What, you don't think a woman can sound that raspy? And anyway, the word "man" is in the word "woman" -- maybe Batman's actually a woman who took out the "wo" and replaced it with "Bat"-- --Actually, no, that's too weird and creepy, even for Batman.
Bruce Wayne (a male, thank you very much. ) is Batman. Have you seen nothing?
He's Bruce when he gets the kid! Did you not notice?!
Of course I did! I'm just throwing out that since he's a master of disguise, he could have been pretending to be a man all this time to fool the audiences.
The boy is missing a front tooth, yet its absence gives off a charming, lovable vibe. He blinks when the boy stands back and holds out his hand, an act he doesn’t know how to respond to without offense. The only logical conclusion he forms is to stare and blink once more.
“I’m helping you up, silly! Take my hand!” He sluggishly raises his right hand, and within an instant after their hands join, he is pulled to his feet. He stumbles but doesn’t fall; the young boy has held him firmly with that surprisingly strong grips of his.
“T…Thank you.” He releases himself from the youngster’s tight hold.
“You’re welcome!” The boy rubs his hands together and let out clouds of white vapor as he huffs. It is only then that he realizes the backpack the youngster has on his back, so heavy that the boy is leaning forward to maintain his balance. “Where are you heading, mister?”
“I-I was walking forward, that way.” He points. “Do you know…what’s over there?”
“There? Or anywhere, really?” Upon seeing his confusion, the young boy opens his arms and gestures all around, the entire forest captured in his imaginary circle.
“It’s all the same place. It always has been. One step out from this forest and it’s Community property. It doesn’t matter where you go; you’ll always end up somewhere in this huge town.” The youngster strongly emphasizes "huge", arms waving and all. “That is, if you have a car or enough money for a bus ticket. But walking won’t get you out, mister. You’ll freeze to death before you can make it.”
“‘Freeze’?” He whispers.
“What? Don’t you feel cold, mister?”
“No.” He replies. But within seconds after the word left his mouth, he feels a chill tracing down his spine and he trembles at the dry winter wind brushing against his thin-layered clothing. He then looks at his body, covered with nothing more than a simple grey-white outfit. His hands, sticking out from the shortened sleeves for who-knows-how-long, are numb to the touch.
~~~~~~ Yay, update! I'm so sorry for the lack of writing. I procrastinate too much. >_<
Thank you for the welcomes!! And thank you for reading!! c:
~~~~~~~
A wave of icy coolness washes over him. His head shakes and freezes as he hungrily gulps it down.
How strange! It cannot fill his hunger despite its everlasting amount and expandable size. The same-old vacant spot reclines in his belly as a hole he cannot seal no matter how much he devours or how quick he shoves the snow into his mouth. Bite after bite of the white substance, and he is still not satisfied. His hands eventually cease the clawing and digging when he recognizes its uselessness and the danger its mass-consumption may present.
The tips of his hands feel numb, and it is only with excessive huffing that he is able to bring them back to normality.
He thinks of what to do next, what people usually do with snow when it comes around (at least, what he remembers of it). His hands come together and, with gentle swipes, shape the snow into a rounded sphere.
He gasps at its perfectness and pats its smooth surface several times:
Tap! Tap!
While one of his hand sinks in and creates marks on the snowball, the other swoops in to flatten out the dentures. This went on and on until red and orange lights dance upon the field of snow before him and mark out the final hours of daylight. He glances at them in a daze. What should he do now? Where should he go? He was walking straight ahead…should he continue the journey?
He looks back at his hands. The former snowball is now a chopped layer of melted ice laying right aside the rest of the precipitation. Its spherical beauty has disappeared under the rays of the setting sun, and the bars-no, trees-are returning to their original brown coatings. Oh, how long has it been? How long ago was the snow feast?
“I want to go home.” He states. But what home? Where did he come from? He was walking dead ahead…should he turn around? Is home in the opposite direction? Or is it located at wherever he was going?
“I want to go home.” He moves his feet with uncertainty. Exhaustion plays about his brows, and his eyes are sleepy. He can’t stay here in the snow! But where will he go? Where can he go?
“I…want…to go HOME!” He stumbles and dives head-first into the snow. He munches at them, gulps them down into his system.
Mouthful and mouthful of snow…
“W-what are you doing?” Another gulp of snow, another bite of snow…
“Hey! Stop, stop!” A pair of hands is pulling at him, hindering his movements. He struggles and pushes more snow into his mouth.
It’s wide-open now, and no one can stop him-
Is this Zane, when Dr. Julien turned off his memory switch?
I think he should know that water doesn't satisfy hunger.
His body snaps up violently as he coughs out the white substance. Hands begin to hammer at his back, forcing him to crouch down while more snow pours out from his mouth and gathers up into tiny hills. He breathes in deeply when the snow finally stops its flow. Black dots gather at the edges of his eyes as his body falls onto its side. Then all is calm. He hears nothing other than the sound of his own weak, shallow breathing.
Did he imagine the voice?
“A-are you okay?” A young voice breaks the silence. He brings himself up then, after nodding lightly in response, drops back open-armed into the snow. His eyes are still closed, and he is too tired to force them open. His mind spins and aches without an end.
“Ah…ah…”
“Does your head hurt?” He nods again, moaning a little this time when the pain hits. “This is why you shouldn’t eat snow. It’s just like eating ice cream: you get brain freezes.” “Brain…freezes?” He rubs the side of his head with utter annoyance. “Yeah! I always have them when I eat a second popsicle…Then mom knows I stole one without her permission and I get into trouble-”
“Pop…sicle? Ice…cream?” The unfamiliar words slur when he repeats them. The headaches are still coming strong. “What, you don’t what they are? But you-” The voice pauses. He then hears footsteps shifting from side to side, as if to examine him closer. “You look like an adult. An older teen, at least. Why don’t you know what an ‘ice cream’ is?” “Ugh….” He curls up into a ball. The pain is unbearable.
“Where do you live?” The voice asks. “Or do you sleep on the streets? I mean, you look clean n’ stuff so…maybe not?” “I…” He sits up, eyes still closed. “I…don’t…know.” “Gee golly.” The voice considers his response.
Slowly, he opens his eyes and peers up. There, half-kneeing in the snow, a young boy meets his graze with his own pair of bright brown eyes. Messy streaks of dark-colored hair ruffle back as the youngster gives a warming smile.
“There you are! You have pretty eyes, mister.”
~~~~~~~~ Still working out the story. But in the meantime, have some dialogues.
If that's one of the Ninja who helped him, then I'd say Jay.
I might go reread that since we know that the voice is a male.
Same. Before we saw it was a guy I couldn't decide if the speech-pattern was more male or female, so it came out sounding like a mix of Batman and my own voice in my head.
Same. Before we saw it was a guy I couldn't decide if the speech-pattern was more male or female, so it came out sounding like a mix of Batman and my own voice in my head.
And anyway, the word "man" is in the word "woman" -- maybe Batman's actually a woman who took out the "wo" and replaced it with "Bat"--
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