Prompt Post: ROUND FIVE
ROUND FIVE IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND FOUR | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND SIX >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
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Second of all - being a Batman geek I messed up every Batman universe into one. So, let me tell you who's gonna be who in this story.
Erik Lehnsherr = Bruce Wayne (obvsly)
Charles Xavier = a little bit de-aged Leslie Thompkins
Alex Summers = Dick Greyson (sorry, he's not Robin anymore, he's Nightwing for me)
Sean Cassidy = Jason Todd
Scott Summers (Dent in story 'cause I couldn't use the same surname 2 times) = Harvey Dent
Armando Muñoz = Lucius Fox
Moira MacTaggert = Jim Gordon
Raven Darkholme = Batgirl
Sebastian Shaw = Joker
Emma Frost = somekind of collision between Schumacher's Chase Meridian and Harleen Quinzel
Third of all - sorry for the long wait. I had to do a proper research. Hope you don't mind.
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Will you be continuing this??
Say yes.
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Erik flagged a waiter down and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Alex, listening a few feet away, obviously had no such reservations.
“I must confess,” he said, gesturing with his glass. “I don’t entirely see the appeal. A grown man in a costume? It all seems a little…” he trailed off, lifting a significant eyebrow.
(And now Alex was laughing at him. Well, that was easy enough to fix. The Batmobile needed a new coat of wax.)
The socialites surrounding him laughed, throwing their heads back, but it was Charles who Erik was watching. Charles, who looked up through his lashes and said, “Oh, I don’t know. He’s very dashing, don’t you think?”
Sometimes Erik hated being Batman. It was very difficult, wanting to punch yourself in the face all the time.
--At age eight, Erik’s parents were killed in an alleyway during a robbery ( ... )
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Well, alright, no, being Batman was actually pretty easy. Mostly he lurked around being extremely threatening, driving his fast car and ripping some punk’s own gun out of his hand from five feet away, then making it smack him in the face.
Being Batman made being Erik hard. Being Erik now required no less than half a dozen carefully constructed alibis. Being Erik required a practiced indifference, an attitude carefree to the point of inanity. That was hard.
Especially when Charles gave him that look, the one that said he wasn’t angry; he was just disappointed.
--Granted, Charles might’ve actually been angry that time with the Brazilian twin supermodels and the hot tub at the New Year’s party - and this, this was why Erik kept that research department around, to help verify his increasingly ludicrous cover stories - but it wasn’t entirely Erik’s fault ( ... )
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“At least learn something useful while I’m gone,” he said, checking his reflection in the hall mirror. He caught Alex rolling his eyes in the reflection.
“Dude, I can beat up tsunami-themed supervillains, do a backflip and bake a soufflé all at the same time,” he said. “What else useful is there for me to learn? I can say you’re going to jail, fucker, release the peacocks and put down the gun and that’s not my bat-themed guardian, you must be thinking of someone else in like, fifteen different languages.”
“Figure something out,” Erik said. “And don’t break anything while I’m gone.”
“One time!” Alex shouted at his retreating back, and Erik was above retorting that, yes, it had been one time, but it had been a whole wing of the house.
--It was just as well Alex didn’t come, ( ... )
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“Don’t bother,” Charles said, shaking his head. “She’s not mad. Well, no, she is mad, but she was mad before you missed it, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Erik said. “I had it on my calendar, but I’ve been-”
“Busy,” Charles said, signaling the bartender. “You’ve been busy for a while, Erik, and I have to say, these excuses, they’re starting to wear thin.”
“They’re not-” Erik started, and Charles gave him that look again, the one that went straight through him.
“I said don’t, Erik,” he said. “Pheasant shooting? Water polo emergency? Last minute yacht shopping with Giselle, and she only accepts the Parisian models? Don’t you think I know you better that ( ... )
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