(no subject)
For years all I wanted was for my father to place his hands on my shoulder, to feel his rough worn hands go soft and gentle in quiet, silent praise. Now, I didn't want his respect or praise and I certainly didn't need it. He was my father, I had loved him but he had turned me into something I hated; a killer, an assassin. I still think about his face sometimes; the way he was so scared, the way his life left his eyes, the way I had looked to my father and the pride I found there and the revulsion I felt. My father had turned me into a killer but it was Batman who saved me.
Bruce... he was hard, he was demanding. He never asked but I always knew what he wanted, I could always find it in me even if I thought it wasn't there. Even when I thought for a moment he had abandoned me and left me to die, I knew that he was testing me and I knew he trusted me to survive. Bruce didn't just save me, he made me save myself. In his eyes, in Barbara's too, I could be redeemed. I could be saved, made worthy again. I... liked that, I loved that.
But the island, the island is a challenge. It's not Gotham and while there are dinosaurs beyond the fence, there are no gangs or crimelords or escaped Arkham patients or... well, crime. I almost wish Penguin was here up to his old tricks as Barbara would say, influencing those around him into a life of crime. Almost. It's hard to train, to continue to train and patrol when I know each night will be a slow night. But I do because that is what he would do, that is what he would want me to do. I won't disappoint him.
Like now. I know he's there watching me, I know he's been watching me for a while now whilst I move across the ground quick and agile, hitting each target precisely with a a destructive force. I do not need to see him to know he's there. I do not need to hear him to know he's there either. He's waiting but he won't stop me. Would he ever stop me? Hnnn, I'm overthinking.
I let my mind empty, aware of his gaze as I move to the punching bag. Each punch, each hit, each kick is quicker than most meta's but I know I could hit harder and faster than this. I could but I don't, I won't... if I was as good as I could be then I could kill someone and I'm not that person anymore. I won't kill. I want to make him proud, not my father.
I only stop when my fist punches through the bag and the sand spills out onto the floor. I hadn't felt it weaken. A mistake.
"Sorry. I'll be better." I direct it at him, turning to face where I know he will be.
Bruce... he was hard, he was demanding. He never asked but I always knew what he wanted, I could always find it in me even if I thought it wasn't there. Even when I thought for a moment he had abandoned me and left me to die, I knew that he was testing me and I knew he trusted me to survive. Bruce didn't just save me, he made me save myself. In his eyes, in Barbara's too, I could be redeemed. I could be saved, made worthy again. I... liked that, I loved that.
But the island, the island is a challenge. It's not Gotham and while there are dinosaurs beyond the fence, there are no gangs or crimelords or escaped Arkham patients or... well, crime. I almost wish Penguin was here up to his old tricks as Barbara would say, influencing those around him into a life of crime. Almost. It's hard to train, to continue to train and patrol when I know each night will be a slow night. But I do because that is what he would do, that is what he would want me to do. I won't disappoint him.
Like now. I know he's there watching me, I know he's been watching me for a while now whilst I move across the ground quick and agile, hitting each target precisely with a a destructive force. I do not need to see him to know he's there. I do not need to hear him to know he's there either. He's waiting but he won't stop me. Would he ever stop me? Hnnn, I'm overthinking.
I let my mind empty, aware of his gaze as I move to the punching bag. Each punch, each hit, each kick is quicker than most meta's but I know I could hit harder and faster than this. I could but I don't, I won't... if I was as good as I could be then I could kill someone and I'm not that person anymore. I won't kill. I want to make him proud, not my father.
I only stop when my fist punches through the bag and the sand spills out onto the floor. I hadn't felt it weaken. A mistake.
"Sorry. I'll be better." I direct it at him, turning to face where I know he will be.