Disclaimer: I do not own or am affiliated with the Batman franchise, story, characters, or the DC Comics franchise. Deep down, I always knew I could be Batgirl. But that doesn't count, unfortunately.
*No stealing stories, thanks.*
A/N: This story is one I've been working on for a bit- most of the time spent was on ediig and making sure I have my Batman knowledge straight. A HUGE thank you to my best friend (who is a Batman expert) who helped me edit and piece together the dialogue and background context of the story- cheers! And now, on with the fandom! Enjoy, and please review! I love to hear from readers, and all comments/tips/critique is always appreciated! Thanks!
Gotham City has been far too quiet of late. It would seem that, with the rumor of the Dark Knight's death circulating through the city's criminal rings, the lust for darkness has left the busy streets and resides solely in the hearts of the most sinister. More or less, they are not fooled like the innocent citizens that the hooded figure who stands on the lonely rooftops at night is the true master of disguise, however well this imposter has the rest convinced. Only the secret underground society of heroes and villains suspect the truth. And those who seek the only cure for their cruelty- vengeance- await the true hero's return.
Nonetheless, acts of the worst kind are always present in Gotham, no matter who sets out to stop them. Although crime is a shadow amidst the unaware population, it remains ever present under the cover of night. It is this reason that our hero stands on the precipice of the Gotham skyscrapers, the dark clouds hiding the light necessary to reveal his movements. The recognized cowl hangs over the man's face, his somber expression hidden by the black mask. The wind pulls at his cape; patched and scarred, it flaps gently in the wind. His eyes rove the alleys from his lookout, and he listens for any sound that would reveal bad intention.
Underneath the façade of power, the man is at unease. He has played 'hero' many times before- he used to fly through the streets in bold pursuit of the evils that threatened the city, more often than not besides the very man he is now portraying. Both courage and fear are subjects he has always been used to. This time, however, is different. He is in charge. The game of pretending forces him to be the hand that holds the city together- he is the people's earthy protector. And while he is confident that he is not alone in his conquest, the prospect of being the man that all the villains look to destroy is not appealing.
As the man in the mask watches the city below, the faintest sound comes from behind him; the tap of hardened boots hitting the dank concrete as their owner stops his descent. A high pitched voice calms the man's worries of a possible attacker as the tone is easily recognizable.
"Nothing happening in the south district." A sigh followed his report. "Can't we clock in now? It's almost two in the morning."
The man in the cowl turns around, his face barely showing his displeasure as the intruder- a dark haired boy in a red and green ensemble, his black eye mask screwed into a frown with the rest of his face- crossed his arms.
"No, Robin. We have a job to do." The man's tone is his best attempt at maturity in spite of the overwhelming urge he has to slap the finicky Boy Wonder.
Robin scowled and draws his Batarang from his belt, fingering the curved edge of its blade as he stood there. Slowly, the corners of his mouth draw out and up, plastering a startlingly devilish grin across his crooked face. He looks up at Batman, smiling disconcertingly. Batman, always stoic, raises a hidden eyebrow. Robin's drama was always planned.
"I could kill any villain- anyone!- with a swing of this." Robin's eyes widens cynically. "Even you." Batman's face is grim. But he keeps surprisingly silent. Robin continues his practiced charade with no reservation. "Just like your mom and dad."
It is hard for anyone to put aside what the demented child suggests. Murder is the most evil of sins- the taking of another's life. For Batman, this is inexcusable, even from the current Robin. The thought of a justice seeker- however young he might still be- committing such a crime is unthinkable. Not to mention the link murder holds to our It is this reasoning that Batman chooses to act upon.
He lunges out with his hand and grabs for Robin. Robin, true to his word of martial prowess, dodges the attack and sends out a powerful roundhouse kick in Batman's direction. Barely moving himself in time, Batman grabs the out-swung leg and twists. Robin lets out a yell and thrashes around, screaming in a whining tone.
"Let go! Leggo my leg!" His voice is much less perverted when in pain.
Batman clutches the back of Robin's costume and leans in towards Robin's ear. His voice is a low whisper.
"Don't talk about my parents." Falling silent, Batman pushes the brat away, releasing his grip.
Robin walks away, the force of the shove causing him to stumble a bit. Quickly regaining his balance, he turns around and, forgetting all plans and secrecy, he scowls at Batman.
"Whatever you say, Bruce. I'm going home." He runs towards Batman. Batman, expecting an attack, moves to the side. But Robin doesn't take the time to do so. He bolts past the man and, jumping off the precipice, lands on the roof of the next building. Batman watches him as Robin continues his rooftop sprint and, becoming a brightly colored blur in the nightly haze, falls out of sight.
Batman sighs, the labor of a long breath reminding him of how tired he is. As much as he dislikes his flighty sidekick, he would have followed him, if it meant he could return home sooner. But the man knows that being a hero or watchman- whatever you liked to call his current role in Gotham's crime- means there's no resting on the job. That's what Bruce would tell him, at least. If he were the masked man at this moment, instead of the man pretending to be the millionaire, things would be much different. Better or worse is impossible to tell at this point, but the pretender likes to think fate would've been kinder. In any case, Bruce is gone. Fate dealt a hard hand. But someone has to replace the old, for now at least. And so, the man in the mask turns back to the city, his face hidden. He is an actor at this moment, playing his most challenging role yet, even though he wishes he was far from this broken city. In his heart of hearts, he is a hero- on the outside, he is only a replacement. He plays it well enough. The people that walk the streets know no difference. Only the hidden city knows the truth. Watching over the city, he is only a pretend hero. Nothing more.