the black raven | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

□ mara □

When sleeping in a new place for the first time, you would think it would be creepy. And it is. But then you still get a sense of comfort mixed in there, just because you would be with someone or around something you know.

Not in this case. It was spectacularly creepy and silent. Everyone went to bed within an hour of each other.

Dinner was kind of like a walking nightmare of awkwardness, so I went up here in the room I'm staying in, and have stayed here since. And when I say walking nightmare, I mean it.

I felt so out of place and didn't eat much which was a pretty odd start, since I do like dinner a lot. I mean, it's free food that other people make for you.

Unless your home alone, then you get to make whatever you want yourself. But this wasn't me just being home alone. I wasn't really even in my home. I was in someone elses.

I was in my fathers, Bruce Wayne's home. I still can't get over the fact that my father, my biological father, is the one and only Bruce Wayne.

Man, I thought understanding algebra was tough. I was so utterly wrong. The food that everyone ate downstairs was good, but it wasn't my favorite.

I still ate some portions of it, just to be polite. Alfred noticed that I wasn't hungry or that I simply didn't like the food very much and asked if I was finished.

Very grateful for him being here at least, because if I was stuck with those boys alone, I'm screwed. Meaning a very awkward silence. 

Fortunately Alfred started the conversations and went from topic to topic, mostly staying along the lines of school, weather, work, and the news.

He never directly asked me any questions, which I was again grateful for. The boys didn't ask me any either.

It was like they were in a reality TV show, like Keeping Up With The Kardashians, and I was the viewer. Just watching them, seeing how dinner was around here.

It was nice though too; it wasn't all negative reviews from this end of the spectrum. The boys were polite and considerably orderly, despite what I'd seen from Damian earlier.

From dinmer my mind had more so compartmentalized those boys, and Alfred, into groups.

Damian was the 'don't-touch-my-stuff-and-I'll-leave-you-alone' kinda guy, with a tendency to either leave you confused or numb, if that makes sense. I'm perfectly fine with numb, since right now it's about all I know.

Jason, on the other hand, seemed like he leaned towards being the 'cool-older-brother' and 'let-me-explain-what-happened-my-way' kinda person. Maybe someone to talk to about school or homework, but I don't know yet.

And then there was Dick. He was the nicest and most forward with his feelings, from what I got. He was the stereotypical 'overprotective-older-brother-but-is-super-caring-and-super-understanding-at-the-same-time'.

And then there was Alfred. He was the trickiest, believe it or not. He did not seem like he was extremely overprotective, cool, closed off, or the most prideful person.

I mean, this man could be all sorts of people, but then again all Alfred in one. His mannerism is what throws me off. Sometimes it's 'Master' or 'Miss' when adressing us, sometimes it's just our names.

Master freaks me out the most. It just seems weird, like I've got responsibility as an adult, whicb I'm not. I'm still a kid, a teenager. I'm definitely not ready for that kind of responsibility yet.

□ bruce □

Out here, in the true nature, with Tim, it's peaceful. Quiet. But dangerous. Anything could be a threat.

On the other hand were completely remote and no one truly knows where we are, accept for Alfred, who I gave the general location to. Other than that, there is no contact to the outside world.

No phones, no computers, no wifi, nothing. No technology accept for the things the land provides us. I know, it seems like I've taken after the League, but it did work.

I killed my mentor after he was blinded by the rage and morals of the league. Well, you can't necessarily say that he was blinded by them, as he was a assassin there for years. He just knew it for years, he grew up with it.

"Bruce, what are we gonna do- " I hear Tim ask from behind, but he stops mid sentence. We both heard it.

That slight snap of a twig.

I raise my eyebrow slightly in his direction, and he knows what to do. He heads into the forested area, and I stay here in the small clearing. I wait.

For the thing to come, whatever that may be. I'm not nervous. Tim shouldn't be either, if he is. We left Gotham a while ago and he's gotten better each day, even if it was just by having a straighter punch.

His progress quicker than Dick's, and Damian-- well I'd rather just keep Damian compared to Damian.

Damian acted like a hormonal teenager with rage issues, violent tendencies, and a pride filled head since I met him. He's still like that, but he's become more maneagable with Dick and Alfred's help.

He won't listen to me, or Jason or Tim, just because I'm his father. Jason won't stop irritating and arguing with him. It doesn't matter what they fight about, it just happens. And neither have enough power to swallow their own prides to stop and be the bigger person.

Tim's never really been much of a aurguer, so him and Damian don't interact that much, or that well. Sure, when he finds the right cause then he will fight, but not if he doesn't wants to.

I wait for Tim to come back out in silence, only hearing the sounds nature produces. I don't turn to see who or what comes out of the trees behind, as I already know who it is.

"Just an animal, unfortunately," his voice hints at a joke, but I'm not in the mood for jokes. This is serious business, being a vigilante.

It's deadly and ruthless and only can be done by the experienced. If you go out with your humanity, dignity, and arrogance still in tact, then you will die.

"Are you sure?" I keep my back to him.

I hear him take a breath, and then a small grunt as he stalks off into the wooded area again. He needs to learn how to be patient and wait for the person. For his prey.

That's for most cases, but definitely not all. A few minutes later, he comes back in front of me. I narrow my eyes at him, and he gives me a look that tells me that were not alone.

I blink and then we both look behind me. I turn. I know that he has to be the one to fight, but if it does get out of hand I will step in.

Tim stands in front of me for a moment, and I give him the slightest push to his back to get him going.

He takes a deep breath, cleansing his mind as he called it once, and then stalks off into the mix of the green forest and early bluebird morning sky.

I follow him, a couple paces behind, listening and watching, for a new or abnormal figure, or a different breathing pattern.

I'm standing near a tree when suddenly something falls on me- quite literally- and it wasn't a leaf or tree branch.

It's a human. They take me down to the ground, and, hoving over me, straddle me with their legs and tries to choke me with their hands.

It's a lethal move if played right, and fortunately the person, who I've now considered as a man, isn't doing a great job.

I kick my knee up and slammed both of their elbows towards one another simultaneously. A scream cuts out of the man and I shove him off of me stand up in one fluid move, and listen for Tim in any sort.

I don't hear him, which could be both good and bad. The man grunts again and gets up, and I realize just how short but muscular he is.

He's the same height as Tim, a teenager. I tower over him even from a couple feet away. Neither of us makes a move, as we both see that he's too injured and confused to move and I'm too overpowering in general.

"Who are you?" I growl. To my surprise he speaks right away.

"My name.. is Chal Trismond, and I'm looking for someone. We know they have ties to you," the man says, taking pauses because of the pain.

I furrow my brows. A direct link? The hell does that mean? And who would they be looking for? I've got direct links to many people, but blood to very few.

"Who are you looking for? Are there others with you?" I ask, keeping my stance equal and tense, still ready for a fight.

"Me and my partners are looking for a Mara Wayne," he tells me, and for a second I freeze, before I realize what he said. Mara, not Martha.

Names aside, I have no idea who he's talking about, or why he wants them. I've never heard of a Mara Wayne in my life, nor have I ever met one. My eyes narrow and I peer behind me to look for Tim or his partners. Neither are their.

"Call your partners here, now. Bring the boy alive and well, or I will do the same I did to you, to them," I growl at him with a dark glare glazed over my eyes.

He nods, his pain showing his excruciatingly annoying face. He dips his head down and lifts his arm up tenderly, mumbles a few words, and then lets his arms hang limp at his sides.

The bones in his arms are distorted and I can see them sticking out inward instead of outward. It is creepy, lile a ragdoll, but I've seen and been through much, much worse.

We both turn as Tim and the strangers partners come into view. Tim's got a gun to one man's head, who looks about my size, and another man that looks Jason's size has a gun to Tim's head.

It's a tradeoff, a life for a life, and then I realize Tim must've got the gun from the man he has it pointed at, and the other gun owner came too late.

I take a breath in relief that he's okay. Yes, he can handle himself, but he's barely as good as anyone else. I've only just taught him the basic moves of stealth, defense, and offense.

Other than that, he's just a thirteen year old kid.

"The kid's an amateur, barely got the gun off me before Silas over here came," the man to Tim's left said. Both Tim and I scoff at him, but he just laughs.

"Yeah, says the man who's got his own gun to his head, which is being held by a hormonal teenager, who will not hesitate to pull the trigger," Tim growls, and I'm surprised he went that far that quickly.

But I don't really know him as a vigilante yet, since we only just started training a few weeks ago. The man's smile fades into his resting face, as Tim presses it to his head and forces him to kneel.

He's good, but not even close to Jason, as he's a master when it comes to them. Tim would do better with a staff or knives, closer to what Dick uses.

"But then the slight problem of me pops up now doesn't it? Because if you shoot, I shoot, and then we're all dead. But it's okay, I won't take it to heart, I've always got another one," the man with the gun to Tim's head says, and motions toward the man who jumped on me.

Tim growls.

"Okay, okay," the short man next to me says, and I see he's barely hanging onto consciousness because of the pain.

"Everyone put the guns down. We- we just need to talk about this, ask a couple questions and go from there," he pauses, and leans against the tree behind him for support.

"Now, no one is killing anyone, not unless need be..."

I take a breath and look at Tim. I nod to him, telling him to point the gun towards the ground, and not at the man's head.

When he does, I stare down the other man. He lowers his gun off of Tim's head and points the barrel towards the ground. Tim takes steps toward me, but the other man yanks him back.

"Oh no sweetboy, you stay here. Daddy dearest stays over there. That way no one gets killed," the standing man states, while the other is still on his knees.

Tim sighs and stands back. I turn to the shorter man again when he speaks.

"Good, now.. Mara Wayne, where is she?"

"I don't know,"

"Liar,"

"Sir, I am not lying. Me and my son have been here on this hunting trip and have had no exterior communication. For a while now, so we have no idea who you are talking about. If you need money to get out of these woods, or-"

A gunshot echoes through the forest, yet dies as quickly as it rang out. Jerking, I turn towards Tim, forcing myself to stop myself from leaping to him when I see he's perfectly fine.

The standing man has his gun aimed towards the sky. He fired the shot.

"What the fuck was that for?" Tim and the man kneeling shout. I'm a little irritated that no one is believing in my words or speaking the truth.

I just want answers, and that might take a while, and take resources, which means I might have to cut mine and Tim's little 'hunting trip' shorter than wanted.

"Stop lying. You know where the girl is, now tell us, or your sons brains will be splattered on the grass."

The gun is now planted firmly on Tim's head, safety off, and his finger on the trigger as I look at my son.

He's not going to get shot, and I'm going to get the answers I need. I sigh, and rest my hand on hand on my hip. It's my right hand.

I turn back to the short man who's now passed out against the tree, slip my fingers into my pants, grab my thin knife, grip it tightly, and ready myself to harm another person.

As I turn back to Tim, my forearm reaches back, and when I get halfway turned, my hand flicks and the knife is out of my hands before I know it, and into the right wrist of the man with the gun. He tries to pull the trigger, but it doesn't work.

I severed an artery in his wrist that stops all motion going through his arm. He frowns and winces as he moves, just now realizing that a knife is stuck inside his wrist, inpaling his vein.

His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but he doesn't, and instead a cry of fury and pain emerges. I stay stone faced, but keep my stare on him.

"My suggestion, do not put a gun to my sons head, ever. And again, just to make myself clear, I have no idea who you are talking about, this girl. So, if you still want both of your arms in tact, explain to me what the hell is going on here. Who the hell is this girl, and why are you looking for her?" I demand.

The man's face pales a little, while Tim's lips press upward into a grin. Swiftly, he grabs the gun out of the man's hand and forces him to kneel down. He sits right next to the other man, who hasn't said much on the subject.

He looks over to his accomplise, who looks like he's in a lot of pain. He should be. He put a gun to Tim's head.

Speaking of Tim, he still has the gun, and I watch as he slams the gun against the injured man's head, not once, not twice, but three times before I grab his wrist and let him watch the man fall to the floor, unconscious.

"F-fine, okay! J-just don't hurt me-- I do believe you, but my partners don't, and I'm sorry. Their a bit slow in the head, but were just the messengers and seekers. We don't even know who were working for, just that we get paid millions each month for each, uh, task, you could say, that we do," the only man left awake says, and pauses, looking me in the eyes and searching for my attention.

It's fully on him, as I'm now squatting in front of him, my face stone cold. I wait for him to continue.

"Right now.. were looking for Mara Wayne, our task for the month. We've been ordered to bring her back with us,"

My brain starts churning at the thought that they keep saying Wayne. Sometimes I forget that I am a Wayne, the last living of my family.

Besides Damian of course, my last blood relative, and Alfred, who's like a father to me.

The boys- Jason, Dick, and Tim- aren't blood, but they sure as hell are my family. And according to these men, so is this Mara girl. I silently sit and listen to him continue to speak, with Tim behind both men, whom are on their knees.

"We want her because she has direct ties to you. We.. we debated wether or not to kill you when we found you, but decided to keep you alive long enough to get the information we needed."

"Well that didn't work out too well did it?" Tim sasses from behind the man.

I glare at him, since this man seems to be the talkative one out of the three, and he is telling the truth, I can see it in his eyes.

I focus back on the man, "you said she has direct ties to me."

"Yes, she does," he sits down fully now, sitting on his knees.

He looks more nervous than before, and I start to get more irritated. I want- no. I need to know who this person is.

I need to know who they are, because I need to protect them if this man is telling the truth. The Wayne family will not die with me or Damian, not if there are others out there.

"How?"

"Are you sure-"

"How."

"W-we were informed that.."

"Answer the question!" Tim yells at the man, pressing the gun to the back of his head. I raise an eyebrow at him, just telling him to lighten up slightly.

We don't want him to shut up just as soon as we got him talking. The man takes a breath. Tim lifts the gun ever so slightly from his head.

"She's your daughter."