diffindo | ↠ free for all.

"I'm not staff," was the first thing that came to his mind. At first he was amused at the idea of someone not knowing who he was. It was a breath of fresh air he hadn't expected he craved. But now it was proving to be a problem.

Bruce didn't remember hiring any more staff. Unless Alfred had done something behind his back ... But his dear friend would be smug rather than secretive about it. He was looking at Terry as though he had two heads; eyebrows furrowed, an amused yet confused look on his face. Nothing was matching up, from the location of these glass cases to the Bruce Wayne these two both knew.

He knew Alfred wouldn't have done that, even for the amusement factor. The Wayne Mansion held secrets that neither were prepared to let anyone know. A mere press of specific piano keys would open a secret door that led to the Batcave. Opening his home to anyone but his family was a risk that neither wanted to put to chance. Batman may have left, but his ghost still remained in Gotham.

"I don't remember having a personal assistant, unless this is Alfred's doing." At the mention of the name, Bruce turned to see if maybe Alfred had snuck up on him and was now lingering at the doorway. It was still empty. And if his slip, even though it couldn't be called one, was anything to go by, Bruce had just put a nametag to his face.

"Obviously," Terry said to the first statement, frustration bubbling up under his skin. Frustration and concern at the mention of the old man's former butler and this man's implied identity. It couldn't be. ...could it?

Now officially weirded out (and worried), Terry took a step back and reached into his pocket, drawing out something that should look very familiar to Bruce. Bat-shaped, sharp, but rounder and edged in red instead of all black. He held it up expertly, like it was a familiar part of himself, ready to throw it in Bruce's direction at a moment's notice. He really should've worn the suit under his clothes today.

"Look pal, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but you're not Bruce Wayne. Mr. Wayne's an old man, and Alfred Pennyworth died years ago - before I was even born."

Bruce glanced down to see what Terry held out to him. Of course he remembered something that he and Lucius had designed. An entire kit of them rested down in the Batcave, near his suit. Recognition reflected on his face at the sign of the tiny Bat weapons that felt more at home in his hand than the coldness of a gun. "I'm not a fan of games," he said, although a bit absently. It was clear he didn't understand what was unravelling between them. But he knew, for a fact, that he was neither old nor Alfred-less. He knew that the day he was, the latter rather than the former, would be the day he broke into pieces.

With his hands in his pockets, perhaps not a smart thing to do, Bruce decided that the one thing that always proved a burden in his life was now a blessing. "I'll show you," he said, and with that, he turned. He did glance behind him to see if Terry was following. If this kid was so intent on telling him who he was, there was no way he'd pass up the chance to shout in his face that he was wrong about who he was when shown the proof.

It wasn't a long walk. He guided them to a room with a table, something similar to a dining room, where a few magazines and bits of paper were laid out along it. A piano that had a few alterations made to it sat to the side in front of a bookshelf. It looked lived in, but it probably lacked the warm air of a house that was properly lived in. The state of the table showed he wasn't expecting company, as this table would've been immaculate and bare if he was. "I've never had to prove who I was before, but -" He grabbed a magazine from the table, one that had been lying faced down, and he flipped it over as he held it out for Terry to see. It wasn't the best proof one could show, but it was something. A connection between the name and the face. "If I'm not Bruce Wayne, then I'm afraid I can't answer your 'Who am I?' question."

Terry followed, bat-shaped weapon still clutched tightly in his hand. He took the magazine with his free hand, examining the cover and looking up to meet the eyes of the man who claimed to be Bruce Wayne. The problem with that was that Bruce Wayne was old. He could beat the crap out of you with his cane, but he was just an old man who had hung up his cowl for good and stepped into the role of adviser for someone who was more capable. Terry was proud to be Batman, and was starting to really understand what it meant to be Neo Gotham's hero beyond the initial vendetta against Powers for what happened to his dad.

"This can't--" Dropping the magazine to the table it came from, the teen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Man, if this is some kind of time loop thing... I hate time loops. Don't you hate time loops? Just because some people figured out how to tamper with time doesn't mean you should. Then again, half the crazies in this town are doing the same with things other than time, so really, what's the difference?"

Bruce's eyebrows raised slightly at Terry's words. For someone who was cold and tight-lipped, barely saying more than a sentence to him, this sudden change was quite surprising for Bruce. Albeit, this Bruce didn't quite know Terry - or anyone outside of Alfred - all too well.

He made a mental note to be sure to investigate anyone interested in time travel. He knew what he'd be spending his night doing - once Terry was safely returned to his home. Wherever that may be, as that seemed to be the case with his ranting."Can't say I've ever experienced one," he managed. Time loops were not something the Batman of this universe had come across. Crazy clowns, guys who liked to wear bags over their heads, even people with a fondness for wearing cat ears (so he's heard from Gordon) were things that were common and made up Bruce's resume - or would, in the future - but as for time travels, there were no Time Lords wreaking havov in Gotham. Even though he was a recluse, he felt as though he'd know.

As to Terry's question, even though it may have been rhetorical, Bruce quipped, "Difference might be that the DeLorean and Doc Browns aren't making the front pages with their recent time loop discoveries."

"Splicers, Jokerz, and Corrupt CEOs tend to hog all those front page stories," Terry said, still gripping the weapon tightly in his hand. Just because he thought he'd figured this one out didn't mean he was going to let his guard down. That would've been stupid, and though he was still relatively new at all this bat stuff, he knew better than to leave himself unarmed, young Mr. Wayne or not.

That reference is, sadly, lost on the boy from 2039 has never seen Back to the Future. (The irony of it all.) "Who's Doc Brown?"

Edited 2012-08-12 00:09 (UTC)

↠ free for all.

cold day in gotham in the bat cave chilling;

cold day in gotham in the bat cave chilling;

cold day in gotham in the bat cave chilling;

cold day in gotham in the bat cave chilling;

cold day in gotham in the bat cave chilling;

cold day in gotham in the bat cave chilling;