pounding

[crusaded]

We didn't find Sander Cohen in London. It wasn't for a lack of trying. It wasn't even for the lack of intuition. He'd left marks in places, both in Buckingham Palace and in the Asylum, but we never found the actual man. When we were fortunate, his voice would ring in places, a distressed wail echoing through the halls, and yet somehow, he'd eluded both Damian and myself.

I can't say that I'm entirely unhappy, as a result, when the island changes back to its usual form. The officers of the ITF, stationed by Rapture's entrance, are probably accustomed to my presence now. Bucky Barnes knows my face both in the open and behind the cowl. But beyond obscuring my identity and trying to hide it from those who might take advantage, there are other reasons for the suit. It leaves an impression, and it frames a state of mind.

So I'm wearing it again, careful to change into the outfit in a safe space away from the hut, and running on the fastest route that I know to the caves. It isn't until someone's presence brushes too close for comfort that I realize my mind is far too occupied with any number of thoughts to be at my best.

I haven't slept in days, either.

It's too late to run around her, so I carefully walk some distance away, hoping she won't notice. Just another neighbor passing by.

Comments

[shewaswarned]

For a long beat, she just looks at him, as if she's waiting for the other ball to drop, the punchline to the joke, her mouth moving to form a syllable that never quite leads to a word, and she winds up pushing out a breath instead, sighing. She hasn't been able to see them in the darkness, but they're more visible now, the ears above the mask, and despite her reservations, she finds herself trying to resist a smile.

"Right. Of course," she replies, and then motions to herself after an awkward beat. "Ellen. Okay. Glad we got that established."

[crusaded]

There's no impact to the name. I understand that the weight of the uniform is largely a result of an earned reputation, as much as there is in the clothing itself. I feared bats as a child, but some fear spiders, the dark, shadows, any number of things. The Joker himself scares as many people as I might, and I am not trying to scare Ellen here, which is yet another setback to my name.

If nothing else, I take that moment of distraction, using it to slip away into the darkness before she can follow.

I need to be more careful next time. Something tells me, with my luck, I'll see her again while wearing the cowl.

And the next time, it won't be half as relaxed.