No Capes

All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

^V^

"What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveialed secret of the father."

Friedrich Nietzsche

^V^

Once in a blue moon.

Back in the day of pixie boots, I can remember patrolling with Bruce hearing him mutter to himself, "Once in a blue moon…".

We had just happened across a group of thugs who had promptly dropped their weapons, fallen to their knees and proceeded to beg for mercy. Naturally, he had shwon them mercy and seen to it that they didn't require too many stitches or casts, being the considerate vigilante that he was. After we had bound the men, still begging through tears and whimpers, I had made a comment about how it was nice to hear him say something without it being an order.

He had been quick to tell me that he had commented on the fact that it was a blue moon that night, simply stating fact as opposed to a light hearted remark.

My foolish twelve-year-old self had looked up at the sky and shrugged, "Looks like a white moon to me."

That remark was rewarded with a lecture on how a blue moon was once defined as being the third full moon of each season, with each season accounting for three of the twelve annual full moons, not including the rare thirteenth full moon. As we moved to wrap up patrols in the Village, I had tried to ignore him as he continued on about how modern experts proclaimed that a true blue moon was in fact the second full moon in a single month as opposed to the time definitions of a particular season, of which occurs roughly every two and a half years.

Needless to say, it had been a long ride home...

While on the train from NYC to Gotham, I found myself thinking back a decade in the past to my vigilante youth in order to pass the time. Given that it was the middle of February, I had opted on taking the train as opposed to doing battle on the slick interstate. Thanks to Tim Reynolds and his glorious guitar playing, I spent the trip in aquiet, xen-like state, staring out the window as the world flew by. Arriving at the central station, I grabbed my overnight bag after taking out one of my ear buds.  Stepping through the door and onto the concrete platform, I navigated the station on auto-pilot before boarding the commuter rail heading right back out of the city.

Home sweet home, here I come...

Busy architecture quickly gave way to snow covered suburbia and then to quiet, uninhabited countryside. My train car was occupied by eighteen young men and women, their stylish business wardrobes easily combining to a total in the six-digits. I suddenly felt under dressed in stone-washed jeans, a fitted rugby shirt and a leather jacket that had been to the cleaners… never.

After we arrived at the train stop in Bristol, I let my finer garbed friends out first, each far too occupied with their iPhones and Blackberries to thank me. While they made their way through the slick parking lot to their respected imported vehicles, I took to standing beside the pick up/drop off sign, half tempted to roll up a few snowballs to see if I could nail a Beemer.

When a black Lincoln town car pulled up to a stop in front of me, I opted not to.

After all, Alfred would make me walk to the Manor if he'd seen such behavior.

Leaping over a small snow pile, I jumped to the passenger side and hopped in before Alfred could get out and open one of the back doors for me. As I tossed my bag in the backseat, Alfred shook his head closing his door while saying, "Master Dick, I must insist-."