FDR
Spirit Archer
Sanctuary, Shine


Breathless


PG-13
Chapter Three

At this point of the story, I had accidentally deleted half the plot and tore up my apartment just to find the bugger. I would find it a week later at the schools techie department in one piece.

Beta’d ?
Batman Begins DC Comics and Warner Brothers
This story was made purely for enjoyment purposes and does not make a profit 'nor will it ever.


It was a slightly mucky day. The sun was rising in the late morning, people were walking about, some complaining about the humid weather and others shouting at others in front of them. Dealers shuffled amongst the innocent as the homeless begged from them in the area known as the Entrance to the slums of Gotham. It was honestly a normal day.

You kicked a few boxes that stood on top of you and punched a few which made said boxes surround you like some sort of box fort. You then slowly rose with your arms before you and moaning. A few pedestrians, homeless and dealers stared at you oddly as you rose to your feet, still moaning and groaning like one of the undead. A child went to point but his mother quickly scooped him up before he could even utter a single word.

Honestly, it was a normal day.

“Hi, Ted!” you snapped out of your dead-like state and waved to a nearby homeless man happily who waved back. He adjusted his dirtied beanie and elbowed one of his friends.

You kicked one of the boxes out of your way and walked merrily on.







“A firefighter helped a little girl today when he saved her cat from a burning home…,” the news anchor spoke. You gawked at the window absent-mindedly like a brainless dolt. You had successfully pick-pocketed eight people today in different areas. It was a new record for you and to celebrate you bought yourself a nice ice cream cone from an ice cream vendor nearby because all good thieves must have rewards which was why you were standing in front of an electronic store, staring at the television sets as the news played.

In other news, Sergeant Gordon apprehended two well known mobsters in league with the infamous Falcone. Falcone is known as the head crime boss for most of the criminal underworld…

You licked your ice cream again, ‘At least it wasn’t my ass,’ a man passed you and you quickly bumped your behind to his hip, “sorry! I thought I saw something that freaked me out,” you apologized. He shook his head and kept going.

…And in a few weeks, Bruce Wayne will be hosting a lavish party to celebrate his upcoming birthday! He plans to hold the celebration at his mansion that he inherited from his late father, Thomas Wayne.

You stared at the television when they showed a shot of his estate and stated where it would be exactly. ‘That’s a long way out from the city,’ you licked your ice cream once more, ‘I think I shall visit.’

“Hey! My wallet!” a man’s cry was heard. At this point, you chose not to see if he was about to come after you but instead, you ran like hell in the opposite direction of where he was headed, his wallet in your scuffed up pants.







“And I chose not to take the bus?” you thought out lout as you trekked up a hillside.

You had remembered the exact location of Waynes estate but the news anchor failed to mention how far away it actually was from the city. Pretty damn far. It had been late morning, near afternoon since you had started and it was already evening. Your legs were aching, your feet were screaming, you were hungry, thirsty and dizzy. Thankfully, you were almost there. All this just to see inside his pretty and extravagant home. Whatever, you were just hoping there would be things to nick and maybe some milk in the fridge. You hoped the seat on his toilet was down too. He may be rich but he’s still a man and may act like one too. What was he anyway? Some sort of president? A mayor? Was he the mayor of this pitiful city? How disgraceful. He, being a mayor and all (if he really was). He’s living in the lap of luxury while the city crumbles under his feet and is held in a firm grip by criminals! Is he profiting off this? What if he’s corrupted? What if he’s one of the criminal mob bosses like Falcone? And you’re going to his home? Ew. Why’s his home so far away from the public anyway? Does he hold some sort of secret organization here? A secret brothel?

You were so curious now! So curious that you didn’t even feel your face hit a gated fence! You felt a slight tingle then looked up from the ground to actually see the fence. It had quickly switched from evening to night before your eyes when you finally focused out of your crazed fantasy. You briefly shook your head then sat down amongst the dead leaves and twigs and gave yourself a little rest. You breathed a bit heavily as the air became cooler. You closed your eyes and nearly drifted off until a few branches broke nearby. You snapped out of nearly falling asleep and stood up. Your senses were on high alert as you turned around. All that you saw in the darkness was trees and a low object moving amongst the trees. It looked low enough to be an animal so you figured it was just a forest critter or creature, which ever. Your suspicions were confirmed once it dashed off.

The iron fence itself was cool. A bit of heat radiated off them, heat which it had gathered from that day’s sunlight. It was an interesting feel as you climbed carefully up the gate, threw your legs over and slid down the other side. You shook your hands swiftly, feeling a slight burn on them from when you slid down. It was at this brief moment you wished for gloves like all everyone else had in the slums. Bad thing was, those things carried around whatever you touched and ate. Gross.

Once again, against your aching limbs protests, you trekked up a hillside and into a nicely mowed acre of grass. There was a small wall of hedges this way and that, making a pathway to where ever it was going. You figured that this must had been his backyard or a really weird front yard.

It took you a bit but you eventually jumped over each hedge and were now at a large back door with bruises on your knees and cuts and scrapes on your hands and wrists. You peeked into the window into the darkness. It was late and you figured that they were all asleep, whoever lived here or they were gone. This gave you a good opportunity to sneak in and sneak out. Grabbing the thin, metal pick in your shoddy coat pocket you eagerly picked at the lock.

A few minutes passed and you were getting frustrated. You had successfully picked the bottom lock but were unable to pick the top. You figured that it must have been a dead bolt and sighed deeply. Maybe you could smash the window in? But what if there were people inside? They would hear you then chase after you, possibly throw you back in jail, blah, blah, blah. In short, the entire thing would get messy. You placed the pick back into your pocket, turned to lean against the door and think then fell backwards, into a warm home.

You stared stupidly up towards the ceiling. What the hell just happened?

You looked sideways to see the door ajar then looked up towards the lock you had been working on for quite some time. It looked as if the bolt hadn’t even been locked! You had been working all this time on an unbolted lock! You weren’t about to complain about lost time, you were in, weren’t you?

You scrambled up and closed the door at once then looked around. It was huge! Not huge, epic! No, it was–oh whatever. It was bigger than a cardboard box. You began to walk around then quickly stopped; noticing your damaged shoes had made squeaks each time you took a step. Instead, you sat down on the marble floor and began to take your shoes off. Once done, you stood and slid around the floor in your socks. At least your feet didn’t smell. You actually took the time yesterday to go into a store and actually buy a pair. You were glad too, everything felt so much better. If you had your old ones, you would have just kept your shoes on.

After a bit of fun sliding around (and tripping over a carpet towards what looked like a drawing room) you crept around gazing at some of the things in the house. Everything yelled ‘I’M RATHER EXPENSIVE. DON’T TOUCH ME OR I’LL EAT YOU’ at you. There were various pictures of people here and there, many, many books on many, many shelves, papers here and there an occasional vase or plant and plenty of rugs to spare. Minus the huge vases that you could hide in, nothing impressed you on the bottom floors so instead, against your best wishes, you decided to climb upstairs.

The stair case leading to the second floor seemed menacing. Although they were beautiful, you were taking a risk. What if the home owners were really home? What if Wayne was really a criminal boss like Falcone? If he found you, what would you do then? Probably beg to be part of his mob. You could say that breaking into his house was like a test. Yeah, that was believable, right? Right? Why aren’t you nodding your head?

Instead of making yourself as discreet as possible like you normally would have done, you carelessly ran upstairs. The only thing you made in check was to make sure your feet didn’t make a thump sound. Your clothes ruffled, your feet made soft padding sounds (thanks to your new socks) and your breathing was heavy. Then once at the top you stopped and held onto the banister waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

It must had been several minutes before you began to walk again. It was only to make sure you didn’t hear a rustling sound or hear someone getting up, opening a door, yelling, screaming; the usual. Your heart raced as you crept down the hallway. The thing that scared you the most wasn’t the fact that there might be people in the hom–CASTLE, ‘nor the fact that what you were doing could get you back in jail again but the fact that it was deathly quiet. You were so used to sounds. The sounds of tapping, someone singing, humming, cars passing by, people talking and muttering, coughing, laughter, planes going overhead, the thing that’s normally in the city. Everything here was so deathly quiet. It wasn’t near a road so there were no cars to be heard, no one was around so you couldn’t hear anyone breathing or speaking, no planes were going overhead, the only thing you could hear was a ticking of a grandfather clock and that was downstairs. As you walked farther into the hallway, however, that ticking became fainter and fainter until it was no more. That was when you felt truly scared and alone.

You then decided it would be a good idea to check some rooms otherwise, what were you here for? Sightseeing? Certainly not. This sudden impulse was what drove you to opening the closest door to you. You had expected to mountains of gold somewhere but this room held a simple queen sized bed, dressed with beautiful beddings and pillows, a dresser nearby, a few other things and luckily, nobody within it.

Closing the door behind you, you began to move around. It looked like a normal bedroom, only a bit more spruced up with expensive items. A few old black and white pictures here and there, a small television mounted on the wall in front of the bed, a chair with a bookshelf, nothing much. Instead of searching through everything, the room quickly lost your interest and you headed back outside.

After a few more rooms (as well as finding a broom closet and getting attacked by a rabid mop) you paused at the room at the end of the hallway. You stared stupidly at it. It was rather…big.

‘A giant resides behind these doors?’ you thought, again, rather stupidly as you opened the doors. What you half-expected was again, a mountain of gold and a few goblins and yes, one giant was the biggest room ever. It was also the most lavish. The walls were high; a king-sized bed lay in the middle of it all, beautifully decorated with what looked like expensive yet comfortable beddings, a gorgeous mahogany desk off to the side and bookshelves off to the other with what looked like the most comfortable arm chairs you had ever laid your eyes on.

Quickly seeing that no one was around, you shut the doors and ran to the tall door next to the bookshelves and threw it open. You nearly shat yourself.

It was the biggest bathroom you had ever seen that was completely covered in black marble. Before going any further, you turned on the switch next to the door and again, nearly shat yourself. The lights lit up from silver lamps that hung on the walls over the double sinks, next to the shower and toilet. The shower was the thing that was closets to you and was held up by glass walls and a door. It was beautiful but held no privacy. The sinks had silver basin sinks and black framed mirrors in front of them. The bath itself was just out there. The bath was at the end of everything. It was a white, stylized tub that was up on a platform. You edged over to it and looked in. It looked a bit normal until you noticed a switch on the wall next to it. You flicked it but this time nearly had a heart attack. The edges that surrounded the tub gave off a very soft glow until you heard a rushing of water. You thought you had somehow turned on the tub but instead, a wall of water covered the walls surrounding the tub (minus your wall) and gave off a soft glow behind it.

‘Either this guys a pansy or this is just some way to woo girls,’ you thought as you quickly shut off the switch and scampered out of the bathroom, turning off the light on your way out and nearly slamming the door.

You breathed heavily.

‘That’s a thousand times better than going in an abandoned building or behind a dumpster. Better than taking a shower in a stream or someone else’s bath. Ahh!’ you began to pity yourself for the luxury you didn’t have.

You could have it all if you wanted, truly but you never took the time or effort to actually get going in that directly. Maybe it was because being a petty thief seemed more rewarding, even if it wasn’t? The fear of getting the newest disease loomed over your shoulders; anyone you touched could be carrying some sort of life-carrying illness that was highly contagious. You were always one to catch the worst of colds during the winters and were usually near death since you had no where warm to go. If you could only take back what time had stolen from you so many years ago. It stole your childhood, teenaged years and now was threatening to steal your early adulthood away from you. Then again, who knew life better than you did? A homeless, a beggar; a thief. Certainly, this rich, pansy boy didn’t know that life wasn’t served on a silver platter. The news anchor said he inherited this estate from his father, right? So he must have lived in the lap of luxury all of life. Only a few could really live that life because they were lucky. Well, not all of us are lucky.

You swiped a bit of pocket change from the coffee table nearby as well as what looked like an expensive and shiny pen from a book shelf then proceeded to wobble over towards the fluffy and over-priced looking bed. Ignoring your pleas to leave the ho-CASTLE that your gut was telling you, you hoped onto the bed and laid it in for a few moments and then…







“Ge….nnnt,” a ragged voice breathed.

“What?” you muttered. You briefly wondered if you were either in reality or fantasy.

“…ome to myyy--- my,” it sounded as if the voice was like a broken record or a corrupted sound file. Maybe even a dying cassette tape.

“What?!” you cried.

“Ter… omtami,” the voice slowly started to die out.

“What?! I don’t understand!” you cried again. The voice was fading, everything was fading. You felt you needed to know but know what?








You woke with a start, not because of the dream but because a force had kept pushing on your arm. You looked up to see what looked like to be a very handsome man. Even if it was dark, you could see some of his facial features and especially see that he was rather surprised to see you in his bed. You were guessing he wasn’t expecting to see a ratty old thing like you in what was possibly his bed.

Out of pure shock and fear, you quickly rolled to the other side of the bed and jumped off then leapt towards the exit. Unfortunately, he was able to catch you and you hung your head down struggling.

“Let go! I didn’t do anything! I was just so curious, I saw this place on the news and I was curious! Really!” you pleaded, hoping he would be kind enough to just let you be and boot you out the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice didn’t sound angry at all, more like curious. Still, it bothered you deeply and frightened you even more. The fantasies you thought up of Wayne, the owner of this house were escalating. You hadn’t actually seen a picture of him, only his house, truth be told. You had no clue what he looked like really. You didn’t know if he was short, tall, bulky, skinny, a nerdy sort of person, angry, whatever. All you really knew was that it almost felt like this guy had the exact same hold on you as the other weirdo did the night before only less tight.

“I didn’t do anything!” you screamed then raised your leg up then backwards, kicking him in the leg. He let go of one of your arms which made you instantly turn and instead of admiring his face (you would have under different circumstances) you kicked him in the stomach, pushing him up against the foot of the bed frame. His grip on your arm disappeared as he held his stomach and you fled out the double doors after you scurried to grab your shoes, nearly forgetting them.

You slid down the hallway in sheer panic. Were there more people here? Was it only him? If so, you were in the clear!

Not very, since an old man hobbled around the corner. He looked a smidge big for an older man but that didn’t stop him from his attempts at trying to grab you. He was unable to as you fell and slid right past him to the banister. You stood as he ran for you, the younger man suddenly came out from the room you had left as you hopped onto the banister and slid down the rail.

Once you hit the bottom, you scurried off into the room which you came from. Shouts came from behind you as you reached the door and pulled it open but to no avail. They had locked the doors earlier and in fear of getting caught, you quickly ran over to a window and punched it open with one of your shoes, climbed over the glass, scurried over the hedges, over the fence and straight for Gotham, back to your home in the slums.


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