The DC Collective

First Night

Bruce Wayne stared at his reflection in the mirror. He gazed at his suit, admiring the elegance of it. He often looked elegant for events like this, and always tried his best to feel elegant. But it was hard to, with him living the life he did.

"Master Wayne?" Bruce had been expecting to hear Alfred's voice from the other side of the door. "They're ready for you."

Bruce opened the door and smiled at his butler. "Thank you, Alfred." He stepped out of the bathroom and started down the hall, poising himself elegantly. Elegant. There was that word again. Head up, chin parallel to the ground, shoulders back, control breathing. Elegant. Piece of cake.

The applause was like thunder throughout the crowded room. Bruce was greeted with cheers as he walked across the stage. He stepped behind the podium and smiled, waiting for the audience to simmer down. "Good evening. I'd like to thank you all for attending tonight's Wayne Foundation benefit dinner. It should come as no surprise by now that all proceeds from this event go towards programs benefiting the youth of our city, including the modernization of our public education system, our newly-minted Gotham City Youth Organization, additional financial support for our orphanages and children’s hospitals, and, finally, rehabilitation programs for our troubled youth.”

Pause. Thunder. Bruce looked around the room at all the men and women in their elegant suits, cheering him on for promising the betterment of the youth of this city. The affluent men and women who never lived the lives these children did; they were never impoverished, or at risk of homelessness. They were always protected by their private education, paid for by their wealthy families. They never had to worry about what tomorrow would look like. They were the ones funding the crime rings that plagued the city, that lured the most vulnerable into a life of violence. The crime rings that tore apart families and took innocent lives.

These men and women weren’t here because they cared for these people. They were here because it made them look like they did. Because it made them look elegant. And, as Bruce was well aware by now, elegance was only ever a disguise.

I've checked it out! It's a really awesome project you've all got going on there. It's certainly an intriguing idea, and if I'm free any time soon, I'll be glad to see where I can fit into all that. It might take some time, though, seeing as I have a couple more weeks of school to finish and one other project I'm working on, but for sure I'm interested! Keep doing what you guys are doing, it's seriously awesome. 

 
(Cont'd.)
   Bruce looked into the sky, noticing the bat-signal had just come on. He looked down at the alley once more. There were no signs of activity, meaning he had no further commitment here tonight. He stood up and reached his arm out, dropping the rose onto the street below, in the exact place he remembered holding his father’s hand as he died. If anybody was there to watch the rose fall, by the time they could trace where it had come from, Bruce would already have been gone.
There might as well have been nobody watching. Such was the legend of Gotham's Bat.

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Small break until either tomorrow or Friday. I might just write part of these throughout each week, instead of meeting a once-a-week schedule. We'll see.

You got it. Those posts will be removed.