Billion Dollar Vengeance

Chapter 9: Journal

Friday, June Sixth

This journal has long since been a simple account of my nightly ventures. She plagues every waking thought, and I could not leave her out of this if I tried.

I did not bring Justice to the city tonight. I was on the phone with Tokyo for three fucking hours. And then I had to go check on her. I left her visibly disappointed, and it sat uncomfortably in my gut the whole night. I'm unsure what evidence of her mood I expected to find. She was asleep in her bed with the curtains open for me. Well... for him.

Truthfully, I'm apprehensive to enter her home. What if it's warm and cozy and comforting? I would never be able to sleep in my cold, empty bedroom again.

She was also upset about the tabloids. My name has been in the paper since before I was born. And I think that made it difficult to sympathize. But, my God, did she look hot eating those messy ribs. After days apart, it took a lot of self-restraint to wait to touch her.

It'll be a shame not to bring her to any more social events. She was like a lighthouse in that ballroom. A reminder that the world outside of the one the socialites and dignitaries live is the real world. That the wealthy pretend to be puppet masters, when really we stand on a pin top, carefully held upright by those we oppress. And if they ever have the courage, they could let go. And we would fall spectacularly.

I hope my plan for making her exclusive with us worked. I never thought I would like giving hickeys. But seeing her marked by me in a physical way was intoxicating. And I hate to admit it, but so was the way she fumbled when he accused her. I know how dangerous it is not to use a condom. At this point, I couldn't make him do it even if I tried. Not when she doesn't want to either.

Being inside her is as close to a religious experience as I have ever had.

I'm playing a dangerous game. One that could really hurt her. I'm still unsure how she'll react when she figures it out, but I'd guess she will at least be very angry for a while.

Sometimes I wonder which one of us she'll fall in love with first, and if it would disappoint me. I doubt I'd be able to take this that far though. I slip up constantly, leaving bread crumbs all over the place. It's too exhilarating to stop. I have to see that confused and distant look she gets. The thrill is worth the danger of exposure.

I can only hope that she won't be so hurt that she won't want either of us. And part of me wonders if, when she finds out, she'll drop one and keep the other.

I still think of that evening when she was crying on her porch. Guilt ripples down my spine in hindsight. I did not know it was for me at the time. The sight of her throwing a shoe at her bat house plagues me. It makes me wonder if she knows subconsciously. And how close subconscious is getting to consciousness. My mouth should taste the same, even if one is much more aggressive than the other.

I can tell she enjoys her freedom with him, though, rough as he can be. I certainly enjoy the freedom. She doesn't have to pretend to be anything, or even filter her words to sound like a normal person. Because she thinks he's insane.

And maybe we are. But Gotham has Bruce Wayne. Gotham needs Vengeance. And she is the same- Gotham personified. Beautiful and broken. And while one of those comes effortless to her, she tries incredibly hard not to be the other.

I'm already planning the next time I'll see her in the suit. I have long lost sense with this woman. And I doubt now that it will return on its own.