He's in costume when he arrives, the much younger version of the Batmobile tucked away within the shadows outside as he makes his way up. The suit, much like the car β much like him β is younger as well. It lacks the finer details most of the suits the others here wear in terms of lenses especially; hence the thick grease paint beneath the cowl. Regardless of it's infancy in terms of types he'll [eventually] come to wear, it's still built with strength and mobility in mind and still wears the bat across the chest that actually is a hidden tactical knife.
Kind enough to wait there outside the door, he gives a few knocks with the back of his gloved hand and waits. Staring to the ground as he does. )
[ Fundamentally, Bruce knows that this version of himself is young; he met the kid not too long ago and knew his face nearly as well as he knew his own. But it does not really dawn on him how young until he opens the door and finds Bruce standing there in the suit. There's a pang of. Something. Nostalgia? He lets his eyes linger on the symbol and then back up to the cowl before he steps back into the apartment so Bruce can enter. ]
Shut the door.
[ The apartment is nothing remarkable. But it is, for the most part, dark, except for a corner of the room lit by a single table lamp. ]
( Steps are heavy and slow when he makes his way in, blue eyes beneath the grease paint gently taking note of everything there in the room. Gloved finger touching the edge of the door, he closes it, a soft click filling the silence between them. He stands there, cape gently resting around him and stares to the single lamp there in the room. This... is ideal. Having spent so much of his time the past two years in the dark β in the alleys of Gotham, light often throws him to the point where he needs a moment to adjust to it all, having become the nocturnal animal that he is.
When he finally regards the other man, his voice is soft albeit in a way that's very much Batman and not so much Bruce. )
[ He also prefers darker spaces. So he after his arrival, he didn't waste time in turning this place into a Batcave in miniature. Certainly not sophisticated like his Cave back home, but it works for him.
he glances over his shoulder at Bruce's question then he sits before answering. ]
No. My last suit is in the possession of a new Batman.
( A new Batman. From what he's gathered, the others here are their own thing. Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin, Red Robin. Damian's made it very clear that he intends to inherit the cowl when his father's time has come to an end with it, but. Damian's mentioned that this older version of himself doesn't seem to recognize him beyond a strange familiarity; he knows he looks familiar but he doesn't know him and that, like when they'd met, had been difficult for the young Robin despite his saying otherwise. )
Didn't come with an extra one myself.
( A gentle attempt at a joke for not having one for him to spare.
Reaching into his utility belt, he pulls out a USB drive and, coming over to him there, holds it out for him to take. )
This has everything regarding this place thus far. Events, names of people, past and present, things of interest mentioned.
( Because of course he keeps track of it all, even if he doesn't make his presence entirely known on the networks. )
[ At one time, maybe Bruce thought Tim would have been the one. Dick had expressed no interest and Tim had taken to the Robin role with the kind of exuberance you'd only find in someone too young not to know any better. But things change it seemed. He just hoped it wouldn't be too hard on this young man in front of him.
Bruce isn't so humorless that he can't appreciate the younger's attempt at a joke. He smiles, even if it's a small one. ]
Don't think I'll be needing it.
[ He reaches for the usb drive, nods at the thorough description Bruce gives him. ]
Much faster than gathering on my own. I'll have to find a computer to put it to use.
I can locate one for you, unless you'd rather procure one yourself.
( He knows how he is and so can only imagine how the other man is. Still, it's an offer made, like the stick with all the data of this place he's collected over the nearly... year he's been here. Really is coming up to that in a few months.
Again, he takes a look around the place β notices the scarcity of it all and how much it mimics his own living idea. Granted, Wayne Tower came with everything he'd had back in his own Gothamβ well. Almost everything. Alfred hadn't tagged along here. But even so, with all the things littered about the penthouse, so much of his time was spent beneath it in the cave he's made for himself. He wonders what this Bruce's own cave looks like and if it's similar to the one beneath the Manor here. )
Consider it an early birthday present. If you want.
( To which he looks back to the other man, curious about that date and if they share it. )
[ Bruce preferred keeping his independence. He wouldn't have others feeling responsible for him. And from the looks of it, this Bruce had his hands full with the other Bats. This one, he wouldn't have to worry himself over.
At the birthday quip, Bruce gets to his feet to put the usb away. He didn't like thinking about his birthday. He couldn't believe it was nearly that time again. 81 years old. ]
He watches the other man in silence as he moves about β countless things running through his head. It's still difficult to really accept that this is some other version of him, albeit much older and who has had countless years of experience wearing the cape and cowl. He's never encountered anything like this before, here or back in his own Gotham. It has him wonder just how mundane his own Gotham must be to him or even the other bats around. Granted, maybe like him, his own Gotham is in its infancy and there's still a great deal to come. For both it and him. )
Clark was here. For a bit.
( A namedrop he's curious to see the other man's reaction to. )
[ If he ever gave voice to that thought, Bruce would tell him that there was nothing mundane about Gotham. Especially not at her quietest, as he imagines this Batman's Gotham must be like. She was just biding her time.
There's no visible reaction to the mention of Clark. He hadn't spoken to Clark in years - shocking. ]
( He hadn't had much to work with in making one for him. Gaze dropping, he stares to the floor. Quiet. )
He was young, from what I gathered, yet he recognized Batman, though I was considered young to him.
( Despite his reservations regarding the Kryptonian, they shared that in common: being new and inexperienced to the weight that came with the legacy their other selves carried. The legacy they might eventually come to carry themselves. )
He's been gone for about one hundred and eighty-four days.
Get one. Clark is a good man, but he's a dangerous one.
[ He doesn't scold. Doesn't condemn. Clark is a good man deep down. And before Bruce had closed himself off, he had considered Clark one of his dearest friends. But he's powerful and despite all of that power, in Bruce's experience, he was easily susceptible to mind control and could be turned in an instant.
He doesn't want to tarnish this young man's view of Clark however, so keeps the little tidbit about Justice Lord Superman to himself. ]
( Lifting his gaze for only a brief moment, he stares back to the floor there. Falls quiet again. To perhaps no one's surprise, he doesn't exactly go out of his way to make friends, but. Clark had begun to be that for him... the first in a very long time. Losing him still hurts every now and then, but Bruce has never been one to handle loss of any kind well. )
There's a Superman here. Though he's not Clark. If he's just as dangerous as Clark is capable of being, might be best to keep an eye on him.
[ Which isn't exactly a shocking revelation. Bruce didn't trust anyone. Not even his own children. It was partly why each one of his relationships broke down. But there was an undercurrent of hostility from this Superman. A flippant attitude that does little to put him at ease. ]
( Things he would have done differently. Two years into it himself and he doesn't think he has any of those regrets just yet. There are moments he knows Alfred wishes he would do differently β where he would be Bruce Wayne more than The Batman. Where he wasn't filled with such a vengeance so raw and palpable that he takes it out on those he ends up crossing paths with in Gotham's darkest corners. Maybe one day he'll have that regret of putting on the cape and cowl. For now, he sometimes feels it's pointless. That he's not doing enough. That maybe he's only making things worse.
Standing there in silence, he turns some β looks as if he's about to walk away, but. He doesn't. Instead, he stares down to the floor and, despite his back slightly turned, there's an expression there on his face that can almost be felt. One that's filled with a bitter hope. )
Did you find out who killed our parents? ( A beat. ) Did you catch them?
( Do we catch them? Because every criminal he comes across β every one he beats down to the cold, hard cement, he hopes is them. )
so it's unclear whether or not he gets caught so im going with a bit of headcanon
[ What he doesn't tell this young man is that it's a feeling that persists. That's he's not doing enough. That he's somehow failing to keep the promise he made. It hasn't gone away just because he had to stop. It just lives vicariously through Terry now. He doesn't think it would go away for the man in front of him either. ]
Eventually. He didn't remember me at first. But by the end, I made sure he'd never forget.
( The way he turns back to face him is both slow and hopeful somehow at the same time. That to think, some day, he may actually catch the man who'd murdered his mother and father and left him with so much trauma, so much anger, so much pain and misery over the years. At least... this version of himself has. Whether or not he will is still uncertain, much as the events that may or may not happen for him and his Gotham upon his return.
But he stares to him with those blue eyes through the grease paint beneath the cowl and he's left feeling a hundred different things all in the span of a few mere seconds. )
[ He's met other Batmen before and for the most part their lives were similar enough to be near indistinguishable. Especially that singular moment that would spiral their lives into vigilantism. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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309.
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He's in costume when he arrives, the much younger version of the Batmobile tucked away within the shadows outside as he makes his way up. The suit, much like the car β much like him β is younger as well. It lacks the finer details most of the suits the others here wear in terms of lenses especially; hence the thick grease paint beneath the cowl. Regardless of it's infancy in terms of types he'll [eventually] come to wear, it's still built with strength and mobility in mind and still wears the bat across the chest that actually is a hidden tactical knife.
Kind enough to wait there outside the door, he gives a few knocks with the back of his gloved hand and waits. Staring to the ground as he does. )
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Shut the door.
[ The apartment is nothing remarkable. But it is, for the most part, dark, except for a corner of the room lit by a single table lamp. ]
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When he finally regards the other man, his voice is soft albeit in a way that's very much Batman and not so much Bruce. )
I take it you don't wear a suit anymore?
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he glances over his shoulder at Bruce's question then he sits before answering. ]
No. My last suit is in the possession of a new Batman.
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Didn't come with an extra one myself.
( A gentle attempt at a joke for not having one for him to spare.
Reaching into his utility belt, he pulls out a USB drive and, coming over to him there, holds it out for him to take. )
This has everything regarding this place thus far. Events, names of people, past and present, things of interest mentioned.
( Because of course he keeps track of it all, even if he doesn't make his presence entirely known on the networks. )
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Bruce isn't so humorless that he can't appreciate the younger's attempt at a joke. He smiles, even if it's a small one. ]
Don't think I'll be needing it.
[ He reaches for the usb drive, nods at the thorough description Bruce gives him. ]
Much faster than gathering on my own. I'll have to find a computer to put it to use.
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( He knows how he is and so can only imagine how the other man is. Still, it's an offer made, like the stick with all the data of this place he's collected over the nearly... year he's been here. Really is coming up to that in a few months.
Again, he takes a look around the place β notices the scarcity of it all and how much it mimics his own living idea. Granted, Wayne Tower came with everything he'd had back in his own Gothamβ well. Almost everything. Alfred hadn't tagged along here. But even so, with all the things littered about the penthouse, so much of his time was spent beneath it in the cave he's made for himself. He wonders what this Bruce's own cave looks like and if it's similar to the one beneath the Manor here. )
Consider it an early birthday present. If you want.
( To which he looks back to the other man, curious about that date and if they share it. )
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[ Bruce preferred keeping his independence. He wouldn't have others feeling responsible for him. And from the looks of it, this Bruce had his hands full with the other Bats. This one, he wouldn't have to worry himself over.
At the birthday quip, Bruce gets to his feet to put the usb away. He didn't like thinking about his birthday. He couldn't believe it was nearly that time again. 81 years old. ]
Better than the musical.
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He watches the other man in silence as he moves about β countless things running through his head. It's still difficult to really accept that this is some other version of him, albeit much older and who has had countless years of experience wearing the cape and cowl. He's never encountered anything like this before, here or back in his own Gotham. It has him wonder just how mundane his own Gotham must be to him or even the other bats around. Granted, maybe like him, his own Gotham is in its infancy and there's still a great deal to come. For both it and him. )
Clark was here. For a bit.
( A namedrop he's curious to see the other man's reaction to. )
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There's no visible reaction to the mention of Clark. He hadn't spoken to Clark in years - shocking. ]
Did you have a contingency for him?
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( He hadn't had much to work with in making one for him. Gaze dropping, he stares to the floor. Quiet. )
He was young, from what I gathered, yet he recognized Batman, though I was considered young to him.
( Despite his reservations regarding the Kryptonian, they shared that in common: being new and inexperienced to the weight that came with the legacy their other selves carried. The legacy they might eventually come to carry themselves. )
He's been gone for about one hundred and eighty-four days.
( Not that he's been counting or anything. )
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[ He doesn't scold. Doesn't condemn. Clark is a good man deep down. And before Bruce had closed himself off, he had considered Clark one of his dearest friends. But he's powerful and despite all of that power, in Bruce's experience, he was easily susceptible to mind control and could be turned in an instant.
He doesn't want to tarnish this young man's view of Clark however, so keeps the little tidbit about Justice Lord Superman to himself. ]
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There's a Superman here. Though he's not Clark. If he's just as dangerous as Clark is capable of being, might be best to keep an eye on him.
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[ Which isn't exactly a shocking revelation. Bruce didn't trust anyone. Not even his own children. It was partly why each one of his relationships broke down. But there was an undercurrent of hostility from this Superman. A flippant attitude that does little to put him at ease. ]
If you have kryptonite, keep it within reach.
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Is it always going to be like this?
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Not always. But most of the time, yes.
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Do you regret it?
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There are things I would have done differently. But, no.
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Standing there in silence, he turns some β looks as if he's about to walk away, but. He doesn't. Instead, he stares down to the floor and, despite his back slightly turned, there's an expression there on his face that can almost be felt. One that's filled with a bitter hope. )
Did you find out who killed our parents? ( A beat. ) Did you catch them?
( Do we catch them? Because every criminal he comes across β every one he beats down to the cold, hard cement, he hopes is them. )
so it's unclear whether or not he gets caught so im going with a bit of headcanon
Eventually. He didn't remember me at first. But by the end, I made sure he'd never forget.
π
But he stares to him with those blue eyes through the grease paint beneath the cowl and he's left feeling a hundred different things all in the span of a few mere seconds. )
Then there's a possibility.
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[ He's met other Batmen before and for the most part their lives were similar enough to be near indistinguishable. Especially that singular moment that would spiral their lives into vigilantism. ]
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