1 Work by etherfalling
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They stared at each other; the Batman’s black cowl obscuring the sweat that dripped from his forehead, drenching him in a silent cold dread, and the man with his awkward gait stepping to the side, nearer and closer, his hands fumbling over the rifle in realization of his clear advantage. He reloaded his weapon in a series of clumsy clicks, his eyes darting from the metal in his hands to the man who clung to the metal below him, dangling above the impending watery wreckage of Gotham.
Even with his glasses, he could not see beyond the suit of Batman.
He needed the mask: the freedom from the chains and expectations of the manor, the vengeance it allowed in the twilight, the wall it erected between the mask and Selina Kyle, preventing her from drawing too near.
Laying on the catwalk, the mask suffocated him. He needed to breathe.
