I am Vengeance.
In the den there were many chairs. Three hard-backed oak chairs with velvet pillows were oriented around the desk; two overstuffed leather chairs were angled at a perfect 45 degrees from the matching sofa in front of the fireplace. Along the wall with the hallway door an extra bucket chair was left in case the room needed an extra chair.
Every chair was empty. No imprints to suggest any had been sat in for any period of time, in fact a thin layer of dust was slowly gathering on each and every chair. Everything in the den was getting dusty. The large oak desk, the mantle place, all the various bric-a-brac placed in perfect geometric order around the room. Nothing in the room ever moved.
Nothing, not even the young woman sitting on the cold concrete that made up the frame for only window in the room. Her head was down, cradled by her arms resting on her knees, she may have been crying but she couldn't remember.
Strange that there were no memories in this room. His office, his room. No one had been allowed in when business was being conducted. But this wasn't important, the business was merely fluff to hide the true meaning of the room. The lie, the deception. Only on nights like these did everything seem so black and white.
On nights like these there was nothing better to do then return to the room of no memories and wait until morning.
The silence was interrupted by the door slowly creeping open. She's come to check on me.
The older woman entered the room and crossed to stand near the window. She seemed to sigh but caught her breath before; "When I was your age, there were only two things on my mind, boys and having fun."
She tried to smile at the younger woman but was shot down with a sharp gaze from her olive eyes. "I'm 25, not 15. I don't think about 'boys'." She returned her head to the nest made by her arms. "In fact, I don't think I ever did. I realized early on there were more important things."
"Nothing is more important than love my dear." Immediately Mrs. Penny regretted what she had said and set her hands on the woman's shoulders. "Now I didn't mean ."
With her head still down the woman barked back "I know what you mean. What do you want Mrs. Penny?"
"Nothing except to tell you myself and Mr. Penny are retiring to bed. I would suggest you do the same. No sense waiting up for ."
"Goodnight Mrs. Penny." She sighed.
Mrs. Penny stepped away. She could never get the child to go along with anything she said. Not once while she was little did she ever behave when told to. Mrs. Penny had told her mother that this was because she was the youngest child, her mother had laughed. "It's because she's our child". Mrs. Penny had never forgotten that.
"Goodnight Miss Claire."
As she returned to the hallway all she could think of was how empty the house was. When she and Mr. Penny had arrived from Scotland there had been a very large family in the house. So many happy memories, until tragedy had returned.
First the incident when the girl had been merely twelve. Mrs. Penny groped her heart the think about it. Snatched from her bed and taken by those evil barbarians. They had locked her up in a room and filled it with a horrible poison that Mrs. Penny needed Alfred to explain to her. Induces fear! What evil rogue had thought that up? She could only imagine, after refusing to learn any details about the night life of the house Mrs. Penny had declared that for the children's sanity she would not talk about any of it. But that night she couldn't pretend it didn't exist any more. When they had found Claire they thought they had lost her, but by some miracle she was alive. Alive, but not the same young girl she had been before. Leslie had said there would be a change in her behaviour, and that was an understatement. She was no longer sweet and kind, but sour. And the worst of it was she no longer had fear. The things she tried to do.
Mrs. Penny tried to shake the memories out of her head. No time to be dwelling on the past Elizabeth, she told herself, only makes the nights harder.
Mrs. Penny looked back towards the den, the light still on, and said a little prayer for her little lamb. If tonight was like any night she'd need it.
I am the Night.
Back in the den Claire continued her vigilante watch by the window. Yet another night where she was made to stay behind. Unlike the others she could push herself harder and could keep up for nights at a time. But someone had said that was a bad idea. Someone had said it would be easier to set up a proper system of taking turns. Someone had told that she would hurt herself if she continued to live like this.
But how else could she live? She was the only one, the only out of the three of them to take their own legacy seriously. He had never said who he wanted to continue. It was a unspoken wish that it would have been the boy, but he proved himself to be uninterested. She had secretly thought unworthy. After Thomas-Scott had left, no one believed the mantle would live on.
He had grown more withdrawn, carrying on with his son and wife around, as if they had never been around. This had snapped Marty. She couldn't stand him at all. She left saying she'd never return, a lie. She didn't get very far. Another vigilante saw to that. One he didn't approve of. That made it more appealing. And Marty had always despised gangsters the most.
That had left Claire. He refused to train her, but another saw to it. She knew that this was what was needed, he needed a proper heir, and so what if it was a girl? She had worked out fine. Claire smiled in her arms at the remembrance of Cassandra. In the end it had been the right thing to do. There she was left alone with him as the only child of a gruff millionaire/superhero, what else were they suppose to do together, tennis?
In his last few months Claire had finally understood everything that had ever been. The orphans, the rogues, the vigilantes, the secrets, the flop, the night, the Cat. she knew him as if she was him. When the time had come the other two returned to a different household. As they stood quietly around his grave no words could express the feelings that passed between them.
Claire's memories were interrupted by sudden burst of light into the room. She turned her head slowly to see the familiar signal in the sky. A single tear passed down her check. She suddenly didn't care for rules, she felt alive. Rising from her seat and stepping into the hall she could only think of the many years that he had done the same. Same light, same hallway, same grandfather clock, same latch, same cave. Same stubborn Wayne. As she entered the tunnel Claire smiled at the comforting thought.
I am Batman.
In the den there were many chairs. Three hard-backed oak chairs with velvet pillows were oriented around the desk; two overstuffed leather chairs were angled at a perfect 45 degrees from the matching sofa in front of the fireplace. Along the wall with the hallway door an extra bucket chair was left in case the room needed an extra chair.
Every chair was empty. No imprints to suggest any had been sat in for any period of time, in fact a thin layer of dust was slowly gathering on each and every chair. Everything in the den was getting dusty. The large oak desk, the mantle place, all the various bric-a-brac placed in perfect geometric order around the room. Nothing in the room ever moved.
Nothing, not even the young woman sitting on the cold concrete that made up the frame for only window in the room. Her head was down, cradled by her arms resting on her knees, she may have been crying but she couldn't remember.
Strange that there were no memories in this room. His office, his room. No one had been allowed in when business was being conducted. But this wasn't important, the business was merely fluff to hide the true meaning of the room. The lie, the deception. Only on nights like these did everything seem so black and white.
On nights like these there was nothing better to do then return to the room of no memories and wait until morning.
The silence was interrupted by the door slowly creeping open. She's come to check on me.
The older woman entered the room and crossed to stand near the window. She seemed to sigh but caught her breath before; "When I was your age, there were only two things on my mind, boys and having fun."
She tried to smile at the younger woman but was shot down with a sharp gaze from her olive eyes. "I'm 25, not 15. I don't think about 'boys'." She returned her head to the nest made by her arms. "In fact, I don't think I ever did. I realized early on there were more important things."
"Nothing is more important than love my dear." Immediately Mrs. Penny regretted what she had said and set her hands on the woman's shoulders. "Now I didn't mean ."
With her head still down the woman barked back "I know what you mean. What do you want Mrs. Penny?"
"Nothing except to tell you myself and Mr. Penny are retiring to bed. I would suggest you do the same. No sense waiting up for ."
"Goodnight Mrs. Penny." She sighed.
Mrs. Penny stepped away. She could never get the child to go along with anything she said. Not once while she was little did she ever behave when told to. Mrs. Penny had told her mother that this was because she was the youngest child, her mother had laughed. "It's because she's our child". Mrs. Penny had never forgotten that.
"Goodnight Miss Claire."
As she returned to the hallway all she could think of was how empty the house was. When she and Mr. Penny had arrived from Scotland there had been a very large family in the house. So many happy memories, until tragedy had returned.
First the incident when the girl had been merely twelve. Mrs. Penny groped her heart the think about it. Snatched from her bed and taken by those evil barbarians. They had locked her up in a room and filled it with a horrible poison that Mrs. Penny needed Alfred to explain to her. Induces fear! What evil rogue had thought that up? She could only imagine, after refusing to learn any details about the night life of the house Mrs. Penny had declared that for the children's sanity she would not talk about any of it. But that night she couldn't pretend it didn't exist any more. When they had found Claire they thought they had lost her, but by some miracle she was alive. Alive, but not the same young girl she had been before. Leslie had said there would be a change in her behaviour, and that was an understatement. She was no longer sweet and kind, but sour. And the worst of it was she no longer had fear. The things she tried to do.
Mrs. Penny tried to shake the memories out of her head. No time to be dwelling on the past Elizabeth, she told herself, only makes the nights harder.
Mrs. Penny looked back towards the den, the light still on, and said a little prayer for her little lamb. If tonight was like any night she'd need it.
I am the Night.
Back in the den Claire continued her vigilante watch by the window. Yet another night where she was made to stay behind. Unlike the others she could push herself harder and could keep up for nights at a time. But someone had said that was a bad idea. Someone had said it would be easier to set up a proper system of taking turns. Someone had told that she would hurt herself if she continued to live like this.
But how else could she live? She was the only one, the only out of the three of them to take their own legacy seriously. He had never said who he wanted to continue. It was a unspoken wish that it would have been the boy, but he proved himself to be uninterested. She had secretly thought unworthy. After Thomas-Scott had left, no one believed the mantle would live on.
He had grown more withdrawn, carrying on with his son and wife around, as if they had never been around. This had snapped Marty. She couldn't stand him at all. She left saying she'd never return, a lie. She didn't get very far. Another vigilante saw to that. One he didn't approve of. That made it more appealing. And Marty had always despised gangsters the most.
That had left Claire. He refused to train her, but another saw to it. She knew that this was what was needed, he needed a proper heir, and so what if it was a girl? She had worked out fine. Claire smiled in her arms at the remembrance of Cassandra. In the end it had been the right thing to do. There she was left alone with him as the only child of a gruff millionaire/superhero, what else were they suppose to do together, tennis?
In his last few months Claire had finally understood everything that had ever been. The orphans, the rogues, the vigilantes, the secrets, the flop, the night, the Cat. she knew him as if she was him. When the time had come the other two returned to a different household. As they stood quietly around his grave no words could express the feelings that passed between them.
Claire's memories were interrupted by sudden burst of light into the room. She turned her head slowly to see the familiar signal in the sky. A single tear passed down her check. She suddenly didn't care for rules, she felt alive. Rising from her seat and stepping into the hall she could only think of the many years that he had done the same. Same light, same hallway, same grandfather clock, same latch, same cave. Same stubborn Wayne. As she entered the tunnel Claire smiled at the comforting thought.
I am Batman.