the black raven | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

□ bruce □

A what?

I hold in my breath, not believing what he's said. A million questions start to fly through my head, but I'm in no place to ask them.

I can't ask them this man,  to Tim, nor to myself. It's too distracting. I've already got four boys, it shouldn't make a difference to add another kid, let alone a girl. But oh how it does.

I don't have feeling in my fingertips I realize quickly as I think about this girl, Mara. How she's out there somewhere, and I had no idea.

Maybe in Gotham, maybe not, but there are no facts when it comes to kids. Kids-- they are walking chaos. Living emotion. Talking personalities. Yet with chaos, there is order. With emotion, there is family. With personalities, there is a body, a human.

And kids take all of that and grate it together. Then they rent it out in the strangest of ways, whether the consequences be beneficial or destructive. But with any scenario, they always seem to bounce back.

"What?"

Tim's higher-pitched voice snaps me back to reality. I realize that I'm sitting down and quickly crouch back up. I take an inaudible breath shakily, as I habitually return to my stone facade.

"You're wrong. I've never-" I start, but the man's sigh cuts me off. He shakes his head.

"Well obviously you have, since you've got this one," the man gestures towards Tim, "and all I've been told is that's just a rumor."

I barely let him finish before I yank the gun from Tim's hands and bash it against the man's head. He falls to the forest floor with a thump, unconscious.

Tim takes the gun back from my hands, which I keep from shaking. He notices. He's Tim, the one who notices things.

Damian is the survivor, the fighter. Jason would be the other fighter, the one fighting Damian. And Dick depends greatly on the situation. Either he's calm, focused, or confused, uncontrollable.

Tim's the most peaceful out of them all, but not right now. Right now, he's in the zone. He's threatened, so he focuses himself on what the threat is and tries to eliminate it.

"Hey Dad,"

"Yes Tim?"

"What are we gonna do with these guys?" I look at him, and can see he's nervous. He doesn't know what to do. He'll have to learn. I shrug.

"I don't know Tim, you figure it out," I turn and start to walk away, and hear him take in a sharp breath. I keep walking and wait a moment, trying to keep a chucke in. I turn, but a half smirk appears on my face. That's all I'll allow.

"Joking. Were gonna tie them up and bring them back to the cabin one by one. We'll question them more, accept for that one," I point to the man who spoke just before.

"He gets to leave, but tell him that Bruce Wayne is going to have a meeting with his boss,"

Tim nods, and I grab the broken armed man and sling him over my shoulder, and start walking to the clearing, a couple miles southeast of our cabin.

° TWO WEEKS LATER °

Tim and I had interrogated the two men until we'd at least gotten and initial-- N.J.J.

It took them approximately three days to talk, but I didn't want to rush Tim to get out of here and stop his training, or to get to Alfred and this Mara girl, so I decided that we stay here for the time being.

I wanted to send a message to Alfred, but I don't know a couple of things, unfortunately.

The first is when Tim and I would arrive back in Gotham, and the means of how we would get back without having more visits from unwanted guests. It wouldn't be a problem, it would only slow us down.

The second is that I have no contact with Alfred at the moment as generously as I'd like. I meant it to be that way yes, but now I don't know if he's fencing with the man of the initials N.J.J. It's not that I don't have faith in him, I do.

He's seen much farther in the deeper depths of hell, meaning he can handle himself. Also, he's taken care of me for most of my life, as well as the rest of the boys.

And that includes Damian.

And finally the third unknown-- if this man is in Gotham, how the hell do I know, without contacting Alfred in the very least, if he hasn't taken over the city? Or, in the worst case scenario, already got his hands on the girl? Killed Alfred for a laugh or two along the way?

The man could be waiting for my return, watching from afar, using an internet to find a link or message about my whereabouts.

Even though these fellows that attempted to get information out of us were amateurs, it doesn't mean that all of them are. It could be a test run to see how Tim and I react, or how long it took us to give them back.

On the other hand, if we stay here, more of their men could come. It would be a nice training excersize for Tim, but I don't know if it would help him or hurt him, in all ways possible.

Again, not all of the 'agents' who show could be amateurs. It could just make this whole trip longer than it has to be, because I recall Tim nearly yearning to get back to his brothers and Gotham. He's been itching like crazy to be a vigilante, and I can tell he's on edge about the fact that people came looking for Mara.

Not that he cares or worries about her, which he doesn't, but the fact that she may be a Wayne, which means they could go after anyone else who's a Wayne, including Jason.

Tim, remarkably, is closer to Jason rather than anyone else. Dick's close, but not by a lot. Damian and Tim do talk, but it's rare that they ever would do something together, including talking, or like fighting side by side with each other.

They are just polar opposites. Damian's North while Tim's South. Jason's probably West while Dick's East.

Yes, Tim knows that his brothers can take care of themselves just fine, but he still worries about them, and I can see he's bracing himself for the day one of them doesn't come back. 

Alfred is too, but he's better at hiding it. Hell, I've braced myself for that day, and it's come close to happening a couple of times, but it never ultimately has come to that.

Either way, I hope it never comes, but if it does, it has to be me who's gone, not anyone else. These boys are doing just fine taking the criminals off the streets, but they can do better, especially without me.

I've seen them work without me; they're like a machine. Factually, it's a oiled machine that can kill, shoot, stab you, but won't if not necessary.

I've noticed-- and have been thoroughly explained to by Damian-- that I'm like a loose screw that could bring the whole system down with a crash.

But they've insisted that they work better with me out there, as a leader. So I stick with them. Not that I want to stop anytime, it's just a bit harder keeping them out of the limelight as Bruce Wayne, the separation between the playboy father and their leader out in the field.

"Hey Dad,"

I whirl, seeing Tim's smaller stance standing in the doorway, in sweatpants and a grey t-shirt.

"Yes?"

"What are we gonna do?"

"About what?"

"Uh, about this Mara girl, and the N.J.J somebody? I mean, the amateurs said that she was...uh, a Wayne, I guess, so she's something to them, but apparently to us too. So what are we gonna do?"

I pause before answering. I think about it, how I'm going to answer the question for a short period, but Tim decides to cut me off again.

"And don't say stay here, because I've been thinking this through for two weeks now, and she could be dead by now. The longer we're out here, the longer everyone else isn't safe, including the girl."

I reply promptly, "Tim, this isn't that easy. I know we could be too late with the girl, which means that anyone else in our family could be at risk, but they can handle themselves. They take risks every night, and soon so will you. You understand this."

"But we can't go back to Gotham and risk more people getting hurt or killed because we left to find the girl, and they used Gotham against us to get her-" Tim springs, but I cut him off with a hand held out.

He gives me a look that makes me sure I'm missing something. I'm not. We both want the same thing here: to protect and defend the ones we love, as well as the innocent people just trying to live their lives.

We have the same goals, the same obstacles, but different perspectives on the situation. He tries to speak again and I stop him once more.

He's got a perfect argument, and it soon divides my own opinion on the situation in two.

"Tim, just give me a moment," I turn away, resting a hand on my chin as I pace, thinking long and hard through every induced variable, every effective subject on said variable, and the outcomes of said processes-- both short and long term.

I sigh out, turning back to face him. He pushes off the wall, trying to hide his eagerness. He still has his arms crossed and he still has got that look on his face.

As I step closer to his side of the room, I see the eager drain from him, leaving a face that says that he's not going to be happy with my answer, whatever that may be.

"What's your decision?"

I sigh again, this time more heavily. I let go of the uncertainty, bitterness, complication with my answer. This is it-- this is the best way to deal with the situation dealt to us.

"We're going back to Gotham."