To become a hero, as if.

"And you decided to pull her into the superhero business?" Bruce could almost imagine Diana's glare as he talked to her over the phone.

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't want to either. But I can see it almost too clearly. She is driven, unnaturally so," He defended his stance to his very long-time friend. 

"And that makes you pull her in? You promised no hero work till she was at least able to think for herself." 

"I found out later, she scavenged a gun from a corpse and did not use it till she saw no way to escape. She is resourceful, she has restraint. She keeps calm in the worst situations. She sacrificed herself for her friends. We need to direct her to a path where she does not turn out like…" She spoke over him, "You?"  

"Yes," He admitted as he heard a sigh over the call, "Bruce," Her words were much lighter this time, "You see your past, you see Nightwing's past in her don't you?" She asked. 

She knew him, she knew him so well, maybe even too well, "Yeah. She needs to know, to learn that there is a better path than being a killer. She has the will to change. The psychiatrist told me, Mira hated herself for killing." 

"Bruce you know. You are a fool sometimes. Bring her over sometimes, I would like to meet and possibly train her too. Good luck." 

Bruce put down the phone, they had started taking over some league business before digressing. Like always. 

———

——

—

I sighed as I kicked away the doll next to me, sending it rolling to the door, which slid open. My eyes were dazed as they got caught in the harsh change from my dim room to one filled with the hall light. 

Bruce stepped in, seeing the thrown doll he bent down to pick it up, from the corner of my eyes I could spot a hint of a bitter smile on his face. 

Walking up to me he placed the doll in between us as he took a seat beside me on the bed. 

"You okay kiddo?" He asked me, his tone was soft and his hands moved to pat my head. 

I nodded, "Fine." 

"I feel like we have had this conversation already," He said, reminding me of the day I met him. 

I formed a smile over my features, "Yeah, the day you promised me justice." 

"And a family," He added. 

I nodded, "A family too." 

I looked up at him, exchanging gazes with the man, "Sorry." 

His bitter smile fully showed itself as he accepted it with a nod. 

He must fully believe that I murdered her because I wanted to live and not to just fuck him over. 

I could let her escape with me as the hostage, it wouldn't have strained my hands red. But I made my choice—fuck you for playing with my life. Fuck you for thinking I am your pawn. 

I am no tool, and I refuse to ever be one.

But for now, time to sob it out. 

"When my blood spilled I just stopped thinking. And I–I didn't want to die…so I pulled the gun and—I don't understand." 

"What?" 

"Why did Batman not knock her unconscious? He is supposed to be like this super-skilled and experienced ninja, right? So, he would have knocked her out, right? Before throwing her near me?" 

He smiled with a teasing glimmer as he ran his hands over the hood of my jacket, and then he showed me why he did it, a small ball with a mat black coating, and as he rolled it, the engraving on it came to view. 

A bat logo. 

He sneaked that onto me. And how I didn't know. I had no idea. No fucking idea. 

Fuck. Are you kidding me? When did he do that—When he rescued me, right? 

He might've done that. He could sneak a ball the size of a bullet and never have me notice, in the middle of combat. He could slit my throat and I won't ever know before it's too late. 

As I almost blankly stared at his smile as his eyes grew, "Don't worry you were never in danger. I would never put you in any."

He said as he popped the pellet into his coat pocket.

"What is that?" 

"My sleeping bomb."

He was dropping hints left and right, he wanted me to guess it, he wanted me to say it. So I followed along.

Slowly widening my eyes, I let my lips turn slack, "You are Batman?" 

——— 

—— 

—

He forced the hands of the clock at midnight:00 with his hands, directly. I was more worried about him breaking the clock than anything else. 

But almost as if to prove me wrong the clock stand started to slide to the side. And like a muppet, my head swung between the antique clock sliding over and the man standing next to me. "Bu—But why? Why? How?" I had to fake surprise as much as possible as the whole thing moved to give way to us. 

He kept his teasing smile and said, "It is a simple mechanism. The sensors detect unnatural shifting of the hands to twelve exact. And open the door."

"Define unnatural," Putting up my annoyed front I rattled back, and he answered, "Well, altering the natural flow of the hands." 

We took the stairs that had come to sight, long, winding, and ultimately looking like someone had skipped a lot of OSHA regulations. I mean they didn't even have side rails.

My steps were careful and steady. I was not going to rush, no way in hell, I mean I was confident in running over it but why take unnecessary risk? Slowly we made our way down the dim steps. 

And slowly the darkness of the path was shredded and I…I was in wonderland. It had to be. A single monitor that dwarfed me by orders of magnitude. Dozens of smaller ones, hinged, fixed to the cave wall. 

A sight to behold to be sure, even more, the tiled and paved upward bud in the middle of the cave at which the stairs terminated. That was the central platform, and connected to it was a scattered web of metal ladders that lead to various ends that I could not see. 

And as if it were a sheer display of pride, Suites—costumes, displayed in tubes from Robin's to Bat's, it was all there. 

Soon mine too, fuck me. I would have to go out and fight crime. I didn't want to. I didn't care if someone worked for Hitler himself, as long as they didn't bother with me, I would much rather adopt a policy of live and let live. 

"So how do you like it?" Bruce asked, I could see the smirk even though I had my back to him. 

"Amazing."