fic: Commencement (The Dark Knight Rises; John Blake; gen)
I should be in bed. Also, seriously, spoilers for the movie.
Commencement
The Dark Knight Rises; John Blake, Lucius Fox; pg; spoilers; 1,195 words
He's not the Batman, not yet. But he's learning.
Part of the West Wing title project. Thanks to amberlynne for cheerleading and looking it over.
~*~
Commencement
Only John's parents ever called him Robin. He won't answer to it when Father Reilly uses it during his first week at St. Swithin's, and the one time one of the other boys tries, John bloodies his nose.
He's small for his age, but vicious and quick, good at slipping in and out of places he doesn't belong, hearing things he shouldn't, finding patterns and putting together answers to questions he's not even sure he's figured out.
He knows the truth about the Batman, once watched him stop Big Bones Billy McCabe from beating up the girls on the corner. The other boys believe in him too, mostly because none of them read the papers or watch the news, so they don't understand why their hero is suddenly a villain, and some dead lawyer is getting all the credit.
John knows there's more to the story, though. He pays attention. He has a nose for secrets.
*
"Mr. Blake, come in and sit down." Lucius Fox leads him into his office and sits behind the desk. He runs Wayne Enterprises now, under the watchful eye of the board.
"Please call me John, Mr. Fox."
"All right, John, what can I do for you?"
John pulls the drawings out of his backpack and lays them on the desk. "I like the color and the style," he says, "but I need something in my size."
John hit his final growth spurt when he was nineteen and has made peace with being on the small side. The armor is too big, and even if he wore lifts in his boots, the cape would drag on the ground. Fox looks at him with a grandfatherly twinkle in his eye, and John wonders for the thousandth time what he was thinking, and if he's going to survive jumping into this madness with both feet.
"I think we can manage that," Fox says, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers.
"Also," John continues, "I can't turn my head in the cowl and it cuts off my peripheral vision."
Fox purses his lips and makes a soft humming sound. "I'll see what I can do about that, but the silhouette is necessary."
"I know." John frowns. It doesn't mean he has to like it.
Fox nods. "I'll give you a call when I've got something for you." He stands and offers John his hand. "Welcome aboard, John. Call me Lucius."
John shakes his hand and smiles.
*
John patrols at night, wearing a Kevlar vest under a black jacket, and a ski mask to cover his face. He looks as much like a criminal as the goons he follows, but it's easy to tell the difference once he cracks a few corner boys' heads with a nightstick and a taser, and melts back into the shadows.
He gets the shit kicked out of him in Robinson Park by a group of gangbangers who steal his taser and his flashlight. He limps back to the shelter of the cave to catch his breath and lick his wounds. He wonders how Wayne did it, and wonders if it's in him to do it, too.
He signs himself up for some self-defense courses, starts going to Gleason's Gym to spar with his old squad mates. They all want to know when he's coming back. They don't believe him when he says he isn't.
*
While he's nursing his injuries, he spends a lot of time in the library, doing research. Wayne's computer setup is ridiculously comprehensive, but sometimes John needs to read a book, to feel the paper between his fingers so he knows it's real and not just some weird fever dream he's having.
When he's found what he's looking for, he takes the stack of books to the desk. The librarian is about his age, a pretty, dark-haired girl with soft brown eyes and a knowing smile. "Criminology, forensic psychology, profiling serial killers. Just some light beach reading, huh?"
"Something like that," he answers, leaning against the desk. "I'm thinking about becoming a private detective."
"Good luck with that," she says, checking the books out and shoving the stack back across the counter. "GCPD needs all the help it can get."
He has to tamp down a spark of defensiveness about that. It's the truth, now more than ever. Most of the criminals Bane let loose are still out there, bolder than ever without Batman or the Dent Act to stop them.
"Thanks," he says instead, dry as a bone, and wins another one of her smiles.
*
Officially, he works with Father Reilly at the Wayne Home, but he spends most of his time working out, running, reading.
He's not the Batman, not yet, but he's learning.
*
Lucius calls a few weeks later, and when John goes to his office, he has company.
"My daughter, Tamara. I believe you've met?"
Tamara smiles. "Call me Tam. Your books were due three days ago, Mr. Blake."
"I'll be sure to get them back to you this afternoon," he says, sitting in the chair next to her and giving Lucius a questioning look. "And it's John."
"Tamara is very good at research," Lucius says. "I thought she might be helpful."
"I don't know everything," she says, smile widening into an impish grin, "but I know how to find it out."
Lucius hands them both earbuds and says, "Communication is the key to good teamwork. Keep each other in the loop." He goes over to the private elevator in his office, and says, "Now, let's see what new things we've got for you today, John."
*
The armor is bulky and uncomfortable and it takes John a while to get used to walking in it, let alone fighting. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the cowl, though after the first time he glides from one rooftop to another, he decides he loves the cape.
He learns to fly the Bat and drive the tumbler, gets over his fear of heights and falling by swinging from grapple line to grapple line across the city, wind whistling around him, louder even than the pounding of his heartbeat, as sweet as Tam's laughter in his ear.
The city's shadows are his allies, the street kids and the working girls become his friends. He protects them first of all, lets them spread the word of his arrival. His return.
He grins when he sees the chalk symbols on the brick buildings, bringing hope to those who need it and instilling fear in those who've been without it for too long.
He scowls as he runs down gun runners and thugs, letting the silhouette do most of the work for him (and the taser and nightstick when it doesn't).
*
He's down in the cave, pulling on his gauntlets and getting ready to head out on patrol, when Tam says, "Holy crap, John, you have to see this."
He takes the tumbler and looks up when he hits the surface. Hovering high above the horizon, bright against the cloudy night sky, is the symbol of the Bat.
John takes a deep breath, presses down on the accelerator, and says, "Okay, Tam, here we go."
end
~*~
Feedback would be great!
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/485973.html.
people have commented there.
Commencement
The Dark Knight Rises; John Blake, Lucius Fox; pg; spoilers; 1,195 words
He's not the Batman, not yet. But he's learning.
Part of the West Wing title project. Thanks to amberlynne for cheerleading and looking it over.
~*~
Commencement
Only John's parents ever called him Robin. He won't answer to it when Father Reilly uses it during his first week at St. Swithin's, and the one time one of the other boys tries, John bloodies his nose.
He's small for his age, but vicious and quick, good at slipping in and out of places he doesn't belong, hearing things he shouldn't, finding patterns and putting together answers to questions he's not even sure he's figured out.
He knows the truth about the Batman, once watched him stop Big Bones Billy McCabe from beating up the girls on the corner. The other boys believe in him too, mostly because none of them read the papers or watch the news, so they don't understand why their hero is suddenly a villain, and some dead lawyer is getting all the credit.
John knows there's more to the story, though. He pays attention. He has a nose for secrets.
*
"Mr. Blake, come in and sit down." Lucius Fox leads him into his office and sits behind the desk. He runs Wayne Enterprises now, under the watchful eye of the board.
"Please call me John, Mr. Fox."
"All right, John, what can I do for you?"
John pulls the drawings out of his backpack and lays them on the desk. "I like the color and the style," he says, "but I need something in my size."
John hit his final growth spurt when he was nineteen and has made peace with being on the small side. The armor is too big, and even if he wore lifts in his boots, the cape would drag on the ground. Fox looks at him with a grandfatherly twinkle in his eye, and John wonders for the thousandth time what he was thinking, and if he's going to survive jumping into this madness with both feet.
"I think we can manage that," Fox says, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers.
"Also," John continues, "I can't turn my head in the cowl and it cuts off my peripheral vision."
Fox purses his lips and makes a soft humming sound. "I'll see what I can do about that, but the silhouette is necessary."
"I know." John frowns. It doesn't mean he has to like it.
Fox nods. "I'll give you a call when I've got something for you." He stands and offers John his hand. "Welcome aboard, John. Call me Lucius."
John shakes his hand and smiles.
*
John patrols at night, wearing a Kevlar vest under a black jacket, and a ski mask to cover his face. He looks as much like a criminal as the goons he follows, but it's easy to tell the difference once he cracks a few corner boys' heads with a nightstick and a taser, and melts back into the shadows.
He gets the shit kicked out of him in Robinson Park by a group of gangbangers who steal his taser and his flashlight. He limps back to the shelter of the cave to catch his breath and lick his wounds. He wonders how Wayne did it, and wonders if it's in him to do it, too.
He signs himself up for some self-defense courses, starts going to Gleason's Gym to spar with his old squad mates. They all want to know when he's coming back. They don't believe him when he says he isn't.
*
While he's nursing his injuries, he spends a lot of time in the library, doing research. Wayne's computer setup is ridiculously comprehensive, but sometimes John needs to read a book, to feel the paper between his fingers so he knows it's real and not just some weird fever dream he's having.
When he's found what he's looking for, he takes the stack of books to the desk. The librarian is about his age, a pretty, dark-haired girl with soft brown eyes and a knowing smile. "Criminology, forensic psychology, profiling serial killers. Just some light beach reading, huh?"
"Something like that," he answers, leaning against the desk. "I'm thinking about becoming a private detective."
"Good luck with that," she says, checking the books out and shoving the stack back across the counter. "GCPD needs all the help it can get."
He has to tamp down a spark of defensiveness about that. It's the truth, now more than ever. Most of the criminals Bane let loose are still out there, bolder than ever without Batman or the Dent Act to stop them.
"Thanks," he says instead, dry as a bone, and wins another one of her smiles.
*
Officially, he works with Father Reilly at the Wayne Home, but he spends most of his time working out, running, reading.
He's not the Batman, not yet, but he's learning.
*
Lucius calls a few weeks later, and when John goes to his office, he has company.
"My daughter, Tamara. I believe you've met?"
Tamara smiles. "Call me Tam. Your books were due three days ago, Mr. Blake."
"I'll be sure to get them back to you this afternoon," he says, sitting in the chair next to her and giving Lucius a questioning look. "And it's John."
"Tamara is very good at research," Lucius says. "I thought she might be helpful."
"I don't know everything," she says, smile widening into an impish grin, "but I know how to find it out."
Lucius hands them both earbuds and says, "Communication is the key to good teamwork. Keep each other in the loop." He goes over to the private elevator in his office, and says, "Now, let's see what new things we've got for you today, John."
*
The armor is bulky and uncomfortable and it takes John a while to get used to walking in it, let alone fighting. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the cowl, though after the first time he glides from one rooftop to another, he decides he loves the cape.
He learns to fly the Bat and drive the tumbler, gets over his fear of heights and falling by swinging from grapple line to grapple line across the city, wind whistling around him, louder even than the pounding of his heartbeat, as sweet as Tam's laughter in his ear.
The city's shadows are his allies, the street kids and the working girls become his friends. He protects them first of all, lets them spread the word of his arrival. His return.
He grins when he sees the chalk symbols on the brick buildings, bringing hope to those who need it and instilling fear in those who've been without it for too long.
He scowls as he runs down gun runners and thugs, letting the silhouette do most of the work for him (and the taser and nightstick when it doesn't).
*
He's down in the cave, pulling on his gauntlets and getting ready to head out on patrol, when Tam says, "Holy crap, John, you have to see this."
He takes the tumbler and looks up when he hits the surface. Hovering high above the horizon, bright against the cloudy night sky, is the symbol of the Bat.
John takes a deep breath, presses down on the accelerator, and says, "Okay, Tam, here we go."
end
~*~
Feedback would be great!
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/485973.html.
people have commented there.