-Armani and kevlar.
Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will. -Mahatma Gandhi
Buttons, they had become increasingly troublesome for Dick. He couldn't say if it was the perpetual shaking in his hands or his new affinity for the seams and clasps of a different suit. Armani and Kevlar, he wore both constantly, though was never quite content in either. Any situation that he found himself in while clad in any combination of the two seemed to be life threatening.
"Mr. Wayne?"
There came a gentle knock on the door but before a word could form on his lips Dick felt his stomach roll and his throat constrict. Alfred's pecan pancakes had been far better going down than coming up, and the shocking amount of times he found himself regurgitating his breakfast did not make him anymore tolerant of the taste. There was nothing he could do though, his stomach would settle of its own accord.
Without looking he flushed away the bile, holding the back of his hand to his mouth to prevent the temptation of dry heaving. With unsteady steps he managed to reach the sink, turning the tap on as cold as he could get it before splashing a handful of chilled water against his feverish flesh.
"Mr. Wayne the press conference is due to start in five minutes…" There was a sense of urgency in his assistants voice that Dick was quickly beginning to tire of.
"I'll only need one," Dick called in response. One moment to regain the air of collected composure everyone had come to expect from him. Push away the pain, the stress, and the worry. He couldn't afford it, no matter the billions in his bank account.
Forcing his hunched back to straighten, Dick slapped a healthy tone into his pale cheeks and smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles he'd envisioned down the front of his suit. A quick adjustment to his tie found him ready to greet the masses. He only had one month in the cowl so far but he still preferred dealing with hardened criminals in comparison to the chattering flock of reporters that seemed to descend on him like vultures on carnage.
Casting the bathroom door open Dick flashed a charming smile toward his bashful assistant, his hand poised as if ready to knock again. "I only needed but a moment Bill, and please call me Richard. Mr. Wayne was my father."
Squaring his shoulders Dick stretched his neck, grimacing as it popped in multiple places. With a camera ready smile he strode through the double doors with a very convincing sense of faked bravado. He funded programs for peace and victim services by day as the great heir to Wayne Enterprises. By night he waged war on the corruption and violence rotting his city from the inside out. Dick fought both fronts relentlessly, and no friend or foe would stop him until Gotham was safe once more.
However the bullet aimed for his chest, which soared over rows of flinching paparazzi from the barrel of a familiar beretta just might prove to be an unpleasant obstacle.
AN: So for anyone who missed it, this is one month from where 'All My Brothers' left off. A short start but enough to get the ball rolling. :)
