nick pierce is definitely (nottherobin) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-01-29 00:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | stephanie brown, two-face |
WHO nick pierce.
WHAT alter change!
WHEN tonight.
WHERE passages hotel.
WARNING nothing!
Exhaustion. That was what Nicholas Pierce felt permeating through his entire being. Pure, doggone, bone-tired exhaustion. The plague that tore through all of Gotham and nearly killed his blonde batling left him tired around the edges, purple bags so very pronounced on his pale face. He hadn’t had much time to himself since New Years Eve, giving Stephanie most of his time beyond the door (as usual), but this time was different. Usually, Steph might leave him a little bruised or a little sore, but this? Well, this was another monster. He had never been contagious, of course, but when the door would kick him from the ravaged streets of Gotham to the dim lobby of Passages, he suffered those symptoms. Achiness, fever, cough. He would immediately push himself through, trying his best to avoid the pain. And then, the green goop seeped through both of them, and Stephanie received the brunt of it, obviously. When the disease was cured and Nick could finally take a breather outside of the door, however, he felt it too. Anger. It wasn’t like the exhaustion, which flowed through his veins and settled in his joints. No, this was like a sharp whisper in the back of his mind, and it felt wrong. Nick had never, ever been an angry or violent man. Alexander might have had his sadism and vile hatred of everything, but Nick was always the soft-spoken son, the one who never liked to rock the boat. Stirring up trouble was simply not Nicholas Pierce. And, yet. The whisper snapped in his brain, louder and louder with every moment, and he couldn’t help it. His thoughts wandered to Alexander and how awful everything had become since his death. He knew he needed to do something about it at the end of the day. He needed to follow the breadcrumbs down the dark path to put things to rest. Firstly, he needed to do something. Ring, ring. Nick slid down against the wall outside the DC door to the floor and held his cellphone to his ear. “Hi, Mom,” he croaked out, rubbing his tired, tired eyes. Unaware that they were damp with tears. Suddenly, he felt so pissed off, more than he could ever remember being, and all he wanted was justice to be served for his twin. Nick missed his brother more than he had wanted to admit to himself, and while he couldn’t bring the other man back, he could certainly make someone pay for what happened. He sighed, leaning his head back, and he didn’t notice the click between his boisterous batling and someone of an entirely different nature. Instead, he focused all his energy and the bubbling pit of anger in his stomach on drumming up the courage to actually tell his mother what he knew. That their other son was not coming back. That he was dead. He heaved a shuddering breath, and his mother sounded her concern, and that was when Nick spoke again. “I need to tell you something important.” |