System malfunction || DC

Chapter Twenty-Six

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Drunken Confession

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Stress may either motivate you to achieve your objectives or cause you to break under strain. Strive for what you want and experience a strong, compelling motivation to complete it. However, the smothering worry that numbs your spine and heats your stomach might cause a flood of uncertainty. That you're too weak to see it through.

Bruce was well-versed in the concept of stress. He knew it well enough to refer to it as a friend. But a friend is someone you love spending time with. Stress was something he despised with every fiber of his being.

The way it causes him to sink in his thoughts, to become lost in a cavern so black that he feels scared of what lurks within. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who carried the biggest burden in the family.

Within the darkness, a candle holder works as a barrier to shield them from the voices that are too strong to ignore. The voice of logic and accountability. If anybody should be subjected to the wrath of worry, it should be him.

He's stronger and, to be honest, has been in this line of business for a lot longer than the others. He's been battered and broken, robbed of his drive to live a regular life. He opted to make this sacrifice in memory of the kid he once was.

to be the gallant knight who never arrived to save his parents.

But occasionally his worry got the best of him, and a simple pat on his shoulder or reassuring smile from his family could lift his spirits. He does it for them and, while he may not show it often enough, he adores them.

The agonizingly endless night patrol was lightened by Bruce's attempts. Keyword is that he attempted and rather failed. This was because his notion of brightening the atmosphere was to offer them his spooky pat on the shoulder and "feedback" on their night's work.

Normally, this would have frightened the lads, because Bruce's guidance was more harsh criticism than thoughtful observation. But they were fatigued and, to be honest, all they wanted to do was go home and sleep.

"It's been a long night, Batman; do you think we could go back?" Tim inquired, clawing at the edges of his mask, knowing that if he didn't remove it soon, he'd have wrinkles in his face. Today's duty was twice as long as usual and his normally comfy suit was getting suffocating.

Despite the fact that their duty was never done, they began strolling throughout Gotham early in the morning and late into the night. They were achy, fatigued, and cranky. They could usually handle such shifts, but there was a reason why they were less patient.

There had been a sighting of a Drom. The same creatures that I'm sure most of you had forgotten about were still roaming the city, hiding in the shadows. Barbara had uncovered the probable sighting, and so the males set out as a group to investigate the matter.

They spent hours exploring warehouses, factories, abandoned apartment complexes, and even a few eateries. But no matter where they traveled or how many meniscal stories they collected, there was no sign that it was Drom.

Vandalism, homeless people, and the occasional gangster or drug den. That was all they came upon as they explored. It was aggravating to be aware of a threat yet unable to see or hear it. They flickered in and out of reality like ghosts, appearing long enough to warn people they were there but not long enough to get close.