A bat or no bat?

A hero or a villain?

A single word to answer,

NOPE

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- North of Gotham's Abandoned Industries Complex -

Cold.

Yet he was warm.

Damp.

Yet he was dry.

Pain.

Yet he felt relieved.

That was all the things that the little bird felt upon awakening from his deep slumber.

His ears had picked up sounds.

He was hearing things, strange things.

He heard the sound of metal clashing, like it was being brushed by something hard. Soft breath, calming yet eerie to listen to. Then came a song. In a form of a bird-like whistle. It was familiar, as if his whole life was summed up into it. But then again, as he listened to it more... It became to feel distant in his soul.

'What was it?' the boy fought in the back of his mind, feeling underwhelmed by the situation.

He paused,

'More importantly...'

He snapped his eyes and shot up with a jolt. A split second later, he hunched back. Immediately regretting his decision. His body was in pain. It was as if he had fought a dozen of thugs in the middle of the Gotham's heart.

Did he?

"What happened?" he whisper-shouted to himself. His head panged with pain. There was hundreds of non-existed needles being planted into his brain.

"Oh I'll tell you what happened" A sweet yet sickening voice drawled out from the back of the room.

The little bird stiffened, his breaths became labored. Gulping inaudibly, he felt sweat forming and trickled down his chin. 'Who?'

"Just some random girl who saved you from an untimely doom." The voice called out again, only now he knew that the voice was in fact...

Belonged to a girl.

'Wait... Did she just-' He turned his head quickly, finding nothing but the shadows. A glint of emerald emitted from beyond it.

"Yes, I could hear the words you say in your head" the voice said slowly, chuckling at the little bird's expression. The sound of metal clashed again. Only now, it's like the metal was being put into something. Being seethed to it's holder.

He tried to study the shadows but to no avail. The green light had disappeared, leaving him clueless on where to look.

The figure cocked her head and suddenly made a stand. With a thump from her boots, she gracefully emerged. Emitted by the moon's light. She had revealed herself.

Richard sat there, worried for what the figure has installed for him.

The figure was neither tall, nor short. She was neither skinny, nor fat. He wasn't sure though, since the figure was covered completely with layers upon layers of leather and fabric. The figure's face cannot be seen thanks to the hood she was wearing. The hood had two pointy end, it was as if she was trying to mimicked the bat.

"Before you say anything, yes. It does represent a bat." The figure smiled softly before pulling down her hood. Revealing a face that he suddenly felt familiar with.

His eyes widened at the sight.

His ears started to rang and his head pounded. Doubling over, he panted heavily. Remembering why he was here. Why he felt familiar with her, and why he was in pain.

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Five Hours earlier

-Gotham's street-

Richard smiled bitterly at the wallet before shoving it back into his pocket. He felt guilt crashing down his soul, telling him that he had no rights whatsoever to take it. Telling him to find the man and return the damn wallet. But then again, his brain told him otherwise. 'If I don't steal, I'll die.' He repeated to himself over and over again, hoping that it will muffle the guilt from completely taking over him.

Yes, he admitted it.

He felt the showers of guilt.

Almost drowning in it too.

He shook his head and walked away from his previous stand. He headed back to his temporarily home. Rain by his side.

Gust of wind passed through his soaked body, sending shivers down his spine. He smiled, the rain had come to his aid once again. In a sense of company at the very least. So with light steps, he trudged along the now empty street. Face covered by the shadows of his hood. His back straight to avoid suspicions.

He knew far too well the Bat was searching for him.

The media had gone somewhat wild...

If that was even possible, the media had always been rabid. But his absence triggered something else far more than anything. He understood the case, everyone would take pity. Pity was one of the biggest source of income regarding some particular news.

But he was sure though, the media will calm down.

Eventually.

Given time of course.

After all, who would want to read about the missing kid for the hundred of time in a month?

.

Street after street after street, he continued on. Taking sharp turns, detours and whatnot. Stepping through puddles, asphalt, rocks and leaves, he was left wondering if it was really the best idea to keep the distance between his...

Work place and his home.

Far.

So very far.

That far.

At least for an eight years old.

.

"Finally" he breathed, feeling his feet buckled before thumping to the entrance.

Mustering his strength, he pulled open the gate. Rusty, old and definitely fragile.

His home was alright,

Half decent.

'Abandoned Warehouse'

Was how you would labeled it.

Sure, it may or may not belonged to a group of brawly criminals. Seeing that the inside was filled with dozens of empty liquor container, vodka bottles, the remains of tobacco ashes, and perhaps some drugs. Possibly cocaine and a bunch of LSDs. The place stank of those scents, not to mention the lack of ventilation. Leaving the room with a suffocating, damp, and reeking air.

Aside from the wretched atmosphere, a few daggers, guns and riffles were hung proudly but poorly to the walls. As a warning and a sign of achievement. Mostly as a warning. The wall's paint was scraping off, decorated with moss, holes, and even random patterns from an unknown substance. It was of a shade between scarlet and dirt.

Now what could it be?

The little bird didn't really care about all of the possibilities and conditions.

At the very least...

He had a roof above his head.

Shelter as you might call it.

He went behind the crates, his sole crunching the shattered glasses across the floor. Echoing, multiplying, and deafening. The crates were getting a bit mossy, green and brown stains covering the surface. He climbed a few stacks of the creaking crates, reaching for his duffle bag. Grabbing a few pieces of clothing that was exceptionally dry, he jumped down. Doing a back flip just for a bit of excitement.

After changing his clothes, he sat quietly on the crates. Taking out the thick wallet from his previous soaked up red jacket. His mind was fighting again, between guilt and pride.

'The world is unfair, so why can't I?' He argued before opening the wallet hastily.

His eyes widened then turned into a squint as he stared down at the amount of money that was in it. Hundreds- no. Thousands of dollars was left inside. New, stainless, and smooth. He gritted his teeth. No longer feeling obligated to carry on the guilt. After all, if the man left his home with this amount of money... Surely he wouldn't miss any of it.

His stare averted from the money and onto the little decks of priceless cards. Debits, credits, all of those things. 'Is all of these really necessary?' His little mind thought as he teared out the cards and threw it furiously to the other side of the building. Flying in all of direction, scattering. His frown evident, his soul heavy.

"My little robin, money isn't everything. It cannot buy true happiness, believe me." His mother's soothing voice echoed in his head.

He hung it low, tears threatening to slip out once again. The guilt that he thought was gone, came back again. Rushing, overwhelming his weakened heart.

His whole life, money was never a case he strive for. It was never his purpose. It never comes at the first list of the things he needed. And now?

It was the thing he needed the most.

His mother was right, money does not buy true happiness.

Apart from buying the necessities to keep him from dying in vain.

Inside, he was still a broken boy. In need of love, guidance, care. He did lost everything. At the exact moment he lost his parents, he lost his whole life. He doesn't need money. No. Money can't fix his past. Money can't avenge him. Money can't resurrect his dead parents. In fact, nothing can.

He broke again, his tears fell freely down his cheeks. His sobs was quite, muffled down by the jacket he sunk into.

The gate suddenly creaked, signing someone's entrance. This snapped him out of his thoughts. His sobs came to a halt. Immediately, he wiped his eyes and took cover. Holding his breath, he hid behind the stacks of crates.

"What do you mean by an unauthorized personnel? Everybody in this area knows we owned the place." A gruff voice boomed in, along with multiple steps. Heavy, full of fury.

"I told you already, I saw a boy last night. He sneaked in with a duffle bag!" Another voice answered, hoarse and annoyed.

"But boss, the meeting will take place tonight right?" A squeaky voice chimed in.

"Of course, the deal will still proceed. How many guards do we have securing the warehouse?" the hoarse man asked for assurance.

"Twenty, half of them are armed."

"The rest?"

"They're professional. Fist will do."

The boss nodded and sighed, ordering his men to set the place up.The sounds of furnitures being moved around was heard, scraping the floor. A long, wide, and humongous table was placed. A few chairs as well. The floors was swept just a little, nothing too clean nor horrendous.

As the procedure continued, the little bird felt nothing but the desperation of being trapped.

'Oh God,' he prayed as he took out a throwing knife from his pocket. Thinking how stupid he was for choosing this place as a shelter.

'I should've skip this place. I should've pick another warehouse. I should've....' He shook his head.

'No. I should try to escape.' He blinked his eyes, nodding to himself.

He had the money, so leaving his bag would be okay. Besides, the bag was out of his reach. Even if he tried to grab it, the creaking crates would blew his cover away. The question is...

'How?'

.

"Hey boss, have we ever thrown some credit cards?" The gruff voice said quietly.

The little bird held his breath. 'Please don't notice. Please don't notice' He chanted for his dear life.

"Of course not. Even if I did, I would've picked it up again." The boss replied with a deadpan tone.

"So...... Why is it here? It wasn't here just an hour ago."

Silence fell upon the room as realization came to their minds.

"Search the place! The boy is still here!" Shouted the boss with anger, his hand curled into a fist.

Five of his men nodded and scavenge the room. One to the gates, one to the back, and three to the crates. The boss simply went outside to call out the guards.

Richard sank deeper into the ground, eyes focused through a hole of one's crate. His heartbeat increased by a mile. He held his knife tighter to his chest, his breath labored.

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"I was beaten up..... Wasn't I?" the boy looked at the figure who now had sat comfortably across him.

"MmmmmHmmmm...." she nodded slowly, examining at some sort of a note.

"You rescued me?"

"Why of course, I can't have you dying..... At least not today." She kept her eyes trailed on the notes, smiling sadly at him.

"Not that...... Miss." He breathed out, trying to grasp her attention.

"Sush. And don't call me miss. I'm not THAT old." She huffed, scribbling random words down the paper.

"..... I was just-Sorry..... " he sighed quietly when a sudden burst of pain went through his back.

His eyes widened as he inhaled the air sharply, the feeling worsened so bad as he let out a scream. Tears slid down his cheeks as he shook at the immense sensation, shutting his eyes tight.

The figure snapped her head and let out a quite jumbled up curse before sprinting off.

Richard was not amused.

Not amused at all.

"Why can't I just die already?" he gulped painfully, clutching the sides of his body. Holding back any more screams.

"Because you have a reason to stay alive." Came the figure's voice snarling as she propped open a little box, drawing out little pills of white before shoving him a glass of water.

"Painkillers. It'll help." She said sternly, looking at him like she was about to loose a family.

He nodded, taking the pills before groggily gulp it down his sore throat.

Ten seconds later,

Still in pain.

"You said that those would help. I'm, still in pain." He muttered rather harshly, eyes twitching and tears still falling.

"Well that's not how medicine works little bird. It takes time." She snorted before patting him on the back softly, groaning as she stood up.

"Where are you going?" he whined in panic, unsure on what to feel about the whole situation.

"Pizza or China-takeouts?" she ignored his questions and grabbed a few things, the notes included.

"I said where are you going?!!!" he demanded, slowly trying to grab a piece of her cloak.

She sighed, dropping down to his level.

"Relax Richard, I'm just going to buy us something so we don't die starving." She winked at the boy, taking off her cloak casually before turning back to face him.

"You're coming back right?"

"Of course." She ruffled the little boy's head before leaning down again.

"Thank yo-" the little boy's voice was cut off by the interruption of one's hand crashing to the back of his neck. Sending him back to his slumber.

The figure stood up before putting on her poker face facade, dusting herself. "Now to find that crook..."

.

"Emiguel... We need to talk."

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(A/N): Ahahahahahahahahahah that was longgggggg. Sorry for not updating last moth, t'was a hectic time of the year... Anyways.... I think this is the longest chap I've got in SB, 2.385 words! Right? So I hope you enjoyed that, and on the behalf of the mysterious figure... I apologized for the inconvenience. Also, don't get attached to her. She'll only appear in two chapters.... Meaning there's only one more chapter for her to bug in. It's not even a full chap XD

The update schedule for SB is probably 3-10'th day of the month. Meaning it's a monthly update. But I assure you, it'll be at least this... long for a chap. Ummm.... Maybe right above 1500 words. Yeah, let's just start at that.

Again, sorry for not posting.....

I'm handling about... 5 stories right now so....

*shrugs*

That's another thing.

Anyways..

Hope y'all stay as whelmed as possible 'till the next update.

Batma-prochrastinate.....

OUT!!!