself off the roof the man said he had no fear in him. Explain."

"I noted as it was," he replied, abandoning his attempt to extract details from Bruce, "he had no reason to jump. It wasn't suicide. He had a gun, a full clip, and a bag full of money. He could have tried to get away. Or fight back. I was alone with him. Jason was dealing with the mess in the bank."

"What happened?"

"I caught up with him on the roof, I thought he was going to give up or try to fight me. But he just looked at me, smiled in this eerie way, and then, as if even mocking me, said that I couldn't do anything to him because there was no fear in him," Bruce could clearly hear the distress in Dick's voice; none of them felt comfortable with innocent people dying. No matter how many years passed or how many times they experienced it, the distress was always the same.

"And he jumped?"

"He didn't jump. He just leaned back and let himself off the roof with his arms spread wide and a smile on his face. If only I had reacted faster…"

"Don't blame yourself. We can't save everyone."

"I should have done something, but his reaction, his words…. I didn't expect that.

"It's all connected," Bruce leaned against the railings and stared at the sunrise, "it's all connected either by one person or a group of people."

"You mean all the recent murders?"

"Gordon said we haven't caught one murderer yet and already another is emerging, I don't agree with that."

"You think it's the same person?"

"And that he's not a killer at all. Not on purpose, not intentionally at least. It seems to me that murder is not his goal, but more an unexpected consequence of his actions."

"That's why he tried to stage the murder of Juliet Campbell…" Dick concluded, "he didn't want to kill her. But when she died he wanted to make it look like a murder so as not to leave a trail."

"Whoever he is he's just getting started…" Bruce added, "all the deaths were strange…"

"And none of them looked like murder…"

"Except maybe the murder of Jeremy Walters…"

"But it went on to be considered involuntary manslaughter," Dick finished, "why are you thinking about this at five o'clock on a Saturday morning?"

"I may have a lead," Bruce replied.

"Did you find it in Metropolis?" Dick chuckled in surprise.

"It was closer than I thought if my suspicions are correct," Bruce answered, eyeing the waking Y/N through the balcony window, " I want you to observe Doctor Jonathan Crane."

"Marc Phillips' psychiatrist? What could he possibly have to do with this?"

"I don't know yet, but I want you to follow him," Bruce explained, "And Dick! Have Tim analyze the pills you found in Phillips' apartment."

"We've already analyzed them. The computer has detected nothing outside the norm."

"Do a cross analysis with samples of the victims' genetic material."

"You got it!"

"Keep me informed," Bruce instructed, "I should be back in Gotham tomorrow around noon."

"That's great because Crane is on the invite list for the Thomas Wayne Annual Gala of the Scientific Association!"

"Of course…" Bruce muttered under his breath, "did I get the invitation?"

"Do I look like Alfred to you?" Dicked sassed but hearing Bruce's silent disapproval, he added, "you got it, of course you got it."

"Perfect," Bruce smiled with satisfaction.

"I'll tell Alfred to get the tuxedo ready."

"Thank you, Dick."

"Okay, I'll set Tim up at the stakeout of the Crane apartment, Jason at his office in Drescher, I'll take Elliot Memorial and Damian Arkham," Dick planned everything in a snap.

"Have Tim cover Arkahm and Damian his apartment," Bruce corrected.

"You don't want Damian close to Arkham?"

"I don't want Damian close to situations that can trigger a sudden instinctive reaction in him. Tim's cool composure will work better in such a situation."

"Got it. The kid needs training," Dick corrected the plan, "he needs training from you."

"I know."

"He may be skillfully superior to us when we were his age but he lacks the training you provided us."

"I know."

"I'm trying but you know how he is…. stubborn."

"I know."

"He reminds me of Jason only decidedly more aggressive…"

"Dick?"

"Yup?"

"I gotta go," he grinned at the sight of the awakening Y/N.

"Wait wait wait…" Dick clearly heard a change in the tone of the conversation, "is she with you?"

"I gotta go."

"Okay…." Dick chuckled with amusement, "try to have fun? It won't hurt you know?"

"I know," he smiled and, as he entered the penthouse, ended the call.

She looked lovely with tousled hair and sleepy eyes, the picture of sweet bliss buried in the sheets. He opened the curtains letting in the morning sun which was met with her displeased grimace.

"Good morning," he smirked, "coffee?"

"Yes please," she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, "what time is it?"

"It's coming up to six o'clock."

"Oh good," she groaned, "way too fucking early."

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't," she replied with a yawn, "I always wake up early if I'm not sleeping in my own home."

"Take another ten," he suggested while putting on the coffee machine and heading to the bathroom, "if you fall asleep I'll wake you up."

Y/N merely smiled murmuring in agreement and snuggled her face back into the pillow. In the pale morning light, surrounded by the warmth of the sheet, she was completely different. Adorable. Gone were the fears and hesitations, the worry and concern, the embarrassment over the incident from a few hours ago. In the cool glow of the autumn sun she seemed not to care where she was or who he was, all that mattered was the comfort of the bed and the freshly brewed coffee. Although he tried to repress that warm long-forgotten feeling that was rising inside him, he couldn't lie to himself, he was drawn to her.

He hoped that the cold shower would wash away the thoughts and feelings he didn't want to have, hoped that it would restore a steady heartbeat, that it would wash away the languor from his face, but instead he found himself wanting her to share the shower with him. He found himself wishing that she would cuddle her sleepy face into him. He wanted to but at the same time knew he couldn't. He couldn't have it all. As he changed the water temperature to icy cold, he focused all his thoughts on fighting this desire. On all the logical arguments against any moves he could make toward her. On all the worst possible scenarios that could happen if he allowed himself to want, if he allowed himself to take the risk. Aware of his fascination with her and at the same time determined to put distance between them and maintain a friendly relationship, he dried his body, shaved his face, put on his favorite fragrance, dressed in the black suit and black shirt he had prepared a few hours ago, and walked out of the bathroom with a determined step. He knew that there was no place in his life for a romance, he knew that he would have put her in danger, he knew that even though some part of him wanted to he could never tell her the whole truth, he knew that he wished but could not allow himself to do so. Yet the moment his eyes rested on her sleeping face snuggled into her pillow his determination turned to shit.

A long forgotten feeling woke you from a shallow sleep, a gentle touch on your shoulder preceding soft words spoken in a low, gentle voice. As you opened your sleepy eyes, you fought off the fleeting thoughts insisting that you were still asleep. After all, it was impossible for such a handsome and charming man to wake you up on a cool autumn morning. And yet it was not a dream.

"I promised to wake you up," he smiled, and in the brightness of the morning sun his smile seemed even more charming than the one he graced you with under the cover of darkness.

"I'm awake," you replied reluctantly forcing yourself to get up from the comfort of the soft bed. The sun had not yet risen fully yet Bruce was already perfectly put together. Smelling of energizing freshness, perfectly dressed, brimming with style and class that was not disrupted by the nonchalantly unbuttoned shirt collar. Realization of your own disarray suddenly pierced through your sleepy mind. The loose t-shirt, tangled hair, and frowned face were the complete opposite of his, and yet you didn't feel embarrassed. Everything was so normal, effortless.

"I feel a tad remorseful for waking you up at such an early hour, but I'm sure you'd be distinctly unhappy if I went to the expo area without you," he handed you a mug of freshly brewed coffee, "the event starts at nine but I thought you might want to have breakfast before then."

"I'd love to, but first I need to wake up and put myself together," you replied, while taking a sip of aromatic coffee, "I don't want to find myself on the headlines in sweats next to a billionaire in an Armani suit."

"Knowing the media you would start a new trend," he chuckled, "maybe I should match to you and put on a sweats?"

"Do you even have sweats?"

"Suits are not really useful for workouts," he smirked noticing how you looked at him.

"Damn, somehow I can imagine Armani designing a suit fit for a workout specifically for you," you sassed, "although Bruce Wayne in a sweats on GQ and Men's Health front-page would also be an interesting phenomenon."

"A billionaire in sweats! The downfall of men's fashion!" Bruce laughed.

"I'm sure they would have added a different narrative to it," you laughed along with him.

"Most likely!"

"So we decided. I'll match you and there won't be any controversial headlines!"

"Unfortunately I'm afraid we won't avoid controversial headlines," the smile disappeared from his face.

"What you did last night…" you also became serious, "forgive me for my poor range of words at such an inhumanly early hour, so poor that I can't find the right ones to express how I feel," you stared into space only to return to him a moment later and gaze into the blue of his eyes. "All I can say is, thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Bruce began but you didn't let him finish.

"I have to," you interrupted sternly, "I didn't want to cause you any trouble. It's not that I'm ashamed of my own problems, I'm sure that even in your perfect world you struggle with some…"

"My world is far from perfect."

"I know I owe you an explanation. Maybe not even so much that I owe them but I feel the need to give you one," you reached for the pill bottle thrown into the vanity bag on the nightstand, "I would like to explain to you…. I don't know why, but I'd like to. Only I don't know where I would start. Everything seems so messed up."

"If there is something I can do…"

"You've done enough," interrupted him again ignoring good manners, "kindness and empathy are qualities so rare in today's world."

"You're right," he looked at you tellingly.

"You have too high an opinion of me," you chuckled.

"I think not."

"You're doing it again!" you sighed in amused frustration, " it's some kind of your default mode?! I make an effort here to express my gratitude and embarrassment and you ruin everything in two words!"

"Because I don't want you to feel embarrassed and worry needlessly," a warm smile once again affected his face, "when you want, as long as you want, you will tell me what's bothering you. I don't want you to feel obligated in any way."

"It's hard not to feel obligated, especially after what happened last night," you lowered your head in embarrassment, "I feel like I bring nothing but awkwardness and problems into your life, both privately and professionally. I am grateful for everything you do but I don't fit in here. Into a big world where every mistake I make can have a negative impact on your public image. I wouldn't want that. No matter how much I enjoy being here with you some part of me wonders all the time what the hell I am doing here."

"You're here because I wanted you to be here," he replied in a low voice, "I wouldn't want to be here with anyone else right now," he smiled again seeing your weak smirk, "I'll go down to the lobby so you can have some privacy. Take your time. Enjoy your morning. And don't worry needlessly," you nodded wordlessly and Bruce added, "if I can indulge one piece of advice, perhaps it will be out of place…"

"You burst out the door because of me and spent the night on the couch. I think 'out of place' we have behind us," you smirked and Bruce merely walked up to you and held out an open hand.

"I don't think these pills are good for you," the blue of his eyes took on the color of a rough ocean as he looked at you intensely, "trust me. You don't need them. You are stronger than this."

"How can you know?"

"I have a good sense of people," he murmured quietly as you placed the bottle of pills in his hand.

"You have too high an opinion of me," you repeated with a frail smile.

"As I said, I think not."

You hoped that a hot shower would allow you to wash away the worries and cares of the previous night. The uneasiness, confusion, and fear that seemed to be creeping relentlessly over your skin despite the fact that Bruce's presence provided a sense of security. Instead, you found yourself wishing you were closer to him, wishing he shared the shower with you. His kindness and empathy that appeared in the friendly smile and sparkle of his eyes, his stoicism and the strength he exuded in every situation, his charm and swag that came so effortlessly were nothing compared to that something you couldn't quite name. Bruce Wayne was unlike any man you had ever met in your life. Despite his well-known public persona, Bruce Wayne was a mystery. Bruce Wayne liked you, which in itself remained a bizarre thing. His behavior revealed more than words could; he liked you that was certain, just as certain as it was that you definitely liked him. You had to be honest with yourself, he drew you in a magnetic way as if he himself was the center and you found yourself in his orbit. You were drawn to him and every moment you spent with him made you want more, even though you knew very well that more would never be given to you. How could someone like him even think of someone like you? Two people so different from each other and yet so similar. Two worlds so different, brought together by a chance meeting. It felt good and at the same time so very wrong. You didn't belong here, with your problems, traumas, and secrets. You were broken even though you didn't show it, you were damaged even though every day you tried to pretend you weren't, but you knew very well that damaged goods did not belong in the Bruce Wayne perfect world.

As you stepped out of the shower, you made a decision to enjoy the moment you were spending in Wonderland even if it was only a fleeting one. You made a decision to experience and feel every minute of the coming day as if it would never happen again. To create new beautiful memories that perhaps could at least slightly mask the bad ones you kept deep in your mind. If it was to be just a moment you decided to cherish it.

You styled your hair, put on makeup, dressed in a black dress and heeled boots and, confident that you would look at least presentable, you left the room to re-enter his orbit.

***

Gotham City

"On behalf of myself and the entire department, I assure you that we are doing everything in our power to arrest the criminal who committed these heinous crimes!" Gordon raised his voice despite the microphone to break through the crowd of reporters, " However, until we have him in custody I strongly urge the people of Gotham to exercise extreme caution!" he hated public statements and even more hated reporters just waiting to ask the next question to which he would answer in exactly the same way.

"Commissioner Gordon!" shouts came from various directions, "Are we talking about a single criminal or an organized group!?"

"At this point, we are unable to state with certainty."

"Commissioner! Are the deaths of the couple who jumped out of the plane and their pilot related!"

"No comment."

"Commissioner! Have the people of Salvator Maroni been arrested for the murder of Jeremy Walters!"

"No comment."

"Commissioner! Does Gotham have a new super-criminal!"

"Let's hope not."

"Commissioner! Does the Joker's escape from Arkham have anything to do with the recent wave of murders!" one reporter uttered a frightening name.

"We have no evidence that would lead us to this connection."

"Commissioner! Is the Joker still on the loose!"

"Commissioner Gordon! When will the citizens of Gotham be able to feel safe!!!?"

"Commissioner Gordon! Is Batman involved in the investigation!"?

"No comment!" he repeated stubbornly then added, "no more questions. Thank you all for coming."

"Commissioner Gordon! Vicky Vale, Gotham Gazzette! Is it true that a wanted criminal is using sophisticated psycho-control methods and drugs of unknown origin!?" Vicky Vale a devilishly good journalist who always seemed to know more than her peers was a constant pain in Gordon's backside.

"Miss Vale, I don't know where you got such information from but I suggest you verify your sources and don't spread rumors," he replied harshly, "that's all from my side. Thank you for your attention." He concluded his speech and left the podium set up in front of the precinct building.

All he wanted was a glass of cheap whiskey which he had tucked away in his desk cabinet and a cigarette smoked in complete silence. However, both of these things had to wait. With a heavy face and even heavier thoughts, he got into the elevator and went straight to the roof of the building to meet the one he hoped knew more. But Batman was not there. Instead, he was greeted by the smiling face of the ever-optimistic Nightwing and the more bewildered Robin.

"I swear this boy never stops smiling," he chuckled in disbelief over how Nightwing and Batman could be so different from each other, one seeing the glass always half full and the other seeing the glass always filled with poison. "Where is Batman?" he asked as he walked up to them.

"Busy," Robin replied while browsing something on a miniature computer installed on the forearm of his suit.

"Hey Commish, why so grumpy? That went rather well!" Nightwing jumped off the edge of the ridge landing next to it softly.

"Rather well?" Gordon sneered, "they almost devoured me! Where did Vale get this information from!?"

"She must have gotten it straight from the source which would suggest that she knows who we're looking for or knows someone who does and knows them very well," Robin replied without taking his eyes off the computer, "there's also the possibility that she interviewed his victims before they died and pieced together the facts herself."

"She would have to know who his victims were in the first place and we didn't reveal that information to the public," Gordon countered, "she would have to be a better investigator than we thought."

"Vale always has good information," Robin approached the commissioner, and although the suit and mask gave him confidence, it lacked the degree of freedom that Nightwing and Batman displayed. Gordon knew them very well, better than he sometimes would have liked, but it was Batman and Nightwing he talked to most often, his other protégés usually remained in the shadows. If Robin was here it meant that Batman wanted it and had mobilized everyone to work on the case, which in turn must have meant that they definitely had another supervillain in Gotham, "that's the chemical formulation broken down into the various components of the drugs we found in Marc Phillips' apartment. Run through the computer and compared with blood samples from previous victims, it showed no matches. However, we have a suspicion that whatever chemical agents were used are unstable and decompose very quickly. Not detectable in blood analysis."

"Yesterday's victim, if our suspicions are correct would have had the strongest concentration of toxins in his blood," Nightwing continued.

"Given that his body is being held in the police morgue we need a blood sample for analysis," Robin explained, "we would also need a blood sample from Juliet Cambell and her daughter."

"Tell me the bodies have not been released to the family," Nightwing interjected.

"No, they're still in the morgue."

"Great! Three samples with potentially the most concentrated dose, one of which is still fresh, should allow us to confirm Batman's suspicions!"

"So Batman suspects that all these murders are connected?" Gordon asked even though he didn't need an answer, "that they were committed by one man?"

"What do you think?"

***

"I think all of us here would agree that we have come to live in extremely dangerous times! Times in which organized crime increasingly seems to be the least of our worries! It doesn't matter if we look at Metropolis, Star City, Central City or Gotham, in every city the security services are struggling with a threat they cannot stop! You know very well what I'm talking about! Residents of the various cities hope that masked crime fighters, heroes in capes will protect them from danger, but even they are not able to be everywhere at once! Not everyone is as fast as Flash! So it falls on us, as engineers, creators, innovators, leaders in our fields to do everything we can to help the cause in these difficult times! Ladies and gentlemen, colleagues, friends, it is our moral duty to use our technologies to help those who cannot help themselves. So it is with pride that I would like to present to you Wayne Tech's plan for the near future, Project D.R.A.C!" Bruce moved to the side of the stage to reveal the outline of the project, fully displayed on a huge monitor, "the latest security system we plan to design and implement throughout the city, designed to Detect potential threats, Recognize them, Alert citizens and make them Cautios and aware of potential threats! A system through which the citizens of Gotham would be assured of their safety, would be aware of the potential danger prevailing in the city, a system that we plan to integrate with the public security systems and at the same time improve responsiveness to incidents and eliminate accidental victims of unfortified incidents that affect not only my city but yours as well! Wayne Enterprises has always been focused on bringing improvements not only to the lives of the people of Gotham but to everyone. Whether it was new wireless networks, new digital technologies, hospitals, or infrastructure, our guiding principle has always been to improve people's lives. And so it is also this time! Wayne Tech wants to keep Gotham and perhaps the people of your cities safe!" he spoke with a lightness and ease known only to those who have spent their entire lives in the public eye. The perfect intonation of his voice, the posture brimming with confidence and strength, the sharp gaze full of passion, and that gentle smile that involuntarily came over his face every time his eyes rested on Y/N. She smiled while her cheeks blushed with excitement, admittedly he was talking about her project. "I intend to make all progress on the project available to the public, at every stage. Our goal is to demonstrate that not only can superheroes make our cities safer, but we can do it too! Ordinary people whose only superpower is a sharp mind, passion, and sincere intentions! From this place, I also want to extend an invitation to you, my colleagues, to participate in the project. Wayne Tech will make this work! The question remains whether you will decide to implement it in your own cities. The time has come for us to help those who risk their lives for our safety! The time has come for us ordinary people to take care of our collective safety!" applause interrupted his speech but he only cast a glance in her direction, smiled again, and silenced the room with a gesture, "Are there any questions?"

"What happened to the plan to introduce augmented reality to universities and hospitals?" someone asked from the crowd.

"Someone recently reminded me that Wayne Tech has been focusing on innovation for too long instead of focusing on the real problems of ordinary citizens and ways to eliminate them," his gaze once again wandered in her direction, "I am fortunate to surround myself with outstanding engineers whose creative thought is focused on doing and creating good," the broad smile that lit up her face warmed his heart. "And since I've got your attention, one more thing. As you might have already realized, we can put an end to those ridiculous rumors about the sale of Wayne Tech to Lex Corp! Sorry Lex, not this time!" the whole room burst out laughing, only Lex Luthor was smiling spitefully, "but if you have no more questions I think we'd all love to go to the banquet! I believe I won't be far from the truth if I say that we'd all like to stop bragging about our companies' plans already and would rather just eat and drink something delicious! Have a great evening!" a wave of rousing applause accompanied him as he walked off the stage behind his back the silver Wayne Enterprises logo shone brightly. Someone stopped him to shake his hand, someone else patted him on the back, but he, with a smile on his face and swag in his movements, nimbly dodged everyone to finally stand face to face with her.

"Well well well, Mr. Wayne! One hell of a way to end the event," she grinned and a flush of excitement once again came to her cheeks.

"What do you think?"

"I think Luthor looks like he wants to kill you," she shot a glance to the back of the room, "and the presentation is first class! The lights, the music, the visuals!"

"You know very well that's not what I mean," he lowered his voice as if to avoid being overheard, "your project, your work, your idea reminded me of what's really important. In the constant battle for the market, we were driven by the pursuit of innovation, by the constant development of technology, instead of focusing our energies on what's really important. Thank you for reminding me of that."

"I didn't think that my trauma based project would meet with such approval from you. But I'm glad, and I can't hide it," a bright smile lit up her face, "I'm damn proud of myself!"

"And you should be! If everything goes as we'd like it to perhaps many people will avoid the trauma you had to experience."

"No pressure, huh?" she chuckled, "especially since you are planning to make progress public! But seriously, I think there are very few people who are so stupid and naive as not to notice when someone is playing you and so blind as to end up in the same car with the Joker helping him escape from Arkham," she gasped immediately regretting it. Horror immediately dilated her pupils, her smile disappeared, and Bruce could see that all she wanted was to get as far away from here as possible. He knew, he knew the truth, but she did not know that. How could she?

"What did you say?" he feigned shock, "Joker? Arkham? What are you talking about?"

"I shouldn't say that…" panic tainted her voice, "fuck…. I don't know why I said that. Stupid babbling, just ignore it. It's just…"

"Hey calm down," he saw that she was panicking, "you surprised me with all this. I'm beginning to understand what you might have meant when you said Batman saved your life."

"Sorry… I lied at work. I lied to you," she wanted to flee with her eyes but withstood his stare, "but what was I supposed to say? Mr. Fox, my friend from my teenage years turned out to be a lying bitch in love with a psychopath? And I, unaware of anything, sort of, helped him escape from Arkham. Bruce, what would you think of me?"

"I know Gotham better than you, I can understand that someone can become a victim of coincidence," he said softly but he could see that she didn't believe him.

"Batman couldn't," she snorted, and to his surprise, the sneer pained him, "I couldn't take that risk."

"I think it's his job to be suspicious of people," he replied, "but I understand that you preferred not to tell the truth."

"For real?" she still didn't believe him, "how can you be so forgiving? I haven't given you anything from myself so far! Well, except maybe the idea of improving security in Gotham. I'm not stupid, I'm aware of what I say and do, and I realize I'm avoiding a lot of topics. Last night was the best proof of that."

"I believe in the credit of trust, you give it to me yourself, so I can only do the same towards you," he replied calmly, "and believe me, I am not as transparent with you as I would like to be. I understand that each of us has subjects that do not come easily to talk about."

"Then be transparent," she replied without hesitation, "let's be open with each other. No secrets."

"Can you do that?" her eyes shone when he asked the question.

"I wish I could," she replied quietly.

"Baby steps then?" he smirked.

"Baby steps," she agreed with a smile then took him under the arm and together they headed to the banquet hall where the formal after party was being held.

***

Over the years, Alferd Pennyworth got used to the silence that usually prevailed at Wayne Manor. To the quiet creaking of the floors, the sound of the wind that danced under the roof on autumn days, to the clock echoing through the empty corridors, to the all-encompassing calm that was occasionally broken by the sound of jazz or classical music. The sound of violins and cellos carried through every floor, reaching every room, resounding like the most beautiful concert. It followed from the bedroom on the second floor through wide corridors, down the stairs to the lavish foyer, only to fill the library, the office, the kitchen, to burst through the centuries-old walls, flow down through the cold corridors straight into the underground to then fade into the sounds of…

Jazz if Bruce worked downstairs.

Metal if he needed to focus or get rid of the anger eternally boiling under his skin.

Rock of all its varieties if Richard took charge of the team.

Rap or heavy metal if Jason was working out.

Dramatic classical or indie rock if young Master Wayne was allowed on the computer.

Electronic music or light 90's pop if Tim took charge.

80's classics if Miss Gordon was taking charge of them all.

But still, there were days like this one when the music reaching the cave itself was met with emptiness. Violins would turn into guitars, drums would turn into heavy basses, basses would mellow out with a light beat that turned into melodic singing. Concerts of all genres resounded one after another in the empty cave because upstairs, above it, the house was teeming with life.

They had one simple rule. Shuffle. When everyone was in the house, the music was always on shuffle. Everyone had their own musical moment, everyone, without exception, was allowed to add something to the playlist. And when one forgot, someone else did it for him. That's how Wagner mixed with Nirvana, Tina Turner fronted Linking Park, Eminem rapped along with Marvin Gaye and the most beautiful operatic voices competed with each other accompanied once by classical music and another by symphonic metal.

Alfred loved those rare moments when they were all together. When no one was on patrol, no one was injured, no one was sitting in the cave focused on work, and for a moment everyone acted like a normal family. Well, almost a normal family. Almost a normal family spending an afternoon together at the kitchen table.

"We compared sample one to sample three and sample two to sample four. But did we compare the fourth to the first and do a cross-check with the second and third?" Tim was leaning over the tablet screen checking Dick's work over his shoulder. A freshly cooked pancake dangled from his fork.

"Hey, why didn't I get a pancake!"? Dick asked outraged but Tim only pointed ostentatiously to the stack of pancakes on the kitchen counter.

"Master Dick, if you had focused your attention for a moment on your surroundings and not on what is displayed on the screen you would know that the pancakes are done and have been waiting for fifteen minutes," Alfred replied putting some on a plate and topping them with chocolate syrup, just as Dick liked.

"Thanks, Al," Dick pushed the tablet away making room for the plate, "sorry, but it won't let me rest! I feel like the clue is right in front of our noses and we can't see it!"

"There are pancakes under your nose now. So eat!"

"Why did he insist on watching this doctor?" Jason threw the question from above the book as he reached for his coffee mug. He wasn't often at the mansion, especially in his spare time. Alfred, however, had learned to expect him at the breakfast table every time Bruce was out of town. It broke his heart, seeing their complicated relationship, and knowing the hundreds of unspoken words and hidden grievances, but he knew them both. He had seen Jason grow up, knew the influence Bruce had on the boys, and believed that all wounds would heal in time.

"He didn't give any details," Dick mumbled with his mouth full.

"And of course, you didn't ask," he scoffed.

"Dude! There was no time! Besides, since he instructed this, he must have reasons for it."

"Obviously. And we just take orders…"

"With strawberries and cream," Alfred interjected placing a plate full of pancakes in front of Jason.

"We don't take orders! We are a team! We're working on this together! And as you can see Bruce is working on it too even if he's not here!" Dick defended.

"He's working, for sure! Between the legs…"

"Master Jason!"

"Sorry Al," the man approaching his thirties blushed like a rebuked teenager under Alfred's stern gaze.

"Jason, if you don't want to be a part of this just say so," Dick began more softly, "I get it. I do get it. Just be honest man. I'll understand," he continued but Jason merely scoffed with a mocking face, "but that won't change the fact that I need you on the team. We all need you. "

"You're the best fighter of us all," Tim added.

"It's a stakeout," Jason snarled.

"There could be a fight during a stakeout," Dick grinned, "besides, you know very well we're not just talking about this mission."

"I know, I know. Just so the little brat doesn't hear it because there will be a fight," Jason mumbled, reaching for the tablet on which Tim and Dick were working.

"I'll get you a towel and water!" Dick grinned wider.

"Fuck you, Wing!" even though the words were vulgar a wry smile wandered across his face, "sorry Al. Okay geniuses, let's see what you left out," he moved his finger across the screen faster than it was possible to read, "boring, boring, boring, useless," the pages moved one after another.

"With chocolate?" Dick asked, slipping him his plate of pancakes.

"I am working here! Don't disturb me!" he chuckled but the fork stabbed into the stack of chocolate pancakes and snatched one, "fuck! You guys are such geniuses! Sorry Al," he paused meeting Alfred's angry gaze, "damn, such geniuses and have either of you come up with the idea to stop comparing blood samples with each other and compare the blood samples with the chemical composition of the pills found in the hanged man's house?!"

"Empathy Jay, empathy!"

"We compared the chemical analysis of the blood with the chemical analysis of the pill formulation," Tim moved his finger across the screen and displayed the results, "no matches."

"Okay, you compared each sample to the chemical formulation of the pills. But did you compare the individual chemical components to the pill chemical formulation taking into account the exclusions?" Tim and Dick exchanged only surprised glances. "Ha! Geniuses my ass! You didn't!"

"But what would that give us? How would taking the exclusions into account help the investigation?" Dick asked, "We didn't find similar pills with the other victims, so the assumption that each of them had access to them is far fetched already."

"The assumption is wrong…" Tim interrupted with a sparkle in his eye, "the assumption is wrong!!!"

"Oh look, now the genius has dawned on him."

"The assumption is wrong!" Tim repeated again.

"Go on, before night falls."

"We assumed that each of the victims came into contact with the same pills and did an analysis to find common chemical components between the blood samples and the pills' chemical composition. The pills are decoy!" Tim snatched the tablet out of Jason's hands, "what if we ran a cross analysis but not to find what's common but what's not in the blood but is in the pills?"

"Bingo!" the smirk of satisfaction did not disappear from Jason's face.

"How did you…?"

"It only takes one glance to realize that it's not a pharmaceutical but a drug."

"Every pharmaceutical is a drug, Jason."

"True. But the drugs that circulate on the market have a slightly different effect than the ones you get at the pharmacy, don't they?"

"Right."

"Mostly they have completely different formulations and concentrations because their goal is to hit the right hormone and organ quickly and efficiently stimulating the desired reaction much more effectively than drugs from the pharmacy. Damn, do I really have to explain this to you! Dopamine regulates moods, enhances pleasure, enhances reflexes and focus, serotonin affects emotions, norepinephrine stimulates the central nervous system. Dudes! The basics!"

"We know!" Dick interrupted him, "We know. We did an analysis for drugs in the blood."

"But we focused on what is and isn't there," Tim explained.

"An artificially stimulated organ would create huge amounts of hormone. A body subjected to such artificially created stimulation would become insensitive after some time," Jason reached for another pancake and continued, "it's a bit like diabetes! Often the first step to diabetes is insulin resistance. With high blood sugar spikes, the pancreas produces insulin intending to break down the sugar. But it produces too much of it. Insulin, instead of breaking down after doing its job, stays in the blood and circulates in the bloodstream which in turn leads to insensitivity, which in turn leads to damage to the pancreas, which stops producing insulin. In a nutshell, that's it."

"Holy shit…" Tim gasped staring at the screen.

"Was I right?!"

"No, that's not it. The computer takes an hour and forty-seven minutes to give the results," he set his coffee mug aside and brought his face closer to the screen, "hooooly shit."

"Dude! What is it!"

"Tim, is it another murder?"

"Worse…" Tim turned the tablet towards them with the screen filled with pictures from the TechX red carpet, "is it just me or doesn't he look like he's pretending to have fun?"

"What the fuck is this!" Jason grabbed the tablet, "is this a smile?"

"But, a genuine smile!" Dick cast a glance at the screen over his brother's shoulder.

"That is so wierd…"

"He looks so normal…"

"Where did you get that?" Jason asked swiping through the photos.

"Barbs sent it to the group chat with the caption 'capture this'," Tim countered, "maybe someone switched him?" he asked snatching the tablet out of Jason's hand, "or Mad Hatter found a new way to control the mind."

"Or Strange brainwashed him!"

"It's definitely the work of Poison Ivy!" Dick grabbed the tablet, "It's so eeire. Is he laughing? In public?"

"And what is he whispering in her ear there?"

"Dudes we got a problem…" Jason took over the tablet again and zoomed in on the photo, "Does this look to you like the look Bruce Wayne gives his many escorts?"

"Master Bruce looks happy," a dreamy smile lightened Alfred's face, "and Miss Y/L/N is a lovely young woman."

"We definitely have a problem," Damian eyed them while leaning against the door frame and swiping photos on his phone, "given father's past poor choices in women including but not limited to my mother, we should react immediately. We all know that father's taste in women is not exactly healthy."

"Calm down team! We need to approach this like any other mission. We don't have enough data to draw any conclusions!" Dick decided.

"So follow up and report," Damian concluded.

"That's not what I meant!"

"How else do you want to collect data? It's not like father is going to tell us anything!"

"Observe but not track. Bruce wouldn't want that. And we have to trust that he knows what he's doing."

"Need I remind you that my very existence is the result of his affair with a known criminal?"

"You forgot about the drugs she served him," Jason sneered.

"Just more reason to check her out and keep an eye on his actions!"

"Gentlemen, your concern for the welfare of Master Bruce is admirable, but I must stand against your plans," Alfred inserted with stoic calm.

"But Alfred! What's the probability that it's just an ordinary woman, and not, for example, a planted distraction, placed, for example, by the one we're looking for?"

"Let me put it in other words," Alfred ignored Tim's question, "if I catch you snooping around and meddling in the affairs of Master Bruce, you will have me to deal with. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Alfred!" replied everyone in agreement, including Damian.

"Good. Perhaps the assumption you are drawing is as wrong as the one in the chemical analysis. Perhaps this time Master Bruce has met someone who will change his life for the better."

***

"Bruce Wayne! Fantastic speech! You change people's lives as always!"

"Mr. Wayne! Brilliant idea! Don't you perhaps have some open jobs in the company? I would love to work for you!"

"Bruce! The future of Wayne Enterprises looks bright! Luthor must be having a hell of the time right now!"

The last words of applause slowly faded into the thinning crowd. The event was slowly coming to an end, and the guests one by one were leaving the building while only a few remained. Even though there were fewer and fewer people the expressions of approval after Bruce's speech did not disappear. Time after time, someone came up to express their words of appreciation. Y/N was proud, by his side the entire time, with her hand firmly placed on his forearm she observed as optimism painted itself on the faces of the exiting guests. As for Bruce, he too did not hide his satisfaction even if it took the form of professionalism and reserve. Bruce's speech changed something, changed something in the people, in the way their faces looked, in the way they looked at them and at each other. The kind smiles, the beaming faces, and that gleam in their eyes told them both the same thing, people felt inspired. Delight spread through her, a joy that could not be extinguished by the occasional cynical comments or snarky taunts that reached her ears. Bruce had taken her idea and made it into something truly special.

Minutes passed, more guests left the TechX area, and as the crowd dwindled, Bruce's attitude changed. The earnest smile gave way to a reserved grin, the bright blue of his eyes dimmed to once again take on the color of a rough ocean, and his muscles tightened under her touch.

"You don't seem to be looking forward to the evening's banquet," she noted discreetly.

"Because I'm not," he replied in a half whisper, "we won't be among friends, except Oliver and his wife," he added lowering his voice and leaning toward her.

"Sounds like fun," she sneered stepping in place trying to hide the discomfort her painful stilettos were causing.

"If by any chance you have any witty comments don't hesitate," he smirked, "elegant society disappears behind closed doors. These people are sharks. Sharks unleashed to prey."

"Can I quote you on that?" from behind Bruce's back emerged a stocky man with a kind face and keen brown eyes peering out from behind thick black frames.

"Absolutely not!" Bruce replied immediately, "Clark Kent I presume. We were scheduled for an exclusive. I don't recall eavesdropping on private conversations being part of that agreement."

"That's the job," the journalist smiled innocently and shook Bruce's hand.

"If memory serves me right, we were scheduled yesterday Mister Kent," the power and authority returned.

"Yes, apologies Mister Wayne. For personal reasons, I was unable to attend TechX yesterday."

"I understand that the personal ethic and professionalism of your job do not require you to inform me of the rescheduled date."

"It was an emergency," the journalist replied, and despite the fact that with his physique he considerably surpassed Bruce it seemed as if he was diminishing under his authority, "however, I can't help but be pleased with this turn of events. Your speech today was truly impressive. When your competitors are outdoing themselves in the cybernetics, technology and weapons market you decide to take a completely different direction. Where did you get the idea to, as you yourself said, help those who risk their lives for our safety? In the past you have spoken unfavorably about masked heroes."

"Oh, the idea was not mine!" Bruce countered nonchalantly while Y/N's hand gripped tighter on his forearm, "I only throw money and make grandiose speeches!" he released her hand gently as if wishing to reassure her, "let me introduce, Y/N Y/L/N. Lead engineer and creator of the D.R.A.C. project."

"Mister Wayne gives me way too much credit," she smiled kindly and extended her hand, "pleased to meet you."

"Clark Kent, Daily Planet," the journalist introduced himself, "perhaps you'd be willing to give me a brief interview then as part of the Daily Planet's Women in Business campaign?" he asked but the moment their hands touched he stumbled unsteadily, took two steps backward, and clenched his eyelids tightly as if trying to fight off a sudden surge of pain.

"Mister Kent? Are you all right?" she asked concerned, supporting him by the arm.

"Are you okay Kent?" Bruce watched him carefully.

"Yes, thank you," he replied forcing a weak smile and standing on his own, "it's just a migraine. It's been bothering me for the past few days and making my days difficult. I'm fine."

"It must be a hell of a migraine," she quipped.

"It's good that it comes in waves and goes away right away," he smiled and straightened up, "so, how about this interview?"

"If there's a column about women in the tech industry I'll be happy to do an interview," she cast a quick glance in Bruce's direction, "if it's in line with Wayne Enterprises' policy, of course."

"For the moment, you'll have to settle for my company Mister Kent," Bruce cut in, "as long as you feel up to it, of course. We can reschedule."

"I wasted your time yesterday, I have no intention of wasting it again today," the journalist replied, "besides, I'm sure you won't find time in your schedule for me for the next six months if not more."

"You're right! I like your determination! Please excuse me for a moment," he apologized to the journalist for a moment and pulled Y/N aside, "I need fifteen to thirty minutes. You will be okay alone?"

"Sure! You go ahead!"

"Maybe you want to run to the hotel in the meantime and change your shoes?" he suggested, "the driver will take you anywhere you want."

"Not a chance!" she smirked, "I won't ruin this outfit just because the stilettos are causing me pain! No way!"

"You look beautiful," he added in a half whisper closing the distance between them, hesitated for a moment, then took on a stern expression again, "I'll be back soon."

"Migraine, huh?" Bruce chuckled as soon as they were behind the closed door of the soundproof interview room.

"Are you sure we can talk freely here?"

"I am."

"You sure? We're in a public place," Clark inquired.

"I'm sure. The building's security systems are designed using Wayne Tech technology. I personally supervised the final functional tests before the event began."

"I should have known your paranoia wouldn't let you have it any other way," Clark laughed with amusement and sat down heavily in one of the armchairs. Bruce refrained from doing the same.

"What was that?" he asked sternly.

"You ask but you already know the answer," Clark rubbed his eyes and massaged his forehead, "I'm beginning to understand why you're so interested."

"If we're dealing with another meta-human we should both be interested."

"You know very well that's not what I meant," his friend's stubborn attitude amused him, "she's not a meta-human."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as you are sure of your security systems," Clark replied but seeing that this was not enough for him he continued, "there is nothing abnormal about her. Neither at the tissue level nor at the bone level. The brain looks normal, no changes or overgrowth. Nor did I find any implant in her brain. She is human, just human."

"I don't think she's just a human," Bruce noted, "Clark, you almost passed out."

"I feel like an idiot. But that feeling when I shook her hand…" he hesitated, "I don't want to jump to conclusions but it was like when you first introduced me to Zatanna. Or when we visited the House of Mystery."

"Magic," it wasn't a question.

"That's how it felt."

"That would explain a lot…" Bruce mused, "Red Hood said that something slammed him a few meters against the wall. But at the scene were only Y/N and Harley Quinn."

"The Joker's girlfriend?"

"Don't even start," Bruce warned.

"Even the Clown found a girlfriend!"

"I don't know if she even realizes it…" Bruce ignored the comment.

"Why don't you just talk to her? Instead, you just do an intricate investigation. Don't you think that's a little too paranoid, even for you?"

"I have another supervillain in Gotham who is using sophisticated mind control methods with chemical agents and I have no idea who he is! More people are dying and I'm not one step closer to finding him!" Bruce growled through his teeth.

"And you really think she's involved?"

"Not directly and not of her own volition."

"So what? You want to use her to find whoever is behind these attacks?"

"No!" Bruce denied immediately, "I'd like to keep her as far away from all this as possible but she seems to be getting herself into trouble whether I want her to or not. And I'm beginning to think she's becoming my only lead."

***

"I told you that was a good lead!!!" Jason, Tim, Damian, and Dick all sat in the cave analyzing in suspense the results the computer was presenting on the screen. Nine victims, nine samples, nine identical results.

"This doesn't make any sense at all!" Tim scrolled through the results, "each of these people died a gruesome death. At least four of them were exposed to extremely stressful situations just before they died…"

"So we can assume that the others experienced extreme stress as well," Dick added.

"I'm sending the results to Father," Damian took control of the keyboard to upload the results directly to Bruce's phone.

"Shit! How is that possible? How could we have missed this?" Dick analyzed carefully.

"In such extremely stressful situations and cortisol levels should be off the charts," Tim continued.

"And there's hardly any…"

"Just like with diabetes! Remember?" Jason cut in, "their bodies have stopped producing cortisol."

"Which would mean…" Dick began.

"That they were exposed to extreme levels of stress long enough for adrenal damage to occur…" Tim finished, "but if there was adrenal damage where did the high levels of norepinephrine come from?"

"There is nothing in the formulation of the pills to stimulate it," Dick stated.

"Norepinephrine can only be administered by intravenous therapy," Tim corrected him.

"That means we're still missing something," noted Damian.

"But we finally have a clue! We're finally moving forward!"

***

"We are moving forward with innovation all the time, with technological progress, with digitization. I mean what I said, it's time to concentrate our talents on something more than progress," Bruce took a sip from his whiskey glass, the same one he had been drinking for the last three hours, in which the alcohol was not diminishing at all.

"Bruce I've always had you for an idealist, but what makes you believe that the Gotham authorities would even want to implement something like this?" Oliver Queen asked while taking a sip from his glass. His wife, a beautiful sultry blonde named Dinah, eyed him warily.

"Simple! The results," Bruce replied, "In any business transaction, the most important thing is to show a benefit to a potential customer. Implementing the system in the city will be a transaction like any other, only without a financial contribution on the buyer's side."

"You mean to say that if Queen Industries decides to support your campaign, you will implement the system in Star City for free?" Oliver grinned.

"If Queen Industries decides to support the campaign, that will be a benefit in itself."

"Fuck, it's impossible to listen to you gentlemen," Lex interjected louder and more vulgar than was appropriate in the elegant company, "since when is running a business a goddamn volunteer job! Who are you trying to impress Wayne?"

"Go ahead Lex," Bruce encouraged him, "do you want to say something to me?"

"Gentlemen! We are running businesses! Huge multi-billion dollar companies! None of us got to where we are without risky investments, yet by default every risky investment was supposed to bring a profit."

"Your point?"

"By launching this free-wheeling charitable project of yours you are putting all of us in the bad light Wayne," Lex snapped at both Bruce and Oliver with his eyes. You didn't like it. Just like that day when you stood in front of him at LexCorp, now too, something told you that you should get away from him as soon as possible.

"Luthor is right," Simon Stagg, CEO of Stagg Enterprises, inserted into the discussion, "everyone will be watching us from now on to see what we will do!"

"I didn't ask for your support Simon," Lex snarked.

"This is not the first charitable investment I'm making," Bruce noted.

"Yes, but it's different when you do it in your own city in your own backyard. But when you reach out to all of us by offering free innovations in our cities then, then you make a problem for us. I'm not going to let you and your system into my city. It's my city, it belongs to me. The moment we sign the papers we become your property."

A cold shiver ran down your back. White flashed before your eyes while your hands trembled.

"No one is going to force you to implement the system, Lex," Bruce kept his stoic composure and perfectly controlled voice, "and we're still a long way from the moment when public opinion will start pressuring you."

"Be careful Wayne, idealists don't meet a happy ending in your city," Lex's voice sounded dangerously low.

"If it weren't for the fact that we're in a company I would take that as a threat," Bruce remained unfazed.

"All I'm saying is that you be careful where you push, Wayne."

"Maybe if more businessmen thought about the common good instead of filling their own wallets people wouldn't have to rely on self-appointed vigilantes," you gritted through your teeth.

"Would you like to share something with us Miss Y/L/N?" Lex's mocking smile boiled blood in your veins.

"No, I wouldn't," you quipped angrily, "I'm afraid any appeal to your higher sensibilities Mister Luthor would be utterly needless. I am sure that someone like you does not possess such feelings. And also any logical arguments in favor of the common good would first have to break through your ego, which in itself seems to me something utterly impossible," Oliver chuckled loudly, "so no, I have nothing to say to you."

The white light flashed once again before your open eyes, and even though you knew it wasn't there, even though you knew it was only in your mind, you couldn't stop your hands from trembling. You apologized to everyone gathered and rushed outside.

The cool autumn night air hit you in the face effectively sobering your senses. You tried to get your mind under control.

The moment we sign the papers we become your property.

The moment you signed the papers you became our property.

My property…

You clenched your hands on the railing surrounding the observation deck with such force as if you wanted to grind the metal in your hands. Your heart pounded and anger burned the blood in your veins.

"What's happening to me?" tears of anger came to your eyes, "I have to remember."

From the first moment you met him something seemed wrong, something told you that you shouldn't be near him, something told you to run away.

"I need to remember…" a sudden gush of air made you open your eyes abruptly. There was nothing there and yet a cold shiver of adrenaline danced down your spine once again.

"I need to remember…"

Whiteness surrounded you again. Cold, raw, menacing. The white light illuminated your face, hurting your eyes, blinding you, hiding everything beyond.

"I must remember…" the metal of the railing squeaked under your fingers.

"I don't understand why you tried to escape," someone's voice came from the shadows, "after all, you signed yourself up for this. Why would you want to escape now. We want to help you."

"I must…" tears streamed down your cheeks.

"You signed up for this…"

"I must…" the metal faltered miserably crushed by your hands, "I remember!"

"Do you?" you turned sharply only to see Lex standing barely a few steps away from you.

"You…" you growled through your teeth, "you sick fuck. You were there!"

"There, meaning where?" he reminded you so much of the hyena again.

"You know very well what I'm talking about!" you had no intention of being his victim, "what did you do to me!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb! I remember you! You were there! In that laboratory! You were there!" anger burned relentlessly in your veins, "I remember! You played me all this time! What did you do to me!!!" you ran up to him and grabbed him by the halves of his jacket, "I want to know the truth!"

"But you already know the truth…" he smiled viciously, "shouldn't you rather ask what did you do?"

"No…" you whispered, "it was just a nightmare…"

"Before you start throwing accusations and demanding answers think about it," the cruel smile did not disappear from his face, "what would dear Bruce think if he found out how many people you slaughtered."

"I didn't…" you denied weakly, "you did. Whatever you did to me… I would never…."

"But you did."

***

"That's what she said?" under the cover of night, no one was able to see the black and red capes blowing in the wind, no eye was able to see the two figures hidden under the cover of night on the roof of the skyscraper, "why were you there? "

"I wasn't following you if that's what you want to ask me, but my reaction today... I couldn't just leave it," Superman explained, "I wanted to make sure I wasn't mistaken."

"Thank you for telling me about this."

"Hey, what are friends for right?"

"Hmm…" Batman merely muttered in reverie, "I need to get back to Gotham. Looks like I have not one but two cases to solve."

"Leave Luthor to me," Superman demanded, "whatever he's up to, whatever he's done, I'll find out."

"I have no doubt about that."

"You still owe me an interview, though."

"Step by the manor next Sunday."

"What are going to do?"

"I don't know yet," Batman admitted, "Robin sent me information a few hours ago that could have a significant impact on solving at least one case. Boys did a brilliant work."

"And what are you going to do about Y/N?"

"I'll be keeping an eye on her."

***

Chapter eleven: Risky decisions ~~***~~ Author note: Hey! How are you doing? I hope you are doing well. That chapter took me longer to publish than I anticipated. I am sorry for the delay. I had to take some time off. For the last few months, I basically split my time between work and writing while I put aside all the other things, or the other hobbies in my life. Kinda missed that. I need to step back for a moment, find some time for other things in my life, and deal with an increasingly more mind-draining workload. But finally, I started missing that, missing writing. So there it is! Part 2. Finally! But you know what? I had a blast finishing this chapter after I got myself back into the story. And I am excited again about it! And I'm convinced that next chapter will be published sooner than later :) For now, as always my Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

~~***~~ Tag list: @mrsgrahamsdesign @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom @maripositanoctruna @pluckastarfromthesky

88 notes · View notes