Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Disguises and Masks
Chapter One
Dick's POV
He's so cold.
Sitting there alone, not knowing that someone is watching him, wanting all of him.
I blink at the vision of so much calm, intriguing power as he continues to sit in silence, most likely pondering over the events of his patrol earlier this evening.
I would take all that cold darkness to have him.
That darkness is a part of who he is now.
Maybe it has always has been.
But it's no matter...I would take all of it.
He's worth it.
It's hard to turn away from the strong, shadowy presence, his bared but bandaged torso and arms illuminated only by meager lamplight, but I do.
Otherwise, it would only be a matter of time before he spotted me.
Besides, I really needed to get back to Bludhaven...
X
Third Person POV
Several days later...
Bruce Wayne sighed where he sat at his computer in the cave and scrubbed his large hands up and down his face, exhausted.
He kept his head in his hands for a moment longer, taking slow breaths and letting his eyes remain closed while he cleared his mind.
He could have fallen asleep as he was, but his innate discipline would never allow him to do so.
He was currently researching the whereabouts of the Penguin's gang whom he had ran into a few nights before.
One of them had talked and gave him a few details but only after Batman had brawled his way through the throngs of goons that had been more than willing to challenge the Bat.
Bruce swallowed down some spit as he still could recall the immense pain that had wracked through his entire body upon receiving a devastating blow to his side from one of the goons swinging a pipe.
Bruce dropped his hands away from his face and sat up a little straighter.
"Careless..." he commented aloud, scolding himself for only him to hear but the word might as well have echoed through the hollow walls of the cave because the vigilante looked away once more.
"Master Bruce...are you quite alright, sir?" chimed a cheery, British voice from the elevator to Bruce's left.
Batman licked his lips, hearing his butler's question but not wanting to answer with any kind of truth.
"Alfred...do you think..." Bruce stopped himself before he could finish the thought, pensively placing the tip of his tongue against his top lip and then sighing again.
"...sir?" the aged butler prompted upon hearing his charge trail off the way he did, not at all used to seeing him look so foggy with a far-away expression.
Alfred took another step closer but Bruce suddenly rose from his chair, his impressive build dwarfing the butler as he quickly stepped around the man with steel in his movements.
"I'll be upstairs...I need to get some sleep," the Wayne heir spoke solidly, as if nothing had been bothering him at all, as he navigated to the stairs beside the elevator and then dashed up the steps.
Alfred watched him leave in a hurry and frowned, knowing that he would try to talk to Bruce again later because he knew he would need it.
Bruce only slowed down his pace once he was a few steps inside the Wayne manor and out of the cave as he now took his time walking through the great lounge on the main level, light blue eyes not even bothering to look at the priceless artifacts and bobbles he had amassed over the years that sat pristine on display.
"I don't know what's wrong with me..." Bruce finally let his thoughts ring clearly inside his own mind as he ventured towards a set of marble stairs to reach the second level, "I haven't been feeling like myself lately...like I'm losing strength or that I need more training...or that..."
The secretly downtrodden billionaire reached the master bedroom and padded inside, not stopping until he sat down on the expansive mattress and could relax his heavy shoulders.
"...that I'm just..."
Bruce swallowed hard but it was too late from stopping the single word to manifest itself within his mind, with all of its weight and implications already taking hold of him and not letting go.
"...lonely."
Bruce laid down on his back with his head on a pillow and threw an arm over his eyes, hating the word and how true it was.
X
Meanwhile...
A vigilante costumed in black and bright blue leap gracefully from rooftop to rooftop in Bludhaven, his lithe body twisting through the air like one would expect to see in the main show of a circus.
"I mean...I'm not an idiot, I know there's big age difference..." Nightwing was in the middle of speaking matter-of-factly to himself as he dove off of the next, taller building, arms stretched wide as if he was meant to receive applause and praise from a crowd.
"Let's see...is he...forty-five...or forty-six now?" Dick Grayson continued to speak nonchalantly as he volleyed off of the affixed fencing on the rooftop, making his legs dive off of the edge of the building so that he could shoot down towards the street like a bullet out of a gun.
Nightwing had heard commotion coming from this area several blocks away and had decided to intervene, but not without continuing to have his current conversation with himself over his dilemma.
"Wait...yep, he's forty-six..." Dick confirmed out loud upon landing in the alley, right next to the men fighting and grappling all around, "...because I remember Tim telling me last year for his birthday they ran out of candles after after getting three packs of twelve so they had to get another box and throw two of them away so they would have forty-six."
"Who the hell are you? And who are you talking to, kid?" one of the thugs stopping throwing wild punches long enough to fix Nightwing with a hard, questioning look.
"So he is going to be forty-seven later this year...I can live with that," Nightwing chuckled to himself before pulling both of his eskrima sticks from the holsters on his back and then launching into a flashy attack, going head over heels with his legs sprawled wide on either side of him.
The nearly unavoidable maneuver knocked over multiple thugs right away and gained the rapt attention of those who had not been immediately affected.
All of them came barreling towards the odd, costumed, and undeniably upbeat stranger.
"Why you little punk!" a hard-nosed goon growled, rearing his meaty fist back to strike down the interrupting vigilante, but he was too slow, for Nightwing was moving effortlessly amongst the gathered bodies, striking efficiently and making them fall to his feet.
"How do I even start a conversation like this, though? I mean, it's definitely not like how it is with the others after a hard night's work, you know what I mean?" Dick prattled on in high spirits and a pep in his step as he threw both of his eskrima sticks at the same time while jumping high to his left, making the charging thug miss him and slam face-first into the building.
Slam!
Crack!
The eskrima sticks did not miss their marks, and Dick sighed in boredom with only two goons left to go.
One foolishly rushed toward Nightwing with a length of chain raised high about his head, shouting nonsense that made the masked vigilante run a hand through his sleek, blue-black hair and half-way glance his way.
"Maybe I'm over-thinking the whole thing...wait, what am I saying?" Grayson comically smacked his own palm against his forehead before throwing two intricately designed blades at just the right moment to swipe the chain right out of the thug's hands and pin in to the brick wall behind him, "...when it comes to that one, there is no such thing as over-thinking. I guess I am an idiot after all."
The goon stopped short upon being relieved of his weapon but Nightwing was already underneath him, sweeping his legs out in a fluid kick that sent the man crashing to the ground with a yell.
"Oh, pipe down, would ya...I'm sort of in the middle of a crisis here," Nightwing said to the baffled and defeated thug before clocking him squarely in the nose and making him go to sleep.
One left.
Dick rose up from the ground and collected his discarded eskrima sticks before slowly walking towards the single man trying to carefully back away without tripping over the unconscious bodies now littering the alleyway.
"W-wait...please...I barely know these guys; I just sort of got wrapped up in -" the burly man began pleading to Nightwing with his hands held up in a classic surrender gesture.
Nightwing continued to move towards him until he was right in the man's face, curling his gloved hands in the front of the guy's jacket and glaring at him through the white lenses of his domino mask.
"Get ready to bl-" Nightwing had begun to say but was cut off by the goon suddenly speaking again as if his very life depended on it.
"I...I think if you really do care for this person you've been talking about, then any kind of outside circumstances shouldn't really matter! You mentioned an age difference, but clearly you can't stop thinking about this person and you definitely strike me as a guy who knows what he wants, so I think you should just go for it!"
Nightwing opened his mouth to say something, anything, but closed it and then relaxed his hold on the man's clothing.
"What's your name?" Dick asked plainly as he finally let go of the man's jacket and and helped him straighten the wrinkles.
"Uh...it's Fred..." the goon provided hesitantly as he brushed off the dust from his jacket and pants, the well-trained vigilante still right in his face and watching him.
"You like coffee, Fred? Let's go get some coffee, my treat. I know this great place just up ahead on the corner that has the best pastries. So, Fred, it's like this...I've known this person for a really long time and you might even say I grew up with him and..." Dick looped a friendly arm around the thug's shoulders and steered them both onto the street and towards the nearby coffee shop, already talking animatedly to Fred who had no choice but to listen to his new pal.
X
