The_NewCatwoman
05-14-2001, 04:12 PM
No thoughts.
No images.
Nothing, not a single memory.
He forced himself to carry a one-track mind.
He watched silently as the getaway-car rounded the corner, nearly missing a lampost.
He smiled.
It wasn't a normal person's smile, more of a perverse contortion of his lips in something that could easily be mistaken for glee.
His face was flushed in water as he watched them silently.
He loved the manipulation of his abilities.
He wanted them to think they got away.
They thought wrong.
He said a silent prayer.
Thankful for the tears of angels that baptised his every move.
Thankful for the deafening roar of the rain, the gargoyles that waited with him, his silent friends.
He could feel his silver cross, pressed against his chest under the suit's tight kevlar.
They were ten feet and closing from being directly under him.
His feet left the ledge.
He held his body tight, falling fast through the air.
"Let me live through this." he prayed.
His boots met the windsheild, the entire thing collapsed in a spiderweb of broken glass under him.
He was in control, they were lucky to be alive.
**
When A.J. was younger, about twenty-three months actually, his mother and I got into a terrible fight.
I thought,... we thought he was asleep.
I'd come in at 4 o' clock,... Selina was waiting for me.
Most men who come in at my hour are immeadiately suspected of adultery.
I wish I could say it was that easy.
When I'd found out that Selina was pregnant, I handled it in a mature way, I got down on one knee and asked for her hand in marriage.
She'd called me mad, 'How could you marry someone you didn't know?' she'd asked.
Without second thought, I'd reached up and revealed to her my birth-given face.
She didn't slap me, or scream at me, she didn't really react in any way except to cry.
I'd learn later that even the unnatural love we held for each other didn't gaurantee we were ready to be man and wife.
During that fight, I found out why the two of us were soul mates, in the most intense kind of love, but buckled down with the most intense kind of hate.
She was a demanding woman, I was a demanding man, although our metheods of so-called manipulation were different.
She had been up with worry, scared that I wasn't coming home.
She doesn't take fear well, and will go at any ends to stop the feeling before it gets too far.
She demanded I come home at a decent hour, stop putting myself at risk, raise my son, all of which called for my abandoning of the cowl.
She given me a proposition without giving me a proposition, wanted me to choose, but she was a smart,... no, brilliant woman.
She wouldn't even say it outloud, rather skirt the issue, knowing that I would catch on.
I'd gotten angry with her, she knew from the beginning what I was about. She knew that my parents were what was important.
'Even more important than your own son?! Your wife?! You spend years, and years in a thankless existence, fighting the same old fights, and for what?! It won't bring them back!'
I knew she regretted that last one when she said it, I'm sure the look on my face told her everything.
She looked down and then completely away from me, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean,..'
Her words had stung so deep, I couldn't hear her anymore, she would have hurt me less if she'd shot me clean through. Atleast I would have seen it coming.
They weren't coming back, I knew this, deep in the back of my mind, the whole time I knew, but it wasn't for me, all the fighting, it was for,... I don't even know.
'How do I know that tommorow night, or next week, or whenever, they're not just going to call me saying they found you dead in a drain somewhere?'
'You don't.' I'd said, I'm not sure why exactly.
Then she'd slapped me, hard, the fact that I'd hurt her so badly, and that she'd done the same to me probably hurt more than the slap.
I didn't move, just let the pain take it's course, a tit for a tat I guess.
Her face was flushed, as my gaze returned to hers, she breathed so hard, trying to catch a normal rhythmic pattern again.
I loved her so bad it hurt, I hated loving her too, and that hurt. A terrible cycle to live with, sometimes I wonder what my father would say.
A.J. had been awake, called out 'Mommy!' into the deafening silence.
Mommy had started crying, I'd wondered if he was too.
'Will you take him to his room please?' Selina had asked me, struggling not to let the emotion crack her delicate, throaty voice.
I walked A.J. to the right end of the hallway where his room was, his head on my shoulder, his eyes dry and empty.
He hadn't cried.
He looked up at me and asked a simple question, unfortunately it required a complicated answer, 'Daddy, do you love me and Mommy?'
'More than you could ever know.' I'd said as I tucked him in and kissed him goodnight.
It was probably the only time I ever felt compelled to do-so.
Not that it wasn't something that could be used to express emotion, but,... I hadn't learned that way with my father.
Back in the bedroom, I found Selina undressing, our eyes met again, I wanted to say 'I love you, here let me show you how.'
But I couldn't say it, I knew that, so I showed her.
Such a tragic cycle, the only way I knew how to show a woman I loved her, was to have sex with her.
I really wonder now what my mother would think about that.
**But what a shining animal is man,
Who knows, when pain subsides, that is not that,
For worse than that must follow- yet can write Music,
can laugh, play tennis, even plan.
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
I'll let you make your own dissection of that, it was taken from the book Ordinary People by Judith Guest, I recommend it to all who enjoy torturing their characters, especially Panther, DoE, SilverKnight, Batgirl, etc.**
No images.
Nothing, not a single memory.
He forced himself to carry a one-track mind.
He watched silently as the getaway-car rounded the corner, nearly missing a lampost.
He smiled.
It wasn't a normal person's smile, more of a perverse contortion of his lips in something that could easily be mistaken for glee.
His face was flushed in water as he watched them silently.
He loved the manipulation of his abilities.
He wanted them to think they got away.
They thought wrong.
He said a silent prayer.
Thankful for the tears of angels that baptised his every move.
Thankful for the deafening roar of the rain, the gargoyles that waited with him, his silent friends.
He could feel his silver cross, pressed against his chest under the suit's tight kevlar.
They were ten feet and closing from being directly under him.
His feet left the ledge.
He held his body tight, falling fast through the air.
"Let me live through this." he prayed.
His boots met the windsheild, the entire thing collapsed in a spiderweb of broken glass under him.
He was in control, they were lucky to be alive.
**
When A.J. was younger, about twenty-three months actually, his mother and I got into a terrible fight.
I thought,... we thought he was asleep.
I'd come in at 4 o' clock,... Selina was waiting for me.
Most men who come in at my hour are immeadiately suspected of adultery.
I wish I could say it was that easy.
When I'd found out that Selina was pregnant, I handled it in a mature way, I got down on one knee and asked for her hand in marriage.
She'd called me mad, 'How could you marry someone you didn't know?' she'd asked.
Without second thought, I'd reached up and revealed to her my birth-given face.
She didn't slap me, or scream at me, she didn't really react in any way except to cry.
I'd learn later that even the unnatural love we held for each other didn't gaurantee we were ready to be man and wife.
During that fight, I found out why the two of us were soul mates, in the most intense kind of love, but buckled down with the most intense kind of hate.
She was a demanding woman, I was a demanding man, although our metheods of so-called manipulation were different.
She had been up with worry, scared that I wasn't coming home.
She doesn't take fear well, and will go at any ends to stop the feeling before it gets too far.
She demanded I come home at a decent hour, stop putting myself at risk, raise my son, all of which called for my abandoning of the cowl.
She given me a proposition without giving me a proposition, wanted me to choose, but she was a smart,... no, brilliant woman.
She wouldn't even say it outloud, rather skirt the issue, knowing that I would catch on.
I'd gotten angry with her, she knew from the beginning what I was about. She knew that my parents were what was important.
'Even more important than your own son?! Your wife?! You spend years, and years in a thankless existence, fighting the same old fights, and for what?! It won't bring them back!'
I knew she regretted that last one when she said it, I'm sure the look on my face told her everything.
She looked down and then completely away from me, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean,..'
Her words had stung so deep, I couldn't hear her anymore, she would have hurt me less if she'd shot me clean through. Atleast I would have seen it coming.
They weren't coming back, I knew this, deep in the back of my mind, the whole time I knew, but it wasn't for me, all the fighting, it was for,... I don't even know.
'How do I know that tommorow night, or next week, or whenever, they're not just going to call me saying they found you dead in a drain somewhere?'
'You don't.' I'd said, I'm not sure why exactly.
Then she'd slapped me, hard, the fact that I'd hurt her so badly, and that she'd done the same to me probably hurt more than the slap.
I didn't move, just let the pain take it's course, a tit for a tat I guess.
Her face was flushed, as my gaze returned to hers, she breathed so hard, trying to catch a normal rhythmic pattern again.
I loved her so bad it hurt, I hated loving her too, and that hurt. A terrible cycle to live with, sometimes I wonder what my father would say.
A.J. had been awake, called out 'Mommy!' into the deafening silence.
Mommy had started crying, I'd wondered if he was too.
'Will you take him to his room please?' Selina had asked me, struggling not to let the emotion crack her delicate, throaty voice.
I walked A.J. to the right end of the hallway where his room was, his head on my shoulder, his eyes dry and empty.
He hadn't cried.
He looked up at me and asked a simple question, unfortunately it required a complicated answer, 'Daddy, do you love me and Mommy?'
'More than you could ever know.' I'd said as I tucked him in and kissed him goodnight.
It was probably the only time I ever felt compelled to do-so.
Not that it wasn't something that could be used to express emotion, but,... I hadn't learned that way with my father.
Back in the bedroom, I found Selina undressing, our eyes met again, I wanted to say 'I love you, here let me show you how.'
But I couldn't say it, I knew that, so I showed her.
Such a tragic cycle, the only way I knew how to show a woman I loved her, was to have sex with her.
I really wonder now what my mother would think about that.
**But what a shining animal is man,
Who knows, when pain subsides, that is not that,
For worse than that must follow- yet can write Music,
can laugh, play tennis, even plan.
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
I'll let you make your own dissection of that, it was taken from the book Ordinary People by Judith Guest, I recommend it to all who enjoy torturing their characters, especially Panther, DoE, SilverKnight, Batgirl, etc.**