Batmen Begins [not completed]

[wayne]

Players: Richard and Bruce
Location(s): The cave
Plot Summary: After a month of limited contact with his surrogate family, Bruce arrives, unannounced to the cave below Wayne Manor. Naturally, the current Caped Crusader arrives home just in time to question him.

The cave.

To say it held memories was something of a severe understatement. This place of darkness was almost a living extension of Bruce's soul, a manifestation of his greatest creation. He would never say the place brought him happiness, but clarity and purpose? That it did plenty of.

The smell of damp stone mingled alongside that of the cave's artificial filterers. The aroma selected today was one of Alfred's favorites: honeydew meadow. While Bruce could honestly care less, even he had to admit that the scent of a meadow of flowers was preferable to the stench of bat excrement. A wry smile came across his face as he recalled how Dick, years ago, complained about the constant smell of the waste left behind by their fellow winged residents, using a colorful word to describe it. Times back then were simplier.

Now?

Bruce's smile faded away as he walked along the precipice which lead into the sanctum of the cave, near the computer system. The sounds of leathery wings flapping and screeches echoed for what felt like miles as the man approached the system. He sat in the chair without hesitation, fingers gracefully typing across the keyboard as multiple screens flashed to life. Blue eyes narrowed with purpose as Bruce continued to access various files, his mind working at peak capacity to absorb the information being flashed before his eyes.

There was work to do.

[Batman]

It had been a long night but Dick was finally finished. He had been pushing himself far too hard lately. Rebooting the Justice League wasn’t what you would call a walk in the park. It would have been easier if he was Nightwing but he wasn’t. He was Batman. Batman had a whole host of responsibilities that made Dick respect Bruce even more. He doubted that his mantle as “Nightwing” would have been a popular enough identity for the Justice League to form behind so he supposed that he’d have to be grateful. Truthfully when it came right down to it Dick was stretching himself too think. This was something that he always did but it was different this time. He knew he was on the cusp of something big but it was just out of his grasp. Yet he was almost there. He just needed to keep reaching and pushing himself. Once he accomplished this unseen goal he’d finally be at rest. For now he’d spend most of his days and all of his nights fighting to keep the world safe.

The Bat-Pod soared through the streets and Dick couldn’t help but take pleasure in the wind blowing through his cape and the rush of adrenaline that moving so fast had to offer. He had to admit that it wasn’t as fun as it used to be. When he was Nightwing he had only worn a mask to obscure his eyes. Back then he could feel most of his face and when he base-jumped or fell he could feel the wind blowing through his hair and across his face. These days he had this uncomfortable meld of plaster and cloth covering most of his face. The only thing he could enjoy while wearing this mask these days were his quips. Yet even he was starting to realize that being silent and grim fit the mask better than telling corny jokes. These particular thoughts brought a breathy sigh to his lips as he turned his bat-pod down the last stretch of road that would lead to the Bat-Cave. As he did he dialed up Alfred. “Yes Master Grayson?” Dick revved up his engines to pour more speed into his bike before he spoke. “Alfred! Did you record Breaking Bad?”

Dick saw the cave looming in the distance and smiled with relief. All he had to do was dock his bike, log what had happened tonight and then hit the hay. Well; after he caught up on Breaking Bad. That was literally the only source of entertainment in his life right now. One didn’t have much time for television if you were a vigilante. “Indeed I did sir! Tonight’s episode was particularly horrific though I must say there are more pressing matters for you to address other than television.” Dick sighed. “I know. I know.” He cut out the transmission just as the bat-pod roared into the docking bay for the vehicles. After parking it he practically jumped off the bike and began to pull off his gloves and then he tugged off his cowl. He could get this done in thirty minutes. Hopefully he wouldn’t crash after that. Yet all his plans came to a grinding halt when he saw Bruce at the bat-computer. It was the last thing he was expecting. “Just wrapping up?” He questioned somewhat icily. “I need to log my catches for the night.”

[wayne]

A hand reached up to rub his chin. The landscape of organized crime had changed greatly and in a way that was unexpected. During his absence, the usual players of Gotham still went about their business as usual - barring some of the Arkham regulars - but criminal familes had all been eradicated, incarcerated, or disbanded. The old guard of the Falcone, Maroni, and other groups had in one way form or another been removed. That in of itself didn't surprise him; as the Batman, Bruce was instrumental in their inevitable fall. But it was what replaced them that disturbed.

Crime had evolved from mafiaso connections to more sophisticated groups. Corrupt politicians, bio-tech firms with illegal experimentations, hidden and ancient cabals of fervent worshippers of crime itself, and more secretive societies than Bruce cared to acknowledged exist were filling in the gaps. Worse, Gotham wasn't alone in these. The disease that was crime had evolved across the planet as a whole. He always referred to the mission as "war", but recent developments had completely changed the parameters of that war.

Something more would be required.

The arrival of his first ward and wouldbe successor didn't go unnoticed by Bruce. If the silent alerts he had installed on the computer didn't tell him of Dick's return to the cave didn't inform him, the obvious sound of roaring engines would have been a much larger clue to pick up on. As the footsteps grew closer, Bruce's eyes remained locked on the screen before him.

"Yes," came Bruce's response when Dick spoke. His tone was...understandable, to say the least. One didn't need to be a detective to pick up on the emotions Dick was feeling. Bruce didn't - couldn't - blame him. His absence and lack of contact with him and the others since returning to the present and the living was something that was necessary, though. They'd understand.

"I'm finished here," Bruce said as he saved his findings on a removable flash drive. Once the screen read "download complete", he ejected the drive and placed it inside his pockets. Standing up, he turned around to face Dick. Clad in a dark turtleneck and a pair of matching pants, Bruce nodded his head, locking eyes with his former sidekick. "She's all yours," he said. "Good patrol?," he posed.

[Batman]

So this was what Alfred meant when he had said there would be more pressing matters for him to handle. Bruce’s presence had actually drained Dick of any desire he had to see Breaking Bad. Now that Bruce was here he felt like he had much to prove and work to finish. While he was up to date on his cases there were a few he hadn’t even opened. While he had finished his rounds he hadn’t stayed out as late as he could have. He should have gone above and beyond the call of duty. Bruce’s presence made Dick regret that he had only decided to fill his quota instead of fighting until he couldn’t fight anymore. Now that Bruce was here Dick didn’t feel like he was pushing himself too hard. Instead he felt like he wasn’t pushing himself hard enough. All in all Dick was feeling all his insecurities rush forward even though Bruce was being relatively amiable. Not that he was going to let that bother him. Normally he didn’t feel this way but after 11 months of Bruce Wayne being “dead” and then one month of him being alive and not bothering to contact his family made the eldest son somewhat paranoid.

As he sat down he saw what Bruce had been doing. It was information that Dick could have told him. These days you were more likely to run into gangs financed with heavy weapons then mafia members holding onto old money and old power. The mafia had been unable to change alongside Gotham City and as a result the families were all but irrelevant. They tried to make a show of power with their rapidly dwindling funds but one day they’d finally be extinct. Dick was looking forward to that day but it wasn’t like the crime of Gotham City would change too much. The city was corrupt to its core and the Mafia wasn’t the reason for that. The Mafia was just a byproduct. Dick sighed and opened up an encrypted word processor before he pulled a small datapad out of his utility belt. He hooked it in and data began to flash across the screen before automatically being shifted into their proper places on the word processor. As that happened Dick turned to the next screen and opened up another encrypted document and began to type away; his fingers blurring over the keyboard.

For a moment he worked in silence and for once in his life hoped that when he turned around Bruce would be gone. Yet that wasn’t the case tonight. Dick was guessing that he should be glad that Bruce was talking to him now. Yet when it came down to it Bruce could have decided to be a good father a month ago. Dick was constantly dealing with questions from Damian about why his father was ignoring him. He had to deal with Cassandra and Stephanie about their purpose now that Bruce Wayne was back. Lastly he had to deal with his own feelings about Bruce’s return. At first it had been happiness and then he had felt as if he had disappointed the man when he hadn’t spoken. Dick knew that Bruce would never change and that the man would talk when he wanted to talk. Yet he had figured that coming back from the dead would warrant a little urgency.

“The usual. Cheshire broke Scarecrow out of Arkham a week ago. Still trying to figure out why.” It had taken a drug-hyped Killer Croc to prevent Dick from keeping Crane within Arkham. Something was definitely up.

[wayne]

"Hmmm."[/color]

A simple response to Dick's answer, one that hardly gave any sight to Bruce's thoughts on the matter. The combination of Cheshire and Scarecrow was a distressing one. Both were masters of various poisons and chemicals, and provided their goals corralated with one another, the end result of such a union would be disasterous. But given what Bruce knew, even the threat of the two of them loose in Gotham was something that the likes of Dick could handle.

But what with lied on the horizon, Bruce wasn't confident that even he could deal with it, to say nothing of his allies.

"I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it,"[/color] Bruce said with a nod as he took a few steps off to the side, inspecting the cave more thoroughly. Dick hadn't changed much in his absence. The vehicles were new, most notably the flying Batmobile. It was very...Dick like. His approach to fighting crime was similar to Bruce's own, but altogether different in the end. Unlike Bruce, Dick didn't let tragedy mold him into a weapon against evil. Dick fought his demons and won, having gained both purpose and a life to live. Bruce hadn't been so lucky. But perhaps this was his second chance. He didn't much believe in things such as luck, and religion and spirituality weren't his strong points, either.

But how often does a mere mortal stare death in the eye and trick the devil himself?

Bruce turned back to face Dick, his eyes resting on the symbol on the younger man's chest. The mantle of the Bat had been passed on before, and there was always a price to pay. Dick had assumed the mantle once before, years ago. He didn't want it then, and Bruce wasn't sure he wanted it now. Back then, Bruce wasn't ready to assume his duties as the Batman so shortly after ousting Jean-Paul. And currently, Dick was performing admirably in the roll. But it was still a burden, one that his first ward didn't have to carry.

"You're doing good work,"[/color] Bruce said after a moment of silence.

[Batman]

The data was flashing across the screen so quickly that only a trained eye could keep track of what was being said. Very few people actually knew how to use the bat-computer to full capacity. The dual screens and sheer amount of data processing that the bat-computer had to offer meant that you could multitask while simultaneously focusing on every task with the same amount of devotion. That was only if you knew how to use the bat-computer to its full capacity. He had half-expected Bruce to comment on him letting Cheshire and Scarecrow go with some sort of passive aggressive comment. Yet when Bruce expressed a vote of confidence Dick paused for a second. His fingers poised above the keyboard. After a few seconds of processing he was typing again as if Bruce had never said anything. It wasn’t like Bruce to express confidence in people though Dick had known Bruce for so long that he knew it happened on occasion. So all Dick could really do was expect a request from Bruce later in the conversation. Maybe he finally wanted the cowl back.

“I will. There are only so many people stupid enough to hire someone like Cheshire to break someone like Crane out of Arkham.” Dick had the scars and he incentive to track down whoever was responsible. He had been attacked by a giant alligator and while that was common for him he still didn’t like how the fight had ended. Ending the night with blood gushing from his arms and chest wasn’t exactly ideal. The fact that he had been facing Cheshire while doing so was even more frightening. Luckily he had been able to make it out ok. He had the scars to prove his humiliating defeat but he had made it out alright. He had learned not to underestimate assassins that night and it was a lesson he was in no hurry to forget. “I’m confident I’ll be able to figure out.” He tapped the enter key and then began to describe his big catch of the night. Two-Face had become less of a criminal mastermind and more than a nuisance. That was a good thing.

The next statement nearly floored Dick. Again he knew Bruce well and he knew that the man was perfectly capable of handing out compliments. Of course when he had been Robin Bruce had been cold and distant and hardly a father figure. Yet as they had grown up together Bruce had loosened up. The fact remained that Dick hadn’t expected such a compliment. Especially since he had taken on the mantle without the man’s permission. He wasn’t sure if this was a reflection of his insecurities or whether Bruce’s death had changed him. Either way it was something he hadn’t seen coming. He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond so Dick did what he always did when he was speechless. “It would have helped if you told me that a month ago. Honestly, Bruce. This isn’t just about me. You’ve got a kid who doesn’t think you love him. You have Stephanie running around doing a stellar job as Batgirl and all she needs is a pat on the back from someone who thought she would fail. You’ve got every superhero on this side of the block wondering if your mind was addled. Bruce I know you don’t give a damn about what people think about you but I do. I need to know what’s going on inside that head of yours because I have too much on my plate already for me to try and puzzle out what damned crusade you’ve dreamed up this time.”

He paused. Inhaled and then most unexpectedly a smile came to his face. “Sorry. I’ve been practicing that speech for so long. I just needed to say it. You didn’t deserve it. Thanks. Thanks for the compliment. It means a lot to me. I just had to get that off my chest.” He rubbed his face before he leaned back in his seat and took a break from typing. Maybe Bruce had more to say. If he did Dick was certainly all ears. He wasn’t expecting an apology. He just wanted to know what his father’s next step was.

[wayne]

Dick's barrage of words came at Bruce with seemingly no intent on stopping. As his former young ward spoke his mind clearly and loudly, Bruce merely stood in place, arms at his side, hands stuffed in his pockets as he listened. Not many people had the right to talk to him in such a manner, but Dick was one of the select few who earned that right years ago. And in the end, he was right. Since coming back from a hellish nightmare and fighting his way back to life, Bruce had been distant - even for him. It was out of nessicity, true enough, but these people weren't just his soldiers.

They were his family.

"You're right,"

[/color] Bruce admitted with a nod. "I needed time to myself, to put my priorities in order. Not just with the mission, but with simply...being. To that end, my presence would have been a detriment to you and Damian. Stephanie...she's exceeding my expectations,"[/color] he added with begrudging nod. He had never shied away from his opinion on the girl and her place in the war on crime in Gotham City, but in spite of that she pushed on ahead and did what most thought impossible: she proved Bruce Wayne wrong.

The other heroes in the community had less insight into the workings of Bruce's mind and methods - save perhaps Clark and Diana - but at this point in time he had little to give them in the form of answers outside of what they all knew. He was stil the same man he had always been, but the latest Crisis had forced him to accept some truths about his life he hadn't faced before. In spite of his brooding and grim nature, he had never been alone. Not as Bruce Wayne and certainly not as the Batman.

And the war couldn't be won alone.

"To be honest, Dick, I don't have all the answers myself for once,"[/color] he said with a sigh, suddenly feeling much older than he really was. "The world's changed since I've been gone. Old friends are back from the dead, new enemies have reared their head, and at this point, I'm not ready. I need to train, to think...to adapt."[/color] He glanced at the former Boy Wonder, a half smile on his face as he reached out to clasp a strong hand on his shoulder. "But you have made me proud. More than you can imagine."[/color]

He dimissed Dick's apology with a shake of his head. "I deserved it. And rough patches are the norm from what I hear concerning fathers and sons."[/color][/blockquote]

[Batman]

Yelling at Bruce was a common occurrence for Dick. He lived a stressful life and oftentimes Bruce didn’t help. When he was younger the man always pointed out his flaws and criticisms. Bruce only rationed out his compliments when he felt it was necessary. He had never been a man who forged relationships on compassion and understanding. The only understanding Dick had with Bruce were their interactions on the battlefield. Other than that they had never truly got along as well as they should have. Of course this had been when they were younger and the older Dick had grown the more he had realized where Bruce had come from. So while Dick knew Bruce better than any other member of the Bat-Family and maybe more than Superman their relationship wasn’t perfect. It was much easier to yell at Bruce then try to understand where he was coming from. Dick had just acted like a petulant child and they both knew it. So as always Bruce came out as the man on top and Dick forced to realize that the man had changed over the years.

“Coming back from the dead will do that to you.” He agreed with a nod. He could see why Bruce wouldn’t want to jump back into the drama of the Bat-Family. Dick himself didn’t like dealing with it. The drama was something he had shouldered with Bruce over the years. When Bruce had died Dick had been forced to handle it alone. As always Alfred was a great help but Alfred wasn’t the type of person to take direct control of a situation unless he absolutely had to. Dick had gotten used to being the leader of the Bat-Family and yet he was happy to relinquish it to Bruce if he had to. Yet he had a feeling that the man had bigger goals in mind other than keeping watch over Gotham City. Bruce’s admittance of not having the answer was a solemn one and Dick realized how much of a blow to Bruce’s pride it had to be. “Everybody needs to sharpen up every now and then.” Dick said as he turned to face Bruce in his chair; the computer totally abandoned.

“Things aren’t that different. Yeah; some people have died and some villains have reared their ugly heads. It’s still the same, Bruce. The epic battle against good vs evil. Occasionally you have someone who can’t make up their damn mind about whose side they’re on but that’s not a new concept either.” He shrugged. “You need to sharpen up? Fine. Just understand that we’re here for you. You don’t have to run around the world to find your place again. It’s right here.” Dick gestured at the cave. Yet Bruce had said that something fundamental had changed or at least that he was viewing the world differently. He had realized that he couldn’t do things alone yet he had been a member of the Justice League and had accepted protégés who fought in his name. Did this mean that Bruce really was expanding his fight in ways that Dick hadn’t thought of yet?

“Well; all I’ve ever wanted to do was make you proud.” Dick’s cheek flamed and a childish grin from his days as Robin crossed his face at Bruce’s compliment. “Yeah. We’re the regular father and son.” He stood to his feet and stretched. “If you need any help I’m here. Are you going to stick around for a bit to give the troops a little inspirational message? It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me what you’re up to but I’m sure Damian, Steph and Tim could use a word or two. Tim spent the whole year searching for you. He was certain that you weren’t dead. I guess he was right.”

[wayne]

Leave it to Dick to oversimplify things.

While that wasn't a terrible trait in of itself, Dick was often very direct, whether in the form of speaking his mind, fighting crime, or in the general manner in which he approached life period. Bruce, on the other hand, was subtle. Deliberate, no doubt, but subtle no less. "The physical training isn't a problem. My body's been in the best shape it's ever been. Maybe side effects of the Omega Sanction. It's the crime fighting I'm concerned with. The war is the still the same, but the methods its being waged are different. Different rules, different weapons, different players. Until I'm one hundred percent confident I've learned everything I need to, I'm more of a liability as the Batman than I am a boon."

He crossed his arms as he glanced from Dick back to the sanctum of the cave, the various vehicles in the garage section gleaming in the gloomy darkness. "To that end, the world will move on without me in the role as Batman. But Bruce Wayne is a different story altogether."

At the mention of his surrogate family and network of close allies being there for him, Bruce merely nodded, walking toward the gym area of the cave, beckoning for Dick to follow him. "I know. But for now, you have to lead them. You've always been groomed to be my successor in case of the worse, and when the worse happened, you stepped up. Admirably." A look of quiet concern was evident on his face as he regarded his eldest student/son. "But the mantle of Batman was never intended for you. It was my burden, my curse. When you first assumed the cowl, shortly after Jean-Paul's tenure, I wasn't thrilled with the idea. But now, having seen and heard everything I have, I can say it fits you. And honestly?"

The sound of screechs and flapping wings echoed once more through the cave as Bruce continued walking, assuming Dick was behind him.

"It frightens me."

The last thing he wanted for his own inner darkness to consume Dick. Dick had always been the bright contrast to Bruce's own grim demeanor, a way of grounded the Dark Knight and reminding him - sometimes gently, sometimes not so gently - he was just human. He had the utmost faith in Dick's ability, even when he didn't acknowledge it aloud (which was a fault of his, admittedly). But being Batman was more than just that. "That said, you are your own man. And the decision to remain Batman is yours and yours alone. I'll trust your judgment like you've trusted mine all these years."

The mention of Tim caused a conflict of emotions to rise within Bruce. Tim never gave up on him, never stopped believing that if anyone could fight his way back from the dead, it would be Bruce Wayne. But Tim's obsession hit too close to home. Was he training these young men to be replacements of himself or to become better than he was? "I'll talk to everyone," he said with a curt nod as he placed a hand on a worn punching bag. "I promise."

[Batman]

Questions came to Dick’s mind but he forced them down. He had to admit that as Batman he was helping the world far more than he ever could as Nightiwng. Yet he felt as if Bruce was claiming that identity of Batman was simply a stepping stone to a different identity all together. Personally Dick felt that he simply couldn’t stop being Batman right now. He was in the process of starting the Justice League and Gotham City was finally starting to adapt to a new Dark Knight. From what he understood Bruce was planning something big and whatever it was he knew that it would be much larger than Dick could imagine. So he wasn’t going to say anything. He wasn’t going to argue or try and convince Bruce to come back. The man was a genius and his vision had clearly extended far past Gotham City. While Dick wasn’t sure if he agreed with Bruce’s idea he wasn’t going to refute it. There were so many times when Dick had been wrong and Bruce had been right. He wasn’t going to show a lack of faith in someone who tediously planned ahead literally to the point where he had a Plan B for every single step along the way.

Dick stood to his feet and followed Bruce as he ran his fingers through his shortened hair. He wasn’t exactly sure where Bruce was going but he knew he had to have a point. As Bruce spoke Dick was again forced to reevaluate what it meant to be Batman. It wasn’t just a symbol. There was a real man under that mask. While being Batman gave you the opportunity to be a leader amongst men and represented justice it also had its weaknesses. Unlike Superman Batman wasn’t invincible even if he acted like he was. While Superman had saved Lois’ life Bruce had failed to save people he had cared about multiple times. The same had happened to Dick. Being Batman meant that you were going to lose everyone you cared about and the people you associated yourself with would be affected as well. Dick was ready for this. He had prepared for this. His identity as Nightwing wasn’t exactly a joyride either. He could think of several situations that rivaled what had Bruce faced. He knew that he couldn’t be consumed by the darkness. He represented the darkness within Gotham City and as a result he wouldn’t be tainted. He wouldn’t let himself be. He had known what he was getting into. Maybe more than Bruce had.

He had trained with the best after all.

The arrival of the bats made Bruce’s statement even more foreboding. Dick idly wondered if the man planned these types of coincidences. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Bruce. Both you and I lost any chance of a normal life when our parents died. Don’t worry; I’ve faced enough darkness in my life. I’m not going to let the cowl ruin it for me.” The fact that Bruce was letting it up to him made Dick far happier than Bruce could have assumed. Yet he struggled to hide this enthusiasm. The fact that Bruce was showing faith in him wasn’t a new concept. It was just the fact that Bruce rarely explicitly showed faith in everyone. All his optimistic feelings about his allies were assumed and not made clear. Bruce was making them clear. “I won’t force you. I’ll be sure to let the team know you swung by.” He glanced around at the worn punching bags that surrounded them. “This is where you first trained me.” He said idly.

[wayne]

Bruce merely begrudgingly nodded. It was all too obvious that Bruce wasn't entirely convinced, but in the end, he trusted that Dick would endure that inner darkness as best and as long as he could. He only prayed that such an undertaking wouldn't be a permanent one. As far as Bruce was concerned, it was only a matter of time before he reclaimed the mantle and cowl of the Bat. The only question was when. But for now, Bruce couldn't be the Batman. Not effectively at any rate, and if he couldn't be effective as Batman, then the entire purpose of creating the identity was tarnished. It was 100% or nothing.

"I know this can't be easy on them, my reclusiveness," Bruce admitted. It was neccesary in the end, but they deserved to know why at least he wasn't around often, let alone in no immediate interest to return to the status quo. In the mean time, however, there would be a Batman. That would have to be enough. For now.

The billionaire nodded at Dick's acknowledgement. "Yes, it is. Seems like only yesterday, doesn't it?" While not one to reminiscence and dwell on the past, Bruce certainly appreciated recalling it from time to time, especially when focusing on the few good memories he had. Dick had been his first student and while the learning curve for either of them had been anything but kind, the two of them walked away better and stronger than before they had met one another. In a way, Dick taught Bruce just as much as vice versa. He didn't admit it often, especially then, but that was the honest truth.

Bruce motioned for Dick to put on the sparring gloves which were left on a nearby bench as he slipped on pair of his own. They hadn't had a full contact sparring sessions since...well, a long time. He was sure they could both use the exercise. "How's the League shaping up?," Bruce asked as he slipped off his over shirt, revealing a slim black tank-top. While Bruce may have been the master tactician and Clark the inspiring force for good, it was Dick who was truly the best leader in their community. Always had been.

[Batman]

Dick had gotten fairly good at reading Bruce’s facial expressions. Years of fighting together had meant they had memorized each other’s body language almost perfectly. At this point Dick could almost always tell how Bruce was feeling no matter how easy it was for the man to hide his feelings. He knew that Bruce hadn’t necessarily been expecting Dick’s answer but he would get used to it. Dick had been in the vigilante business far too long to let the darkness of the cowl consume him. Being partners with Bruce had already exposed Dick to what Bruce had faced over the years. They had faced many of the same experiences so when Dick had shrugged on the cape he hadn’t been all too surprised with what he had been forced to face. He had realized that the identity of Batman was something he needed to see through. If Bruce wanted him to step down then he would. Yet Dick was on the peak of something big and he knew that he couldn’t abandon it now. Bruce would understand. He knew what the power of the cowl had to offer and Dick only sought to do good with what he was given.

“We’ve been used to your tendency to crawl into some deep and moist corner of the cave and sulk so trust me; you’re not really hurting anyone too badly.” They would all get over it. Dick was certainly over it by now. Besides making that passive-aggressive comment about him having a tendency to brood and sulk pretty much made it all worth it. “Sure does.” Dick knew where Bruce was going with this and as a result pulled off his cape. He pulled off his gloves, his gauntlets and finally his utility belt. He didn’t want to “accidentally” use one of his gadgets on Bruce in the middle of a sparring match. Bruce fought dirty but only when he had to. Dick didn’t want to trigger that kind of fight. He walked towards a nearby table and slowly wrapped white bandages around his wrists and knuckles before pulling on his dark blue sparring gloves. He hadn’t worn these in a long time. The gloves left his fingers loose for optimal movement but still had padding.

Dick wasn’t much of a boxer though he was familiar enough with the style. “The League is shaping up pretty well. I’ve found the perfect mixture of new blood and veterans.” Dick was confident that the newbies would step up to the plate. Supergirl had proven herself to be a efficient and effective leader under Dick’s leadership. He was certain that she would prove to do so again. “So, you ready for the ass-kicking of your life, old man?” Dick started off with a little banter as he touched fists with Bruce.

[wayne]

"Heh."

It wasn't so much a chuckle as it was a verbal acknowledgement of Dick's friendly jab thrown his way. If anyone earned a right to point out his faults with a sense of humor, it was Dick. Bruce's inner struggle with his grief and anger had been a long one and while he doubted he would ever completely walk away the victor to his own darker emotions, he had come a long way from the 25 year old man who first took the law into his own hands. Trials and tribulations did that for you, after all.

Bruce flexed and stretched his muscles, getting the blood flowing before sparring with Dick. It would be a nice diversion for a change and give the two of them a chance to test one another. Upon wrapping his fists with the tape present and slipping on the gloves, Bruce headed to the large empty space where he often sparred against his various partners and the odd visitor. "The League works best with new and old faces," Bruce said, approving of Dick's approach to leading. "Balancing personalities is about as important as balancing powers and abilities." Bruce, of course, spoke from personal experience. "Specifics?," he inquired as he touched fists with Dick and made the customary bow.

Confident Dick was as ready as he was, Bruce started things off by lunging forward with a right hook. Boxing was a style many current martial artists felt was outdated, but Bruce admired the inherent grace and technical aspect of it, the influence of Ted Grant's, aka Wildcat, training.

[Batman]

Dick was finding himself in a situation where he wanted to prove himself to Bruce. No matter how far he had come or how hard he had fought for independence he always wanted a pat on the back from his surrogate father. He had always been a competitor and as a result he craved acceptance and approval. Dick would always fight crime to save people. Yet at the end of the day he wanted the man who had taught him everything he knew to tell him he did well. Naturally he hadn’t expressed this desire since he was a child. Yet wearing the cowl had brought that feeling back again. So now Dick was trying to impress Bruce on two fronts. The first was during their sparring session and the second was through the hard work he had put into forming the Justice League. He had come a long way but this was still new territory for him. “Specifics?” Dick repeated the question as he thought about the new members of the Justice League. Either Bruce would be impressed or disappointed.

Bruce started off with a strong right hook and Dick bobbed out of the way. He would play Bruce’s game. Yet he’d be relying more on kickboxing then boxing. It was more fluid and allowed him to utilize his whole body. Dick was a gymnast at heart and a gymnast always used their whole body. Jabs and cross punches were affective enough but they were boring and had no flair. Dick always performed as if there was an audience. Even if there wasn’t one. “Superman is a bit busy with New Krypton so he turned down my offer.” Dick feinted a kick by raising his knee and instead snapped a quite cross punch at Bruce’s face. As one would expect the blow didn’t exactly make it very far but he was testing himself. He wanted to know that Bruce could still rock it like he used to. “So I went for Supergirl. She had nothing better to do with her time and believe it or not she’s actually matured over the years.” Supergirl was also loyal to Dick. He knew that people didn’t necessarily have faith in Batman and as a result he needed someone who would follow him without question. That was Kara.

Of course her teenage rebellion meant that she would still have a thing or two to say about Dick’s orders but she’d still follow him into battle. She had proven so on the Outsiders. “Zatanna, naturally. You’ve got to have the magic expert.” She had been around for quite a few years and he had known her in his youth. If anything Zatanna was the magical expert. A few years ago it had been Dr. Fate but a new man was wearing that helmet and he was a drunk. Kent V. Nelson was improving but not at the rate he needed to. As a result Dick had passed him over as a member of the JLA easily enough. “Martian Manhunter for our Eye in the Sky.” That had been an easy enough choice. “John Stewart. Not the television personality. The Green Lantern.” Hal Jordan’s actions in the past two years had ruled him out as a member of the Big Seven. Kyle Rayner was busy in space and Guy Gardner was arguably insane. “Wally West.” Wally understood exactly what it was like to step into someone’s shoes. He needed a man who knew how to bare a huge responsibility on his shoulders while still staying light-hearted.

“Finally I’m hoping to get Dinah on board. She’s had a really rough time this past year and yet she still has retained her morals. One would think she’d have snapped Ollie’s neck by now but she’s proven to be the strongest person I’ve known this past year.” He had yet to talk to her but he would soon.