I Bet On Losing Dogs

Drain You (NSFW)

You're surprised to be in your room when you wake up—the gray sunlight filtering in the room. You check the time. It's almost noon. Usually, someone wakes you up, or you wake earlier due to your work schedule. Speaking of work, you want to check on your coworkers. You wonder if that's against the rules as you brush your teeth. You do worry about them. They face similar dangers to you. The only difference is that you know Batman's secret. Today, you decide to go simple wearing a graphic tee tucked into your dark jeans. You doubt you'll be leaving today anyway.

It's unnerving how quiet it can be as you step into the gothic hallway. You run your hand along the wooden walls and head down the stairs. There's not even chatter in the parlor, no music from the kitchen. You sit on the dark leather couch and turn on the TV. You might as well distract yourself before finding something to eat. It's a reality TV show about pretty people you've never seen in Los Angeles. "I just can't believe Carissa thought she could wear that same Mugler look I wore last month and claim she didn't know." The blonde says in a thick So-Cal accent. "Right, like you were literally trending on Twitter." The brunette says, sipping some fruity drink. You wonder who watched this as you change flip through. You guess it's Alfred's secret binge show. You stop on the news. You want to know if Bruce is safe. It's on a commercial, so you make your way to the kitchen.

Jacques isn't making lunch. You check in the pantry and around the tiny rooms off the kitchen. This is weird. You try to shake your strange feeling and knock on his apartment door. No answer. Okay... You tap your fingers together, trying to stay calm. Your hunger subsides, replaced with fear. You rush upstairs, going straight to Alfred's door. He doesn't answer either. You try his door and see it's unlocked. You pause, taking a deep breath. You don't take risks like this, but you're alone in Wayne Tower and don't know why. You have to investigate before you press the alert button because you're scared. "I can do this," you whisper to yourself as you open the door. Empty. Where is everyone? You go to your room and check your phone, but it doesn't turn on. Your stomach sinks, and you feel so sick. This is a dream—a nightmare. You lie in your bed and find the remote as you settle into your covers. When you wake up, it'll be back to normal. You hold the alert button.

You wake up in pitch back. There's some light coming from outside, and you're nervous. You're in Alfred's room. Oh. You're covered in sweat. Nothing even happened in your dream, and yet you're shaking. You carefully make your way to your room, seeing the warm glow of the remote. Shit, shit, shit. You hurry back to Alfred's room to check the monitor. When you turn it on, Batman is talking to that woman again. She's flippant towards him. "I don't know why you're here unless you're lost. I don't know anything about Fear Gas. I don't like Harvey, so why would I help him escape?"

She's hot. You feel jealous and attracted.

"Why would Thomas Elliot be involved?" He asks, his voice gruff. "Probably because he doesn't like you. You're not the easiest man to get along with, Batman." She stresses his name, and jealousy wins out, panging in your chest. He looks away, your alarm. "Stay out of trouble." He says before getting on his motorcycle. "Aw, we were just getting to the fun part." She pouts as he drives away. You don't know if there's a speaker. There's a microphone button, however, and you press it. "Bruce." He looks up, blinking. "Is everything okay?" It's his regular voice. "I had a nightmare. I thought I pressed it in my dream, not in real life. I'm sorry." You say softly. You can tell he's irritated, but he continues straight. "How are you watching me?" He asks after a moment. "I fell asleep in Alfred's room." You confess, feeling embarrassed. "I heard knocking at my door, but no one was there. So I got spooked." He grunts in response. "Okay. I'm going to 44 Below. It'll be violent." You hear his worry in his voice, not for himself, but you. "I won't watch," you say softly. "Thank you." He says, and you turn the monitor off.

You make your way to your room, sighing. Whatever your weird dream was, you wonder why it felt so real. You get into your bed and notice the remote is off. He must have done it." You guess as you drift back to sleep.