-----------------------------
Down She Fell
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London bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down.
London bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.
Jason felt incomplete. He couldn't figure out what had made his gut feel hollow and his thoughts heavy and crooked. He floated over reality like a puppet on loose threads, not quite touching the ground. He faded through each day and night from the day of the incident. Caught up in the illusion of time.
He did something wrong. His selfish desire to be closer to Jocelyn than the others caused a schism in his life. He didn't want to violate their promise of secrecy, but he also didn't want the others to know who Jocelyn was. She desired Jason to be the one person she could trust.
This act, this decision, was the catalyst for their estrangement. He should have divulged everything the instant the others entered the warehouse. He should have informed them that Jocelyn was an extraterrestrial from a future Earth society that developed and grew into superhumans. She was a courageous and dedicated soldier who led her forces into combat but was stuck on Earth after an accident.
She was lost and afraid, but thanks to them, she discovered a reason to live. But he couldn't. He couldn't do it. He felt a burden that did not exist. As a result, he stood by and watched as she fought tooth and nail with the very people who had made her so happy.
He stood there.
He didn't help or intervene.
He fucking stood there and watched as she was thrown around, beaten, bled, and yelled out in agony. She was expelled from her home and sentenced to exile.
Even the flickering embers of her passionate conflict couldn't thaw the winter that had developed in their souls that night in the warehouse. Jason vomited as a result of his tension and worry, crying on his knees in unexpected weakness.
Tim had stormed out, leaving his mask, weapon, and heart behind. The red robin fled from its nest and vanished into the beyond, hiding in a tangled tree. Waiting for the storm to clear so that it may fly further away.
Dick felt a whirlwind of emotions and didn't know which one to focus on first. He was angry, there was no doubt about that, but there was also betrayal, shame, despair, and relief. He had no idea. Jocelyn wasn't who he expected her to be, or who they expected her to be. Was it really such a huge deal that she was an alien? No, since he had made many friends among the aliens he had met during the course of his work. However, this was the first time he had been kept in the dark about their true identities. Was that even her true appearance? Could her skin colour be green or blue? Did she have a bodily form at all? Was Jocelyn even her name?
Damian, like Dick, had too many questions and not enough answers. He was well aware that Jocelyn was not totally human. He categorised her skills and heightened physical abilities as those of a metahuman. A mutant or modified individual with skills that are unattainable by human hands. He should have peered deeper, past the sweet smiles and soothing perfume, and noticed the tight stance and vigilant eyes. He should have been a better Robin, detective, and Wayne.
Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay, wood and clay,
Build it up with wood and clay,
My fair lady.
Bruce, on the other hand, wasn't any better. He, more than the others, believed he should have been more cautious. There were hints and indicators that she wasn't a typical person living in Gotham. She was smart and strong-willed, but there was a lot of darkness behind those alluring eyes. She could stand her ground against the lads and even looked him in the eyes and talked honestly without fear. He gave her the respect she demanded.
But he was mistaken in thinking he had just found his match, a person of authority and values like Diana but with a loving and vibrant personality like Kent. He conducted research and background checks, solicited feedback from folks she did business with, and even listened to the three oldest, boisterous ramblings. Damian's flushed cheeks did wonders for his paranoia. I will not add that Alfred nearly passed out in a rage when Bruce mentioned that he felt Jocelyn was unusual.
He can't recall the last time he saw the older gentleman act so protective of someone who wasn't a member of the family.
When Bruce recounted what had transpired, Alfred still disputed her flaws. How Jason killed one of the aliens and they all gathered to find the thing, and how Jocelyn came shortly after and tortured another alien. Alfred objected to the notion of Jocelyn being hazardous, stating emphatically that "whether extraterrestrial or not, an adversary wouldn't cut their finger while slicing vegetables because she was laughing too hard at my lousy jokes."
Damian walked in, yelling that she was a charlatan who merely wanted to make her life on Earth easier by using her charms to earn their favor. Alfred escorted the young master to his room without dinner, astounded that the young guy would turn on the person he claimed to have a puppy crush on. Bruce had been astounded as well; his kid, like his siblings, was impetuous but always had rational thought when it came down to it. He couldn't tell if it was Batman, the vigilante hero, or Bruce Wayne, the affluent parent, who was more concerned about the distressed youngster.
But there was one thing that irritated Bruce's mind. Alfred was correct in one respect. If Jocelyn had had any ill will towards her family, she would have acted much sooner. Seven months is a long time to remain in the presence of your ostensible adversary without exposing yourself sooner. She handled knives, ate lunch with them, and eventually had all of them alone. They hugged and laughed, had the keys to her house, let down their guard, and discussed sensitive topics.
Yet she never once used any of it against them.
So Bruce couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the story, especially since Jason was already aware of it. Jason was an impulsive lunatic at times, but that didn't mean he placed his loved ones in danger. Jason remained by her side and protected her after she left in tears. Though Bruce was worried about Jason's involvement in the situation because of his lack of action during the battle, he agreed with Jason when he said that Jocelyn was disturbed by the other aliens' presence.
Whatever they were, she certainly knew how to kill them and didn't appear to be on good terms with them. Were they overly rash in their fight or flight response?
Wood and clay will wash away,
Wash away, wash away,
Wood and clay will wash away,
My fair lady.
The elder man pondered that subject for a week, grilling the others and hounding Jason to divulge more. The latter did, going over how they met step by step, emphasizing how, despite his several efforts to harm her, Jocelyn still healed him. Bruce nodded and listened, urging Jason to be open and honest without fear of being judged.
When all of the cards were laid out on the table and Bruce had a clear picture of her history, present, and prospective future, he felt compelled to locate her. Jocelyn wasn't a spy, judging by how readily she invited them into her home and let Jason search around her warehouse, where priceless artifacts of her past remained. Zero guards against them.
Bruce conducted a fast web search on Friday, went to her café, and discovered an "indefinitely closed" sign. For personal reasons, it indicated that the café would be closed until further notice. That wasn't too concerning; she must believe they were angry enough to pursue her and may easily have been waiting for them to attack her in retaliation.
But when he asked Jason for her apartment number, which took a week to get out of the boy, he discovered that her flat was for sale when he entered the Azure Apartment Complex, or AAC, for short. The front receptionist had leaned on her fist and batted her eyelids, grinning as she told him that the tenant of flat 8C had abruptly canceled her lease, paid the fee, and packed away all of her stuff in a single day.
The building's proprietors were unconcerned since she arrived in a similar manner and paid enough that they sealed their tongues and played along. Bruce made a mental note to notify the Gotham Police Department about a suspicious apartment complex engaged in illegal activity. They accept bribes from tenants and freely expose personal information about them.
He stepped inside the elevator and looked around the empty area. Everything has vanished. He'd never been to Jocelyn's place before, and she'd never invited him, so he turned to hacking Tim's phone and searching through his hundreds of photographs dedicated to her. A whole album has been devoted to every placement and change in her furniture arrangements.
Bruce decided to not ask about the boys' hobbies.
There was no couch or wide oak table. The flowing yellow drapes and hanging plants were gone, as were all the colours and signs of a home. It appeared to be lifeless and dull. The empty canvas awaited the next artist to come in and paint its brick walls and cement flooring.
Bruce grumbled at his lack of luck and went to the one place he expected to see her, the warehouse.
Build it up with bricks and mortar,
Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar,
Build it up with bricks and mortar,
My fair lady.
Bruce had climbed down the stairs after entering through an open window on the roof. He gazed down into the vast open room and noticed Tim snuggled up on the couch. The boy's head was tucked into a pillow, and he was enveloped in a blanket.
Bruce increased the volume of his steps, alerting Tim to his presence. The youngster lifted his head listlessly and blinked, his eyes red and puffy. Bruce sat down, removed Tim's tear-stained pillow, and laid Tim's head on his lap. The youngster didn't scream, instead of emitting a muted whimper and clenching the elder man's knee.
"I hit her," he whispered, sniffling as his nose became damp.
"I know," Bruce said, raising his hand and stroking it through the boy's hair.
"I shouted at her," Tim gasped, his voice shaking as a sob ran down his spine.
Bruce gazed up and around the warehouse, then turned to face the massive sliding doors that had caused all of this. What those aliens wanted was hidden behind the doors, but Jocelyn and Jason stopped them at the risk of disclosing something that wasn't ready to be revealed.
Bruised said softly, hoping that his typical gravelly tone didn't come off as scary. Tim adjusted into a sitting posture and faced Bruce, the man he deeply admired while also looking up to as a mentor.
His eyes squinted, blinking back salty tears, his cheeks heated, and his fists clenched the blanket's silky fabric. The blanket Jocelyn had spent two months making for him
"I know, Tim," Bruce said, as he drew the kid into his arms. Bruce struggled to think of what to do while holding the thin boy in his arms, crying loudly, his mouth was wide open and his heart hollow. He was no longer the clever, intelligent, and gleaming student he had trained to be at his side. He was holding a young child, barely an adult, who had lost the person he cared about the most.
Bruce understood how it felt, even though his parents had died and Jocelyn was still alive, but that didn't mean his sentiments weren't recognized. Loss may take many different shapes and forms, and sorrow is a process that can take weeks or even years to get through. It's different for everyone, and the most important thing to remember is that your emotions are your own, and no one can tell you how or when to mourn.
Tim was mourning the loss of a friend, someone who had dragged him out of the shadows and given him a cause to smile. On the one hand, he had every reason to be outraged that Jocelyn had breached their trust; on the other hand, he knew that Jocelyn had the statutory right to withhold information from him. It is her life, and she has the authority to decide when and to whom she will expose it. But there's a part of him that believes he's not good enough for Jocelyn.
Maybe that's why she didn't tell me, because she secretly thinks I'm annoying and only hung out with me because she pities me.
Those were the ideas that ran through Tim's head. Dick attempted to persuade him otherwise, saying that Jocelyn was not worth his precious tears and sentiments, but the obstinate blue man's ideas were not much different. Not to mention Damian, who is on strike and has been taken into his room, wrecking punching bag after punching bag.
Bruce wonders what happened to her as Tim's tears calm to a little temple and then a still. Her café is closed, her flat is empty, and she hasn't been seen in the warehouse since the battle. So, where has Jocelyn gone?
Bricks and mortar will not stay,
Will not stay, will not stay,
Bricks and mortar will not stay,
My fair lady.
Dick leant against the clean mechanics of his motorcycle, looking left and right. The night had spread her garments over the city, and her dazzling eyes looked down on the man. He looked down and checked the time, which was a quarter past the appointment time.
While he waited patiently, he tapped his foot in contemplation. Why was he here? Why did he agree to turn up? Why the fuck did he pick up the phone and listen to their scream?
He became agitated, time slowed, and the moon mockingly smirked. Dick turned to depart, climbed back onto the bike, and the engine roared to life. A bolt of lightning blasted the sky and split the concrete of the alley as he drove out of it and back onto the main road.
Dick came to a halt and turned off the engine, stepping up to observe a person emerge from a cloud of shock. Her hair was pulled back and tucked beneath a hat, and she was dressed simply and crouched against the wall. He approached, stooping down and crossing his arms as he snarled at them.
"You took a long time," Jocelyn said as she lifted her cap and looked him in the eyes.Her gorgeous face was austere, with no sign of tiredness or emotion. She took in her surroundings, her fingers gleaming with light and the streetlights dimming to black. Dick grasped the knife in his pocket.
He knew she was powerful; in fact, given her abilities, she was stronger than him. He was hesitant to acknowledge it. He tried to put some distance between them as he watched the night drop more into darkness. She summoned him and requested that he bring his motorcycle. As he looked over her shoulder at the enormous luggage, he knew she wasn't here for a joyride, but rather to find a way out of Gotham.
What's the deal with my bike? Why don't you take a bus or cab—hey, there are even Ubers! " He persisted, wanting to do more than simply talk to her. He wanted to yell and punch her, to become enraged and to express his thoughts and feelings. But that's exactly what she wants: for him to demonstrate how much she has influenced their lives.
"I tried, but they're everywhere," she said, looking down at her feet, her heart tense as she prepared to confront his icy stare. Dick was a gorgeous man, a model of the human race. It seemed awful to have his face fixed in a scowl and his eyes filled with hate.
"Who? Do you mean the aliens? Are you not friends with them? " Jocelyn sneered at his ignorance. She grabbed him, whirled him around, and set him down on a bus bench. Dick blinked, taking a moment to realise he'd been relocated three meters without realizing it.
"I am from Yllora, a human-populated planet 3,000 years in the future. They are Drom, a species that was not even created from two sets of DNA, a mutation that evolved from rotting flesh and exists for one purpose, to serve their Queen, "she spits, hair gleaming and singing at the ends."
She pats her hair down, stopping it before her head could set itself on fire. Dick listened and, though skeptical, didn't refute her words. Jocelyn bent down and took off her shoes, slipping the socks off and revealing the bottoms of her feet. Thick scars and burns traumatised the skin. Dick could only imagine how painful it would be to walk on such damage.
"When I was younger, I had the naive notion that not all Drom were the same, that they weren't inherently wicked. I was training alone and came upon an injured Drom. I took them in and nursed them back to health; I literally saved their life" Her voice was raspy, memories flooding back as she crafted a tale to persuade him that she couldn't possibly be friends with the Drom.
"When a young member of my squad joined me, she saw that I was hiding a Drom. Instead of exposing my treacherous deeds, she aided me...If I hadn't been so foolish and hopeful, she would still be alive today," Dick choked at the foreboding conclusion. He looked down at her foot and inquired as to how this related to her scars.
"I had a meeting one day and left the two alone. The Drom had never spoken, but my subordinate had a childlike charm and thought they were friends. When I returned, I discovered the Drom playing with her dismembered body. In that moment of terror and human frailty, I was overcome and dragged back as a captive, where I was tortured relentlessly," she traced the wounds before slipping on her sock and shoe.
"My strength had never been powerful, yet in the blink of an eye I had slaughtered all 300 Drom on that base after that same Drom wore my subordinate's name tag as a trophy. My people discovered me and attempted to treat me, but the wounds on my feet never healed."
"It remains as a reminder. No matter how far into the future I travel, I will never be able to leave the mistakes I made in the past. "
Build it up with iron and steel,
Iron and steel, iron and steel,
Build it up with iron and steel,
My fair lady.
Dick clenched his hands, a fresh rage welling up within him. He had no idea she had scars. A narrative that had more stories of suffering and competition than he could relate to. She overcame disaster after disaster and stayed resilient, viewing it all as a lesson to be grateful for life.
Nonetheless, at a time of emotional stress, he acted out and didn't care to listen to her side of the tale. He's pointing fingers because she didn't divulge her identity while he's never exposed his own secret existence. He's a hypocrite, and he doesn't deserve to be blamed.
"I'm aware that introductions are long overdue, so I'm not going to bother. But please know, Dick, that I have always, ALWAYS, considered you a friend." Jocelyn rose to her feet and smiled regretfully, her eyes lifeless and glistening with sweat. A sorrowful expression that didn't fit her face. It was a defeated look. Jocelyn was never defeated.
Dick rose to his feet and stretched out, drawing her close to his chest and snuggling her little head into the crook of his neck. She gasped and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go. He yelled insults and swears at her, calling her out on her nonsense and telling her she couldn't just walk away because they had one argument.
Jocelyn started sobbing, allowing her stress to bubble to the surface and spill forth the feelings she refused to accept. She apologized again, between sobs and shuddering breaths, telling him how sorry she was for lying and wishing she could go back in time and reveal everything sooner.
The moon softened its grin into a welcome smile as the two chastised themselves. One who put a new light on the couple and wished them the best. When they were about to pull away, Jocelyn smeared her snot into his shirt, and he did the same.
They reverted to their "badass bitches" expressions and stood tall after fixing their looks. Dick took her hand in his and placed the key to the bike in her palm. He pulled her delicate knuckles to his lips, closed her fingers, and kissed the bone.
She stepped around the bench and onto the street, pulling away. The bike was abandoned in the middle of the road. Her fingers twitched, and the street lights turned on. Their brilliant radiance casts shadows on their features. They took away the darkness and promised to illuminate their path.
For the first time, we may not be able to say hello, but know that I will not say goodbye. Jocelyn sat on the bike, looking over her shoulder. She turned her head and rode down the road, flickering the engine to life.
Dick's heart constricted as he watched the girl walk away. He made a silent promise to her that they would meet again. That he would see her again and do things correctly the first time. He wouldn't follow her around and accuse her of being a spy or a seductress for the enemy. He'd trust her as much as she trusted him, hoping that a fresh start would enable his affections to blossom.
If only Dick had known they'd run into each other so soon.
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Bend and bow, bend and bow,
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
My fair lady.
Jocelyn had no idea they'd meet at the docks. She wanted to depart as soon as she learned that her deadly adversaries had arrived on Earth with her. No matter how strong she was, she wasn't a one-woman army. She can't save the entire earth by herself.
But she has the potential to rescue a city. Jocelyn was not running away because the others had forced her away. No, she left because if she faced Korin, she had a chance of winning. If she could entice him to leave Gotham, she could detonate a suicide bomb that would kill all of the bastards.
If she was never going to return to Yllora and the people here didn't want her, she may as well go out with a bang.
During one of their numerous drunken discussions, Jason revealed that they had encountered their killer, whom she now recognizes as Drom, in the docks. If such was the case, there was a potential that there would be evidence of where they went.
She could win if she could discover them and figure out how to draw them away from the dense populace. Perhaps her death will serve as an atonement for hurting them, the boys. Even if it didn't, they could take comfort in the fact that she was no longer alive and skulking around the world.
But, as she came to a halt on the rented motorcycle, she had no idea he would be waiting there. It seemed as though he was expecting her. Of course, he was; he always knew what she was up to. The irritating benefit of his psychic abilities.
The scoundrel dispatched those scouts not to look for my belongings but to entice me to leave.
Jocelyn understood, alarmed, that she had walked right into a trap. Her ardent stalker had discovered that she had arrived on Earth alone at some point in the previous year. It was the ideal chance for him to finally catch her off guard and gain the upper hand.
A nuclear energy explosion blasted over the docks and struck the ground between her and the bike. After being thrown into the year, she spun around and landed sideways on a nearby warehouse. She defied gravity by clinging to the brick and using her powers to anchor herself to it.
She waited for them to make another move, but instead, the one that was shot at her had its neck snapped by a tall guy with long white hair. He stepped on the Drom, shattering its skull-like butter, then spat on the brain matter heap.
His cheeks were flushed, and white scales were peeling away from the surface of his skin. As the others went to their knees in submission, the horns on his head flashed a mute crimson. Jocelyn felt a strong pull on her brain, as if he was attempting to alter her opinion.
She, on the other hand, was not one of them, and she would sooner die than bow to him. She leaped from head to head and swung around to kick him in the face. He let himself be flung back, his cheeks heated, and his lips drawn into a lewd smile.
Build it up with silver and gold,
Silver and gold, silver and gold,
Build it up with silver and gold,
My fair lady.
"Ah, dear, that stung," he cooed, holding the scraped flesh and gazing up at his fixation. This Drom was the same man she had saved and brought in. Because of his level, he survived the explosion and grew infatuated with Jocelyn, seeking to be the object of her emotions at all times. For better or worse, he wanted Jocelyn to only stare at him. He was frightened by their strong bond, which is why he killed their subordinate.
This extraterrestrial predator had repeatedly kidnapped Jocelyn a hundred years earlier. She was tormented and then healed several times. He enjoyed seeing her shout at him, cuss at him, and be upset at him. But he also had a side that despised seeing her in pain and would nurture her back to health.
It drove her insane and made her miserable. She was out to get him. She desired to bathe in his blood and showcase his severed head on her mantelpiece.
A hand-to-hand battle erupted between the two. Their power and tenacity were precisely matched blow for blow. A lethal dance of passion and wrath. Korin's agile body would twist, tossing the lower levels into her path and smiling with glee when they shattered at her touch.
Jocelyn was enraged. The man believed this was for a game. He wasn't holding back and still managed to appear to be having fun. Jocelyn came to a halt and struck the ground, causing the cement to uproot and form cliffs. She shot them forwards with pure muscle, piercing the air in jagged clumps.
Korin's smile faded and he became solemn. Some of them he was able to shatter, while others required him to brace his body for contact. Even little stones managed to pierce his impenetrable skin when charged with her powers.
"Now, sweetie, this isn't much fun any longer," he said, wiggling his finger. Jocelyn grinned and appeared behind him, raising her entwined fists and slamming them down on his back, driving him onto the ground. He spewed blood and created a hole.
Jocelyn stumbled backward, panting. She took her time forming a big ball of energy in her hand, the lightning sparking and whistling with life. She felt a needle enter her flesh just as she was about to plunge it into his heart.
She snatched the syringe and tossed it away. A Gu had been implanted in her body. She was aware of what they were capable of, but one or two was nothing she couldn't manage. She generated electricity once more and let it go through her body, limb after limb.
The Gu died swiftly before it could reach her heart. Korin was now seated, propped up by some level threes. The alien cocked his head and wiped the blood from his mouth with a cloth. Jocelyn took refuge on higher ground.
Creepy fucker, smiling is never a good thing.
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
Stolen away, stolen away,
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
My fair lady.
Jocelyn swatted another flying syringe away, and then another. One punctured her arm, and another entered her leg. Jocelyn was good, but avoiding over 50 adversaries firing needles at you at the same time isn't easy. She tried to shield herself with her powers when her legs suddenly became weak.
She sank to the ground, crouching and attempting to stand. A swarm of Drom jumped onto the container with her and tried to seize her arms. She shattered one arm, sucker-punched another, and head-butted a third.
They filtered around her, wave by wave. Her limbs were heavier the moment she felt her head begin to tilt and her vision blur. There was something wrong with that Gu. Jocelyn detects the usual worming of something beneath her skin and tries to fry it as she did previously.
Her strength flashes miserably and then fades away. She tries again, this time yelling in pain and striking those who are yanking her arms away. It's not going to work. As she is pushed down by more than 10 Drom, their towering and muscular muscles crush her body against the wood. Her heart begins to pound.
Korin moves over, his pace quickening as he hums a melody. He leans out and grips her chin, pushing her head back and appreciating the scrapes and bruises that are growing. Jocelyn spat on his cheek, but instead of being irritated, he licked it away.
"Queen Mother will be overjoyed if the new Gu bug works perfectly."Jocelyn sputtered under her breath. She felt nauseous as if she were trapped inside a big dryer set on the maximum setting. Her limbs were heavy, and she couldn't even twitch a finger as everything faded in and out.
"A specially designed one that triggers its paralysis only when it dies, which means that when you killed all those bugs, you accidentally sealed your doom," the guy cried loudly, not attempting to disguise his secrets.
Jocelyn's heart skipped a beat. They knew the regular guy wouldn't work on her. The only thing that could kill them was electricity. So they created one that only worked after it died. That is, if you don't know which one you've been injected with, you will succumb to whichever option you choose.
Kill it or don't kill it. Either way, you fall victim to their plan.
As her world became darker, she breathed deeply and her heart skipped a beat. She questioned whether Korin would genuinely let her die. The aforementioned man scooped her up and brought her over to the dock's edge, where the splashing salt water awaited below.
He dropped her.
Jocelyn could only close her eyes and feel the force of her body crashing into the sea. Her pores were saturated by the frigid atmosphere. The cold iced her muscles and the poison made her feel as if she were sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss.
Was this really how she was going to die? Paralyzed and then drowned?
Jocelyn closed her eyes and accepted her fate as water flowed down her throat and scorched her lungs.
Then she was pulled out.
Set a man to watch all night,
Watch all night, watch all night,
Set a man to watch all night,
My fair lady.
Bruce had no intention of going out that night. The last thing he wanted after putting Tim to sleep and taking him back to the estate was for Dick to contact him in a panic about his motorbike being blown up.
Bruce had been concerned that Dick had been attacked or injured, but the guy replied that he had lent the car to a friend and received information that it had been destroyed not long after. Bruce inquired as to why he wasn't there to check on his friend, but Dick said that he was in the police station assisting with an investigation.
Bruce, like the excellent parent he wished to be, assured Dick that he would look into the matter. Dick chewed his nails and gazed around the station after hanging up the phone. That portion wasn't a lie; he'd been drawn into some nonsense and couldn't flee without seeming suspicious.
Jocelyn was in serious danger, and he knew it. He became concerned when his phone buzzed and informed him that his dear baby (the bike) had been damaged and the tracking device he had installed on it had broken. Did she wreck it, or did she come into contact with some unsavory characters?
Bruce could handle it, right?
Bruce could deal with it, but not in the way Dick hoped. As he approached the docks, he noticed a big group gathered in a circle, looking down at something in the center. Someone was dangling from the hand of a recognizable white-haired guy.
Jocelyn
Bruce got out of the BatMobile, his cape flying in the wind, and hopped onto a roof, looking down on the commotion. Jocelyn was barely conscious, her garments shredded and torn from being saturated in water. Her hair was cut in a haphazard manner, not long and flowing but chopped about her chest.
Cuts of all shapes and sizes were spread across her pale flesh. exposed and smeared in coagulated purple blood. Everyone appeared to have taken turns slashing their skin, carving the flesh, and leaving bleeding trails.
Bruce grimaced as she was lifted higher by her neck, her legs and arms hanging. It reminded him of that night a year ago, when they were outnumbered and rapidly brought to their knees. Except Jocelyn had been struggling for who knows how long on her own.
"We've drowned you, sliced you, beaten you, and you still won't say yes to my proposal," the commander of it all said, his voice echoing. Bruce leaned forwards, ready to leap in and save the injured girl. But he couldn't just yet; he wanted to be certain that he had a clear exit strategy in place in order to avoid another encounter without support.
He wouldn't let that night repeat itself.
Why don't you come with us, Jocelyn? "I already promised the Queen Mother that if you gave up your title and vowed devotion to her, you'd be able to survive," he tightened her neck, and she choked and strained to speak.She wanted to spit and curse, but his grip was so strong she couldn't. "I adore you; why don't you adore me? I've already slain most of those close to you, and I even promised not to harm my mother-in-law and father-in-law, so why aren't you complying? "
He reached out another hand to crush her neck, her eyes popping and her body shivering with the strength of his hold. Her head lolled to the side and her eyes met Bruce's just before she passed out for the fourth time that night.
A new fear emerged: being suffocated on a continuous basis.
As she peered at him, the man dressed as a bat crouching in the darkness, a single tear split from her eyes. Was he there to witness her death? Jocelyn sucked in as much oxygen as she could before being slammed to the ground.
At the impact, a crater developed, similar to how she had previously smashed him into the earth. She remained immobile, never breaking eye contact with the man. She allowed her tears to fall, and in her final moments...
She smiled.
Suppose the man falls asleep,
Falls asleep, falls asleep,
Suppose the man falls asleep?
My fair lady.
Bruce charged forward. Throwing smoke bombs, he used everything he had to create a smoke screen large and thick enough to confuse even the monsters. He swooped down, tenderly cradled her in his arms, and vanished into the fog.
He was halfway to the mansion by the time it cleared. He was unable to go to the hospital. He didn't know if her anatomy was different from that of humans, and if it was, a regular hospital couldn't save her.
He kept looking away from the meandering path and towards her. Jocelyn hadn't moved, her chest hadn't raised, and he couldn't feel anything when he put his finger under her nose. She wasn't breathing. As he sped up, he called ahead to Alfred and gave the older guy commands in his normal calm manner.
Alfred didn't ask any questions, but could only presume the worst based on Bruce's cautious tone. The man wasn't good with death, especially the death of someone vital to his family. Bruce is a baby that needs protecting.
Jocelyn's body smacked into the car door as Bruce regained control after swerving past a possum in the road. In my opinion, he should have run over the thing.
pulling into the Batcave and coming to a screaming halt. He jumped over to the other side and carefully drew her out. Her head slumped and her hand dangled awkwardly by her side. Bruce took a deep breath, swept away the paperwork off the table, and laid her down.
Alfred came a few seconds later and dropped the tray of medical supplies. Jocelyn appeared, pale as death, her limbs fractured at an angle and her skull cracked open. It appeared as if she had been hit by a truck or thrown against a wall several times. It was too vivid to look at, especially for someone he considered frail.
Bruce examined her airway and, finding that it was clear, clenched his fists and placed them in the middle of her chest. He pressed down to the beat of staying alive, hearing her already damaged ribs crack, letting him know he was working hard enough.
One Two Three Four One One
One Two Three Four One One
One Two Three Four One One
She wasn't responding
One Two Three Four One One
One Two Three Four One One
One Two Three Four One One
Alfred lowered his head.
One Two Three Four One One
One Two Three Four One One
One Two Three Four One One
Give him a pipe to smoke all night,
Smoke all night, smoke all night,
Give him a pipe to smoke all night,
My fair lady.
Bruce stopped and stepped back, hanging his head, slamming his fist down against the table beside her head.
She was gone.
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Word Count - 6,329
Published - 21/12/2021
Edited: 15/02/2022