damian calls the shots (forthecowl) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-03-14 06:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, damian wayne |
Who: Bruce and Damian Wayne
What: Batman reluctantly allows Robin to criticize the Batcave
Where: Batcave
When: A couple days ago
Warnings: None!
Bruce had not been pleased to discover that his time in Gotham was limited. Perhaps it would have been unfair to the boy had he been at risk of spending weeks inside the mind of a fictional character, and he would have likely lost his job due to the prolonged absence, yet Bruce was not unreasonable; he would not have kept the boy out of his world long enough for repercussions to take effect. His only consolation was that he could utilize the time spent in Luke’s world to plan, as he had little else to do aside from his attempts to steer the boy back onto the right path. There was certainly a great deal to plan for. Batman was singular, and Gotham’s condition was dire; immediate action was needed to ensure things did not deteriorate to the state it had been when he returned from Princeton. There were other threats to consider as well, such as Ra’s Al Ghul returning from the dead, the Joker appearing in Gotham free from Arkham, or any of the other countless villains he had yet to face returning into existence. On the contrary, his allies were also absent, and he could only wait for Alfred, Lucius, and Gordon to appear as he had. Perhaps there would be others, like Oracle and the former Robins he didn’t remember but knew of all the same; his feelings towards these unfamiliar figures were mixed, however. He did not give his trust lightly, and secondhand knowledge was not necessarily enough to earn it.
Wayne Manor was quiet with only Bruce present to populate it. Newly rebuilt, some rooms were still covered in tarp and cloth, and he hadn’t yet explored the entirety of the grounds. He still found it difficult to adjust to the idea of having a son, yet he could not leave the boy to fend for himself and he refused to pretend he didn’t exist. He might be an adult now, but Bruce knew Damian still had the mind of a ten year old, and trained or not that meant he was still a child. It was his responsibility to look after him, even if he had difficulty understanding why he would ever allow a child to don a costume and fight crime at his side in the first place.
Despite not knowing when, exactly, Damian would arrive in Gotham, Bruce was in the caves beneath the manor that served as his base of operations. He never directly referred to it as the Batcave, yet he supposed it was fitting; it was, essentially, a wide area of cave he’d specifically carved out, complete with an exit through a small waterfall over a back opening, and he did garb himself as an overgrown Bat. High above him, he could hear the sounds of wings beating the air; most bats stayed away from his artificial lighting, but some still lingered.
He was seated at one of his many desks, chrome and steel, before a smooth wall of surveillance screens that not only monitored the manor but various key locations in Gotham as well, and he waited. This might be different than the home he remembered, but Bruce had no doubt that the boy would find his way down regardless.
Damian didn’t want to be an adult. He didn’t trust adults. They didn’t have the advantage of thinking clearly and had taken stake in too many things. This made it impossible for them to always do what was necessary. Now, he was feeling the effects. He felt angrier than usual. That wasn’t something either Bruce would appreciate, but damn the both of them. They hadn’t seen this coming and now he was likely stuck with a pale impostor for a father. Damian believed this Bruce had the essence of his father, but that wasn’t enough. He didn’t remember everything Damian did. Probably couldn’t understand the significance of taking Jason Todd’s costume.
He appeared at Wayne Manor in full costume with some new changes. The red in his shirt seemed darker and heavier to actually protect him from bullets. His pants were still black with thin pieces of padding like some sort of special ops. Damian checked his utility belt and blades before taking his cape off and draping it on a nearby chair. The bright yellow represented a different time. A different Gotham. He’d have to move on. Adjusting his mask, Damian spent a little time exploring the mansion. It lacked the ancient secrets of the one he used to know even if it seemed like the Wayne family still went back through the beginning of Gotham’s history. That would have to be enough. Damian Wayne still wanted a legacy.
After he was finished looking, Damian started to search for an entrance. He began with the remarkably simple things like a trick book in a shelf (which lead to a large pile of books on the floor that Alfred could clean up later), a movable bust or voice recognition program. Somewhere in the back of his head, Darman reminded him about the elevator used in the first movie and Damian moved to look for something similar. He found an unsurprisingly better lift with technical protocols and other mumbo jumbo he could easily slice through. Damian knew all of Batman’s secrets, even this one. That was all he needed to getting past barriers every Batman put up.
The elevator stopped just above the belly of the Batcave. Damian didn’t bother trying to stealth his way in, knowing Bruce would be monitoring everything if he was there already. The cave was different. Empty. Underdeveloped. No surprises there. He spotted Bruce and made his way over, eyes lifting up occasionally to observe the batcave, though there didn’t seem to be any recognition or emotion on his face. “I might have broken part of your cave security.” Damian’s voice hadn’t changed much. Yes, it was deeper with age, but it rang with that hint of superiority every al Ghul seemed to have.
Bruce understood that the unfamiliarity of Wayne Manor, assuming it was different than the one Damian remembered, which it likely was, wouldn’t help matters, but he would not apologize for circumstances beyond his control. The boy would learn how to adapt to the changes, as he was attempting to do. He was aware of the very moment that Damian discovered the hidden lift and, a few moments later, when he stepped foot on solid ground. While he and Alfred were the only two who were aware of the existence of these caves, at least until now, Bruce would take no risks with his security. This wasn’t nearly as sophisticated as what his alternate self, or future self, or whatever it was, had fashioned for himself, but this Bruce was still young and not yet that far down the path his life apparently took him.
“That’s unfortunate,” he said, not sounding particularly concerned by the possibility of broken equipment; then again, Bruce wasn’t known for being an open book. He turned smoothly in his chair to face the boy, who was much older than he should have been. The knowledge he possessed told him that Damian was young, not yet a teenager, and yet now he was on the threshold of adulthood-- physically, that is. After a moment of careful assessment, during which the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly into the semblance of a frown, Bruce rose from his chair and stood. Damian’s suit only reminded him of the unfortunate fact that the boy thought himself his partner, called ‘Robin’, and that he wasn’t likely to take kindly to a request or an order to cease his vigilante activities. Practically everything he knew about this son of his troubled him, particularly his heritage on his mother’s side. “None of this is familiar to you, is it?” He gestured around himself, already aware of what the boy’s response would be. Unfortunately, despite his exterior calm, Bruce was at a loss as to how to interact with a son he didn’t remember having.
Damian looked at Bruce for a moment and then began sweeping the cave slowly as if he were taking a stroll. “The Batcave I knew was over sixty years in the making.” He was acutely aware that his existence was merely a comic book on the other world. Gotham was always going to feel more real than the purgatory Las Vegas was turning out to be. “Relics, safety precautions against the Justice League, crime lab, training room, vehicles. All things collected and built over time you haven’t had yet.” Damian walked to an edge of the cave, listening for the waterfall. At least that was still there. “I never thought I’d be sentimental about anything. What’s the point? People matter, not places. But, now...”
He missed Gotham, but more than that he missed his father. The one that wanted to teach him to be better. The one who was just learning to care for his son in a way Damian’s mother never would. This Bruce didn’t trust him yet. Only relented out of necessity. A long silence passed. Damian stood so still he looked like a stretched shadow. Then, finally, he turned and looked back at Bruce. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to stop dangerous people.” The with or without you didn’t need to be spoken.
None of Bruce’s surprise made it into his expression, which remained neutral as Damian outlined the differences between what the Batcave was now and, presumably, what he remembered it as, but there were hints of it if one knew where to look. He’d never had nor needed a basis of comparison for his progress, but the man Damian had known was certainly more experienced than the Bruce who stood before him now. Crime labs and training rooms were future additions, though he did have another secondary base of operations beneath a warehouse near the docks. The knowledge of all he was missing left him feeling uncharacteristically inadequate, and he didn’t like it.
There was very little he could do about what his Batcave lacked, no more than he could make himself into the man Damian had known, so he said nothing. Bruce’s primary concern was the boy’s determination to act as Robin. Despite the differences, he thought of Gotham as his, and the idea of an eighteen-year-old running loose in his city and potentially interfering with all the careful work he’d done was troubling, to say the least. Bruce had very specific plans for Gotham, and nowhere in those plans had be factored in a partner. “We share a common goal,” he told him, in a tone of voice that suggested difficulties if that should change. “I assume you know my methods. Your grandfather and I disagreed in that respect.” It was a question without actually being worded as one. Bruce already had to deal with one boy who had difficulty giving up his lethal ways, and he certainly didn’t need another.
“My grandfather is a fool.” Damian had made his choice a long time ago. He didn’t trust his mother and believed his grandfather to be an intelligent but insane man. Bruce didn’t know how far that stretched. How patient an immortal man could be. “I know your methods.” He crossed his arms slowly. It was strange how all the Robins were so different, but could hold similar mannerisms once and a while. “And, I agree with them. But, you don’t want to work with me. I don’t understand why. You know what I’m capable of. My extensive training and dedication to the mantra my father taught me. You must also know that if you don’t allow me to work with you, that’s not going to stop me from doing what I think is right.”
There was no love lost between Bruce and Ra’s Al Ghul. The man had taught him a great deal, yes, but he would always be directly opposed to people like him, who believes the end justified the means no matter what the cost, and Bruce had last seen him on one of Gotham’s trains headed for disaster. It was strange to think that what he’d seen of the man had only been a sliver of what he was truly capable of. Despite how he felt about Ra’s, however, what mattered was Damian’s loyalty and where it lay. “Good. That’s what I want to hear.” There were some similarities between himself and other versions, after all. He watched the boy carefully, considering his words before he spoke. “In the Gotham I remember, Damian, I worked alone. There was no one else like me. I wanted to inspire good in people, but I never wanted them to attempt to emulate what I did,” he said. “That being said, I know I can’t stop you.” He paused abruptly. “There were some who took my example too literally and sought to follow in my footsteps. Many of them were killed. The one man who took a stand alongside me without hiding behind a mask was corrupted, twisted by a madman, and died a shell of his former self.” There was a point to all this, because Bruce rarely spoke without reason and never to simply hear the sound of his own voice. He doubted Damian would understand his reasons behind his reluctance to work with someone else, much less and eighteen-year-old boy, but he might surprise him. “I would rather you work with me than operate on your own, if you think you can manage to be patient.” His mouth twitched, like something that might or might not have been a semblance of a smile.
Damian had been watching Bruce’s face and fell silent. It was hard for him to deny that this was some incarnation of his father and knew that denying his offer would be going against everything he had fought for when he was a child. This was how it was supposed to be. He was meant to be the only Robin, or at the very least, the first one. In this world, no one was going to take it away from him.
He took a couple steps towards Bruce and extended his hand. Maybe this was kindness on Bruce’s part. Or maybe it was a mix of pity and a need to rope in the renegade vigilante. It didn’t matter. He wanted to work with Damian and that had to be good enough for now. “Patience isn’t really my thing.” A joke. Something Grayson taught him. “But, I’ll do what I can.”
Despite feeling the weight of expectations he might not be able to live up to, a feeling he did not relish in the slightest, especially considering the circumstances, Bruce’s desire to attain some sort of understanding with Damian was genuine. Learning to work with someone so much younger than himself would not be easy, nor would adapting to his role as a single parent, but he would manage as he always had. It did occur to him during the silence that followed his pseudo-offer that the boy might refuse, which he had considered, but he was counting on the opposite.
Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed when Damian stepped forward and extended his hand, though it wasn’t visible. Bruce was too controlled to give a proper reaction, but he was pleased regardless, and he shook the boy’s hand with a decent amount of firmness. “Fair enough.” He released Damian’s hand after a moment, seemingly satisfied. “I trust you know your way around the manor. I’ll let you choose your own room.” Bruce assumed the boy would be staying, of course, and once Alfred arrived he would likely take care of the finer details.
Damian nodded. “I’ll get settled in and meet you down here later if I have time. This 24 hour thing is annoying.” He started back towards the elevator. It wasn’t his style to take any kind of “downtime” but it felt like it had been a long time since he was home. This wasn’t it, but Damian would take what he could get. If he spent the rest of his day familiarizing with the Manor, that wouldn’t be so bad. He needed to look up information on his other side of the family, anyway. This Batman wasn’t ready for the slew of idiots that could come crawling back. Damian had to protect him from the ones he could.
He turned once reaching the elevator and pushed the button to go back up the mansion. He crossed his arms and said, “thanks” barely loud enough for Bruce to hear. The lift shifted and started to move before his new mentor could respond.