TM 339 What's your favourite sport? RP post for manorly_wayne and lolitapulido
OOC: Backdated to when they get out of the sewers.Harry's always been a fan of baseball. He supports the Yankees even though he doesn't live in New York anymore. He hates the Red Sox, even though he has no true disdain for Boston. After all, Alan is in Boston. How bad of a city can it be
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Sitting on the edge of one of the beds, he tries not to look at the laptop. Something tells him that Bruce feels like Harry has invaded enough of his privacy at this point. It's a little strange, he thinks, that they're here. In this motel. It's not the same room, at least he doesn't think it is, but it's the same motel where he tripped balls after Crane dosed them both with the LSD.
Batman had said he didn't have time for this. Harry had registered it as something Bruce usually said. That still wasn't enough for him to even grasp at the concept they were the same person.
"Do you have any leads on who set you up?" It's easier than saying do you know who killed Vesper. The mere mention of her name in the prison had made Bruce go cold.
Harry can't help but wonder if that was the real Bruce. Who is the real Bruce? How can he trust someone when he isn't sure who that someone is?
Yet his instincts are still to trust him.
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"We should get you something to eat."
Bruce replies.
It's been days now since they've had real foo, food that doesn't come in a bar form, it's time for something solid, preferably hot.
Bruce studies Harry, reading him for signs of stress and injury. He seems OK, he'll survive - though Bruce isn't entirely sure the kid isn't in some sort of prolonged shock. Harry isn't accustomed to this world, the world where people keep trying to kill you, the world where you live like this, survive like this.
"Chinese?"
He stands up, flicks through the cheap plastic folder that holds a collection of take out menus.
"Whoever it was knows I'm not somewhere across the border - they know I'm still in Gotham." He pulls a worn menu from The Golden Tree from the folder. "They know I'm here and they're infuential enough to send those men to visit."
And yet they haven't called the authorities and connected those dots, which arguably would be the easiest way to deal with it.
Men who fought with a training that Bruce recognised. He'd been taught to fight like that - he'd seen the training. But his mentor was dead...
Talia's timing had always felt too convenient. She'd come because he was in trouble, that was her story, but what had she done to help him. She'd made sure Harry would catch him out, all her information, her contacts, were dead ends. Her only real interest was that he would leave Gotham with her.
The question was - how ruthless was Talia al Ghul?
"I keep drawing dead ends. Vesper's computer is missing, I'd say whoever is behind this has it. The files from her ISP are incomplete - we're dealing with a person whose reach is impressive."
He hands the menu to Harry.
"You should know that I just read online you were spotted in Rockpool in Paris. A stop over before you continue on to conduct some business in Turkey. Then off to Dubai. I was thinking your wife deserves a holiday. The South of France might be pleasant?"
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The mention of food reminds him that he probably is hungry. That is definitely a sign of stress. The forgetting to eat properly.
"Chinese is good. Anything's fine." He glances at the menu, but he's past the point in being a picky eater. Though he'd contemplate killing someone for some New York pizza.
"I'm a real world traveler. Hopefully I'm getting pictures to send back home to the kids." He says it a little dryly. If anything has made him rethink cheating on his wife and betraying his family? It's been his Indiana Jones adventure the past week.
"You want to send Kara and the kids to France alone, or are you telling me it's time to get out?"
That should tell Bruce all he needs to know about Harry's trust in him. He's trusting Bruce to know what the right thing to do here is. If staying put and 'on business' is what will keep his family safe, then he'll stay put. If he needs to get the hell out of dodge so be it.
Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees. "Bruce, the person who did this...wasn't it timed when they knew you couldn't come forward with an alibi?" There he goes. This is the pumpkin dancing around the Batman stuff without actually saying Batman. He swears the last time he actually said the word the vein on the side of Bruce's head started to thump in a way that reminded him a lot of his father.
Another glance at the menu and he says, "Hot and sour soup, and the chicken with broccoli sounds good." He's trying to keep it simple. Hopefully his stomach isn't going to reject real food.
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"The weather in Gotham isn't too friendly at the moment."
It's raining lethal assassins, in fact. Not to mention serial killers, killer clowns and the usual assortment of people who will do almost anything for a buck and absolutely anything for two of them. A family of four dead and buried so some rich guy could get his New York pizza - it's Gotham City, you shouldn't joke about it. In Gotham City you just don't know. People have killed for less.
"You need to decide what you're going to do, Harry."
Harry isn't a criminal, he isn't someone the world needs to be protected against (aside, perhaps, for his driving). That said, trouble seems to follow him everywhere. More to the point he walks straight into it.
But it isn't Bruce's right to hold him against his will, it isn't for his own good, being with Bruce is more dangerous than the alternative at the moment - anytime. Vesper would be alive right now if it hadn't been for her connection to Bruce Wayne and The Batman. Bruce is now sure of that.
Yet, going back out their blind -
"You think you know the dark side of this world."
Bruce finally says.
"Because of Norman, Tony - but you don't, Harry. Norman Osborn is..."
He shrugs, he smiles, it almost seems like he might laugh.
"He's nothing, he's an irritation. There's parts of this world you don't know, I would rather you didn't know - you can still look at the acts of The Joker and not understand, be bewildered, be shocked, perhaps, by the depravity of that, of him."
The world has stopped shocking Bruce. Few things are able to now. He feels anger, but rarely fear, even less often shock. Vesper's body lying there was the first time he had felt those things in such a long time.
And part of him thinks perhaps Harry cannot know these things, he's not built for it.
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So much has changed when it comes to Norman and Harry. Gone is the little boy who would beat himself into the ground so his father wouldn't have to pause during his busy day to do so for him. Gone is the hero worship, and the desperation to do anything to earn even an ounce of his approval, much less his respect.
"But you're right. He's not ninjas and a serial killer dressed as a clown. Connor," he pauses at this, because, well, he simply doesn't speak about Connor anymore. Not in casual conservation. Not really ever if he can get away with it. This is not casual conservation. "Connor, was different. I think you knew that, or suspected it, I don't know. His world, it was really dangerous, and I didn't care when it was just him and me. I got with him before I knew about Evan, you know?"
Harry rakes his fingers through his hair and he takes a deep breath. "Now Evan is older and he has two little sisters, and I have a wife. So, I need to know what you feel is the best move for me to make here, Bruce. Because I may not know this world, this dark side of it, but you do. Is my family safer with me sending them away alone, or going with them?"
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The tone is dry, a little amused, though what there is to be amused about is hard to know. If Bruce is concerned about bruised feelings or offense it's deeply hidden.
"I'm aware your father was a killer. Mine was a doctor."
Talia appears at the bathroom door.
"Mine was a philosopher." She says.
"Is that what we're calling him today?" Bruce replies.
Talia doesn't smile. She doesn't seem amused.
"My father," She says to Harry. "Was The Demons Head, perhaps you've heard of him? He was Ra's al Ghul and he led without falter or hesitation the League of Assasins - his sole purpose was to save the world from her ultimate destruction at our own hands. At humanities hands. At your hands and your wifes and your childrens who have ceased to be the guardians of this earth and have all become, instead, the enemies of it."
Perhaps Harry has heard of The League of Shadows, of Assasins, if so it would be as a mythic organisation that people talk about with a certain amusement, bemusement. A mythic organisation, some fantastical terrorist organisation, an Illuminati that doesn't mind getting her hands dirty. Sitting there and planning the greatest disasters that befall mankind as if the people that populate the earth are but pieces in a chess game. The Demons Head is the nightmare that makes other nightmares hide under the bed, with an neverending reach and bottomless pockets and influence in all the worst places and all the highest.
It is a childrens story that adults tell and laugh about and like to think in their minds must be an sucession of neverending orgies and depravity.
There are no orgies and the depravity is somewhat different to the imagination, but the Legaue itself is very real, as is their rule, absent or otherwise, the Demon himself.
"Ninja's." Bruce seems really amused now and as if he has barely heard a word Talia has said. "Ninja's."
The word is so childlike, something from a comic or boys own adventure. The time my friend and I were attacked by ninja's... do you stay and fight (page 7) or do you flee the country (page 52)?
"My father was a doctor and a killer." She is saying, still talking, ignoring Bruce entirely. "He sat at the throne of humanity for centuries - and then one day, he left us, and he left that throne empty - with an heir that refuses - "
"Harry, they're trained assasins." Bruce is saying. "Ninjas are something children dream about... they're assasins. And from their technique I'd say they were part of the legaue - her fathers men."
"My father has no men, my father is dead. If they are the league then they have no leader - "
"Please, your sister's somewhere - "
"My sister was not his heir."
And then, the amused tone is gone, and then he is standing and his hand slams down on the laminate table with such force the plastic legs crumple beneath it.
"Neither am I, Talia."
And Talia, for the first time Harry has known her, seems a little afraid, she steps back before she can stop herself, she seems unsure if she should speak.
"... You are what you are. You couldn't run from it when you are twenty years old and you can't now." She tells him finally. "Harry - if these men are associated with the League, then you and your family have the promise of my protection - "
"For what that's worth." Bruce says.
"You should talk." She replies. "You're the one who has brought this down on his head. You're the one who has brought this trouble down on your precious Vesper Fairchild. How many more people will you kill with this pretence before you realise what you have to do? Alfred, your sweet little Rachel? Pepper Potts, you're taken with her. They'll all be in coffins before this is through because you want to pretend at being one of the rats in the maze and you want to pretend you're making some difference. You could rule the world."
"Your father didn't wish to rule the world, Talia." He says. Tone cold as ice. "As misguided as Henri was, he wanted to save it."
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He pauses and then looks at Talia. There are questions reflecting in his eye. "You want him to go back with you. To be the heir. Did you want it bad enough to send n...assassins after him? Another push about how dangerous it is here."
He's asking if he purposely dangled him as bait. "Is that whaty I was, Talia? Another liability to hang over Bruce's head? Leave me out of it, please."
With that, he turns his attention back to Bruce. "If you think it's best that I stay with you, I'll stay. I'll talk to Kara and work it out. If you think it's best that I leave, then I'll leave. I'll get the hell out of Gotham right now and take Kara and the kids away from here. You can make that call because I trust you to do that for me."
Shooting a look at Talia briefly, he adds, "Bruce didn't get Vesper killed, Talia. Someone else did it, and they set him up, and I want the person responsible found. Vesper was special, and I don't care how stupid or innocent this makes me sound, she deserves to have her real killer found."
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And that's the only response Harry will get. As for the comment about Vesper, well, wow, he's so young. Was she ever that young? Was Bruce? She can't remember it if they were.
Maybe he was. There had been that moment when it had seemed he would have done anything, given up everything -
It had passed. She'd made sure it passed. They'd all made sure of that.
"Vesper died because of me, Harry." He says and his voice is flat and resolute. It's not open to discussion, he's not asking you to disprove this, it is what it is. "But what she deserves has nothing to do with if she was special or not. She deserves justice because she lived and she breathed and every person deserves justice in the end - Vesper..."
"Ra's?" Talia says.
"Yes," He replies. "Him as well. Though I think if you asked him he would say he got it."
"Really."
"You should get out, Harry, as soon as we can get you out."
Harry says she was special and Bruce is also struck by how young he is. Vesper was special. There's something so romantic about that statement, something so sad.
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His stomach flips a bit, and he feels a little tired. The last few days are beginning to properly catch up with him. You can't exactly sleep properly in a sewer. At least Harry can't. He's not used to this life at all.
In a way it reminds him more of Connor. The world that Connor brought him into, and wow he has not missed this at all.
"We should order food and get your wound patched back up after you get out of the shower." If they want to continue discussing Ra's, they can. They don't even need to use Arabic. Harry may be young, but he's at least observant enough to know Ra's is not a topic he should look into.
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Bruce stares at Harry for a moment, dark blue eyes look Harry up and down and it's clinical, it's detached, there's nothing of the charming playboy about it. There's little of the Bruce Harry knows in it.
"Harry's hungry and he's tired, Talia." Bruce turns to her. "Would you go get him something? The Chinese on the corner - I'll have soup. He wanted chicken and broccolli and hot and sour soup - you know where my tastes run."
It's not exactly a question, it's more order than request. But then he yawns, he looks so tired himself, exhausted, even. Ready for collapse.
"If you don't mind."
And then he smiles, not quite the smile she remembers, one Harry should know well.
"I'll have a shower, we'll have dinner when you get back."
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