Disclaimer: I do not own characters, just voice. Happy Birthday, rats xp! Kind of a belated birthday present but here it is! And dediction to StarStruckPenguin, as promised. :)
Café Devenir
"For things to reveal themselves to us, we need to be ready to abandon our views about them."
- Thich Nhat Hanh
Chapter Eight
Our first breakthrough in weeks. It wasn't a pretty one.
I kind of had a love-hate relationship with rain. Maybe I was just a sucker for pathetic fallacy. Like, even though it sounds as if a girl would say it, I'd like it for rain to come down during a moment of passion: whether it be love or anger or sadness. Merde, I sound like a girl. Wally would have a hissy fit.
Today I had to meet Wally and Jinny at Hard Rock for some much-awaited coffee. When I arrived, Hard Rock was as busy as ever and a long line of unfortunate souls were exposed to the torrential rain crashing down on them. Poor souls. I was kinda grateful for the limo and Alfred's amazing butler skills.
Anyway. I walked into the café (which was less amazing than Devenir, but I wouldn't say that to the manager's face), and Wally waved enthusiastically at me from the other end of the room.
Geez, Wally. Why'd you have to pick the end table? Didn't you know I quite anger management training with Bruce a while ago? I sighed.
The room was dimly lit. Glass clinked and plates shattered (kidding) in the kitchen and rock music softly blasted from the speakers, setting quite the mood. I heard The Killers' Mr. Brightside playing and I mentally cheered. The cheer was, in every way, mental. I loved that song. Shh.
The walls were lined with guitars from a long succession of musical legacies. I didn't play any instrument apart from percussion (if you could count a punching bag percussion), so I didn't care to read or analyze them further. I was just set on reaching Wally and Jinny's table.
Jinny looked pretty hot tonight. I mean, I wouldn't say that out loud because Wally would smack me to the ground but, well, I'm a guy, and there's no problem with staring. I learned that from Curley's wife, when Lennie was checking her out in a not-so discreet fashion. But Jinny looked pretty in her black and pink dress.
"Hey," I said, smiled, then sat down. It was routine. Wally smirked at me, Jinny beamed, the waiter passed by. For a second I thought the green hair was Gar but it was just another goth kid whose rich parents got him to work here. We ordered. We talked. Same old, same old.
"So, I heard you'd been pulled out of work recently," Jinny began. Her pink-tinted hair looked darker in this lightning. I think I've always hated the color orange. But that's just a random fact.
I smiled politely. "Yeah, I'm not sure if I told Wally but I'm working on a case at the moment," I said, reluctant to give any more detail.
"Oh," she nodded, her catlike eyes glinting. The waiter came around to serve us tea. She took it gratefully and started to sip. I leaned over to Wally.
"Your future wife is a reincarnation of Catwoman, do you know that?" I whispered.
"I am fully aware of it. That's why I started dating her," Wally whispered back. He grinned triumphantly and slung an arm across Jinny's shoulder in response.
I frowned. "But you also see that you're no Batman and Catwomen only date Batmen."
Jinny quirked an eyebrow at our discussion, which was becoming increasingly heated. "I'm guessing you two are in the middle of a geek debate session?"
"Something like that," Wally dismissed. "I can so be the Batman. I'm cool and can brood, however loud I may be."
Wow, he was actually taking this seriously. Might as well let him win.
"On the contrary, I think I'd be more suited to be the Batman," I said. What the hell. I was going against my conscience. Neat.
Wally's eyes flared. "Are you saying you're more deserving of Jinny? Dude, what the hell?" he yelled. It was quiet enough to not echo around the whole room, but loud enough to attract unwarranted attention from nearby café-goers. "Dick!"
I sighed. "I'm just saying, Wally," I said in the calmest tone I could muster, "that maybe Catwoman should be shipped with the Flash to have some variety. Batman gets all the ladies, so why not let Flash have some?"
You do not know how much that hurt me to say that. No.
Wally relaxed. Thank God. He exhaled roughly and sipped his coffee. "If you say so, Grayson," he chuckled. "Aaand here's the food."
The waiter placed the pearly white plates in front of us deliberately. The song changed to The Strokes' Last Nite. Tonight's playlist was great.
Jinny, amused from our earlier tirade, started to eat. Wally and I had a gentlemanly staring contest before we tucked into our food. Like I said, it was routine, and I wasn't about to break tradition.
The food was good. Compared to Vic's cooking, it was good. Besides, Devenir only served pastries and tofu cake slash bread. Vic took requests, but I only came for some sort of desert and not a full-on main meal course. One must wonder why I still look so handsomely fit from all the cholesterol-infested things I've been eating for the past few weeks.
Metabolism is key, my friend.
After I had finished my food, I sighed in delight. It was raining and I was inside so I was grateful. In fact, I might do a simple thank-you prayer.
Thank you. Amen.
I opened my eyes, unaware I had closed them, and they crash-landed on a redheaded male presumably in his late teens.
Short red hair.
Male.
Late teens.
…
Holy shit.
I bolted up and excused myself hastily from the table, ignoring Wally's annoyed swearing. I needed to focus. Where was that mini radio when you needed it? Ah, in my pocket.
Darned pocket.
By the time I finished fishing for the mini radio, the Target was exiting the vicinity. I placed the earpiece in its respective place (in my ear) and activated it.
"Nightwing to Red," I said under my breath, hoping not to be deemed as a schizophrenic by the sea of people I was currently surfing through. "Nightwing to Red. Or Bee," I repeated with more urgency.
"Red speaking," came Tim's strained voice. "Red to Nightwing, what's happening? Should I put Bee on the line?"
"Already ahead of you, Red," came Karen's roughed voice. They must've been sleeping. In the middle of the day? While it's raining? Preposterous.
Stay focused, Grayson.
"Target 2 located. I'm strongly suspecting this guy to be the next victim of Target 1. Proceed to follow or resign?" I reported.
There was a long silence from the other lines. The shock of us actually having a lead may have been overwhelming, but a life is at stake here!
"Proceed to follow. We're tracking you now," Karen responded.
I exhaled a breath I didn't know I had been holding. Come to think of it, I've been in a subconscious mood lately. "Affirmative. I'm on twenty-seven Woodhouse Street, crossing the road to Hard Rock Avenue."
"We know, Nightwing," Tim chuckled. "The earpiece has a tracking device." I felt my ears and cheeks blushing in embarrassment. "Don't worry, we don't think you're stupid." I rolled my eyes at the comment.
"Located," said Karen. "Target 2 located as well."
"How?" I asked, incredulous. I hadn't replaced any kind of tracker on him. How was this technology more advanced than my understanding?
"Our mechanic, Agent Cyborg, adjusted the settings of the earpiece. What you're wearing is all a microphone, a GPS, and a video camera. Pretty neat, huh? He's my boyfriend."
"Bee!" Tim's scalding voice cut in. "What did I say about dating other agents?"
I. Rolled. My. Freaking. Eyes.
"Thanks for looking out for me, Daddy," said Karen, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But, really, I'm too old—"
"Can we get to the part where we are actually accomplishing something IMPORTANT like stalking a redheaded nineteen year-old?!" I hissed. They were pissing me off like hell. Gotta stay focused, Grayson.
"Sorry," Karen said.
Tim paused. "Target 2 is headed towards Nevermore Avenue. Familiar with the place?"
My eyes widened behind my shades. I almost tripped in my step. The redhead turned a corner which I knew led to Nevermore Avenue. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm familiar."
"Good. It appears he is entering a vacant building. Third one down."
The café. Why was he entering the café? And in the rain? TORRENTIAL rain?
"Red, are you sure it's third?" I breathed. Aerobic respiration was finally catching up.
"Yep. Hold on," he paused. I could still hear his labored breathing in my ear. Kinda uncomfortable if you ask me. "Café Devenir?"
Wait. He's heard of it? Dang it. It's not my secret anymore. Insert sad face here.
"What's wrong, Red?" Karen's muffled voice entered my ears.
"Steph…"
I cast my eyes down. This must be the place where they came regularly for coffee or something.
"This was where she was tortured."
Or something.
Shit, this was getting out of hand. Whatever this guy was up to, I knew it was to no good. Even though we were supposed to be protecting him.
I reached the café door and cursed the opaque glass windows. The guy might've been alerted of my presence. Opening the door might be risking too much. It seemed like every teenager owned a gun these days.
To hell with it. Tim's issues were coming together at the wrong time and I'm not letting that blow this chance out the window.
I opened the door.
Pitch black.
All I could see were the stars Kory had painted. When did it get so dark?
I fumbled around the walls for a switch. My body was pressed hard against the cold stone, sending chills down my spine. Slade Wilson seemed like a baby compared to this case.
"Nightwing, camera is blocked," said Karen.
I didn't want to say that the room was just pitch black. I didn't want to blow my cover. I was so unpracticed for this. So underprepared. I shut my eyes tight. I was failing.
I looked up at the ceiling, thinking it would give me hope.
The stars looked like they were blinking. I took my shades off for a better glance and tucked them away into my pocket. Yep, the stars were as beautiful as ever.
I squinted. There was something about that yellow star that linked to that green…what the hell.
Devenir. I remembered a book with a quote: my thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations. Was that the reason Kory decided to make 'Devenir' a constellation?
I racked my brain for the French lessons I had when I was a kid. Devenir meant to become, to evolve.
Holy crap, Christ.
I have to ask: To be or not to be. That really is the question. Because when I awoke, the world was on fire.
To be or not to be. Devenir ou dene pas devenir.
The shards of glass that had fallen were finally piecing themselves back together again.
Tim was not going to like this.
I decided to leave the café because (1) the guy would be stupid to stay in the building and (2) I needed to face a pissed-off Wally and Jinny, then (3) get home in time for dinner with Bruce.
I got back to Hard Rock and saw that both Wally and Jinny were waiting for me upon arrival.
Need I say more?
"Where the hell did you go, man?" Wally seethed. "It's not appropriate to leave in the middle of food!" He glared at me, or rather my shades which I had put back on. Jinny shook her head beside him.
"Wally's overreacting, but I do think that an apology is in place," she said, her cat eyes stern.
I nodded. "Sorry, Wally." God, I felt like a two-year-old apologizing for stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. This was demoralizing, but necessary.
Wally sighed and rubbed his eyes with his left hand. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and Jinny patted his back softly for reassurance. "I get it," Wally began. "I get that you're probably busy with everything you're doing. But it wouldn't hurt to set that aside for one day and actually have fun with your friends."
I narrowed my eyes at his green ones. "Fine," I grumbled. "But Hard Rock isn't exactly my idea of fun. You know that."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "It was her idea," he jerked a thumb at his pink-haired girlfriend.
Jinny's mouth twitched in annoyance. "It was not. My idea of fun is kicking your sorry ass to Antarctica and back!" she growled.
Wally smirked. "It's a good thing you take me back, beautiful."
Cue in make-out session right in front of me.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes a hundred times. I gagged inwardly. I did not need to see this.
"I'm gonna go now," I announced. They nodded. I left.
Well, that wasn't so bad. I took out my phone and rang up Alfred, requesting to take me home. I waited by the roof shelter. The rain didn't look so bad now. It was weakly dripping onto the pavement, like the sky had suddenly run out of tears.
Alfred came in record time. He opened my door whilst holding a black umbrella and shut it tight. He didn't ask me any questions regarding my state of appearance. I looked drenched in my expensive suit, courtesy of Bruce. We just drove in companionable silence.
When we got to the mansion, Bruce was reading a book on the large sofa facing the television. He seemed absorbed into it so I didn't bother disturbing him. I've had one too many pissed-off people today. I was only past the arms of the sofa when Bruce spoke up.
"Sit," he said. I winced. Here come the one-word commands. He normally did this when I was either in trouble or in deep shit.
Seeing as every other choice today involved the latter option, I resolved that I was in deep shit.
I sat down and relaxed. Bruce put down his book. His mouth was set in a straight line.
"Have you read that book?" he inquired, pointing at the thick tome beside him. I shook my head tiredly. "Maybe if you hadn't gone swimming in your suit I would tell you. Get dressed. Now."
I gradually got up. Dragging my feet across the marble floor, I eventually managed to climb up the stairs and into my room. I stowed my shades away and entered the shower, bathing myself in warm water, and then got dressed. My eyes barely registered the time and only looked out of the window, where four o' clock in the afternoon could easily pass for seven o' clock in the evening. I dressed in my chocobo pyjamas.
If you were wondering, Wally and I went to Tokyo last year for a game convention. He dared me to buy the pyjama set from a Final Fantasy booth whilst I dared him to buy some Mortal Kombat lingerie for Jinny.
It's safe to say that Jinny agreed to my secret deal for her to not wear it until their wedding night. Actually, in retrospect, she seemed fully confident that Wally would be the man she would tie the knot with.
That was, what, a year ago? Wally was always the worst procrastinator.
I went downstairs. Bruce only raised an eyebrow at my attire but didn't ask any questions. Thank God.
"Tim informed me the latest details of the case," he began, as if that would give me any clue to what the book was. He sighed in exasperation at my lack of corporation. "This book is the original text of Shakespeare's Hamlet. The whole script is in Shakespearean dialect."
I jerked in my seat at the word 'Hamlet'. Say what now? "What about it?" I slurred, desperately trying to keep myself awake.
"This will be the first and last time I will ever read you a bedtime story," Bruce scolded. "Listen."
I smirked mischievously. At long last, the missing piece to my childhood with Bruce. This was so endearing of him: to read me a story that creeped the hell out of me. He was probably doing this on purpose. Oh, crap, he was starting.
"Act one. Scene one. Elsinore. A platform before the castle," Bruce read. "Francisco at his post. Enter to him Bernardo." His voice lowered. "Bernardo: Who's there?" Normal voice. "Francisco: Nay answer me: stand, and unfold yourself." Lower. "Bernardo: Long live the king!"
I wondered if he was actually, legitimately, going to read the whole play to me. Again, my subconscious took control.
"Yes," Bruce replied, irritated I had interrupted his reading. "Yes I am reading the whole damned thing to you so shut your mouth and listen."
"Yessir."
He continued to drone. Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a drone because he had a good reading voice. It's just that a bedtime story is for bedtime. And I all I wanted to do was sleep. My eyelids kept getting heavier as the story progressed.
When Bruce got up to the part of Hamlet's monologue, he stopped. I struggled to stay conscious.
He exhaled through his nose. "I will spare you the rest of the text," he said. I did a mental cheer. "But I will tell you the rest in my own words." I groaned. He frowned. "Dick, this story might help you solve the case."
I shook my head. "I found a suspect today. Target 2."
Bruce nodded. "And?"
I sighed. "I followed him. Tim told me to. Apparently the earpiece was all a microphone, GPS, and camera. They were able to see who I was chasing."
"Continue."
"I followed him to this café on Nevermore Avenue."
"Café Devenir," Bruce confirmed, shaking his head.
I sat up slowly, eyes wide and confused. How did everyone know of Café Devenir before me?
Bruce, thankfully, elaborated. "Café Devenir started out as an abandoned warehouse for Wayne Enterprises. We were still in Gotham when we abandoned it. Then we moved to Jump City. The events leading to this case occurred, and somehow, Café Devenir made its way into the picture."
That was the most I'd ever heard Bruce speak to me. The reading didn't count because that wasn't meaningful. I remained silent, prompting him to continue.
"To delve deeper into the significance to the café, I'd have to tell you my story," Bruce lamented. His blue eyes had suddenly become duller.
I listened.
"I was born to Thomas and Martha Wayne. My father was the chairman of Wayne Enterprises, I was to be his heir…"
Bruce then described to me his fear of darkness and bats, which reminded me so much of Batman. Bruce had feared the darkness so much that when they were in a family night out at some opera house, he got scared because the characters were acting so peculiarly. His imagination got the better of him.
His father noticed his son's strange behavior and opted to his wife to take him outside for fresh air. Martha agreed and they exited the building, into some deserted alleyway.
Or not.
A beggar suddenly took Thomas Wayne by the collar of his black coat and shoved a .45 pistol onto his abdomen. Martha screamed. Young Bruce stood, frozen in fear.
"He said, 'Give me that pearl necklace or I'll kill ya,'" Bruce recounted. "My father refused. He shot them both and they died on the street."
I remembered seeing the necklace displayed in Bruce's room when I first arrived at the mansion. It was shiny, like no blood had been shed over it.
Bruce went through some counseling over trauma, and then when he was 'better' he returned to the mansion where Alfred took care of him. He went to loads of famous universities in Europe. Cambridge and Sorbonne to name a few. At the age of twenty, Bruce applied for the FBI but decided that it was a complete waste of his time. He went back to running Wayne Enterprises in place of his father. The Prodigal Son of Gotham. Bruce Wayne.
"Two years into Wayne Enterprises, I attended a showing of Hayley's Circus at the request of Rita Farr Dayton, a fellow scientist."
I froze. Suddenly, flashbacks of my parents' death came flooding back to me. Wave after wave of screaming and crashing, I started to lose it. I needed for Bruce to continue.
"I attended. And…you know what happened."
"Tell me," I croaked. It wasn't that I was a masochist or anything. I just wanted to know what other people felt when they died. Did they feel the pain I felt? Was I completely alone in feeling it?
"Mary and John fell during a faulty trapeze act," Bruce murmured, as soft as a feather.
I refused to break down.
Hearing it from another person didn't feel or evoke anything different. They died. What's done is done. I just can't let go.
"Get to bed," said Bruce.
I shook my head. "I'm not tired. Tell me more."
He exhaled gruffly. "I'm not sure this is the best time for me to be saying these things."
I shook my head, more vigorously this time. "No. I'm okay. Tell me about the café."
Bruce considered it. "Fine." I relaxed.
"The café was bought by Rita's adopted son, Garfield after we had abandoned it."
Garfield Logan. Gar. He was adopted too. His parents had died too.
"I haven't been tracking the progress café as of late, but I can tell you that one of the switches in the room leads to an underground basement. It's wet and it's slippery, and Stephanie Brown was tortured there."
I took in a sharp breath. "What about her?" I glared at the floor next to my bare feet.
Bruce shook his head. "She was Tim Drake's partner."
"I know that."
"Alright…she was pregnant at the time of the torture. She got out alive but died when the doctors denied her treatment. Neither body survived." Bruce paused as if recalling a distant memory. "Tim was furious. He demanded rights to search for her place of torture. No-one knew where it was because she had died. Until Tim came to me for help."
I nodded. It was making sense now.
"I used Fox's latest technology – the Bloodhound – where it could detect any place where blood had been shed by a specific person using their DNA. One of the results that came up was Café Devenir. I knew something was wrong.
"I told Tim. He went over there immediately and discovered the basement. All of Stephanie Brown's blood had dried except the ones from a whip, presumably used to torture her. I left the investigation to Tim. I didn't come back to it until Jim informed me of Barbara Gordon's incident."
I swallowed the bile that was inching up my throat. "Devenir. What does it mean?" I rasped. I knew what it meant already. I just wanted confirmation from another person. Bruce took French lessons too.
"To become," Bruce answered. "Could slightly be interpreted as 'to be'. Hamlet's monologue. Barbara Gordon."
It scared me how much he knew about the case. I closed my eyes, waiting for this new info to sink in as quickly as possible.
"Get to bed," Bruce repeated, beginning to stand up. "You need to rest."
It was only six in the evening. What about dinner?
"Screw dinner," Bruce remarked. I had spoken aloud again.
An idea struck me. "Do me a favor, Bruce," I said.
"As long as it doesn't involve something stupid, alright," Bruce conceded.
"Say, 'I'm Batman'."
",,,I'm Batman."
Mission One accomplished. I had figured out Bruce Wayne.
A/N: Weeeeellll, I took some creative liberty with Bruce's backstory but it pretty much summed up whatever. Yeah, Cafe Devenir has been exposed! Dun dunn dunnnnn. The story will take on a massive turn from here. Next chapter will be intense, guys. Kidding. I haven't even written it. Bruce spoke a lot today, and Wally was way too passive. The chase scene...bleh...I had no idea what I was writing.
Anyways, more Cy, BB, Rae, and RobStar next chapter. And backstory. Major backstory. I think. I'm not promising anything. Please review! Have a great Halloween!
