Fill - Wings Over Gotham 1/?
anonymous
April 2 2011, 21:10:15 UTC
Wings Over Gotham
8 AM
Marcus Aquila rolled over in bed and buried his face in the pillow. He hit the alarm and sighed. Just a few more minutes of sleep would do very nicely.
“Coffee, sir.”
“Alfred, go away.”
“It’s past eight, sir.” His butler threw the curtains open.
“Alright, alright, I’m up.” He sat up. His aching ribs protested as he dropped to the floor to do his morning push-ups. Last night’s venture had been…taxing, to say the least.
Marcus lowered himself and rolled over onto his back. His leg ached, but not as badly as before. Pushing himself to his feet, he walked naked over to the open window. The sun was out, the grass was covered in morning dew. And he had to be at a meeting at Aquila Enterprises in less than half an hour.
Coffee would have to do.
It was Monday. Marcus loathed Mondays. He felt it was in character for a playboy to hate Mondays, so he allowed himself to indulge in it. He drank his third cup of coffee, and half listened to the project manager rambling on in his progress report. Checking the weather on his SilverWing, he was pleased to note that the weather forecast looked good. Clear skies for tonight’s patrol.
Lunch at the Dorchester. The afternoon dragged on intolerably. He got through his second meeting, and finally pre-dinner drinks with a few colleagues.
“Do you have a date or something, Marcus?” One of them asked. “You keep looking at your watch.”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, do tell.” James drawled. “Who’s the lucky lady of the week?”
Marcus just smiled.
“By the way,” Charles leaned in. “How’s the leg?”
“Much better after a scotch,” Marcus replied easily and they chuckled.
Ever since the accident he’d had had to be careful. No nighttime wanderings for three months while he recovered and during that time Gotham had sunk deeper into the mire. But now…Marcus stretched, feeling his muscles tighten across his back. Marcus Aquila’s leg was still damaged, keeping him permanently on the sidelines, in the society columns and in bed with whomever he fancied.
Batman however, was fully recovered. And tonight, he’d doing what he did best. Watching over Gotham.
Re: Fill - Wings Over Gotham 1/?
anonymous
April 3 2011, 00:38:30 UTC
Awww, well I'm glad you're enjoying it. Hopefully this will inspire you to go read and watch and explore more Batman! I recommend Batman Begins and The Dark Knight in particular. :)
Fill - Wings Over Gotham 2/?
anonymous
April 3 2011, 01:46:15 UTC
Midnight -
The good citizens of Gotham are asleep in their beds, dreaming of tomorrow. All the others, the thieves, the prostitutes, the homeless, the mask wearers, the killers, and all the rest…this is their hour. The hour that Gotham belongs to them and the streets are wild and dangerous.
Or they would be, if not for the dark knight, Gotham's unseen protector.
Marcus lurked on the rooftop, studying the street below. It’d been quiet enough so far. He was almost disappointed, and angry with himself for that childish feeling. But it’d been months… He wanted to test his strength, test his rebuilt leg., test himself. Push everything to the absolute limit. So he kept an eagle eye out, and waited, and watched.
And eventually, it happened.
It was just a band of youths, barely out of their teens, acting like typical teens. One of them was pissing against the side of the building, painting a rude word with his own urine. Marcus considered dropping a brick on his head, but really, what’s the point?
His attention was next caught by a figure coming down the street. It’s a businessman, coming home late from work. Marcus focused: late from his secretary’s arms, no doubt, judging by the lipstick smeared across his collar. His steps were quick, hurried. He doesn’t notice the young men until it’s too late.
“Wallet.” One of them demanded, as they closed in on him.
“I…only have credit cards,” The man stammered, looking at them nervously.
“S’alright, we take those too.” One of them pushed him back against the wall of the nearest building, picking through his pockets. The others loitered about, looking bored for the most part. It’s not the most thrilling crime ever.
So they’re caught unawares when the businessman stupidly decides to make a dash for it. Shoving the young thief away from, he tried to dodge out of the circle. The ringleader tripped him easily, and he sprawled, hitting the pavement hard. His skull made a dull, sick thud.
“Fuck, is he dead?” One of the hoodlums looked mildly concerned.
“Who cares? We got his wallet, come on.”
The smallest of them, a lean, sensitive looking youth spoke up then. “We can’t just leave him like this.” He couldn’t be more then nineteen at the most, Marcus guessed. There was something familiar about the youth. Something that he felt he should know, but couldn’t quite remember.
“You want to stick around?” The leader demanded. “Come the fuck on!”
“It’ll take two seconds to call an ambulance.”
“You are such a pussy, Cunoval. Do whatever you want. We’re leaving.” He nodded to the others.
The young man knelt by the prone figure, checking his pulse. Marcus edged closer to the drainpipe. In a moment or two he would go down, but he was curious what the young man would do.
Then the blaring sirens of a police car appeared on the scene, and the young man took to his heels, running off through the dark.
Fill - Wings Over Gotham 3/?
anonymous
April 3 2011, 06:39:12 UTC
The two cops caught him almost immediately, slamming him up against the bricks.
“You’ll be done for murder, you little shit.”
“It wasn’t me.” He struggled, but they held him firm.
“Then why did you run?”
“Because I know what you lot are like.” He retorted.
The cop retaliated by smacking his forehead into the wall. The boy was out like a light.
Marcus sighed. He should have stepped in, and now…he watched the cops carry the boy and sling him in the back of the patrol car. He made a mental note of the number. He’d check it tomorrow.
For now, there was the rest of the city to see to. The youth, whoever he was, could wait.
He ran the check when he returned to the Bat-cave. It was after four in the morning. He put the kettle on while he waited for the results. It’s quiet down there, but it’s a different quiet than the empty rooms of Aquila Manor. Marcus liked it that way. Somehow, it’s home.
The computer beeped, and he rolled his chair over to it, pushing papers and files out of the way. Alfred really should have tidied in here earlier.
Apparently the case file was still “being processed.” Marcus leaned back in his chair and sighed, holding his tea to his chest. That means he’ll have to go in and see what’s going on. Which means he has to be Marcus Aquila.
It’s so much easier to be Batman.
He has a cover story by the time he moseyed into Gotham Central six hours later. He owes Lutorious Gordon, Chief of Police, some ballet tickets. Might as well drop them off and casually inquire about the man. It’s a poor excuse, but Marcus was too tired to care that much. He hadn’t slept well last night. The dream had returned, and this time it had left him sweating and twisted in knots. His leg was not happy after last night’s climbing.
“Marcus, what brings you down to the slums?”
“Just curious as to how the other half lives, Lutorius.” They shook hands and Marcus smiled at Gordon. The chief was one of his few true friends, even if he was really more of a friend to Batman than the man known as Aquila. “Besides I owed you those tickets.” He took them from his waistcoat pocket.
“Ah, of course. My wife will be pleased.”
“So that mugging in Blackfriars last night…”
“Which one?” Gordon asked sardonically, then sighed. “Sorry. It’s been a rough night.” He pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly and sighed again.
“The one with the head injury.” Marcus sat on the edge of the desk, taking the weight off his leg.
“Now how exactly do you know about that?” Gordon looked at him speculatively. Somehow Marcus Aquila always seemed to have a pretty good idea about what was going on in Gotham's underbelly, even though he feigned disinterest.
Marcus shrugged. “It was on the news. It sounded interesting. You have a suspect already. That’s good.”
“Oh him...that kid is nothing, but trouble. He’s an escaped convict.”
“Really?” Now that Marcus hadn’t been expecting.
“Yeah, he escaped from Gotham’s Rehabilitation Center. He’s supposed to be there until he’s twenty-one.”
“How much longer then?” Marcus couldn’t explain the anticipation that rose up inside him.
“A little over a year. His twentieth birthday is in a month or so.”
“I see.” Marcus nodded to himself.
Gordon leaned on his desk. “You want to explain to me what you’re really doing here, Aquila?”
“Not at the moment,” Marcus smiled. “Maybe later.”
Gordon just sighed again.
Well, that was that. An ex-con was hardly useful. Marcus put the youth out of his mind, and returned to the business at hand. Protecting Gotham. Getting himself re-trained. He worked out all hours in his home gym until he was soaked in sweat and his muscles ached and he wanted to die. It was never enough. He pushed himself until he was exhausted. Only then could he be sure that the dream wouldn’t come to him in the night.
Fill - Wings Over Gotham 4/?
anonymous
April 3 2011, 19:31:10 UTC
One month later-
It’d been a slow recovery, but Marcus was confident that he was now 100%. His limbs were sure and steady when he ran across rooftops, and he no longer doubted himself when he climbed, however high he went. Keeping up the masquerade as an injured playboy was wearing. Still, it was a good excuse not to have to play polo any more. Marcus didn’t miss playing polo. And anything that kept the similarities between Marcus Aquila and Batman far and few between was good.
Gotham had been returned to its usual level of violence and crime. Even the criminals were a tad relieved at the return of the Batman. They knew where they stood with the dark knight. Without him, things were chaos. With him back, the boundaries returned to the proper places. Even criminals liked boundaries.
Friday morning, Marcus awoke to voices coming from the garden. He got up, wrapping a bathrobe around himself and went to the balcony. There were a group of teenagers working industriously away in the garden below. Hokay…
Marcus went downstairs to get his coffee. “Alfred, there are people in the garden.”
“Yes, sir, I know.” Alfred poured him a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
“What are they doing there?” Marcus added more milk to his coffee and stirred it industriously.
“Gardening, sir.” Alfred said, perfectly serious.
“Yes, I can see that.” Marcus took a sip of coffee.
“They’re from the youth’s home, Master Marcus.”
“Oh, right.” Marcus leaned on the counter and took another sip of coffee. “No, I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Community service. They’ve been assigned to do a week or so. I thought I might have the garden tidied up.”
“You know best, Alfred.”
“I know, sir.” Alfred murmured.
“Oi.” Marcus took his coffee away back upstairs to drink while he dressed.
He didn’t pay the gardeners any more attention until he went out to start his car. There, at the edge of the driveway stood a young man, with a rake. Something about his stance caught Marcus’s eye and he looked back.
It was definitely the young man from the other night. Marcus hesitated. Coincidence? Or fate?
Marcus spent the rest of the day trying to decide which.
Re: Fill - Wings Over Gotham 4/?savvierthanuApril 7 2011, 20:31:16 UTC
Haha, I couldn't resist. And I'm willing to bet that Esca has the legs for the panties, too. But, you know, I'd hate to walk all over your story. I'm sure whatever you have planned is wonderful!
Fill - Wings Over Gotham 5a/?
anonymous
April 6 2011, 02:26:13 UTC
That evening when Marcus checked the police file it was uploaded. 'Finally,' Marcus thought, as he opened it. He couldn't explain the anticipation that made his heart beat faster in his chest, the faintest stirrings of hope...
He scrolled down and started to read. It didn't take him long. The file was frustratingly short, containing only the bareest details of Esca's past.
Esca Cunoval - Age - 19 Incarcerated since - age 16 Date of release: 21 birthday - pending Reason for incarceration - attempted murder. Escape attempts - 4 (Success rate - 1 (missing six months) returned - current date) (Murder inquiry still in progress - transfer to Gotham Prison when of age? - pending) Family - unknown/presumed deceased
Notes: Attempted robbery Assault Resisting arrest
“Well,” Marcus clicked out of the file. That was just…peachy. He still wanted to know more about the kid. Esca. He couldn’t help it. His curiosity was piqued.
They were there in the garden again the following morning. This time Marcus observed the group from the morning room as he worked. He was working from home that day, which he might or might not have arranged once he knew the group would be at his house for the day.
They worked industriously enough for a group of criminal youths, seemingly enjoying their time spent outside in the sun. Esca worked steadily: carrying bags of mulch, shifting stones, raking dead leaves and weeding along the flowerbeds. He exchanged some conversation with the others, but for the most part worked at his own quick pace.
Mid-day, during their break, he stripped his shirt off, revealing an agile-looking body. Marcus caught his breath. There was a tattoo encircling the young man’s arm. A blue, curving design that seemed familiar. It reminded Marcus of something, but once again he had no idea what. Esca was stronger than he looked, well-muscled and capable. There was a scar across his hipbone that looked as though the injury that had caused it was painful indeed. Knife wound possibly, perhaps a dagger. A very thin blade, most likely...Russian, or possibly French...' Marcus couldn’t help analyzing. He needed to know as much as possible about Cunoval before he made his final decision.
Fill - Wings Over Gotham 5b/?
anonymous
April 6 2011, 02:30:16 UTC
The afternoon went smoothly for the most part.
And then during their mid-afternoon break, the boys started wrestling. Marcus would have thought the supervisor would have tried to curtail that kind of behavior, but the guard overseeing them looked bored, texting on his phone in the shade.
“Come on, Cunoval.” The winner of the last round called. “I know I can beat your tiny ass.”
“You sound pretty certain, Harris.” Esca responded lazily from where he was resting in the grass.
“Hell, yeah.”
“What’ll you bet me?” Esca stretched slightly, his tattoo rippling as he moved.
“What do you want?”
Esca got to his feet, facing the other teen. “Gym privileges for a week.”
Harris just snorted derisively. “You’re shitting me.”
Esca cocked his head slightly. “Okay. Two weeks then.”
The other youths started to snicker.
Harris shrugged. “Okay. Okay."
Marcus drew closer to the curtain, entranced. Something momentous was about to happen. He had a feeling that this would help him make his decision. He waited, tension coiling in his stomach.
It started slowly. The other boys drew silent as the two fighters circled each other. Harris was bigger and stronger, yet Esca dodged his first attack easily and danced out of reach with a smile. It didn’t take Harris long to realize he’d made a serious mistake in underestimating the smaller youth. Esca was fast. He dodged Harris’s second move, ducking under his arm to grab and twist it tightly behind his back. He had the larger boy pinned in less than three minutes. Harris struggled; Esca held firm. Marcus held his breath.
“Yield.” Esca commanded. He was barely breathing hard.
“Okay, okay.” Harris gave in.
“Cunoval! Harris!” The guard shouted. “Over here, now!”
They went reluctantly to stand before him.
“Harris, back to work.” The guard jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And you, Cunoval, you know the punishment for fighting.”
“Solitary.” Esca muttered dejectedly.
“Report to Dugan when we get in.”
“But,”
“Are you arguing with me, Cunoval?” The guard thrust his baton under Esca's chin, forcing it up.
“No.”
“No, what?” The guard tapped his chin.
“No, sir.” Esca ground out.
“Good boy. Don’t worry.” He shifted the baton to tap Esca on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. “You won’t be there long.”
Esca looked wary. “I won’t?”
“Rumor is, you’re getting transfered soon as you hit the big 2-0.” The guard grinned maliciously. “And you know what happens to runts like you in prison.” He made a crude gesture and Esca’s shoulders tightened.
Marcus couldn’t take another moment. He stepped out onto the patio. “Is there a problem officer?” He kept his voice light and smooth, a charming playboy without a care in the world.
“Absolutely not, Mr. Aquila. We’ll be done and out of your hair in no time.”
When the guard said Marcus’s name, Esca’s head snapped up to stare at him. Marcus froze. He’d never seen such cold, bitter fury as that he saw in Esca's eyes. Marcus couldn’t breathe.
“Sorry. Uh…” For a moment he floundered, not sure whether he was Marcus or Batman or someone entirely new. “Do we…”
“Cunoval, get back to work.” The guard prodded him. “Sorry about that, Mr. Aquila.”
“Right…yeah.” Marcus nodded. He watched as Esca returned to his place in the work line. There was something about the way Esca had moved during the brief fight. Marcus couldn't stop replaying it in his mind. Esca's movements had been graceful and easy. His limbs were fluid, like he knew exactly what his body was capable of, what he could expect from it. Marcus couldn’t help the stab of jealousy at such a thought. Once he had been like that…now…
He rubbed his leg slightly. Soon. He was getting there. Soon.
8 AM
Marcus Aquila rolled over in bed and buried his face in the pillow. He hit the alarm and sighed. Just a few more minutes of sleep would do very nicely.
“Coffee, sir.”
“Alfred, go away.”
“It’s past eight, sir.” His butler threw the curtains open.
“Alright, alright, I’m up.” He sat up. His aching ribs protested as he dropped to the floor to do his morning push-ups. Last night’s venture had been…taxing, to say the least.
Marcus lowered himself and rolled over onto his back. His leg ached, but not as badly as before. Pushing himself to his feet, he walked naked over to the open window. The sun was out, the grass was covered in morning dew. And he had to be at a meeting at Aquila Enterprises in less than half an hour.
Coffee would have to do.
It was Monday. Marcus loathed Mondays. He felt it was in character for a playboy to hate Mondays, so he allowed himself to indulge in it. He drank his third cup of coffee, and half listened to the project manager rambling on in his progress report. Checking the weather on his SilverWing, he was pleased to note that the weather forecast looked good. Clear skies for tonight’s patrol.
Lunch at the Dorchester. The afternoon dragged on intolerably. He got through his second meeting, and finally pre-dinner drinks with a few colleagues.
“Do you have a date or something, Marcus?” One of them asked. “You keep looking at your watch.”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, do tell.” James drawled. “Who’s the lucky lady of the week?”
Marcus just smiled.
“By the way,” Charles leaned in. “How’s the leg?”
“Much better after a scotch,” Marcus replied easily and they chuckled.
Ever since the accident he’d had had to be careful. No nighttime wanderings for three months while he recovered and during that time Gotham had sunk deeper into the mire. But now…Marcus stretched, feeling his muscles tighten across his back. Marcus Aquila’s leg was still damaged, keeping him permanently on the sidelines, in the society columns and in bed with whomever he fancied.
Batman however, was fully recovered. And tonight, he’d doing what he did best. Watching over Gotham.
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2. SilverWing is a uber fancy phone that Lucius Fox invented for Marcus. In my head at least.
3. Also, Gotham is more London in this story, rather than New York/Chicago.
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Loving the start to this and to me Gotham can be a mix of many cities so it works to be London here. Can't wait to see where you take this.
I can highly recommend the Nolan oeuvre as well.
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The good citizens of Gotham are asleep in their beds, dreaming of tomorrow. All the others, the thieves, the prostitutes, the homeless, the mask wearers, the killers, and all the rest…this is their hour. The hour that Gotham belongs to them and the streets are wild and dangerous.
Or they would be, if not for the dark knight, Gotham's unseen protector.
Marcus lurked on the rooftop, studying the street below. It’d been quiet enough so far. He was almost disappointed, and angry with himself for that childish feeling. But it’d been months… He wanted to test his strength, test his rebuilt leg., test himself. Push everything to the absolute limit. So he kept an eagle eye out, and waited, and watched.
And eventually, it happened.
It was just a band of youths, barely out of their teens, acting like typical teens. One of them was pissing against the side of the building, painting a rude word with his own urine. Marcus considered dropping a brick on his head, but really, what’s the point?
His attention was next caught by a figure coming down the street. It’s a businessman, coming home late from work. Marcus focused: late from his secretary’s arms, no doubt, judging by the lipstick smeared across his collar. His steps were quick, hurried. He doesn’t notice the young men until it’s too late.
“Wallet.” One of them demanded, as they closed in on him.
“I…only have credit cards,” The man stammered, looking at them nervously.
“S’alright, we take those too.” One of them pushed him back against the wall of the nearest building, picking through his pockets. The others loitered about, looking bored for the most part. It’s not the most thrilling crime ever.
So they’re caught unawares when the businessman stupidly decides to make a dash for it. Shoving the young thief away from, he tried to dodge out of the circle. The ringleader tripped him easily, and he sprawled, hitting the pavement hard. His skull made a dull, sick thud.
“Fuck, is he dead?” One of the hoodlums looked mildly concerned.
“Who cares? We got his wallet, come on.”
The smallest of them, a lean, sensitive looking youth spoke up then. “We can’t just leave him like this.” He couldn’t be more then nineteen at the most, Marcus guessed. There was something familiar about the youth. Something that he felt he should know, but couldn’t quite remember.
“You want to stick around?” The leader demanded. “Come the fuck on!”
“It’ll take two seconds to call an ambulance.”
“You are such a pussy, Cunoval. Do whatever you want. We’re leaving.” He nodded to the others.
The young man knelt by the prone figure, checking his pulse. Marcus edged closer to the drainpipe. In a moment or two he would go down, but he was curious what the young man would do.
Then the blaring sirens of a police car appeared on the scene, and the young man took to his heels, running off through the dark.
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*chinhands and waits patiently for more*
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“You’ll be done for murder, you little shit.”
“It wasn’t me.” He struggled, but they held him firm.
“Then why did you run?”
“Because I know what you lot are like.” He retorted.
The cop retaliated by smacking his forehead into the wall. The boy was out like a light.
Marcus sighed. He should have stepped in, and now…he watched the cops carry the boy and sling him in the back of the patrol car. He made a mental note of the number. He’d check it tomorrow.
For now, there was the rest of the city to see to. The youth, whoever he was, could wait.
He ran the check when he returned to the Bat-cave. It was after four in the morning. He put the kettle on while he waited for the results. It’s quiet down there, but it’s a different quiet than the empty rooms of Aquila Manor. Marcus liked it that way. Somehow, it’s home.
The computer beeped, and he rolled his chair over to it, pushing papers and files out of the way. Alfred really should have tidied in here earlier.
Apparently the case file was still “being processed.” Marcus leaned back in his chair and sighed, holding his tea to his chest. That means he’ll have to go in and see what’s going on. Which means he has to be Marcus Aquila.
It’s so much easier to be Batman.
He has a cover story by the time he moseyed into Gotham Central six hours later. He owes Lutorious Gordon, Chief of Police, some ballet tickets. Might as well drop them off and casually inquire about the man. It’s a poor excuse, but Marcus was too tired to care that much. He hadn’t slept well last night. The dream had returned, and this time it had left him sweating and twisted in knots. His leg was not happy after last night’s climbing.
“Marcus, what brings you down to the slums?”
“Just curious as to how the other half lives, Lutorius.” They shook hands and Marcus smiled at Gordon. The chief was one of his few true friends, even if he was really more of a friend to Batman than the man known as Aquila. “Besides I owed you those tickets.” He took them from his waistcoat pocket.
“Ah, of course. My wife will be pleased.”
“So that mugging in Blackfriars last night…”
“Which one?” Gordon asked sardonically, then sighed. “Sorry. It’s been a rough night.” He pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly and sighed again.
“The one with the head injury.” Marcus sat on the edge of the desk, taking the weight off his leg.
“Now how exactly do you know about that?” Gordon looked at him speculatively. Somehow Marcus Aquila always seemed to have a pretty good idea about what was going on in Gotham's underbelly, even though he feigned disinterest.
Marcus shrugged. “It was on the news. It sounded interesting. You have a suspect already. That’s good.”
“Oh him...that kid is nothing, but trouble. He’s an escaped convict.”
“Really?” Now that Marcus hadn’t been expecting.
“Yeah, he escaped from Gotham’s Rehabilitation Center. He’s supposed to be there until he’s twenty-one.”
“How much longer then?” Marcus couldn’t explain the anticipation that rose up inside him.
“A little over a year. His twentieth birthday is in a month or so.”
“I see.” Marcus nodded to himself.
Gordon leaned on his desk. “You want to explain to me what you’re really doing here, Aquila?”
“Not at the moment,” Marcus smiled. “Maybe later.”
Gordon just sighed again.
Well, that was that. An ex-con was hardly useful. Marcus put the youth out of his mind, and returned to the business at hand. Protecting Gotham. Getting himself re-trained. He worked out all hours in his home gym until he was soaked in sweat and his muscles ached and he wanted to die. It was never enough. He pushed himself until he was exhausted. Only then could he be sure that the dream wouldn’t come to him in the night.
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One month later-
It’d been a slow recovery, but Marcus was confident that he was now 100%. His limbs were sure and steady when he ran across rooftops, and he no longer doubted himself when he climbed, however high he went. Keeping up the masquerade as an injured playboy was wearing. Still, it was a good excuse not to have to play polo any more. Marcus didn’t miss playing polo. And anything that kept the similarities between Marcus Aquila and Batman far and few between was good.
Gotham had been returned to its usual level of violence and crime. Even the criminals were a tad relieved at the return of the Batman. They knew where they stood with the dark knight. Without him, things were chaos. With him back, the boundaries returned to the proper places. Even criminals liked boundaries.
Friday morning, Marcus awoke to voices coming from the garden. He got up, wrapping a bathrobe around himself and went to the balcony. There were a group of teenagers working industriously away in the garden below. Hokay…
Marcus went downstairs to get his coffee. “Alfred, there are people in the garden.”
“Yes, sir, I know.” Alfred poured him a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
“What are they doing there?” Marcus added more milk to his coffee and stirred it industriously.
“Gardening, sir.” Alfred said, perfectly serious.
“Yes, I can see that.” Marcus took a sip of coffee.
“They’re from the youth’s home, Master Marcus.”
“Oh, right.” Marcus leaned on the counter and took another sip of coffee. “No, I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Community service. They’ve been assigned to do a week or so. I thought I might have the garden tidied up.”
“You know best, Alfred.”
“I know, sir.” Alfred murmured.
“Oi.” Marcus took his coffee away back upstairs to drink while he dressed.
He didn’t pay the gardeners any more attention until he went out to start his car. There, at the edge of the driveway stood a young man, with a rake. Something about his stance caught Marcus’s eye and he looked back.
It was definitely the young man from the other night. Marcus hesitated. Coincidence? Or fate?
Marcus spent the rest of the day trying to decide which.
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This is great, anon, I am hoping there is bondage in the near future.
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He scrolled down and started to read. It didn't take him long. The file was frustratingly short, containing only the bareest details of Esca's past.
Esca Cunoval -
Age - 19
Incarcerated since - age 16
Date of release: 21 birthday - pending
Reason for incarceration - attempted murder.
Escape attempts - 4
(Success rate - 1 (missing six months) returned - current date)
(Murder inquiry still in progress - transfer to Gotham Prison when of age? - pending)
Family - unknown/presumed deceased
Notes:
Attempted robbery
Assault
Resisting arrest
“Well,” Marcus clicked out of the file. That was just…peachy. He still wanted to know more about the kid. Esca. He couldn’t help it. His curiosity was piqued.
They were there in the garden again the following morning. This time Marcus observed the group from the morning room as he worked. He was working from home that day, which he might or might not have arranged once he knew the group would be at his house for the day.
They worked industriously enough for a group of criminal youths, seemingly enjoying their time spent outside in the sun. Esca worked steadily: carrying bags of mulch, shifting stones, raking dead leaves and weeding along the flowerbeds. He exchanged some conversation with the others, but for the most part worked at his own quick pace.
Mid-day, during their break, he stripped his shirt off, revealing an agile-looking body. Marcus caught his breath. There was a tattoo encircling the young man’s arm. A blue, curving design that seemed familiar. It reminded Marcus of something, but once again he had no idea what. Esca was stronger than he looked, well-muscled and capable. There was a scar across his hipbone that looked as though the injury that had caused it was painful indeed. Knife wound possibly, perhaps a dagger. A very thin blade, most likely...Russian, or possibly French...' Marcus couldn’t help analyzing. He needed to know as much as possible about Cunoval before he made his final decision.
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And then during their mid-afternoon break, the boys started wrestling. Marcus would have thought the supervisor would have tried to curtail that kind of behavior, but the guard overseeing them looked bored, texting on his phone in the shade.
“Come on, Cunoval.” The winner of the last round called. “I know I can beat your tiny ass.”
“You sound pretty certain, Harris.” Esca responded lazily from where he was resting in the grass.
“Hell, yeah.”
“What’ll you bet me?” Esca stretched slightly, his tattoo rippling as he moved.
“What do you want?”
Esca got to his feet, facing the other teen. “Gym privileges for a week.”
Harris just snorted derisively. “You’re shitting me.”
Esca cocked his head slightly. “Okay. Two weeks then.”
The other youths started to snicker.
Harris shrugged. “Okay. Okay."
Marcus drew closer to the curtain, entranced. Something momentous was about to happen. He had a feeling that this would help him make his decision. He waited, tension coiling in his stomach.
It started slowly. The other boys drew silent as the two fighters circled each other. Harris was bigger and stronger, yet Esca dodged his first attack easily and danced out of reach with a smile. It didn’t take Harris long to realize he’d made a serious mistake in underestimating the smaller youth. Esca was fast. He dodged Harris’s second move, ducking under his arm to grab and twist it tightly behind his back. He had the larger boy pinned in less than three minutes. Harris struggled; Esca held firm. Marcus held his breath.
“Yield.” Esca commanded. He was barely breathing hard.
“Okay, okay.” Harris gave in.
“Cunoval! Harris!” The guard shouted. “Over here, now!”
They went reluctantly to stand before him.
“Harris, back to work.” The guard jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And you, Cunoval, you know the punishment for fighting.”
“Solitary.” Esca muttered dejectedly.
“Report to Dugan when we get in.”
“But,”
“Are you arguing with me, Cunoval?” The guard thrust his baton under Esca's chin, forcing it up.
“No.”
“No, what?” The guard tapped his chin.
“No, sir.” Esca ground out.
“Good boy. Don’t worry.” He shifted the baton to tap Esca on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. “You won’t be there long.”
Esca looked wary. “I won’t?”
“Rumor is, you’re getting transfered soon as you hit the big 2-0.” The guard grinned maliciously. “And you know what happens to runts like you in prison.” He made a crude gesture and Esca’s shoulders tightened.
Marcus couldn’t take another moment. He stepped out onto the patio. “Is there a problem officer?” He kept his voice light and smooth, a charming playboy without a care in the world.
“Absolutely not, Mr. Aquila. We’ll be done and out of your hair in no time.”
When the guard said Marcus’s name, Esca’s head snapped up to stare at him. Marcus froze. He’d never seen such cold, bitter fury as that he saw in Esca's eyes. Marcus couldn’t breathe.
“Sorry. Uh…” For a moment he floundered, not sure whether he was Marcus or Batman or someone entirely new. “Do we…”
“Cunoval, get back to work.” The guard prodded him. “Sorry about that, Mr. Aquila.”
“Right…yeah.” Marcus nodded. He watched as Esca returned to his place in the work line. There was something about the way Esca had moved during the brief fight. Marcus couldn't stop replaying it in his mind. Esca's movements had been graceful and easy. His limbs were fluid, like he knew exactly what his body was capable of, what he could expect from it. Marcus couldn’t help the stab of jealousy at such a thought. Once he had been like that…now…
He rubbed his leg slightly. Soon. He was getting there. Soon.
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