Bruce sits in the back of the limo and attempts to peruse his case files. A mass poisoning ought to be more compelling. He ought to care more. His father always said as much. But they had money, property, reputation; he had no need to work, no desire for it. He had already won. Why should he give a damn about the wellbeing of some ingrates that were stupid enough to live in a place like the Narrows? They were asking for some grinning loon to pull something like this.
And yet, he still felt invalid. For all his wealth, was he worthless?
"Do I ever what, master Bruce?" Alfred replies impassively from the driver's seat.
"Do you ever dream you're someone else?" Only moments ago it had felt... he was someone else. Was he? A knight with a life of derring do and adventure. A man of courage in a world of evil. He fought tyrants and monsters. Grizzled and harrowed Men feared him. Strong, beautiful women threw themselves at him. Children grew up wanting to be him.
It had felt so real...
"Of course, master Bruce. I should think everyone dreams of being something they are not, from time to time" Alfred's eyes flick up into the rear-view mirror, staring him down, boring into his soul, "Might I ask something of you, sir? Who are you in your dreams?"
Bruce drops his chin into his palm and puffs with resignation, "Oh, I don't know. Someone exciting..."
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Bruce sits in the back of the limo and attempts to peruse his case files. A mass poisoning ought to be more compelling. He ought to care more. His father always said as much. But they had money, property, reputation; he had no need to work, no desire for it. He had already won. Why should he give a damn about the wellbeing of some ingrates that were stupid enough to live in a place like the Narrows? They were asking for some grinning loon to pull something like this.
And yet, he still felt invalid. For all his wealth, was he worthless?
"Do I ever what, master Bruce?" Alfred replies impassively from the driver's seat.
"Do you ever dream you're someone else?" Only moments ago it had felt... he was someone else. Was he? A knight with a life of derring do and adventure. A man of courage in a world of evil. He fought tyrants and monsters. Grizzled and harrowed Men feared him. Strong, beautiful women threw themselves at him. Children grew up wanting to be him.
It had felt so real...
"Of course, master Bruce. I should think everyone dreams of being something they are not, from time to time" Alfred's eyes flick up into the rear-view mirror, staring him down, boring into his soul, "Might I ask something of you, sir? Who are you in your dreams?"
Bruce drops his chin into his palm and puffs with resignation, "Oh, I don't know. Someone exciting..."