WARNING: This story is rated R (just to be safe) for language, violence,
and mild sexual content.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Batman, Nightwing (even though I'd like to) or any of the related characters. They are owned by WB, AOL Time Warner, and DC Comics. Created by Bob Kane, God rest his soul.
Agent Thomas, Agent Hicks, Carmella and Sammy, along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.
Timeline: After NML and before Bruce Wayne Murder?
I LOVE THIS CHAPTER!!! And I hope everyone else does. That's all I have to say.
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!
* * *
Bruce could hear the sharp slap of heels on the marble floor only seconds before his bedroom door was thrown open, hitting the wall behind it with a force that made him cringe.
"BRUCE!"
He groaned, pulling the covers up over his head. It was too early in the morning to be having this argument, again. The covers were just as quickly ripped away from him. Bruce gave up and opened his eyes to see very a pissed off blonde.
"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Sasha Bordeaux spat. Bruce was surprised by how good her diction was with her teeth clenched so tight.
He sat up and dropped his feet over the edge of the bed. Resting his elbows on his thighs, he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He forced himself to look at his bodyguard. She was pacing in front of him, with her hands on her dress suit that covered her hips.
Hmmm, he thought as a smirk crept across his face. She looks good when she's angry. Even more so when she's angry at me.
"Sasha, please-"
She didn't know what pissed her off more, the fact that he was being an ass hole, or that this ass hole was sporting a smile. "Don't 'Sasha, please' me! What the hell happened last night? I did what you told me, and you disappeared. I was looking for you all night."
Bruce raised an eyebrow mischievously. "All night?"
Sasha's face turned a deep color of red. "Why?" she asked, her voice still full of fury, but the volume minimized. "Why do you do this to me? Why did you put me in that suit? Make me hide behind that mask and dance this dance, if you're not going to let me do what I'm paid to do." Bruce turned his head so he was no longer looking at her. "That's right. Paid. I'm not one of your protégés. I'm not here to learn, to 'fight the good fight.' So tell me. Why?"
"You get in my way. I was trying to do my job last night," Bruce said sidestepping the question.
"And I was *trying* to do my job! Damn it!" She collapsed in a chair next to his bed. "If you don't want me here, why don't you just fire me?"
Bruce solidified the blank expression Batman was known for outside of the cowl, and looked up, refusing to continue this conversation.
"Fine!" she growled standing up. "Fine." She looked back at the chair she was sitting in and eyed the clothes he was wearing the day before. She took his shirt in her fist, crinkling the fabric between her fingers. "I will not give you what you want. I will not quit." She moved her jaw from side to side, feeling the muscles twinge. She threw the shirt, and it hit Bruce in the face. He turned his head slightly and the shirt fell into his lap. With her shoulders back, she marched to his door, gabbing it on her way. "So fuck you, Bruce. I'm still here."
The door slammed behind her.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Batman, Nightwing (even though I'd like to) or any of the related characters. They are owned by WB, AOL Time Warner, and DC Comics. Created by Bob Kane, God rest his soul.
Agent Thomas, Agent Hicks, Carmella and Sammy, along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.
Timeline: After NML and before Bruce Wayne Murder?
I LOVE THIS CHAPTER!!! And I hope everyone else does. That's all I have to say.
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!
* * *
Bruce could hear the sharp slap of heels on the marble floor only seconds before his bedroom door was thrown open, hitting the wall behind it with a force that made him cringe.
"BRUCE!"
He groaned, pulling the covers up over his head. It was too early in the morning to be having this argument, again. The covers were just as quickly ripped away from him. Bruce gave up and opened his eyes to see very a pissed off blonde.
"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Sasha Bordeaux spat. Bruce was surprised by how good her diction was with her teeth clenched so tight.
He sat up and dropped his feet over the edge of the bed. Resting his elbows on his thighs, he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He forced himself to look at his bodyguard. She was pacing in front of him, with her hands on her dress suit that covered her hips.
Hmmm, he thought as a smirk crept across his face. She looks good when she's angry. Even more so when she's angry at me.
"Sasha, please-"
She didn't know what pissed her off more, the fact that he was being an ass hole, or that this ass hole was sporting a smile. "Don't 'Sasha, please' me! What the hell happened last night? I did what you told me, and you disappeared. I was looking for you all night."
Bruce raised an eyebrow mischievously. "All night?"
Sasha's face turned a deep color of red. "Why?" she asked, her voice still full of fury, but the volume minimized. "Why do you do this to me? Why did you put me in that suit? Make me hide behind that mask and dance this dance, if you're not going to let me do what I'm paid to do." Bruce turned his head so he was no longer looking at her. "That's right. Paid. I'm not one of your protégés. I'm not here to learn, to 'fight the good fight.' So tell me. Why?"
"You get in my way. I was trying to do my job last night," Bruce said sidestepping the question.
"And I was *trying* to do my job! Damn it!" She collapsed in a chair next to his bed. "If you don't want me here, why don't you just fire me?"
Bruce solidified the blank expression Batman was known for outside of the cowl, and looked up, refusing to continue this conversation.
"Fine!" she growled standing up. "Fine." She looked back at the chair she was sitting in and eyed the clothes he was wearing the day before. She took his shirt in her fist, crinkling the fabric between her fingers. "I will not give you what you want. I will not quit." She moved her jaw from side to side, feeling the muscles twinge. She threw the shirt, and it hit Bruce in the face. He turned his head slightly and the shirt fell into his lap. With her shoulders back, she marched to his door, gabbing it on her way. "So fuck you, Bruce. I'm still here."
The door slammed behind her.