FDR
Spirit Archer
Sanctuary, Shine


Memoryless


PG-13
Chapter Two

Breathless MUST be read before proceeding onto this story.
Memoryless is the sequel to Breathless.

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


Three weeks.

Three weeks.

Three weeks.

That’s all there is to it. Three weeks ago madness went down in Gotham and your curiosity got the better of you, making you join in on the chaos. All that you received in the end were lost ties, a few mad-men and a large bruise on your head that had just disappeared the other day. Oh yes, and one over-grown, mutated Man-Bat who has the ability to speak the English language and kick ass in style. You occasionally liked to call him your little rodent buddy and pretend he was your pet. Come on, who can boast about having a Man-Bat as a pet? He can fetch you whatever you want in the city–in a tank. Beats your mother’s minivan and traffic. He can go over rooftops. That’s epic, almost like a movie.

Still, if you hadn’t joined in on the events three weeks ago, your mood wouldn’t be as it were now. You regretted doing some things and blamed your past decisions for your current mood. Your opinions now seemed to mirror a child’s and your head was never there anymore. You were always thinking now, always regretting, never looking forward anymore. Your mood seemed to reflect your actions, making you move rather sluggishly and your reaction to things slowed. The other day you were nearly hit by a tire rim which had sort of ‘exploded’ from a car accident. Your reaction time to that was so dull that you didn’t even notice you were on the ground once Al had tackled you, saving your head from possible decapitation; or so he says.

This sudden change from your outgoing personality to an emotional, train-wrecked teenager startled your peers and friends. Some started thinking you finally broke down and started taking drugs and this was the end result.

“I believe,” an old man in a dirtied beanie and graying beard walked alongside the brick wall you were carefully walking on at the current moment, “tha’ this foolishness needs to stop.”

“What foolishness?” you sighed, whacking a tree branch out of your way.

“This,” he waved his hands towards you, “you be nothin’ but an emotional bag of sack. I see you every day, mmmhmm, walkin’ from the slums to the Narrows. You’ve never done that before. Always feared the Narrows, you did. I saw you walk to Crime Alley a couple ‘o times too. What’s overcome you?” Teds fatherly voice demanded. You felt even more dejected at his question now than ever. If he’d only keep his mouth shut and let you wallow in your sorrows.

“Nothin’ to do, nothin’ to do any day,” you mumbled and paused as you caught your balance after nearly falling off towards the other side of the wall, “I feel like one of those whose lost everything and no longer have any reason to go on. I know I’ve plenty of reasons to live but I can’t seem find them anymore.”

“This is all because you involved yourself in that incident, isn’t it? You’ve placed yourself up a creek ‘nd now you’ve no way down. You can swim, can’t you? Get off your rock and swim, quit you’re whining and be the woman you once were. You were so very independent ‘nd relied on no one. Got out of jail a lot, you did ‘nd always came back ‘ith a smile on your face. You’d smile even after they caught you ‘nd threw you back again. You once told me that everyone in jail was so negative or harsh. They’ve forgotten where they’ve come from or are too caught up in ‘ow ‘bad’ they are to remember good memories. Only the good ones, yes, they were the ones committed. Always positive. They made a mistake ‘nd wanted to make things right again ‘nd so they did. So did you, now do it again as you’ve done so before,” the old man stopped walking.

Ted always knew what to say. It felt so harsh. All you wanted to do was be alone, possibly forever. He hadn’t convinced you to get out of your despair until he stated the obvious.

“Move on now,” he continued, “’nd don’t be like your lovely parents. So in love they were, yes, Keith told me once while ‘e slept. Saw ‘em once ‘fore ‘e became ‘omeless. Said your father was brilliant ‘nd outgoing, looking at life at all possible directions ‘nd ways. Turned to depression once ‘e was demoted ‘nd never got out of ‘is ‘ole ‘nd now look where ‘e is now; in a lovely grave. Same for your mum, ‘cept she didn’t have the same outcome but she was possibly nearin’ it.”

You caught your breath. Ted was right; he was always right. It was time to just move on. Three weeks was enough to be emotional for a life time, right? Right? Good.



Nod your bloody head in agreement with my opinion.

You shook your head after hearing a light buzzing sound then nodded and looked away in shame. You were so much stronger than this, why did you let such a petty emotion overwhelm you? There are only certain reasons that emotions of depression are allowed to fester for a while and it usually stemmed with death, unsuitable living situations with people and having your cable knocked out for a month and you still have to pay the bill.

You still felt the emotion was there as you couldn’t seem to humor yourself and sighed.

“Come down ‘ere then,” Teds voice caught your ears and you looked down at him. His arms were extended outwards, ready for him to catch you.

“You’re a bit old for this game,” you smiled weakly.

“Just be careful ‘nd fall on me too ‘ard now,” he never let his arms down so you decided to play. You dropped down onto the walls top, swung your legs towards Ted and began to ready yourself. You hesitated, wondering if you were going to hurt him but didn’t worry. Instead, you made sure your tattered coat was behind you and jumped into his arms. He caught you but then dropped you to the ground. It was nothing to worry about since your feet touched the ground instead of another body part.

“I’d rather ‘ave this one than the other,” Ted hugged you and you inhaled. He smelled of clothes that were never washed, sweat, mold and strangely, bananas. It was a smell you loved so much even if it was disgusting. It was the smell of comfort, love and relief. It was the smell of home.







Night had fallen and you were rather determined to make things right again within you. It was slightly difficult as you didn’t know where to start. Didn’t that happen with all great problems though? Where to start? You sighed and scratched under your arm. You were feeling better but something still urked you. You didn’t feel as depressed but something was just… off.

You sat over a rooftops edge in one of the quieter districts of Gotham and were overlooking a convenience store a few blocks away. You did nothing as a few men (who looked like little black silhouettes) ran into the store and didn’t budge once you heard a gunshot. You should have done something, seeing as how you were now helping him but it wasn’t that you felt too depressed to do it, you just felt sort of lazy. How irresponsible.

Luckily for the innocent in the store, a black figure flew to the top of the store and crashed in. You could only imagine what was happening as you twirled a piece of your hair around your finger.

“So lazy, hazy, may-be, ev-en crazy,” you sang as you watched Batman walk out of the store like a normal human being then waved a hand around in a way where you made it look limp. You waved it in the air harder then both hands at the same time, then your arms and finally, you stood and began jumping up and down, waving like a nut job. It worked since the vigilante was headed your way. You dropped down and slumped over the ledge, looking rather exhausted. You played with your pants and stuck your hand through the large knee hole that showed your dirtied and scratched skin on your knee cap.

“Why didn’t you go and help them?” was his way of saying ‘hello’ at the moment as he landed next to you as you made your pant hole bigger.

“Lazy, thinking too much and it would have taken far too long for me to actually get down there. Besides, I knew you’d be there so I had nothing to worry about,” you wiggled your fingers against your skin.

“That doesn’t excuse you from not helping. You could have at least made an effort to help,” he debated your choice.

“And what? By the time I would have gotten there you would have left. I’m not you, you know,” you ripped the hole and tore at the fabric, never once looking up at him since his arrival.

“You’ve changed. You seem weaker and not as reliable as before. You’ve even stopped calling me ‘Bat-pants’,” he muttered. He sounded like another Ted.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m fixing that now, just give me a bit of time,” you sighed, annoyed by people suddenly confronting you about your current personality, “I just don’t know where to start at the moment,” you slumped over the ledge again.

“What do you mean?” he asked as police sirens began to piece the sky faintly.

“Well, I mean, I can forget about everything that happened three weeks ago, no biggie but there are other elements to that that I can’t exactly forget. Like this one douche bag, I can’t forget. I met him like… what… three times? And I thought he was my friend but I was so horribly wrong. He’s just a douchie, douche bag,” you pouted, “I find it unusual because every time I meet people, I become friends with them.”

“Most of your friends are the homeless and children, aren’t they?” you nodded, “it’s different then,” he began, “it’s easier to make friends with children because they’re so open an innocent while the homeless make friends easier because the more they have, the more together they feel instead of being alone. With normal people, however, given such little time, someone can’t make friends that easily. Barriers need to be broken and trust needs to be gained before they can call you ‘friend’. I suggest you speak to your friend again and gain his trust and then more than likely he’ll befriend you.”

You paused and wiggled your toes inside your worn out shoes, “are you my friend?” you asked quietly. He grunted to which you always took as a ‘yes’. A small smile crept over your mouth as you turned to look at him for the first time up close that night to find only he was gone.

“Come back here, you bastard. You don’t leave when girls are talking,” you pounded the ledge with your fist.







Once again, after that encounter with your pet, you had decided to take a trip to Wayne Manor at two in the morning. By the time you had gotten there (since you had walked instead of running the whole way) twilight had already engulfed the sky and cars were slowly starting to populate the highway again. You had clambered up a mountain side like a silly, little lizard in order to get to the back of the mansion and were astonished that it poofed. It looked as if it had sprouted wings and flew away; tired of the possible abuse that Bruce had done to it. All that remained was half a pile of burned wood and rubble. The other half was cleared off and had new piles of wood and brick over it.

“Was this the result of his stupid party?” you asked yourself, still angry at him that he didn’t invite you, “serves him right then. It’d be nicer if he was homeless,” you walked over to the rubble and began kicking over pieces with your foot, “then we could share a box together and Alfred could be bestest, best friends with Ted. I think he’d like Ted,” you got to your knees and began digging around the ashes and smaller wooden beams that had burned to your size.

You had stayed there for an hour watching the sun come up and digging around a bit more. All you had found was a few books that had survived the fire (but were ineligible), some burnt out tins, a vase that you recognized as one of the larger vases you wanted to hide in a long while ago and an old photo that was half burnt. Everything you found was useless and the only thing you gained was that you had become darker than you really were. You sneeze and coughed black soot as you overturned another pillar and found a treasure.

“Mew?” said the little cat that you had unearthed.

“What the heeeeeellll?” you stared at the little brown and gray cat. Black cat, you should say since it was covered in ash as you were, “I’m going to keep you,” you said as you threw the pillar away from the cat. You lowered your head so you could see at its level but it began to paw at your face. You cried out, retreating and standing then began to rub your face, “bad cat,” you muttered and attempted to wipe the ash from your face. You looked down at the cat to find that it was staring at you. You moved sideways and its head followed. You it in the opposite direction and it still followed you. You jumped backwards a distance and the cat stood up and followed you.

“Heyyy,” you pointed at the cats butt, “your tails short. You must be a…,” you paused, “short tail,” you laughed. It growled, “bob tailed?” you laughed nervously. It purred. You stepped backwards to get away from the cat but fell onto a pillar and scratched your hands against the wood. You held your hands against your chest to fight off the pain and shut your eyes tightly while inhaling quickly. Your breathing calmed once you felt something nudge against your leg. You looked down to find the cat was nudging and purring against your leg. You looked at your hands to find they were slowly starting to bleed and made a face. Instead of panicking and trying to find a place to clean your hands, you gently patted the cats head.

“Evil cat,” you muttered as it looked up at you with its big, green eyes. You stood up and walked backwards more carefully this time. The cat followed and instead of slowly backing up, you turned and ran from the cat as it followed you away from what was once Wayne Manor.


feedback