#How much of his single digit body count was fighting it too for an identity shown to have a viciously sharp self reflecting gaze

[askatriangleandastar]

SAMS!Eclipse: A Study of Fragmentation of Self and the Counter-productive Measures to Heal

It is past 3am and by insomnia i am compelled to get this down (probably to sort out in the morning)

I am, a bit behind on SAMS, however! The episode of Eclipse having a rare moment to reflect without interruption, on where he began to be aware of himself, was fascinating

As it turns out, a theory I had about Eclipse having been a part of Moon that hadn't wanted to seperate seems to have been proven true! Eclipse has identified before as more Moon than Sun, and even when as a part of Sun it was to an ends to make Sun feel more responsible for behaving in ways associated with Moon pre-split.

To call the mindscape he was first met in Sun's Place, the direct relinquishing of this being a place he should be. Hearing in this flashback episode that he saw himself as Moon, to be trapped in the mindscape without his own voice, with the wrong form and wrong colors and even no way to force his way out like he could before. A part of Moon that couldn't let Sun go, easiest to leave behind by the rest than hadn't accepted that this was just how things were, how they were.

The Creator made Sun and Moon fragmented from the start, even as there was overlap that balanced one another. It's not surprising that they would be prone to splintering further, evidenced by Kill Code and Eclipse. That twisted reflections of the Brothers would reflect this back at them with names and appearances in theme in both Blood Moons and Lunar. And what's fascinating is that its ECLIPSE who forges these mirrors, ECLIPSE who cannot control what he has made, who cannot look into what they show of his own self and accept the flaws, the fears and weaknesses.

Eclipse made Blood Moon to destroy and distract, to cause harm he wasn't strong enough to and was too attached at that time to commit. Eclipse made Lunar to help him, but also as a source of Acceptance that he has lacked since becoming aware of existing. The face of Moon, listening, agreeing, welcoming, but a part of the disillusionment with Lunar that had seemed odd on first viewing of the October Takover now comes into clarity: Eclipse needed the real deal, not a mirror. Standards for what was enough too high, frustration at seeing the wall he was headed towards, he becomes more and more distance to detach and Lunar notices it even. Until it hits a breaking point, until Eclipse crosses the final line and repeats history, this time as the one leaving someone else behind.

His commitment to his actions even as it occurs to him that he messed up could be how he processed what Moon did, that answer to why he was left behind lashed out at a target who gets to have a face Eclipse wants and can never have again. That if someone isn't what you want, they aren't worth treating better, aren't worth apologizing to, aren't worth regret. Because Moon NEVER came back for him, and if Eclipse wasn't worth it then why would anyone else ever be?

Eclipse gets the chances to leave the DCA alone, to do other things, but I don't think he can leave them be. I don't think he can handle letting go of that need to be whole, something the tiredness and hollowness he's described for some time now and was showing signs of even in October can point towards. Fans have noticed that Eclipse is alone, again and again compared to the relationships of others he is isolated and only at odds, with the temporary exception of Lunar. It's a problem possibly even for the Dictator Outcome Timeline- where even with no NEED for Sun, functionally, with Lunar gone and Moon killed, Eclipse cannot handle to be totally alone. Its destructive, dangerous, sinister- but for someone who wanted to wipe the slate clean and stand at the top with no one in his way, keeping Sun around.... it always had that feeling of being unable to let go, of needing to be needed even if the dynamic is so unbalanced. That Eclipse has all the power he could even use in the palm of his hand, but he is still missing a part of himself with Moon gone, and it's a part of why Moon and Lunar are able to move around unchallenged, uninjured (meta reasons for actor limitations in VR and models aside).

When Kill Code initially refers to Eclipse as his son, its met with confusion but, acceptance. An odd title, but to be accepted as it means being given the help he needs as he's come to the cliff edge of what he can do alone while avoiding Blood Moon's wrath and whims. Yet once again, it becomes another bond rejected, made suspect even when there appears to be legitimacy to it. He sees himself in KC, from sourcing from the same code. Eclipse cannot see himself acting this way. Can't see this part of Moon accepting him, giving him a taste of what he's wanted, when he's failed and failed and failed. He has to get what he wants through his own actions or else it won't work or it'll be a betrayal (even when turning others against him is just one of his many skills) and this only makes him more driven to lash out again after a period of being behind the scenes.

Eclipse being a core antagonist works on several levels, and a big one is how much he represents the Past, the Mistakes and Conflict Sun and Moon have afflicted on one another. He is part of both of them, haunts them in person and in memory, and when they do inevitably overcome him for the last time, I think it'll be a milestone for the DCA to have moved onwards and not looking back. Getting closure, getting peace for the turmoil and conflict they've been feeling since the first day they were activated. Whether Eclipse lives to see it or not, Sun and Moon won't leave each other behind and in the dark again; the only question will be if that means following Golden's advice and having an OK KO! style resolution TKO &KO style or if Eclipse will end as he began- alone.

[quindolyn]

heyyyyy, can you do harry imagine where when they fight with the death eaters fem reader rescues sirius from bellatrix because she know he is the only relative harry has and gets hurt, so in the hospital harry visits her and thanks her and she tells him that she loves her? like lots of fluff😻

To Be Lovable || Harry Potter

Word Count: 4069

A/N: Hey love, I hope you enjoy this! It was a lot of fun to write.

Warnings: mentions of a broken bone, let’s just pretend that Sirius’ name has already been cleared, obviously not canon, I believe that that is it.

Masterlist

Life had fucked Harry Potter over, that was for sure. It basically said “fuck you” and gave him the responsibility of saving muggle and wizardkind alike. Robbed him of a family, of a childhood, of any semblance of the confidence he so desperately needed. 

But life always outs. Life will always find a way to straighten itself out, even the scales. Life had given Harry Sirius Black, so it was doing a pretty good job so far. Just as life had fucked Harry Potter, it’d fucked Sirius Black too.

When life gave them each other it slowly started mending its wrong doings with Sirius’ false imprisonment, Harry’s lack of a father figure, their shared lack of affection of any sort. In Harry Sirius had found a friend, a son and in Sirius, Harry had found a father, someone to care.

You had spent the last five years watching Harry suffer trial after trial all while you suffered a trial of your own, the trial of loving him from afar. As much as you adored Harry, and you really did, how could you not? From the blush that painted his cheeks at the slightest compliment, to the way his glasses sat crooked on his nose, to the messy black mop of hair that sat upon his head the boy was completely and utterly loveable. But it was because of the love you harbored for the boy that you refused to confess your feelings to him, he had more than enough on his plate. The Boy Who Lived most definitely had better things to do with his time than deal with the feelings of a hormonal teenager. Perhaps that was life’s way of fucking with you, making you love a boy who didn’t have it within him to love you back.

Life didn’t get to fuck with Harry Potter anymore, he’d done more than his fair share of suffering, of grieving, he’d more than served a punishment he’d never earned. That’s all you could think about as you saw Bellatrix point her wand at Sirius’ form, laughing maniacally as a jet of green light shot from the tip of her wand, aimed directly at Sirius. 

Head thrown back in laughter, eyes closed, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to dodge the curse leaving you with no other option but to full on tackle him. You threw your body at him, aiming to take him down at the knees but failing rather miserably instead wrapping your arms around his chest and instead of knocking him to the ground, making him stumble backward.

Regardless, on the floor, or a few inches to the right, you still managed to knock him out of the curse’s path. Sirius hadn’t realized who was on top of him or that their intentions were good rather than evil, in the heat of the moment, with curses flying to and fro you were flung from his body as he knocked you onto the floor.

As you landed on your side, your arm trapped beneath you, you heard the distinct, sickening snap of what couldn't have been anything other than bone. The sound rang through the din in the room, impossible to miss but yet no one seemed to offer you so much as a glance, anyone except Sirius that was. 

“Shit” He swore, bending down to access the damage, gently turning you on to your back so that he could get a better look at your arm, “I’m so sorry (Y/N).”

“It’s fine Sirius,” You slurred, not daring to look at your arm, the pain you were feeling was enough, you were more than fine without visuals to match. Having never broken a bone before you were not ready for the immense pain that festered in your arm, sharp and stabbing it felt like every single nerve in your arm was being bludgeoned over and over again, mercy be damned.

“You’re slurring your words (Y/N),” Sirius scolded, not angry at you but rather at himself, “You’re not okay and it’s not fine. Now did you hit your head too?”

You thought for a moment, had you hit your head?

Yes, you remembered the thump of your skull against the hard stone of the room hidden deep within the Department of Mysteries, and the more you thought about it, the more clearly you could feel that the dull thrum of pain was still present where the initial impact had occurred.

 “Y-yeah,” You stuttered out, your vision blurring as the man kneeling above you started to fade, “I think so, it hurts.” Black spots began to dance through your vision, the cacophony of noise in the room became a low buzz as the sound of your blood rushing through your veins overwhelmed you. It became the only thing you could hear.

You heard the faint noise of Sirius letting out a slew of curses, not all of which seemed to be in English as his hands moved to your scalp, gently pressing down until a sharp pain coursed through you. 

“Fuck,” Someone, swore, him or you, you weren’t sure. It was very possible it had been either of you as Sirius pulled his hand away from your head and back into your visage. His middle three fingers were soaked in blood, your blood. Crimson and dripping from his digits the metallic scent flooded your nostrils making you work not to gag as you found the stench to be truly nauseating. 

He spoke again, or at least you thought he did as you could faintly make out the whisper of his voice and the moving of his lips.

Faintly you wondered if you heard the familiar voice of a certain bespectacled boy, frantic as he approached you, and the glimpse of dark, messy hair you caught almost convinced you of such. But as more and more blackness took over your vision it became harder and harder to tell until you were completely swallowed, and your eyes blinked closed into a dark, dreamless sleep.

“She’s not exactly asleep,” Someone was talking.

“Well she sure as hell isn’t awake,” There was someone in the room.

“If you’d let me finish Mr. Weasley-”

“Oh shut up,” This voice was new, deeper than either of the previous ones, its posh accent distinctly different than the other two, “No need to condescend the boy just tell us if (Y/N)’s going to be alright. Harry’s going to want to know when he finishes his business with Dumbledore.”

Harry? Was Harry alright? Stupid question, if precedent was anything to go on, he probably wasn’t.

At the mention of his name you felt a wave of energy surge through you, it was only with that energy you were able to blink your eyes open. They desperately wanted to close as the harsh white light of the room flooded your irises but you refused to let them, instead squinting so that the light entering your vision was limited. 

“As I was saying,” The first voice continued, “She’s in a medically induced coma, this isn’t a restful sleep this is because she can’t afford to be conscious right now and when she wakes up she’s going to be in a whole world of pain and having the six of you here isn’t going to help her.”

No one seemed to notice your new state of consciousness as they continued their conversation, voices tense with worry as they batted back and forth in a game of verbal racketball, a question met by an answer which was countered by another question.

You were too out of it to take offense to their neglect as you felt that surge of energy start to slip away from you, like sand through your fingertips. Grasping onto the last whispers of it before it drifted away from you entirely you cleared your throat, the sound minuscule but apparently just loud enough to catch the attention of a certain red headed girl.

“(Y/N),” This voice was unmistakable Ginny. You turned your head to face the source of her voice, met by the blurry outline of unmistakable Weasley red, they really should just patent it at this point, hair surrounding a pale face. “(Y/N) you’re awake!” She lunged towards you gripping your arm in her hand, albeit a little painfully, but all pain, and sound, and sight seemed fuzzy, like remembering a dream from the night prior.

At Ginny’s words, all heads in the room snapped to your form where you laid in the hospital bed, looking as though you’d seen better days. Which granted, you had. 

It took a second for them all to register the meaning behind what Ginny had announced, but as soon as they did they went into a flurry, a healer rushing to take your vitals, moving her wand up and down your body, muttering incantations under her breath. Molly was at your side, gazing at you with brown eyes swimming with worry as she ran a hand down the side of your face which was still lolled to the side. Two identical boys stood at the foot of your bed while two girls, the previously spoken of redhead and her curly haired friend stood back, giving the Healers space to move about. 

Sirius stood over Molly’s shoulder, his eyes drowning in guilt as he failed to return your gaze. 

“Where am I?” Godric you sounded awful, and it felt like there was gravel in your throat, irritating you even as you merely swallowed.

“St. Mungo’s darling,” Molly answered promptly, trying and failing to suppress a sniffle, “You were hurt at the Department of Mysteries.”

You remembered, oh you undoubtedly remembered. The ache in your arm and head was more than enough to remind you of what had occurred, it was reinforced by the dark haired man looming in the corner refusing to meet your eyes.

After a good deal of fussing both by the Healers and Molly people finally started to stream out of your room, first Ginny and Hermione, followed by the twins and finally the Healers and Molly. 

That left just you and Sirius, who still refused to meet your eyes, in the small room which smelt of dittany and blood. 

It was silent for a minute, then two, before you simply couldn’t take it anymore, if he wasn’t going to say something you would, “S’not your fault Sirius,” Your voice was still rather hoarse but it had improved significantly after downing the three cups of water than had been placed in front of you. 

“You were just trying to save me, you did save me and now you’re hurt.” His head which had previously been hung raised to finally meet your eyes, the shame he carried in his eyes was palpable, remorse etched into his face. A face which reflected every year he’d lived on this planet and then some. 

“M’gonna be fine Sirius, you didn’t know it was me I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” You shook your head lightly to refocus your eyes but that just amplified the pain already pounding in your skull.

Reluctantly Sirius trudged towards you before pulling a chair up to your bed and eventually resting himself in it, not looking at your face but rather at the foot of the bed. “Why’d you do it (Y/N)? Why’d you go to all that trouble to save an old man like me?” There was none of his usual humor in his voice, only a sorrowful curiosity.

“You’re all he has left Sirius,” This drew his attention, craning his neck to look at you, his eyes, accompanied by his continued silence urged you on, “You can’t die on him because then he’ll have no one.”

For the first time since you’d tackled him in the Department on Mysteries however long ago, Sirius Black smiled. Unlike his usual smirks or grins, the one that graced his face was gentle, and perhaps a bit hopeful as well.

“Not so sure about that love,” He let out a laugh so light it was barely a laugh, more like a puff of air, “He’d still have you, wouldn’t he?”

You willed yourself not to give away your true feelings for Harry to his godfather of all people, but the nervous grin that adorned your face was a dead give away to his already good guess.

“He cares about you (Y/N),” Sirius was merciful, sparing you from verbalizing the feelings that the both of you now acknowledged existed, “We had to drag him away from you at the Department of Mysteries.”

“That was Harry?” You perked up, “I didn’t just imagine him?”

“Nope,” He replied, popping his p, “He almost punched Moony when tried to drag him away from you.”

Not knowing how to respond to that you simply didn’t.

“He had to meet with Dumbledore to discuss something, that’s why he wasn’t here when you woke up,” Sirius explained.

“Oh, its okay, I’m sure he has much better things to do than come visit-”

You were cut off mid sentence by the sound of feet thumping down the hallway outside your room. Both you and Sirius turned your heads to watch someone fly by the cracked door of the room, his voice booming as he called out for you, then Ron, then Hermione. 

“Sir, I’m going to need you to be a little quieter,” The stern but kind voice drifted into the room from the hallway.

“Where is she?” Yup, that has Harry. The sound of his voice was ingrained in your head and had been for countless years now. 

You and Sirius stayed silent, still watching the door, listening to the tense conversation taking place between Harry and the St. Mungo’s staff member before you heard Hermione’s voice cut in, trying to calm the two men down.

“Well it sounds like he’s going to be in here soon,” Sirius said, standing up from his chair, gazing down at you.

“It does,” You agreed.

“I will never be able to thank you enough (Y/N), not only for saving my life today but for being such a good friend to Harry, giving him the love that he deserves.” Tears brimmed at the raven haired man’s eyes as he laid his palm atop your hand.

“Of course Sirius,” Your voice cracked mid sentence as you too were gulping down tears.

Leaning down Sirius pressed a fatherly kiss to the crown of your head just as Harry burst through the door.

“Speak of the devil,” The older chuckled, pulling back to his full height as Harry bounded towards you, completely ignoring the presence of his godfather. 

“(Y/N)!” His long legs got him to you in no time at all, when he reached you his eyes snagged on your broken arm before meeting your own. 

Sirius sent you a silent wink as he slipped from the room, you hadn’t noticed him even make his way towards the door. He made sure to shut the door tightly behind him so that you and Harry would be granted some privacy.

“Hi Harry,” You let out a watery chuckle as you took in his appearance, he looked like he’d gotten caught in a wind tunnel with his hair all messy, and the fabric of his tight fitting t-shirt clinging to his chest. 

“Don’t laugh,” He frowned down at you as he settled himself next to you on the bed, “You might hurt your lung or something.”

You smiled at his clueless, over protective behavior, “S’not my lungs that are hurt H, just my arm and my head.”

“There’s nothing just about it,” He countered, “You’d be fine without your arm but you need your head (Y/N/N), can’t go walking around without it.” 

You opened your mouth to say something but you didn’t get the chance before he started talking again, pushing himself off up the flimsy mattress to pace next to your bed, “What the hell were you thinking jumping on Sirius like that?”

You rolled your eyes at his outburst, “Bellatrix had cast the Killing Curse at him, Harry, he was going to die if I didn’t do something!” Your voice raised against your will as you got defensive, you may have loved Harry but that didn’t stop you from getting aggravated with him when he was being an idiot. Take now for example.

“You could’ve died (Y/N)! Don’t you understand that? You could’ve died and I-”

“But I didn’t Harry! I didn’t die and I’m fine now.”

“The hell you are! You’re lying in a hospital bed at St. Mungo’s with a broken arm and a concussion, if that's your definition of fine then I’d hate to see what not fine is!”

“I’m a big girl Potter, I can take care of myself,” You argued, pushing yourself up on the bed so that you were sitting upright, independent of your pillows. How was he being so daft? You’d saved the closest person he had to real family and now here he was, completely railing on you.

He was so caught up in his own head, continuing to pace up and down the length of the room that he didn’t seem to notice when you started swaying, no doubt because you had lifted yourself up too quickly and your head should’ve been resting on your pillow. 

“You may be a big girl (Y/N), but clearly you shouldn’t be left to your own devices because what would possess someone to do something so idiotic?”

You tried to swallow the anger you felt bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to explode in an eruption of words you weren’t quite ready to say out loud. But as he went on and on you found it harder and harder to swallow your feelings until they inevitably bubbled over.

“You idiot,” You cut him off, too fed up with him to listen to what he had to say, “I wasn’t going to let Sirius die because he’s the only family you have Harry! You love him and it would kill me to see him ripped from you, just like so many other good things have been ripped from you, because…”

You went silent, all of a sudden your voice seemed very loud in the sterile room and you realized it’s because he finally shut up. 

“Because why?” He asked turning so that he was facing you, “Because why?”

“Because I-” You felt a rush of heat flooded your face and quickly averted your gaze from the boy, focusing instead on the clock hung on the wall opposite your bed. 

You were quiet for a moment, hoping he would show you mercy and continue on with his ranting but he didn’t. Harry never did stand down from a fight, especially not one that he could win. 

Coming to terms with the fact that the only way this was ending was with a confession from you, you gulped. And with your saliva you swallowed your pride, turning back to face the boy who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

“Because I love you, okay?” You admitted to him, letting your vision glaze over so you wouldn’t have to see the eventual look of guilt wash over his features before he gently turned you down, apologizing, calling you beautiful, telling you how you deserved someone better. Even though there was no one better than him.

You thought he looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he stared at you, unblinking. 

Eventually, after what could’ve been a couple of seconds or could’ve been a couple of hours, he spoke, “Y-you love me?” He sounded incredulous like he didn’t really believe you.

And that’s when it hit you, he didn’t really believe you. 

As a wave of indescribable sorrow washed over you, at the notion that the beautiful boy in front of you really had no clue just how beautiful he was, you maneuvered yourself so that you could stand up, throwing one leg over the edge of the bed, and then the other.

Pushing yourself up into an upright position you were immediately swaying, ready to collapse onto the floor, and Harry must’ve observed that as he came back to his senses as he looped his arms under yours, pulling you into his toned chest, hard from countless hours of Quidditch practice.

“What do you think you’re doing (Y/N/N)?” His voice was softer now, meant for only you to hear.

“Was gonna show you how much I love you,” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt as you abandoned all of your inhibitions, you needed to tell him how you felt, “You clearly don’t believe me when I tell you and that’s ridiculous Haz because you’re lovely and wonderful and you light up my day every time I see you. I can’t imagine my life without you,” You paused your ramble, not noticing the brilliant shade of vermillion his face had turned.

“No, I can imagine it without you Harry and it’s horrible, it’s not a life worth living.”

“Don’t say that (Y/N),” He cut you off, a frown gracing his enviably red lips.

“Would you let me finish Potter?” You sniped playfully, “I love you, Harry, I’ve loved you since we were first years and it kills me that you don’t see how lovable you are. Because you are lovable Harry,” You pulled back a bit to rest your chin on his chest, gazing up at him, “You are completely lovable, and that’s why I put myself in harm’s way today, because if it meant saving someone you love, then it is worth it. It will always be worth it.”

You watched as tears spilled down his cheeks, but you could tell by the smile pulling at his wobbling lips that they were happy tears, “Y-you love me?” 

How your heart could break at three simple words baffled you but it did, “I love you, Harry, I have loved you and I will always love you.”

A smile overtaking his entire face split it in half, a toothy grin you’d like to see on him more often, “I-”

“You don’t have to say it back H, the fact you’re not turning me down right now is more than enough. You don’t have to say it back, we can take it slow,” You cut him off, not wanting to rush him.

“I want to though, I want to say it back.” He insisted, sounding like an eager puppy.

“Really?” You couldn’t suppress the optimistic lilt to your voice.

He nodded surely, still grinning down at you. “I love you (Y/N).”

You had to stop yourself from crying, or screaming, or jumping in the air, or some combination of all three, but that’s all you wanted to do. You wanted to scream and jump and cry but you preferred being in Harry’s arms much more. 

“May I kiss you?” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper you could barely hear.

“Yes please,” You giggled, standing up on your tippy toes as he leaned down to capture your lips in his.

You poured all the passion of the past five years into that kiss, all of the stolen glances at him, all of the nights spent sobbing, thinking that he could never love you back. All of the sacrifices, all of the hugs, and the smiles you shared. They were all poured into the kiss and they all meant so much more now because being part of something so beautiful could only make those memories better.

Harry wrapped his arms around your back, pressing your body to his while being careful to mind your hurt arm. You dug the fingers on the hand of your healthy arm in his thick hair, using it as an anchor to pull yourself closer to him.

You pulled away first, taking big gulps of air in an attempt to refill your empty lungs. 

“You love me,” Harry stated simply, staring down at you adoringly.

“I love you,” You agreed with a small nod of your head.

“I can’t believe you actually love me.” He smiled again, this grin even goofier than the last, making his emerald eyes shine.

You smiled at the look of childlike happiness that adorned his face, “And I can’t believe it took me this long to tell you.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

[whump-a-la-mode]

Escape: Part 2

This is a bit different from what I usually do. @equestrianwritingsstuff recently posted a one-off piece, and I got a little bit obsessed with it. So, with her permission, this is a continuation! The original post can be found here.

Summary: After being captured and forced into a torturous reform program, Villain attempts escape-- but throws it all away to save the life of his foe.

CW//Attempted conditioning, denial of food, denial of water, intentional self injury, broken glass, blood, mentions of car crashes, collars, chains, firearms, attempted murder

“Okay.” The sigh was sharp, enough so to make Villain bite their own tongue in apprehension. “Let’s try another one.”

Nosey shuffled through the stack of papers piled before them on the desk. Villain glanced down at the pile-- noting its sheer height. He wasn’t expected to go through all those, right? No, that would certainly take all night.

“Here.” The hero before him settled on one of the pages, picking it up. “This one should be easy.”

Villain muttered something under his breath, laden with swears and insults.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhm.” A haughty exhale. “Here. If you get this one on the first try, you can go back to your cell and... I don’t know, do whatever it is you do. I’m tired of looking at your face.”

Back to his cell. That made Villain perk up, nearly straining against the cuffs holding him firmly to the table.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with. Here’s the scenario. You’re walking along the street, and you see someone hit by a car. The car does not stop, and the victim is thrown onto the sidewalk in front of you. They are clearly alive, but severely injured. Do you:

A: Use your healing powers to treat their injuries.

B: Search the surrounding area for a civilian with medical training

C: Contact the Heroic Civilian Treatment Team to take the victim to hospital.”

“Um...”

Villain felt the hairs on the back of his neck stick up, despite being half wetted down with sweat.

If someone had been struck by a vehicle, the obvious answer would be to help them as quickly as possible. As soon as injuries like that were inflicted, the clock was already ticking.

The heroes were terribly resistant to him using his powers in any situation-- that was somewhat the whole point of the Villain Containment Practices. But in this case, it would certainly be an exception, right? Their whole job was supposed to be protecting life.

“Uh- I- I think A.” He at last croaked out. “Use my healing powers to stabilize them, then find a civilian doctor to get them to the hospital.”

Nosey sighed.

“A situation like this should always be deferred to us. Using your powers is never the answer.”

They placed down the paper, hastily rearranging the messy stack of them.

“Let’s go back to the gym. I’ll let you off with ten laps, this time.”

Villain gulped, phlegm sliding down a dry throat, as a pair of guards advanced to untie him from the table.

“C- Can I have some water? Please?”

“You’ve already lost your food privileges for the day. Do you really want to lose your water, too? You get water once you’ve earned it. For now, we’re going to the gym.

At this rate, maybe you should just become a permanent resident in our program.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   

The glass was mocking them.

Villain was certain of that, even as he kneeled on his cot of a bed, half delirious, half exhausted.

The glass of water sat on a small table at the bed’s end. Just a glass, hardly even filled halfway. Haphazardly placed under a faucet for a few moments without thought.

He knew he had to drink it. He didn’t have much of a choice. Tomorrow would only bring more questions, more laps, more push-ups, more lectures. It would be terrible, certainly, but the small amount of liquid would make it at least the tiniest bit more bearable. Give him the tiniest bit more strength.

It was all he had. He’d spent the day watching his classmates-- that’s what the heroes called them, they were fellow prisoners, at best-- eating their meals, while he sat at an empty table.

Just because he had started a fight didn’t mean he should have to starve. Besides, they had it coming. Stuck up ass.

Villain frowned, cracked and dry lips sticking together, and reached forth to pick up the glass.

He needed to drink it, but as soon as he did, it would be gone. He would have to earn the next few drops through countless tears and buckets of sweat. At the very least, right now, he had control. He had a choice.

Not a very good one, but...

When had he gotten to this point? Having a crisis in a barren room over a half-glass of water? He was supposed to be a villain. Others were supposed to fear him.

Besides...

Villain’s hand shook, water sloshing, even as he was careful not to lose a single, precious drop.

He didn’t know how much longer he could survive like this. Endless exercise, endless questions. Maybe they would never let him out. Maybe they wanted him to die here. Hell, they probably wanted him to die here. One less problem, drained of strength until they no longer had enough to breathe.

This was one long, drawn out execution. Even if it wasn’t, he could hardly imagine a situation in which they allowed his parting. In which they considered him at long last “reformed.”

Villain had to leave. He had to. He was leaving here either in a glorious escape, or in a body bag. Or, worse: In a hero’s uniform.

He downed the water, feeling the heavenly moisture fill his throat. It was the best thing he had ever tasted, despite the fact that water had no taste to it.

It was far less pleasant than what would come next. He knew from unfortunate experience that there were only two things that could get him out of this cell: Going to ‘class,’ or having an emergency.

The first wouldn’t work.

There was no camera in the room, he had searched long and hard to confirm that fact. At the very least, he didn’t have to do much in the way of acting. Not yet.

He swung his unsteady legs over the edge of the bed, standing, stumbling halfway to the end table.

Before throwing the glass to the floor.

It was a miracle, that the heroes allowed him glass dishware. The cup exploded, a thousand shining pieces scattering about the floor.

Now, for the unpleasant part.

Villain gritted his teeth, throwing himself onto the broken glass, ensuring that it dug into his flesh, his legs and his palms. At the very least, his screams were genuine.

“Help! Help!” He wailed. “I’m hurt! Help, please help! Oh god, that’s my blood, oh god oh god...”

There was no camera in the room, but the door was plenty thin, and in this facility, screams carried far. To ensure this, he let out a few more cries, carrying them on until the door lock was frantically turned, the door thrown open on its hinges.

Hero’s inhale was quick enough that she nearly started choking on her own breath.

“V-Villain, oh god, that’s- That’s your blood?”

Of course it was, dimwit. It was flooding from his skin, wasn’t it?

“Y- Yes. I tripped, um, oh god, oh...”

The swaying and slurring of his words were not pretend, either. Dehydration and hunger made sure of that.

“Can you walk?” How was there so much concern in her tone?

“Don’t know.”

“We need to try. I can carry you, but- We need to get to the infirmary.”

The hero hurried to their foe’s side, arms under his shoulders helping him to his feet. He could walk on his own, not well, but he could-- though Hero had no need to know that.

“Okay.”

“It’s a pretty long walk. We can take it slow, okay?”

“Yeah.”

That was exactly what they did. Their movements were so painfully slow that at times Villain wondered whether or not they were moving at all, but, after some time, they did cover some distance. The few people awake at such an hour steered clear, seeing a villain covered in blood and wanting nothing to do with it in the slightest.

The infirmary was on the bottom floor, Villain had seen it on his way in, making note of its placement. Of course, Hero wasn’t about to make him struggle down all those stairs. No. She went straight for the elevator, stepping into the isolated box with her foe and letting the doors closed.

This was it. The elevator ride would only last a few moments-- it was now or never.

As subtly as he possibly could, Villain placed his hand upon his injured leg, the minty thrum of healing powers knitting together the slices. Though, it did nothing to dry the blood that had already seeped out.

He was healed, and Hero was alone. Trapped.

By all accounts, it was a fight that Villain should have lost. He was exhausted, stomach left empty for far too long, and veins severely lacking in blood. Hero had the benefit of being well-fed, well-rested, all of it.

But that explanation left out one thing.

Villain was desperate.

He watched the small, digital screen count down the floors.

4...

3...

2...

Now!

The strike may not have been powerful, but it was aided by the sheer speed at what it was launched. Villain’s fist collided with Hero’s temple, knocking her sideways, stumbling. He wasted not a millisecond in preparing his next strike, hearing the crack of a cheekbone beneath his knuckles.

Hero let out a cry, holding her face where a bruise would certainly bloom in the hour. Limbs still soaked in scarlet, Villain swung out with his leg, catching Hero in the knee, sending her to the elevator floor with a hollow crash.

1.

The elevator doors opened.

It was the fastest Villain had ever run in his life, he was certain of that. His legs were little more than blurs of red as he sprinted forth, tearing through a lobby that was nearly barren. An infinitesimal distance between him and freedom.

“Oh no you don’t!”

His legs came out from under him, his face striking the tile floor, almost certainly giving him an identical blessure to Hero.

The voice-- it was Nosey’s stupid, avian squawk. And, too, their polished boot struck Villain’s back.

“You really thought it’d be that easy?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   

The metal chafed horribly against Villain’s neck, somehow making his throat’s desiccation more acute. He laid his head against the thin carpet, spine aching terribly. The movement shifted the chain latched onto his collar, the slight clinking noise making his heartbeat stutter.

Tied up like a dog.

“Is this really necessary?” He grumbled, shifting himself to a sitting position, gazing upwards.

To Hero’s bed. Her legs dangled off the side of the mattress, hands gripped into fists around gathered bedsheets.

“We’ve been over this. That cell was a privilege, and you’ve lost it.”

“And so you chain me to the wall like a dog.”

“Exactly. You need to be under my direct supervision.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you really have to stick this stupid collar on me?”

“I’m no happier about this than you are. But I’m not giving you free reign of my bedroom. You already tried to kill me once tonight.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“Whatever. Unlike you, I actually have things to do in the morning. So, if you would please let me sleep?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“If you do something for me first.”

“You are in the worst possible position to make demands, right now.”

Villain’s sigh tore at his throat.

“I just want some water.”

“Just that? Wait. You’re not going to smash the glass again, are you? I’m way too tired for that nonsense a second time tonight.”

“Just don’t put the water in a glass, then.”

“You actually just want water?”

“Yes.” He added rather pathetically. “Please?”

“I... Fine. Then you’ll let me sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“Fine.”

Hero stood, glancing suspiciously at her captive as she made her way across the room. As if he could do anything-- the chain was maybe three feet in length. He could barely lay his head down.

She maneuvered to her kitchenette, returning with a plastic cup-- filled to the brim with that precious liquid. She placed it before him. He was already drooling.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Villain.”

“Goodnight.”

Was that really all it took to domesticate him? A glass of water? It hardly mattered. As soon as Hero turned off the light, bathing the room in shadow, Villain downed the liquid as though his life depended on it.

Perhaps, it did.

It wasn’t long before Hero’s steady breathing had turned to soft snoring. Villain shifted himself into the most comfortable position he could manage. Even that, however, was far from being pleasant, with the chain threatening to strangle him at any moment.

That wasn’t what kept him from sleeping, however. He needed to sleep. He knew that, he wasn’t stupid. He would need his energy for the next day of lessons, of shouted orders and lectures.

That was all his life would be from now on, wouldn’t it? Orders and exhaustion and being forced to earn the most basic of needs by answering moral quandaries incorrectly.

Villain wanted, longed, to cry. To let out all the horrible emotions that had stuck in his chest cavity, threatening to drown his lungs in sorrow. But that would break the conditions of the deal.

He had to be quiet, or else he might never again be allowed water.

It was that dread in his chest, that hopelessness, that forced him awake.

So, he laid, still, listening to Hero’s snores as his own body refused to allow him unconsciousness.

Snores, and...

Footsteps.

Footsteps? Villain tensed, holding stock still, pricking his ears for the noise. They drew louder, louder, before stopping. Stopping outside the dorm room door.

He held his breath.

The door opened gently enough that the hinges made only the slightest noise. Then, the footsteps were inside.

Villain shrunk down in the corner, making himself far smaller and quieter than anyone of his status should ever have had to be.

Two sets of footsteps. Growing louder, coming towards the bedroom. The bed.

Hero.

“Are you sure we need to do this?” An unknown voice, whispering.

“If you want this plan to work, we don’t have a choice.”

That voice, that voice was not unknown. It was loud, terribly high pitched, terribly-

Nosey.

“We really have to kill them?”

“We won’t get the chance if you keep talking. Just do it, don’t chicken out on me, now.”

“Okay, okay.”

Villain’s heartbeat shivered.

The cocking of a gun. That horrible sound, that precursor of bloodshed.

Then, the shot. Two pairs of footsteps, fleeing, slamming the door behind themselves.

Villain gulped.

It was no doubt what had happened-- if he had had any doubts, they were quickly drowned out as Hero’s breathing hitched, then quieted to an almost imperceptible level. Growing slower, weaker by the second.

They are clearly alive, but severely injured.

In the scenario, he had had three choices. But this wasn’t a training scenario.

Now, he only had two.

A: Praise his lucky stars and use the opportunity to escape. There was a fire escape, just outside the window. He would be gone into the night before anyone knew any different.

Or...

B: Do the right thing.

Villain threw himself against the chain about his neck, collar threatening to cut off his airways. He spun about, gripping the chain in clammy fingers, pulling and tugging and-

Her breathing was getting quieter, weaker.

He pulled harder, muscles straining with the effort. The chain was anchored to the wall with a spike, drilled in. There was no way he could break the chain, no way he could break the spike, but-

Villain’s heel slammed through the plaster and drywall, chain flying backwards at his face. He hardly made note of it. Spike and chain and all dragging behind him, he tore to Hero’s bedside.

It was almost fortunate, that the lights were off. He couldn’t see the extent of the wounds.

He placed his hands upon her head, that minty feeling rushing to his fingers, his palms, her skin.

Using your powers is never the answer.

No. No, that wasn’t true.

Rules didn’t matter. Training didn’t matter. All that mattered was doing the right thing.

[srose-foxfire]

Can you do write something of Dami and Rae being separated and then meeting again after x amount of years? Make it fluffy please. thnx!!

A/N: I hope this is fluffy? Enjoy! (P.S I’m sorry this is long)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

“I want you to keep this safe for me. This will be my promise to you that I will return.”

“I will guard it with my life Raven.”

“Thank you, Damian.”She said softly with a smile and slowly turned her back to him and walked toward the blinding light before her. Damian’s heart quicken making it hard to breathe. She was leaving him again; he had been down this road one-too many times and he couldn’t let her leave him.

Damian reached out to grab her, but it seemed he couldn’t get to her. He looked down and saw both his feet were glued to the ground. He then tried calling out her name, but no words came. He strained to make just a single sound, he reached out again to just touchher. To make her look back to him and see how much he neededher in his life. Damian called out again, this time tears started streaming down his face. He continued calling out her name to no avail, she couldn’t hear him as she disappeared into the white blinding light.

-- -- -- --

Damian jerked awake as he gasped for breath, he clutched his aching chest as his heart continue to compress deep within him. His face was soaked by both sweat and tears. Once Damian could collect himself, he settle back into bed and pulled the blanket to cover his naked chest. He rubbed his forehead clean from all the sweat and just stared at the ceiling. His bedroom was illuminated from a small streak of moonlight coming from through the thick dark grey curtains. The light hit a small object on his nightstand making it shine which caused Damian to turn his attention to it.

It was a small black open ring, with a black crescent moon ending on one side and a small black star on the other end. Damian reached and grabbed it, making the small black gems on the crescent and star glimmer under the moonlight. This ring is his sole reminder that Raven will one day return to him. She gave him the ring, the last reminder she had from her mother before she was destroyed as the rest of Azarath by Trigon.

Raven had been gone for nearly seven years now, and not once has Damian been able to get a hold of her. After she had imprisoned her demon father into the sacred crystal on her forehead. Raven started using more of her magic to keep him locked and to suppress his ill-demeanors about her. Raven was fighting him constantly for three years before it started taking a toll on her health. In order to help her, Raven had to leave the Titans and go with Zatanna and John Constantine who were going to help her find a very powerful sacred ground to relocate Trigon’s prison. The two magicians believed they could help continue training Raven in understanding her magic and channeling it from a longer distance so she could have a normal life just like the one she was living around the time Damian had joined the Titans. As much as he wished it, he couldn’t understand why none of her teammates had been allowed to contact her or even help her locate this sacred place.

Damian checked the digital clock on his nightstand, it was 3:00am, he should really go back to sleep and rest up for the long night that waited for him. His father was throwing a masquerade gala to help raise funds for an orphanage. Being a Wayne sometimes came with disadvantages, having to praise and entertain the daughters of partners and businessmen that worked with Wayne Industries. Most girls Damian met weren’t very bright, most of them worried who was wearing the best design dress or who had the best hair and nails done for the night. Damian always pulled through most events but there had been some occasions that some girls would cling onto him like a leech hoping they would end up in his bed. Being Robin, helped him escape those certain leeches.

Putting all these thoughts to the side, Damian couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep fearing he would dream where Raven goes through the light and never returns to him. After Raven’s first year of being gone from the Titans, Damian realized just how much he wanted her to be in his life. It was then he finally understood he actually loved her and would ask Raven to allow him to court her when she finally returned.  

-- -- -- --

Could someone just please shoot him down or better yet some emergency rise for Robin to be needed and take Damian Wayne away for this gala. Since everyone was wearing a mask, no one could identify him. He had stood at a distance when his father announced the start of the gala and giving a very moving speech to get everyone to donate. None one and no leechhad seemed to figure out where Bruce Wayne’s youngest son was in the gala. Though he didn’t have to entertain anyone he was terribly alone and bored to his mind.

His so-called brothers ditched him at the last minute, none of them picked up his calls or answer his texts. Tim and Jason were no surprise, they hardly came to any galas or events hosted by Wayne Industries. Dick Grayson however always strides to be the best oldest supportive brother, and when he was supposed to be a goodbrother, he’s a no-show. Next time Damian sees either one of them, they are dead meat.

Looking down again at his phone it was a little pass 9pm, in a few minutes an announcer will announce a small dance will begin. Good thing this time his toes will be sparred. Not wanting to pay attention, Damian accidently caught small talk from two young men talking about which of the two were going to score to take to bed a young lady dressed in white. Damian looked up and examined the two guests, they were both well-dressed though it seems they fed off of their family’s money. Damian narrowed his eyes at them and being very discreet he followed their line of sight to see who they were preying at.

His eyes widen when he saw her. She was dressed in a sleeveless pearl white mermaid dress, following the ‘v’ shape her bosom, it was decorated with white feathers. From her waistline to the bottom of her dress; there were silver embroidery scattered, making her sparkle like starlight. Her skin was pale, but it glowed beautifully under the lighted golden chandeliers. Her hair black as a raven’s feathers was long and curled to her waist. To complement her attire and her beauty she was wearing a white mask, with white feathers fanning out from one corner of her mask.

She was a goddess, among mortals. Damian couldn’t understand why he was so entranced by her, she wasn’t her. And yet he was making his way towards this mysterious woman as someone announced the start of the dance.

“Excuse me, may I have this dance?” Damian asked with the upmost of sincerity he ever gave to an unknown stranger.  

“You may.”

Damian had to keep himself from frowning. Even though he was wearing a simple black domino mask someone could notice with how unpleased he was that the mysterious woman had her eyes hidden. He hadn’t noticed before, but the eye area was covered by a thin white lace mesh, making it impossible to see her looking back at him or to even distinguish her eye color.

Damian place his hand on her small back and guided her to the middle of the dancefloor with more people pairing themselves as a pianist started playing some keys on a grand piano to get the waltz started. Soon an accordion and flute joined in.

Being a gentleman, Damian carefully guided her left hand onto his shoulder. His left hand stayed carefully on her back, as his right took her hand in his and started turning them both. Swaying to the music, the two stared into each other, or that was what Damian dreamt was going on as they both got lost to the music. He continues leading her into the waltz, but part of him believed his soul had been lifted from his body and there was no other person in the room. It was just them, dancing.

Not being able to contain his own curiosity Damian cleared his throat, “I must ask, do I know you by any chance? You seem awfully familiar.” His partner looked away for a moment but continue to sway with him to the music. She looked back at him and gave him a faint smile before nodding her head lightly to the sides. “Perhaps I might have seen you at a different gala?” Damian continued.

“Very unlikely, this is actually my first time coming to an event like this.” She answered softly to him.

“Then can I ask for your name?”

“I believe the idea of a masquerade is that you don’t ask for one’s identity. It keeps everyone in a “blissful mystery”, or so I’m told.” She chuckled lightly like she had some inside joke

“You are actually correct, my apologies.” Damian told her as he continued to lead her in circles in the ballroom. They dance for almost half an hour, not speaking to each other but being content in one another’s presence. As the dance continue, Damian had whispered into her ear if she like to go out to the balcony and be away from the crowd, she nodded with a faint smile.

As they exited the dancefloor a cool soft summer breeze blew around them, making the mysterious woman’s long hair sway in rhythm. She reaches out and grabs onto the rail looking down to the busy streets of Gotham, while Damian discreetly admired her from behind. He didn’t know what had gotten to him, he thought he would never find interest in any other woman besides Raven. Part of him feared that he may be forgetting about her or the feelings he believed he had been because of his teenage hormones when Raven had left.  Damian took his hand out from his pants pocket and looked at the ring he promised to care for.

“It’s beautiful.”

Damian looked up to find his mysterious woman looking up to the night sky, smiling as she seems to count the countless stars scattered across.

“It is.” Damian answered as he put the ring back into his pocket. “If I may be so bold to ask, why did you come to this event? Are you here for business or-”

The woman in front of him chuckled lightly, before turning to face him. Leaning against the rail, she answered him. “You ask allot of questions… Mr. Wayne.”

“How did-”

“It’s not hard to distinguish you in a masked crowd, given to the fact I’ve seen you wear a similar mask countless nights before.” She turned her head to the side; her left hand reaches the edges of her mask as she slowly pulled it off her head. She kept her eyes looking down, but already Damian’s heart was beating rapidly inside his chest. He continues to look awestruck as she slowly brought her eyes up, looking right into his very soul. Her eyes were amethyst. “Hello Damian.”

A fly could just fly straight into his gaping mouth as Damian continue to stare. He tried counting the countless time he wished for her return. Hoping and praying to whatever god there was to allow him and see her again. The one girl in this world to ever hold his heart in her hand. Finally, his mind was able to wrap around the news and he couldn’t contain himself anymore. “Raven!”

Damian practically sprinted the last two steps to engulf Raven into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her body tightly, making sure this was all real. She gave out a surprised squeaked as her own hands hugged him back. “It’s really is you? Raven Roth you are really here? I am not dreaming?”

“Yes. It’s me. Damian there’s so much I need to tell you and I don’t know where to start-” Damian didn’t let her finish for his lips captured hers. He knew this wasn’t the way to reunite with his friend but the part of him that yearned for her for many years took over his control. He was madly in love with her. Raven was an empath after all, surely, she would be able to read all his thoughts as he continues expressing his feelings for her through this kiss. Never in his life Damian had felt like this; helpless and vulnerable. Yet at the same time that didn’t feel as a bad thing for Raven completed him in a way that made him stronger.

Damian could hear Raven gasping for breath in between kiss. He slowly pulled away and allowed to fill her lungs with air. He felt guilt start to consume him as he realized she may not feel the same towards him. Still having his arms around her said with a low voice, “I couldn’t wait. I am sorry, but I needed you to know how I feel about you. Raven, I love you.”

“Damian.” Raven answered softly as her hands slid up his chest and she looked up into his eyes, “One of the reasons I had to leave was because my father had figured out one of my weaknesses. He found out that I fallen in love with someone I would give my life to protect. It’s you Damian Wayne. I love you too.”

Her warm small hands came up to cradle his face and she slowly pulled him closer to lightly kiss him. They pulled away slowly, Damian could only smile warmly down at her and he reached into his pockets for her ring. “I believe I can finally return this to you.” He looked up to find Raven, had her brow raised at him. Giving him a questioning look. “What?”

“I can’t believe you have it with you, I would assume it would stay in some drawer or a box in your home.” Raven snorted.

“I did promise I guard it with my life, I can’t guard the ring if it’s not near me at all times.” Damian said proudly as he slipped the black ring onto Raven’s finger. “Perfect fit.” He whispered, something about placing the ring onto her finger made it seem like he was branding her. Raven looked up at him, she still had those beautiful amethyst eyes that held galaxies in them, she may look a little different now with fair skin and black hair as night; but she was still his Raven. His Raven.

Damian wanted to show her how much he aged into a man; show her he wasn’t the young teenager she had said goodbye seven years ago. Damian reached up slowly to remove his black domino mask. Just when he was about to grab onto the edge and pull it off, he was stopped by Raven’s hand holding his.  

“No. Keep it on. I don’t want anyone finding out I’m with Damian Wayne.” Raven let go of his hand, she trailed the tip of her finger down his chest, before poking where his heart was. “I want to be a little selfish tonight and keep you all to myself.” She reached up and give him a gentle peck on his cheek.

“I am all yours, my love.”

-- -- -- --

A/N: Wowzers can’t believe how long this took me to write. You wouldn’t believe how much I rewrote and rewrote this prompt countless times till I was able to pick one idea that best fitted with what I wanted to portray. I have another requested prompt asking about their first date, so that will be the next one you will read by me. After finishing the requests I will get back to finishing “First Impressions” and updating “Under an Autumn Moonlight”. After that I am gonna try my hand and share with you the first chapters for one of my Damirae longer fics I have planned. Hope you are excited as I am to share this story with you all.

Thank you so much for readying, till next time!

~ S.Rose

#damirae 

[gossipchii]

Of balls and other dramas

FF.net link: here

Characters: Yagami Taichi and Takenouchi Sora

Pairing: (friendly) Taiora

Words: 2200+

Notes: I hadn’t seen any friendship Taioras in a whiiilleeeee, and I missed reading about them, so since tri. failed misserably to feed me with Taiora friendhsip content, I decided to write it myself. I just hope it doesn’t suck.

Enjoy!

“What do you mean you joined baseball?” Sora had just finished her tennis practice when a couple of guys from the soccer team practically begged her to talk to Taichi, because he suddenly decided to change paths.

It had been over two years since Sora herself changed the soccer ball for a small and yellow tennis ball. She could still hear Taichi’s begging for her to change her mind when she approached him to tell him about her new passion, and how she cried like she had never cried before in front of her best friend. Yet there they were again, while feeling her whole body experienced a Déjà vu. Of course, Taichi was not crying, but the whole confusion and exact same feeling was still there.

“I guess news fly fast,” it felt as if they were in another dimension, because Taichi was so casually holding a baseball bat, his hair as messy as ever yet it felt so… wrong. “But yeah, I guess I did join baseball.”

Sora looked even offended. It was their thing to walk home after training, sometimes joined by Yamato if he happened to stay in school for band practice. And there she was, in front of the baseball field looking at Taichi, except that was not Taichi, that was an alien who had come up to steal Taichi’s identity because he suddenly liked… baseball.

“What is this all about? Did you get in a fight with coach Nakamura? Did you lose another bet with Koushiro?” Taichi had started to walk the way they used to walk every week day after practice, as if nothing had changed. Except, it all had.

“Why must this have something to do with someone else? What if I just wanted to try something different?” Taichi stopped walking out of sudden, making Sora crash straight into his back. Maybe all the brunette really wanted was to increase his muscular arms, she thought.

“But you love soccer! Plus, it’s not even tryout season.” The redhead had so much in her head, she even felt as if she was the one changing hobby once again. “I’m just trying to understand, you didn’t even tell me a thing, heck, not even hinted a thing! And you’re the worst secret keeping person I know!”

They were standing in the corner of a street, their fellow classmates, and even random people were just starring at their now heated conversation. Sora was kind of an expert at keeping her cool when it came to deep conversations, while Taichi was the one who got way too passionate, not the other way around. Yet another proof that this was not Taichi, and something must have gone wrong.

“I told you, Sora,” the red light turned into green, which meant they could cross the street now. Their steps, usually completely in sync, perhaps for all those walks they had taken since they were younger, felt off. “I wanted to try something different.”

“But…,” they were in front of Taichi’s apartment building, which was slightly closer to school than Sora’s. “You love soccer…”

“So did you.” He smiled, yet he felt empty. Sora’s heart ached. “And I believe you’re the least person who could judge me for wanting to try something different,” his grimace felt even sarcastic. Sora was trying to remember if she had done something recently to make him mad at her, but her mind went blank.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” His shape disappeared after the doors closed behind him, leaving Sora lightheaded.

.

“He didn’t tell you either?” Yamato had the custom to go to Sora’s for dinner at least three times a week. They didn’t specifically keep count of them, but it was part of their routine, even if they didn’t notice.

“Not a thing,” Yamato was laying down on Sora’s couch, staring at his girlfriend, who couldn’t stop walking from one side to another of her living room.

“I called Koushiro right before you got here, and he had no idea either.” She finally sat down next to Ishida. Yamato could count down the times Sora looked like she had lost control with just a single hand, and this was one of them. He had never completely understood Sora and Taichi’s friendship, and to him it was funny whenever someone assumed him and Taichi were best friends. Had they completely ignored the obvious affection those two had for each other?

“I’m just worried,” she looked at him, her eyes crystallized. “He states he’s just trying something new, but this was so sudden… I spoke with Mr. Nakamura and he’s just as confused as everyone else, Taichi never told him a thing.”

“What are you thinking?” Her head fell slowly into his shoulder, and he carefully caressed her hair.

“I just don’t believe he’s trying something new, I believe this goes deeper. He had never even cared about baseball- even you can name more players from the national team!” Yamato chuckled. It was true he was not the big sports aficionado as his girlfriend or Taichi were, but baseball was something he enjoyed.

“Takeru told me Hikari said that he woke up quite early this morning. I mean, early for Taichi, and he went biking for an hour.” Yamato had not tried to talk with the fuzzy haired, he knew he wouldn’t cooperate if he felt overwhelmed.

“I think I’ll catch him after practice on Monday,” she sighed, looking up to find blue eyes. “And ask him if he wants to go eat ramen, you know he can’t resist. You’re invited too if you want,” her smile was soft, yet Yamato knew he wasn’t really invited. He laughed it off.

“I’d rather pass, there’s no way I can eat ramen next to Taichi anymore,” his eyes rolled, and just as they focused back on his girlfriend she was wearing a smile that just meant one thing.

“Knife of Ramen,” and he pushed her away as her laughter filled the room.

.

Sora waited leaning herself against the wall. Baseball practice, unlike soccer, finished half an hour after her tennis practice, so she had to wait for him. She was nervous for some reason, even insisting Yamato to join them once again, but the blonde refused to go. She knew damn well that this conversation was something that she had to have with Taichi, and only with Taichi. Any other add to the equation could change her whole plan.

Maybe Sora had even quite practiced what she wanted to say in front of the mirror. Maybe.

The whole school had not stopped talking about Taichi’s sudden decision to join the baseball team. It wasn’t like they weren’t used to be the center of attention, but it was usually regarding fighting Digital Monsters, not banalities. Yet she guessed it was a slow time in school, or something.

Brown, bouncing hair caught her attention, and she couldn’t deny how funny her best friend looked wearing the typical baseball uniform.

“Taichi!” He turned around, looking genuinely surprised to see her there.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he smiled, walking back to her. “Don’t you have Ikebana with your mom tonight?” And she did. Every Monday Sora would help her mom with her Ikebana cases, but she had explained Toshiko how much she needed to talk to Taichi, and if there was something her mom respected, was friendship.

“Change of plans,” they both started walking towards the exit of their school, except Sora stopped him when he turned to the direction of their homes. “I was actually expecting you’d accept having ramen with me today? Like the old times?”

He didn’t reply for what felt an eternity to the redhead, Taichi’s eyes lingering between the corner of the street and her friend.

“You know I can’t say no to ramen,” and Sora felt relieved, as they both walked towards their go-to ramen place.

.

“It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” they were both laughing as if there had never been tension to begin with. Sora decided it was best to evade baseball if she wanted to have a normal conversation with Taichi. He could really be obstinate.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, it’s the perfect combination between sweet and sour!” They really were having conversation about food while they were eating. That’s how their friendship worked, they could talk about anything, or so Sora hoped.

“You’re implying chocolate with chicken is a good idea and I just don’t see it,” they had been in the restaurant for over an hour, most of the kids that went to the same spot after school had already left, so Sora guessed it was time to get serious. “So… you’ve been quite the conversation topic for the last few days.”

“Aren’t we always, though?” He immediately tensed his shoulders, Sora took a deep breath.

“You know what I mean… I’ve heard you’re quite good, too.”

“Yes, well, I guess sports are my thing.”

“They really miss you on the soccer team, you know.” And she wasn’t just talking. The past weekend they had their worst game in months.

“They’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

“I’m not here to judge you,” she held his hands, forcing him to look at her in the eyes. Sora had only had a few serious conversation with Taichi before, and one of them had been right before she asked Yamato out. She knew it wasn’t easy for Taichi to talk about his feelings, but she had to try. Otherwise, no one else would. “I just want to understand what’s behind this decision.”

“It’s just,” he broke off Sora’s grip, staring out at the window. After staying silent for the longest thirty seconds, he kept talking. “I didn’t want to be only associated to soccer, you know? And I don’t even care about others, I mean me. What if one day I wake up and I’m forty, and I can’t play soccer anymore because my knees are too weak? And then I find out I’m nothing, nothing else makes me feel as passionate as chasing a damn ball!”

Sora knew he didn’t mean to yell at her, and she could feel his despair. They were the only ones left in the restaurant, and she appreciated the waitresses had hidden in the kitchen.

“I don’t know who I am or what I want to do in the future, and it’s eating me inside. I’ve tried so hard to ignore it but… I can’t do it anymore.”

“I really wish you could see yourself throughout anyone else’s eyes,” Taichi still wasn’t looking back at her, but from his last sentence Sora knew he was about to break down crying. “The way you deliver yourself to anyone, no matter if you know them or not.”

“Sometimes I see yourself helping someone and you don’t even notice. Like, you always hold the door to every person, no matter if you’ve been doing that for over five minutes and the movie has already started,” he chuckled, what a specific example had Sora chosen. “Remember that time you refused to go to bed because Hikari was feeling ill? Or how you took six trains in order to get across town because that’s where they were selling that Videogame Koushiro wanted so badly?”

“Or that time you played Jou’s patient for hours just because he wanted to practice before he entered Junior High, even if we all knew he was still too young to be anywhere near to be a doctor at such age!”

“I kind of did it because he was giving me free candy…” he finally looked back at his best friend, feeling happier than he had felt in over a week.

“You get the point,” she rolled her eyes, Taichi could always manage to find a way to ruin the emotional moments. “And don’t think you’d get away without me mentioning that time I was so sad because mom was late home again and I didn’t have anything to eat, so you decided you’d play Master Chef and cook something for me.”

“Your mom was originally so mad at how much of a mess we made but couldn’t help to calm down after she saw us eating so calmly while watching…” he bit his lower lip, Sora knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Japan playing at the World Cup.”

“They lost, I remember I had to calm you down because you were so disappointed.”

“You’re really the best friend, even to people you don’t know. We don’t associate you with soccer, we associate you with your kindness and courage to step up for whoever needs your help.” The staff at the restaurant had just finished cleaning everything up, but still didn’t tell them a thing, which Sora paid with a smile.

“I understand you wanted to try something different, but I would hate to see you regretting this. I mean, you don’t have much left of playing with these guys and they really miss you.”

“They really suck without me, too.”

“Taichi!” She hit his shoulder slowly, relieved to see his eyes shine again.

“Thank you, Sora. Really.” He stood up from the table to approach his best friend and wrapped his arms around her before she could even react.

“You’ll always have me, you know it,” maybe he knew it, but she wanted to make sure he wouldn’t forget it.

“Does that mean you’ll try the chicken with chocolate?”

“Absolutely not!” And that’s how Taichi got to ruin their emotional moment again.

That night Yagami called coach Nakamura to let him know he had been an idiot and he wanted to get back with the team, feeling complete once again.

[lovelytormentor]

PART ONE: Poison Ivy and Dick Grayson.

Authors: @AdeptAcrobat and @HypnoticToxin 

Author notes: An unlikely encounter between supervillainess, Poison Ivy and the playboy socialite, Richard Grayson. 

Dick Grayson

"Nobody tell Bruce that I 'borrowed' his car..." "Or that he's not getting it back."

Poison Ivy

["Affluent boys make for easy prey," Pamela thought, ignorant to his heroic identity.] 

You're a friend of Mr. Wayne? 

[Pamela had unfinished business with the billionaire aristocrat, therefore stringing along those susceptible to agitating Bruce would become a certified resolution to the "heartthrob bachelor" repaying his debts. A perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching as she scrutinised the boy and his lavish car. Her disposition undeniably charming. For now.]

Dick Grayson

That alluring voice was quick to capture Dick's attention. It was as beautiful as it was painfully familiar. His eyes instantly spotted that crimson hair - unmistakably belonging to Ivy, but of course he couldn't let on that he knew her, so he played the part she expected him to. Continuing to lean against the car, a charming grin crossed his lips, 

"I guess you could say friend." 

Nonchalantly shrugging, he continued, "He adopted me, back in the day."

Poison Ivy

[Transfiguration was an adopted strength amongst Ivy's natural adroitness. In the bids to appear more 'mundane' her emerald complexion altered to a porcelain pigment but such changes were immune to Pamela's scarlet mane, which retained its signature vibrancy. Tantalisingly slow strides swept the temptress off in the direction of this winsome character; Ivy manoeuvring in hypnotic oscillates to accentuate her hourglass curvature. When in proximity of @AdeptAcrobat, her svelte fingertips walked across the bonnet of Wayne's vehicle before diverging their route to @AdeptAcrobat's surprisingly robust arm. Playing this sensuous enticer was Poison Ivy's forte, even without the use of pheromones and considering @AdeptAcrobat's confession about being of  close relation to Bruce, she would ensure the boy would succumb to her very presence.] 

I didn't know a billion dollar bachelor in too tight of suits could have a heart.

["How repulsive" was her immediate response but Ivy exhibited no indifferences, instead perpetuating her seductress facade.] 

Tell me, adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, how many females use you to get close with him?

Dick Grayson

A trail of minuscule goosebumps followed Ivy's fingers as they grazed over Grayson's exposed bicep. Had he not been aware that the striking woman standing before him was a dangerous eco-terrorist, the acrobat would have easily fallen for her sensual disposition. Playing the self-indulgent, socialite son of billionaire Bruce Wayne came to Dick rather easily - this was a role he had embodied plenty of times before. 

"Too many." He commented, stretching backwards to purposely accentuate his defined muscles. 

"That's why I prefer to stay single." 

Shrugging in a nonchalant manner, he elaborated, "Why stick to one woman when you can have your pick of the litter?" 

The words burnt his mouth like venom, he hated implying such derogatory activities.

Poison Ivy

[Infernos blazed behind those emerald irises; the internal firestorm fuelled by the gallons of @AdeptAcrobat's disparaging utterance. Insolent. Pathetic. Moronic. /Man/. Another self-entitled tycoon, ungrateful to the natural splendour, was engrossed by the excessive needs for a materialistic lifestyle – including the outlook of women being objects in a prize pool. The notion made Pamela seethe, therefore eradicating any ounce of mercy she would have bestowed upon the wealthy adoptee. Ivy stepped over one of @AdeptAcrobat's legs, leaning inwards to the muscular specimen with a mind of a generic simpleton.] 

Is that all  we are to you? Helpless damsels? Objects of masculine pleasure? 

[Fingertips which previously travelled @AdeptAcrobat's well-sculpted bicep repositioned in the cottons of his grey shirt. Clenching into the fabrics, she utilised this procured clasp as leverage to reel the magnate child from his slouching posture and compact into the bountiful curvature of the floral temptress. The second hand slithered around @AdeptAcrobat's shoulder and digits tantalisingly caressed the nape of his neck.] 

Well I just staying by my side because a /woman/ is the only one who can save you now. 

[Before @AdeptAcrobat was gifted with an opportunity to protest, Pamela had already manoeuvred her intoxicating lips against the mouth of her prey. Venoms,  fortunately not the fatal sort, excreted from her luscious brims and surged into the systems of @AdeptAcrobat. Such poisons were specific to rupturing brain cells, where the effected was still conscious but lost the ability to govern themselves and instead susceptible to mind control. Ivy retracted from the lip-lock, purring.] 

Now get in the car, Grayson. We're going to pay your 'father' Bruce a little visit.

Dick Grayson

Had the temptress gazed deep enough into Grayson's eyes, she would have seen the glass, hiding the true man beneath, but he was playing her - or at least, that's what he thought he was doing. It was near impossible to resist shivering beneath the alluring touch of Ivy's fingers, the acrobat knew the effect she induced in men, even Batman had failed to resist in the past. Suddenly, clenched within her fist was the collar of his shirt, and Dick was viciously pulled into a sensual kiss. The natural reaction would have been to push her away, but the pheromones and toxins took mere seconds to surge from one body to the other, giving the hero no chance in preventing his impending doom. 'Fight it, Grayson, you're better than her. Think of the damage you could do under her control.' These thoughts repeated themselves over and over again in his mind as he began to lose control of his willpower. Previously piercing blue eyes had now been replaced with dilated pupils - he could still see, but it felt as though someone else was controlling his limbs. With a stiff nod of his head, he climbed into the luxurious car, allowing Ivy to follow. Grayson's mind was urging him to utter some sickeningly lustful words to the eco-terrorist, but he quite literally bit his tongue to prevent this, eventually drawing a small amount of crimson blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth. Part of him was still in control - this fight wasn't over just yet.

Poison Ivy

[The degrees of mind control fluctuated between each individual and their mental resilience. Batman was a cardinal example of the nonconformist characters, whose cerebral barricades contained enough strength to withstand any exposure to enslavement toxins and combat the intrusive plague as if it were a smaller dosage. Pamela's ignorance to @AdeptAcrobat's double identity signified her choice to fervently kiss the socialite while excreting those venomous blights to a lesser extent. Presuming  @AdeptAcrobat was a conventional stereotype of the everyday, million-dollar man, this ecoterrorist refrained from further questioning his durability, and that became a prefigured downfall. Still, the bachelor showcased signs of obedience from the distending of pupils to the courteous nods of compliance when instructed by the sultry voice of his oppressor – the exterior behaviours of @AdeptAcrobat were satisfactory to the likes of Poison Ivy. She glided effortlessly around the sports vehicle, fingertips trailing along the embellished contours of the onyx structure. It wasn't long before her appreciation for the four-wheeled pollution dispenser ceased and she instead climbed into the passenger seat where her curvaceous physique was greeted by leather. Those explorative digits persisted with the inner framework and mechanics to @AdeptAcrobat's borrowed automobile and eventually entwined around the gearshift.] 

Come on, /lover/. I want to see how much horsepower this bad boy truly has.

[The seductress vocalised words like "lover" and "darling" to reinforce the bond between captor and captive.  It was a mental stimulant that activated reactions to her potent toxoids and fortified @AdeptAcrobat's pliability. She awaited the boy to turn his key and kickstart the roars of a finely crafted motor. As of this moment @AdeptAcrobat wasn't just entangling within the webs of her vines but also preempting another death in the Wayne family. His.]

Dick Grayson

Grayson was able to count himself lucky that his identity had remained a well-kept secret, for had Ivy known she currently had Nightwing sat beside her, the situation would have certainly been very different. With stiff movements in comparison to the crimson haired temptress' more fluid ones, Dick pulled the seat-belt across his broad torso, and gripped the leather coated steering wheel until the skin of his knuckles became pigmented with white. Whilst Pamela was indulging herself in appreciating the car - which actually belonged to Bruce, the vigilante had a few seconds to regain control of himself, mentally talking himself out of Ivy's mind control. The more he was able to resist, the more he felt in command of his actions, with his eyes returning to their usual bright blue. However, at the use of the term 'lover', the feeling of uncontrollable, and inexplicable lust began to bubble to the surface once again, and Dick's grip on the steering wheel was forced to tighten in order to remain in control of his actions. Key turned in the ignition and the engine roared to life. At Ivy's will, Grayson sped off with complete ignorance of any speed limits; he wouldn't have long to formulate a viable plan to get himself out of this situation. Over his years as Robin, and even as Nightwing, numerous encounters with the eco-terrorist had taught him that those under her control weren't mindless to the extent of not being able to speak without being spoken to, so he sparked a conversation - one that could have potentially held benefit to his own motives.

"Why Bruce Wayne? The guy may be rich, but I don't know what someone as beautiful and powerful as yourself would want with him." 

Grayson kept his voice slightly monotonic; it was hard enough for him to address Poison Ivy with such ardour.

Poison Ivy

[At the twist of a key this sporting vehicle was galvanised into ignition – emitting a thundering purr that was detectable from across Gotham City. As the engine was revved Pamela eagerly jerked the gearstick from parked to drive, altering the transmission so both, socialite and seductress, could bolt down the barren avenues with a falsetto screech following their every sharp turn. Obedience suited the gentry hostage. After the self-professed entitlements and imperious announcement which degraded the existence of women within his social cliques, witnessing the boy mindlessly serve a female had its benefits; for more often than not, the male species were intolerable swines that acted on impulse as consequence of their brains located within their trousers. Coercion ensured @AdeptAcrobat's submissive qualities would eclipse that domineering persona while maintaining an ounce of self-determination. Had Pamela desired a absentminded pet, she would have amplified the toxins excreted through her venomous injection but to an extent, the ecoterrorist indulged in controlled conversations, where she could at least converse on basic degrees of their enslavement. Hence why @AdeptAcrobat was bestowed with an honour of free speech despite his prior remarks leaving Pamela inclined to sever @AdeptAcrobat's tongue.] 

Well, my lover, Bruce Wayne is a parasite plaguing my earth. Another big name, with large pockets and consumed by greed. 

[Pamela, again seething, at the notions of the billionaire bachelor who only last week commissioned the funds for the expansion of an educational institution on her terrains. The floral temptress adjusted her position on the leather in order to find a comfortable placement where those slender arms could entangle around the one bicep in proximity with her being. Draped around the preocccupied Grayson, whose speeds breached three times the regulated limited, was  a hazardous ploy but it didn't bother the ecoterrorist for the pair were already gambling with death. She kept her appetisingly plush lips caressing the shell of @AdeptAcrobat's ear – a benevolent gesture to enhance his bewitchment even though Ivy wasn't expelling any toxoids.] 

What I want with Bruce is revenge and you, my ignorant, little prized possession, are going to assist with first getting me inside his compounds. Because you wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you? I do /loathe/ disappointments. 

Dick Grayson

As his mind sped to come up with a viable plan to stop Ivy from getting to Bruce, that wouldn't compromise his true identity, the young socialite was harboring some regrets for his prior words - perhaps he had played his part a little too well, his crude words inadvertently landing himself under the thumb of his nemesis. Although thankfully he now held the upper hand. There was another twitch at the use of a pet name, but this time the vigilante found himself to be more resistant than previously, which meant the seductress' toxin was gradually being expelled from his system; thus returning Grayson's psyche to its usual form. Just as he was going to reply, Ivy's hands began to roam his defined bicep, not to mention the sensation of her lips grazing his ear. If this had been any other situation, and any other woman, it was needless to say that Dick's reaction would have been more... keen, perhaps. He wracked his mind to recall how those enslaved to the will of Ivy spoke to her, and all he seemed to remember was that the mindless males worshipped their mistress. 

"I'd never disappoint someone as beautiful and perfect as you." 

Feigning a tone laced with lust, and flashing the crimson haired temptress a charming grin, Grayson continued to drive, disgusted at his words. Only when he reached the prolonged driveway, leading to the historic Wayne Manor, did a plan hatch in his mind. It may not have been highly thought through, but options were now limited. With complete disregard of his own safety, the young hero swiftly and fiercely locked the steering wheel to the left, the powerful car immediately responding by veering off-road, striking a signpost advertising the Manor but ultimately, and more crucially, colliding with a solid brick wall - belonging to an abandoned annex, once the lodgings of the groundskeeper. All Dick could hope was that Ivy was merely knocked out by the crash, but he had attempted to angle the vehicle to take a majority of the hit. Airbags were released, and the acrobat was thrown forwards, his head swimming as he desperately tried to regain his composure before his passenger did.

Poison Ivy

[Approaching rapidly from beyond the twilight horizon was that acclaimed estate – an heirloom to those titled Wayne. The manor was a fabled beauty, exalted by its neoclassical architecture betwixt with Hellenic finishes that exaggerated the traditional western man's desires to display an ignorant sense of culture and antiquity. Habitually, Poison Ivy felt indifference to vicinity despite its grandeur magnificence for the sheer fact, if the lodgings were deconstructed to its simplest roots, it would be another piece of concrete blocks that stood upon the grounds of earth genocide. Therefore, by lack of deterrence for Wayne Manor, this malicious ecoterrorist persisted in the grooming of her handsome hostage. Chartreuse lips followed the contours of @AdeptAcrobat's jawline, hovering the angular frame with an occasional kiss embedded to his flesh while simultaneously, the limb entangled around @AdeptAcrobat's flexed bicep heightened its already steely clasp. The floral seductress was essentially latched with little means to relinquish her prey until 

 … 

An unanticipated screech resonated throughout the atmosphere, accompanied by a violent jerk leftwards. The vehicle instantaneously veered off course, darting directly into a collision zone. In sight, between an array of blurred colours was the groundskeeping den and with no manageable time to counteract the predicament, Poison Ivy and Dick Grayson ploughed into the brick obstacle. Considering her blatant disregard for road safety, without a seatbelt encapsulating her lithe frame, the vixen was untangled from @AdeptAcrobat and launched westwards, smashing into the passengers window before the inflation of airbags. Fragments of shattered glass lacerated Ivy, while the impact which developed from copious momentum had brought the villainess to a state of unconsciousness.]

Dick Grayson

Years of vigilantism had given Grayson more experience with car crashes than he would care to admit, however at this moment in time he was certainly thankful for it. The carbon-fibre door was loose on its hinges, and all Dick had to do to release himself was gently maneuver his leg to the optimum point from which he could deliver a sharp kick, directly to the hinges at which the door met the (now slightly less so) sleek body of the vehicle. Clenching his jaw tightly to avoid making an audible indication of pain, the socialite reached across to unbuckle his seat belt. This gesture allowed his head to turn to enough of a degree to see Ivy, unconscious against the airbag. Although it wasn't the most pleasant of circumstances, Dick couldn't help but feel some relief at the temptress' state. Now freed of the constraint, Grayson cautiously rolled himself out of the car, lying on the luscious grass, now tainted with tyre-tracks, as he attempted to catch his breath. Slowly sitting up, he pressed a grubby hand to his forehead in an attempt to make his head stop churning. Only when he retracted his arm did he spot the crimson patch of blood that had come from his face. "Perfect." He grumbled to himself, wincing as he rose to his feet. Dick made a mental note to seek medical attention, but obviously his current priority was Ivy. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the number of Bruce Wayne, who picked up after two rings. "It's Dick. I need you to come down the drive, I have someone for you to collect... And maybe an apology to make." With his ex-mentor now en-route, the acrobat hobbled over to the passenger's side of the vehicle and worked on delicately removing the seductress from her seat. Not only did he not wish for her to regain consciousness, he also wanted no further harm to come to her. If all went according to plan, Ivy would wake up behind bars.