Richard: Chapter 11

"Alfred! Alfred! Nightwing's not moving in his cage! Help me! Please!" Dick shouted from outside the locked doors to Thomas Wayne's study. He sprinted to the end of the hall and hid behind the corner. He peered out and waited. Within moments the servant burst from the doors and ran down the hall to Dick's chambers. Once he was halfway to his destination, Dick sprinted out from his hiding place and ran to the doors to the study that had been left open in Alfred's careless haste.

Just as Alfred heard the steps behind him and realized he had been tricked, Dick had already reached the old oak doors into the secretive room. Dick ducked in and closed and locked the doors before the Dornishman could reach the room in time. He turned his back to the locked doors and gazed upon the room. His eyes searched, he wasn't sure what for, but they searched for something. There had to be some reason why the doors were always closed and Bruce and Alfred were inside while Dick was left to himself outside.

It was his thirteenth name day tomorrow, and had been near a week since Lord Tywin had left Gotham. Dick had decided not to leave with Tywin, knowing he would not forgive himself for fleeing the city without discovering what secret Bruce and Alfred were hiding. What secret could a cripple and an old man possibly be hiding?

He stuffed a chair under the door's brass handles, assuring that Alfred couldn't find his way back inside. Within a few moments of the chair being jammed against the door, the handles shook. Alfred called out, "Master Richard you will open these doors right now! This is Master Bruce's private place of peace and quiet and you would do well to leave it be!"

Dick paid the shouting Dornishman no mind. He looked around the room, looking for something that stuck out, that seemed out of place. He looked through and across the rows of books on the nearest wall, finding nothing. The sun light reflected off of the marble head of Thomas Wayne, making him appear almost transcendent. There. Dick ran to the bust and glided his hands over the entirety of the head and its podium to no avail. I heard something moving, I know I did. Something…smooth…

Dick set his gazes upon the fireplace on the far side of the room. There? He ran to it and looked over every nook and edge of the pit, coming up with nothing once more. This had to be the sound, but it could not move…Dick looked to the tall shelf of books to the left of the fireplace. He tried pushing it, but it would not budge. It was locked in place, but Dick could not tell if it was from the weight of the books, or something else. He glided his hands over the rows of books, pulling out the occasional one to skim the pages, hoping he would find some semblance of a clue.

Alfred had stopped his assault on the doors, probably off to find something to break them down with. Dick was running out of time. He grabbed a stool to search the higher up shelves that lay beyond his reach. The Age of Artorias, Dawn of the Age of Heroes, Herbs of the North, Dick read all of the titles as he pulled every other dusty tome from its place. Then his hand came upon one that did not have an ounce of dust on it, The Shadows of Man.

Dick pulled the book from its place, only to be stopped after a few inches. He heard something wooden thud behind the staircase and took a few cautious steps backwards as he looked wearily at the shelf of books towering over him. A few moments later, a second thud came and the book case slowly began sliding to the side. It slowly pushed in front of the fireplace, as a chilling breeze blew from the gaping hole it left. Dick looked into the dark stoned tunnel that dipped down into black shadows below. A ladder rose up from the shadows and ended three feet from where Dick stood.

He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. Into the darkness I must go. The first step onto the stone was the hardest, but each successive one slowly grew easier. He slid down the ladder a dozen or so feet and his feet touched stone once more. Torches were anchored to the wall every dozen or so steps, illuminating his way. His footsteps echoed down the long, dark pathway. A cold shiver worked its way up his spine and when it reached his skull the entirety of his bones made him feel as if he were atop the Wall. Then he heard it, the sound of a hammer on steel.

Dick quickened his steps, seeing a pale light now coming from the end of the tunnel downwards. When he reached it, he looked out and could hardly believe what he saw. It was a giant cavern with bats and hanging fangs of stone littering its roof. There was a horse, black as night, tethered near an outward reaching tunnel on the far end of the cave. One corner was completely submerged in water, while the opposite corner had a small wooden shack standing on its own. Then Dick's eyes traced to the nearest corner, where Lucius Fox was standing at his anvil, hammering away at some oddly formed piece of metal.

Dick walked closer, the older man not hearing him due to the loudness of his work. When Dick was twenty paces from him, Lucius took notice quickly of the sudden movement. He looked up, and his eyes grew wide. He dropped his hammer, and after a few moments cleared his throat loudly with a coarse cough into his fist. The Summer Islander looked off somewhere behind Dick, which made the young boy turn. Then he saw it, or him rather. His armor was so dark Dick must have glanced over him in his first inspection of the cave assuming him to be a shadow or part of the black stone itself. He was less monstrous than Dick imagined, but with stories of him being half-direbat or sired from the darkness in criminals' hearts it was hard to picture exactly how he would have looked. Batman stepped closer to Dick, stopping when he was but a pace from where the boy stood. He towered over Dick, before kneeling down to meet his gaze at an even height.

"Y-you're…" Dick stuttered, in too much awe to form the rest of the sentence.

The pointed-helmed stranger nodded, before speaking in a grizzled, dark voice, "I am Batman. Alfred should not have let you come. How did you find this place?"

Dick turned as he heard rushed footsteps echoing down the path he had just come. Alfred ran into the cave panting and gasping for breath. Dick turned back to Batman and answered, "I tricked him in to leaving the room. When he was gone I ran in and barred the door. I checked the bookcase next to the fireplace, and there was a book without any speck of dust on it. I pulled it, and the shelf moved to the side.

Batman then did something Dick did not expect, he smirked. The helmeted stranger stood, and looked over to his servant as he heaved for breath. Dick spoke again, "Did he let you use his grounds? Does Bruce know you're down here?" If Batman is here, then where is the ground's true crippled Lord?

Batman continued smirking, "Well I do hope so." He raised his hands and removed his helmet. When Dick saw the face beneath he was stunned, no, he's a cripple. He walks with a limp and a cane, he doesn't do anything for this city but sit and brood in his room day and night…it can't be…

Bruce Wayne knelt down once more, and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. Alfred had walked over to where they stood now, and Bruce looked up to him. "Alfred, I find it hard to believe a boy of but two-and-ten has outsmarted you with such ease. Well now, that begs the question, what shall we do with you?"

Alfred: Chapter 13

Yes ser, what are we supposed to do with him? He knows your secret now, all of them. We can't just send the boy away. I don't know how he would take living here with this great secret upon his shoulders like I have done, I just…

Bruce spoke again, "Tell me what you feel Dick, truthfully."

"Angry, why would you and Alfred keep this from me? I've been here for months now and the both of you have outcast me with this secret. I feel more alone now than I did when I first arrived! Alfred tries to keep me company but when I know the whole time he is hiding something from me it just makes me feel like I'm with a mirage! And you, you have barely spoken or done anything since I've been here save for the day we found Nightwing! My only friend in this whole castle is a hawk…This whole time you were him…You found my parents' killer."

Bruce nodded. "Yes, I did find him and his little gang. They're all in Gordon's jail cells now. I didn't want you have to experience losing your parents like I had. They never found my parents' killer. I still don't even have the slightest semblance of a clue as to his true identity, but I could give your parents justice. I could bring in their killer, and spare you that life of wondering and irresolution."

The boy's eyes grew watery with tears. "You would have done them justice by caring for their son. Not running around at night trying to get the man who killed them. He would have been found eventually. I needed Bruce Wayne to tell me what to do with myself, not Tony Zucco needing the Batman to find him. I have all of this anger, and I don't know what to do with it! My father, used to say anger was a more deadly poison than any made by man, even more deadly than any the Red Viper has spawned. I just…to know you've been him this whole time, why didn't you tell me?"

Alfred looked on as these two orphans came to grips with one another. Alfred knew Bruce meant well with his endless pursuit of Tony Zucco, but it was not what the boy needed. There was a great amount of truth in Dick's words, and Alfred was saddened by the fact that the boy thought so little of him. I tried Master Richard, but as I have well learned, there is no way to mend a boy's broken heart and soul. Bruce was the only one that could help Dick, Alfred knew that, and the Dornishman feared he knew what that would mean if Bruce were to best help the boy.

Bruce sighed, "I'm sorry Dick, I did not mean to leave you alone. This life I have chosen…it's a very solemn and solitary one. I cannot be close to anyone, let anyone know my secrets, of which there are many. I cannot love, wed, start a family…This mission is my life. Alfred, Lucius, they both help me achieve it. You were an unexpected addition into my life, and with my course and plan set in an unstoppable motion forward when you arrived…I knew not how to handle you. I am sorry we have made you feel alone, made you angrier at the world. I understand that anger, believe me Dick, it is why I became Batman. To stop anymore boys from losing their parents to killers who believe themselves to be out of reach of the repercussions for their actions. But I have failed you, and for that I apologize. If you wish to leave, to tell my secret in spite, if you wish to stay and not talk to any of us, or go back to the circus, we will not stop you or sway your choice." Bruce looked down at the ground in failure, a look Alfred had rarely seen on his master's face since his return. Even when he was bloodied and near death after fighting Deathstroke, Bruce still did not have an ounce of failure written on his face. Now it were if his face were telling a story's worth of it.

Dick tightened his hands into fists. "No. I'm not running, not anymore. I want to join you."

Alfred and Bruce were both taken aback, not expecting that decision in the slightest. Lucius merely cocked an eyebrow and cracked a grin. "No Dick, this is my life. You can go on and be married, have a young little Grayson boy of your own someday. You do not need to subject yourself to this life. This is my life's burden to bare, not yours," Bruce tried to explain. Familiar words if I've ever heard them.

"You had that choice when you were younger as well, and you chose this path. I cannot move on from my parents' death, but I can use it to help me fly again. Since arriving here I felt purposeless, unable to piece my life back together. I know now this is the way. I am going to make the same decision you made, and if you do not approve then I will strike out on my own, as you did, and find the way down this path on my own," Dick stated with a determination beyond his years. The tears were gone, replaced be a fiery determination that blazed in the light blue lakes of his eyes.

Bruce looked up to Alfred seeking counsel, unsure of what to tell the boy. Alfred knew what he must tell him. This all means something, I know not what, but I have a feeling this is the way things are meant to be. It hurts my heart to say so, but Bruce needs this boy there…He will be his beacon of light should I ever falter. May the Father judge me justly. "Master Bruce, I think you have found your true ward."

Bruce's eyes widened, not expecting that reply any more so than he had Dick's. "Alfred, the boy will be in constant danger, he is only two-and-ten. He does not know how to fight, or think when there are blades swinging for his head, it is too dangerous."

Alfred smirked. "My pardons Master Bruce, but I do believe the boy is soon to be three-and-ten. Allow me to tell you of a memory that is burned into my mind, ser. It is of a boy, standing over his parents' lifeless bodies, angry at the world as if its entirety had wronged him. Now, this boy had two paths. One led to rage, self-destruction, and a purposeless life his parents never wanted him to have. The other, was one of purpose, meaning, a life that used their deaths to do something more. I remember watching that boy sail away on a ship bound for only the Seven knew where. I remember watching the purpose of my life, sail away with a nine year old boy, a child that was determined to become something more. And now, this boy before you wishes to do the same. I think you stopping him would be no more different than if I had prohibited you from leaving all those years ago."

Bruce looked back to the boy, before staring off around the cave. Alfred's words had hit their mark like an arrow piercing through the center of a target. Alfred looked to young Dick, who was looking up at Bruce with a great amount of anticipation. I only pray I have not condemned this boy to death.

Bruce turned and looked to Lucius, "My friend, your thoughts on this matter?"

Lucius smiled, "Well Bruce, I think I have just the thing."

The old blacksmith walked over to an old wooden cabinet he kept some of his odder creations in and opened the doors with a loud, echoing creak. He bent down to scoop something up from the floor of the cabinet, and turned back to face them as he walked over. In his arms was a leather garment of some sort, Alfred could not tell until he held it up into the light.

It was a leather riding vest with a crimson torso and green, spherical spaulders covering the shoulders. Four, pale yellow straps hung from one side of the vest's front, fashioned to tighten the garment close to its wearer's chest. A golden, steel disc was fastened to its right breast and lay blank of any sigil. Lucius handed it to Dick. "Well try it on son."

Dick smiled as he hurriedly pulled the garment on and fastened it up the middle. It fit perfectly, Alfred could see, as if Lucius knew the boy's measurements by heart. He looked to the blacksmith with a puzzled expression making Lucius laugh, "I've always had a particular skill for sizing a man up the first time I laid eyes on him."

Alfred accepted the man's vague explanation, and watched Dick back flip and twirl across a few of the nearest rock formations. "I cut it at the sleeves to provide mobility, the boy is smaller than you but he is damn sure more agile. I can attach a chest plate or larger shoulder guards for protection if you'd prefer. I've been tinkering on a light weight mail that he could wear as well."

Bruce turned to him, "How did you know he would join me?"

Lucius laughed once more, "Oh come now Bruce, who do you believe yourself to be talking to?"

Dick landed in front of them after doing a forward flip off a nearby rock, his feet perfectly together. Bruce spoke up, "Well Dick, are you sure this is what you want? If you accept, you follow all of my orders without question. You train with me every day, and are only allowed out when I deem you ready. Understood?"

Dick gave a tight lipped but proud smile, "I've never wanted anything more."

Joker: Chapter 5

"Will you hurry up!" Joker hated how slow his half-witted thugs could be a grand majority of the time. They have only one mind yet it still runs so slowww, while my skull feels as if it's like to burst at any moment because of all the minds I have in here! And they STILL RUN FASTER THAN THESE FOOLS'!

Joker contemplated killing all of them for a moment. I could kill Mirk, Daloran and Quedcor rather quickly, Ha! Imbeciles. Mol and Kol…could be a tad more difficult. A few deep slashes to their arms should slow them enough for me to slit their fat throats, oooo Hahehaha! Joker then looked to the heavy cargo that his men were unloading. Eight heavy crates full of swords and other weapons and armaments they had stolen from a smuggler's ship in the bay. But then I would have to carry all of that by my own little lonesome…Nahh. He decided to let them live, for today…

This added to the haul that they had stolen from Lord Tywin's camp. He had left three swords at the entrance to the lord's tent as a show of his gratitude. Joker now had over two centuries of men at his disposal, making him one of the more powerful forces of organized crime in the sorrowful city. No man would dare challenge Joker though. After his public display at the feast and killing over five centuries of Lannister soldiers in an instant, the entire city feared him. Carmine Falcone himself even remained hidden away in some underground bunker waiting for the storm to blow over. Between me and Bats he must be shitting himself a new pair of brown trousers.

He looked at the most precious cargo in the wagon, a beautifully engraved chest a quarter of the size of the others. It had dragons weaving their way along its sides with one circling around itself on the chest's lid. Hehehe, oh Tywin you were just a tad late delivering this particular treasure, and now your folly is my reward. The small chest had been locked away in the captain's quarters, in an even larger chest with a large iron lock on it.

Joker smirked to himself. "Alright boys! Load it on up and let's get this show on the road!" Mol was the one standing nearest and nodded half-mindedly in approval. It's like they all truly are sheep looking for a shepherd. How pitiful…but not HIM.

Joker sat in the wagon's driver seat and remembered his first fateful meeting with Batman, as he often did over the days since. His cape, his pointed little ears, his eyes, simply EVERYTHING. All so perfect. He is no sheep, oh no, he is a wolf! He has the power to tear all of these sheep limb from limb! But he chooses not to…

The second inner voice spoke up, because he is truly incorruptible! He is more than a man! Justice and will seep from his armor and being as stench does a corpse!

Yes you are right…he truly is worthy to be our nemesis. We will clash for decades for the soul of this city! Oohoohooo I simply cannot wait, I must have it NOW!

Patience is a virtue. The more patiently we wait, the greater our reward will be, the second voice chimed.

Joker frowned before replying, and when have I ever been virtuous? He then burst out into hysterical laugher at the irony of trying to convince himself to be patient. His men were startled and stopped to stare for a few moments. Soon enough they returned to their work, remembering that their leader oft acted irrationally, as he was touched in the head by madness. Joker's laugh stopped abruptly, as the dreaded third inner voice of his mind spoke.

When will you end this charade of playing with your food? You are behaving as a child would with a new toy. Grow some semblance of manhood between your legs and kill him now! Before he grows and proves to be more than we can handle.

Joker hated his third inner voice, it was always so serious and cold. It wanted nothing more than to kill everyone he saw, but then he would have no one to make laugh. The thought saddened Joker tremendously.

Oh you are no fun at all! Where is your sense of joy! Sometimes it IS fun to play with your food a bit before you do what must be done! The second voice retorted.

Joker's third voice grew angrier before replying with, You should pray to the gods that you are not a physical being or I would have jammed a knife so far into your throat that even in the afterlife you would be unable to do that irritating laugh of yours.

Joker tried calming both of his inner antagonists, Now, now fellows, Batman will die! I promise, but we must tear him down first! What enjoyment would there be in a kill that is at his peak! Nooo we must tear him down, to our level, and show him what the world truly is! Then, we can slit his throat, once he sees the world as the grand joke that it is!

There was a momentary silence, before both voices in unison agreed, fine.

Joker smiled. Good, now that that is settled, onto our new sweet abode! He snapped the reigns as the last of his men jumped into the wagon's bed. They sped off down the stone street in the dead of night, no sound accompanying them but the creaking of the wood and the sound of steel rolling along pavement.

When they had reached their destination twenty or so minutes later, Joker jumped from the wagon with glee. He strode to the front doors of the structure, and looked in awe at the etchings of burning fire sculpted into them. This had once been the lair of the pyromancers of Gotham, but had been abandoned for many years. The only city left in Westoros to house the flame lurkers was King's Landing. Now only a group of thieves dwelled here. The citadel laid beyond the Narrows in a dark, forgotten part of the city. Joker had Mol and Kol push open the heavy doors, and Joker strolled in as if he were a king returning to his throne.

The inners of the citadel were dark and gloomy, much as the city itself. Mazes of spider webs littered the ceiling while dust coated the walls. Rats skittered about, fleeing the unexpected visitors. Curved arches supported the roof, sculpted to appear as dragons glaring down at those that walked beneath them. As Joker reached the inner chambers of the stone structure, he heard the familiar sound of swords sliding from sheathes. Oh joy, we have a return celebration planned for us! Hopefully it goes better than Wayne's, HAHAHA!

Eight thieves walked through the door that stood twenty paces in front of Joker. They wore hooded cloaks of different colorings and materials, but they all had one very familiar scent to Joker's nose, fear. "So! Which one of you upstanding sers is the leader of this little party of yours!" Joker called out with a smile.

One with a thick beard and a finer looking coat than the rest took a hesitant step forward. "I am ser…"

"Ohh come now, no need for pleasantries. Ser Joker was my father! Hahahaha! But no, alas we have need of your fine living quarters! I offer a lovely reward in turn for your gracious hospitality! You can join our merry band of ruffians, murderers, and other unfavorable folk! What do you say lads?"

The bearded man pointed his sword at Joker's chest, "I think not clown."

Oh why does one always have to prove he has a cock? Joker smiled, "Very well then, death it is!"

Before the man could reply, Joker through a small blade with skilled proficiency that drove itself into the thief's forehead. The hilt jutted out from between the man's eyes, blood running down his nose and chin. He collapsed to the ground, the blood now beginning to pool beneath where his face thudded to the stone floor. Wait…I did just this, the night I killed Falcone's kin…oh dear, now I'm even killing in the same tedious ways. Oh this just will not do! I must find something more entertaining and quickly.

"I suppose I should amend my previous offer. For your hospitality, we will not kill you, and you can join our merry band? Quite a deal eh? Sure won't find that even in King's Landing's markets! Hahahaaaha!"

The thieves all dropped their swords. Yes sheep, join the flock.

"Now you lot help my boys here bring in our cargo, and with some haste please! We have so much murdering to do!"