Selina: Chapter 4

Those eyes. She had stayed up the whole night thinking about the dark stranger that had leapt out of the shadows to save her, and his dark blue reservoirs of eyes. She had a small cut from where her assaulter's dagger had slid when he fell back, but it was a small price to pay.

This Batman, I wonder who is under the cape and helmet? He looked quite tall, a full head over most men, but still at least a head's length under the brutes that had attacked her last night. She remembered the sight as if it were burned into her eyes; the dark, cold alley, the foul-smelling and sweaty thugs, and then him. Could it have been the same stranger that was attacked by her girls last week? Selina was not sure.

That stranger had a beard, and some form of accent from the likes of the Free Cities. A beard was easy enough to shave off, but the accent? Well tall, dark and handsome didn't really have much of an audible voice unless you count the sound of gravel beneath your feet.

His armor, it was metal, and yet he moved so swiftly. Metal should have slowed him down, made moving as quickly as he did impossible. It was tinted black, somehow melded so that it did not reflect light like other metals. His mouth, chin, and eyes were visible but everything else was hidden beneath that oddly shaped helm. The pointed spikes on the top of it confused Selina until he spread open his cloak and the rest of his garb was viewable.

His chest plate had a simply formed outline of a bat with its wings spread on it. The armor had a muscular chest formed into it with a shingled ridge of metal on his sides to protect his ribs. He had shoulder guards, and darkened metal on his greaves and knees. He wore gauntlets as well, but none the likes Selina had ever seen. There were three angled and spiked blades jutting out from each one as dark as the rest of his armor. He did not seem to have any mail underneath the plates, just black, hardened leather from the look of it. He carried no sword or dagger or shield. Just a belt around his waist with an assortment of pouches and other assorted gear, that was what Selina had the shortest view of. His pouches full of odd trinkets and small weapons, like those knives he threw.

She had grabbed the one from her assaulter's hand before she disappeared. She rolled it over in her fingers, the metal felt so cool and smooth to touch, but the edges were razor sharp, fine craftsmanship. She wondered if Batman forged his own armaments, or if he had a friend to do the work for him while he ran across rooftops. Ha, I have a great want for some friends like those for sure. Perhaps this Batman has the right idea of it, since his face is hidden and he's gone before anyone can question him…no one knows who he is. He could be a plain beggar or Bruce Wayne himself…

Selina stopped to wonder, could it be Lord Wayne? Surely the use of his family's sigil on his chest pointed to that, but she had heard he was a crippled shut-in who had yet to step out of his castle since arriving. But I've feigned injuries before to get what I wanted…Wayne could do the same…If Bruce Wayne truly was this Batman, he had done more for the city in two days than any noble had in his fourteen year departure. Maybe the key is, hiding who you are. Maybe I'll forge a mask of my own. And as for Lord Wayne…perhaps I should pay him a visit at his big celebration tomorrow, and see if I can't match cane to cape.

Selina moved to her closet as her cats darted in between and under her legs and furniture to make way for her. She took out her most expensive black-leather jacket and leggings and laid them on her bed. She took out a black-leather head-wrap she had bought off a traveling maiden from across the Narrow, and fetched her sewing needle and supplies. It's going to be a long night.

Alfred: Chapter 4

The staircases of the castle used to give Alfred's feet blisters and aches after walking up and down them every day. Now he could skip a few steps with ease and with a bounce in his step that should not be there at his age. Five-and-fifty years he had turned this past year, and not getting any younger to be sure he jested to himself. He carried the silver serving tray with one hand and a letter received by raven this morning in the other. Alfred had stopped going to Master Bruce's bedroom to find him each morning shortly after the young man had returned and the only thing he ever found was an empty bed with no signs that it had been touched.

Instead, Alfred could always find Bruce in his new favorite place in the castle, his father's study. Whether he was having a meeting with Lucius behind locked doors, reading a scroll or tome he had returned with, or just training, Bruce could usually be found there. Unless he is down in his cave, Alfred always reminded himself. Alas, this morning Bruce was in fact there meeting with Lucius when Alfred used his key to open the large oak doors into the dust-filled tomb of books.

"No no, see here, if we used this arrowhead design the bolt would fly much higher than your sketch," Bruce said staring intently at the papers sprawled out over the table. His finger traced along the paper as he guided Lucius' eyes.

"Now ya see Bruce, if we used that model we'd be trading height for strength, the hooks wouldn't be able to hold when trying to support your weight-" Lucius was interrupted as he noticed Alfred coming into the study. "Mornin' Alfred, and how was your night?"

"Apparently not as interesting as a certain masked knight's. Filled with running across rooftops, striking terror into the souls of hundreds, and pummeling criminals with ease," Alfred replied wittily. "There's also been a raven from King's Landing Ser, the King rides north with plans to replace Arryn with Eddard Stark as Hand of the King. But the main talk of the streets I'm told is of this Batman and his daring forays into the night," Alfred continued with a heavy layer of sarcasm.

"Robert Baratheon plans to replace John Arryn with Ned Stark? Haha! He'll never get him to leave his winter fortress, Ned hates the South," Bruce replied chuckling.

"That is what you took from what I said? Not that the city is more interested in your nightly escapades than news that affects the entire kingdom?" Alfred replied, losing his patience.

"Lucius, could you give us a moment," Bruce said calmly, not looking up from his parchment.

"'Course. Alfred, always a pleasure," the dark-skinned man said as he left.

"Lucius," he replied. Alfred had come to enjoy his conversations with the man Bruce had brought back with him. Lucius was a worldly man with experience in many different areas, much like himself. He certainly provided for far more interesting and entertaining conversation than any of the servants he had kept on in Master Bruce's absence. When Lucius had left and closed the doors behind him, Alfred continued, "You told me this was not about trying to win fame or glory. The only thing that kept me from sending for the maesters with word of you going mad was when you said it wasn't about you, it was for Gotham. Well you and your nightly adventures have given this Batman character of yours too much attention and it will only fall back on you!"

Bruce looked from the table to Alfred, their gazes meeting, "It is about the city Alfred. Batman is a radical change to the city; it's going to cause talk, gossip, even some panic. But it is still a force of good. I don't use a sword, I don't kill, I just make the criminals that have ravaged this city for decades aware that there is someone they have to fear now. I promise old friend, I am no glory-seeker nor do I think this will blow back on me. That is what the mask is for."

"It is not a mask Master Bruce, it's just a helmet with pointed ears."

Bruce smiled with thin lips, "No Alfred, the cane, who I am by day, that is the mask. To protect my identity and those I care about from getting in the way of harm. I do this because no one else can Alfred, no one else will, and I am prepared to sacrifice what is necessary to see that my calling in this world is answered. Do you understand old friend?"

"…Yes Master Bruce, I think I do," Alfred replied hesitantly. I understand Bruce, your mask is Bruce Wayne now. Who you truly are is Batman. Since the day your parents died your face has been a mask, and the angry, willful soul inside, that is who you truly are. Batman is that soul incarnate, and the young boy I loved never returned to Gotham in the first place.

Richard: Chapter 4

"Oh come now Dick it cannot look that horrid! Your father loves his!" Mary Grayson said to her son from outside his closed and locked door.

"Yes son listen to your mother, these look spectacular! We'll look like a merry band of flying kin for sure Hoho!" He chuckled through the door, and made Dick want to butt his head against the door in both embarrassment and irritation.

Dick felt foolish, the new costume his mother had sewn for their performance tonight looked ridiculous to him. It was a bright red, skin-tight tunic with matching leggings and a yellow robin in a black circle on the breast. It was accompanied by bright green boots and what looked like undergarments to wear over his leggings. "But I look like a royal fool!" he shouted through the door.

"Haha! Then we will be a family of flying fools together!" His father would be happy with the costume if it was the ugliest shade of pink with pale yellow trim. Dick knew the likelihood of him winning this argument was low, if possible at all.

The door unlocked as Dick moved out from behind his door and stepped into the light. His mother immediately pinched his cheek, "Ohhh my sweet you look so adorable I can hardly believe you are my son!"

"Oh come now Mary, he is a flying Grayson through and through. But yes he does look like an adorable little pup doesn't he?" John Grayson snatched his son up in his thick arms and gave him a hug with such strength and love that Dick found it impossible to remain mad at him.

"Fine I will wear it, are you happy?" Dick said with a frown on his face.

"Ha yes! Now go run along and find ser Haly, you would think the bloody ringleader of the circus would be around for his own show!," his father said as he accompanied his wife over to the juggler's wagon.

Dick set off at a jog, running around stilt walkers, ducking under wagons, vaulting over crates and barrels. By the time he reached the back end of the tent he still had seen no sign of Ben Haley, the circus leader, but he did spy something that worried him. Dick could swear he saw one of the black coated strangers his father had spoken to last night leaving the back end of the tent. Right as he spotted the stranger however, a wagon pulled right in front of him. By the time the wagon had pulled away the man was gone, if he was ever there. Dick decided it was just his mind playing tricks on him, and continued on his way to find the ring leader.

He ran into the main tent and still did not find ser Haley, but he did find an older gentleman standing in the center of the main ring gazing up. The curious stranger was clearly staring up in awe at the sheer height of the tent. Dick slowly approached him, "Can I help you ser?"

The stranger looked down, he had a bald head with silver hair on the sides of his scalp. A finely kept mustache lay across his upper lip that was nearly pure black in coloration. Dick noticed the bat of Wayne on his breast pocket. "Oh perhaps my young lad, I am looking for ring master Haley. Is he around by any chance?," the stranger asked with a smile.

"No ser I cannot seem to find him anywhere either."

"Ah, shall we look together then? Four eyes do make better work than two after all."

They made leave towards the exit to the tent, the man walked slowly and carefully, examining his surroundings with great care. After a minute of quiet he asked, "My name is Alfred Pennyworth by the way, I am the head servant of Lord Wayne. He sent me down to see if everything was ship-shape for tonight. First we plan to direct the city folk here for what will certainly be some grand and spectacular entertainment, and then up to the castle for feasting and celebrating. But none of that matters now, tell me dear boy, what might your name be?"

"Richard Grayson ser, son of John and Mary Grayson. First of my name."

"Ah! I thought that robin on your chest looked familiar, well how has Gotham treated you thus far? I hope your stay has seen you and your family kindness," he replied as he watched the elephants being washed by a few circus hands. The elephant trumpeted in joy and spurted water up into the air which rained down on the men scrubbing it.

"Yes ser. My father said the city had a cloud of sorrow and gloom over it, but I have yet to see any such thing," Dick replied watching this servant examine his home so intricately.

"Ha! He said that did he? Well I can hardly blame the man I suppose, the city does have its more than gracious share of bad luck and misfortune," the man said chuckling.

"You find the misfortune of your city funny ser?" he asked confused. How could this nice old man find suffering laughable?

"Oh no no dear boy, you misunderstand me. I do not find the plight of this city funny, quite the opposite in fact. During my master's absence I spared what gold I could to help the city guard or workers of the city, but it was never enough. Sometimes, people need something more than gold or work to make them happy or help them find good fortune. Sometimes, they need something as simple as a circus to take their mind off their day to day lives for a while. And sometimes, they need something powerful to give them hope. A symbol, for something greater," Alfred replied sincerely.

"Are you talking about this Batman ser? I heard some of the jugglers and animal tamers telling stories they had heard from the city streets." The men had told fantastical stories of a man that was more beast than man flying around the city in the dead of night. Saving the innocent, cursing the guilty, and spreading fear throughout the dark corners of the city.

"Ah, so you have heard of our new legend in the making? Hmm I can't quite say for certain yet my boy. The Batman could prove to be either a great blessing upon this city, or a terrible curse," Dick noticed the man looked rather troubled as he said this. Alfred's brow was furrowed and he was looking straight ahead, but had the sort of gaze where he was looking through everything he saw as if it weren't even there.

"What do you think will decide it? If he's a blessing or a curse?" Dick was incredibly curious for his response.

"Hm, well my boy, I think that is up to the man beneath the mask," Alfred said meeting eyes with the young boy. Then he turned out to the path leading to the town, "But ah, I do believe that is ser Haley right there by the entrance. My apologies dear boy but I must depart. I'm sure we shall speak again."

"I look forward to it ser Alfred Pennyworth," Dick liked this man, of that much he was certain.