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Despite being a grown man who has faced countless homicidal maniacs, trained under assassins, and has donned a title that represents vengeance and protection, that has struck fear in those who dare to hurt his city, Bruce Wayne is still a man that is afraid of bats.
It’s not a rational kind of fear. It’s a residual fear from his childhood, still lingering in the back of his mind whenever he sees a bat, of which there are many, but not enough to incapacitate him like it did when he was a boy.
It’s just… there. Twinging him with discomfort knowing that they’re there, surrounding him, in the corners that he can’t see, but not nearly striking him with petrification at the sight of them.
That being said, housing his base of operations in a cave full of bats, though it does stick to the theme, his unease at exploring its depth leaves the cave system far from uncovered as he stays in his little corner.
Which is why Bruce is now lost in the cavernous dark, grappling down the cave walls, looking for his newest gadget that has gained a mind of its own and rolled down a hole only to disappear.
Bruce nears it as it dangles haphazardly on a tiny ledge, his fingers barely grazing it before it plummets further down and hits the ground with… a splash?
Bruce readies himself to the possibility of a plunge into stillwater but as he makes his way down he is faced with something he could not have ever been prepared for.
A boy, head poking out from the water, slightly luminescent in the darkness, head cocked with curiosity at Bruce. There’s long wing like fins poking out from beside his temples and as the boy reaches his hand out to Bruce he sees that they’re attached to his arms as well.
“Hello,” Bruce says slowly, cautious and perplexed.
The boy ducks his face beneath the water and blows bubbles at Bruce, eyes large and inquisitive as he looks up at Bruce.
Bruce feels a smile tug at his lips at the action and the boy reflects the expression back, showing off his conical teeth.
“Do you… understand me?” Bruce asks.
There isn’t any recognition in the boy’s eyes and he goes and blows bubbles at Bruce again.
“Hm,” Bruce says. It seems that the boy’s responses are his attempts to emulate the way the sound travels through the air but through the water. Unsure of how to interact with the boy, Bruce digs in his pocket and finds the slightly crushed bag of seaweed that he had for a sodium boost.
The boy’s eyes go even wider and he swims so quickly towards Bruce that he nearly falls over from his startlement.
The boy clicks his teeth together, tapping on the rocky ground between them repetitively.
Bruce pulls a piece of seaweed from the bag and goes to hand it to the boy. He snatches it away and dips under the water. When he comes back, he looks at Bruce with pleading eyes and taps at the rock again.
Bruce laughs and hands him another piece. They go back and forth like this until Bruce has run out of seaweed. The boy taps again and Bruce shakes his head, holding out his empty hands.
“No more,” he says.
The boy takes his wrist and rotates his hand around, looking for more of the snack, until he realizes that there truly is no more left.
He then retreats back into the water.
Bruce thinks that this may be the end of their interaction until he returns and places a slimy leaf of a plant Bruce doesn’t recognize into his palm.
“Oh…” Bruce says. “Thank you.” He mimics eating it and the boy beams up at him.
The boy blows more bubbles at Bruce.
“Did you enjoy your snack?” Bruce asks.
Bubbles.
“I can’t understand you when you’re under the water,” Bruce says, as if the boy could understand anything he’s saying.
The boy blinks at him.
Bruce mimes going under the water and then makes a confused expression. Then he mimes pulling above it and smiling.
The boy pulls his face back to the surface and smiles at Bruce.
Bruce nods encouragingly.
The boy mimics what Bruce had just said and Bruce realizes that perhaps he understands more than he thought.
Bruce pretends to eat at the leaf again. “Snack.”
“Sssss… CK!”
“That’s right!” Bruce says. “Snack!”
“Sss CK! Sss CK!” The boy makes grabby hands at Bruce and he laughs again. He hands the leaf to the boy and he starts to munch on it, not retreating to the water this time.
“I wonder if you have a name,” Bruce says. He points to himself. “Bruce.” Point point. “Bruce.”
The boy hums in understanding. He points at himself. “Diii… CK!”
Bruce’s brows shoot up at his language before he realizes that that was the boy’s name.
“Diii CK. Sss CK!”
Bruce chuckles. “I’ll get you more snacks, chum.”
“CH …mmm?”
“Chum,” Bruce says. “It’s a nickname.” He takes a cautious finger and taps Dick on the chest.
Dick taps at his chest with question. He shakes his head. “Diii CK!”
“Yes, that’s your name. I was just calling you a different name.” Point. “Dick and chum.”
Dick taps again at his chest with a nod. “DiiiCK! CHmmm.”
There’s so many questions Bruce wishes he can ask the boy. How long have you lived here? Are there others like you? But answers will only come if he can continue to bridge between their language barrier.
He stays with the boy for hours until he hears Alfred’s frantic voice calling from above.
“I have to go now, Dick.”
Bruce goes to stand and Dick grabs at his ankle, upset and fearful.
“I’m going to come back.”
“BR …sss.” Don’t go, his eyes plead.
“I’m going to come back.” Bruce says, kneeling down again. “Bruce,” he points to the ground. “Bruce,” point, “Dick,” point, “Snacks.” He holds out his empty hands.
Dick takes his hand and squeezes it. Bruce squeezes back.
“I’ll be back, chum. I promise.”
“PR…mmm…sss.”
“That’s right. Promise,” Bruce says.
And when Bruce finally breaches the main levels of the cave again, calling out to Alfred, stinking of algae and wet cave, Bruce has an unbelievable story to tell and fish food to research.