How to Keep a Scorning Robin

Chapter 1 | Hero Unmasked

A Couple of Hours Earlier

Bruce Wayne squared his shoulder in front of the silent crowd and flashing cameras. Then, with a steady hand, he slowly took off his mask and proclaimed in a solemn voice, "I am Batman."

Before you ask, it was a Venetian phantom mask with ostentatious gold filigree artfully lined with sparkling diamonds. But, of course, what else could the flamboyant billionaire wear to a masquerade charity gala? Surrounded by sharp-eyed reporters like Vicki Vale and Fred Forbes, a gentlemanly black mask was out of the question unless he didn't mind a photo of Gotham's favourite son and the most wanted vigilante published side by side on tomorrow Gotham Gazette's headline. Heck, with a scandal of such scale, the story might even throw Superman to the second or third page on the Daily Planet.

"I have always wanted to try that line." His winsome smile was met with a wave of hearty chuckles. "I am honoured today to stand in front of you..."

"Looking pretty, Batman." Dick's voice through the comm was heavy with humour. He could partially envision his eldest son shaking with laugher.

"Now that smile could kill." Jason sniggered with alarming noises in the background that Bruce could only hope he was playing GTA in the Batcave.

"Heheh. Maybe I can develop a new suit to match the mask," Tim chimed in. "with built-in AED to revive the criminals who get a heart attack."

HH. "... the profit of the mask auction will be donated to our fellow Gothamites who lost their home..." Bruce continued with practised charm. It was consuming enough to keep the gravelly grunt (as Alfred trenchantly put it) out of his voice. He could do without the constant hoots and jests flooding through the bat-comm. How delightful if he could somehow string together the words 'batman' and 'out' within the speech?

Finally, stepping down in thunderous applaud, Bruce sauntered towards to bar with the beautiful Ms Starr in his arm. "Most splendid performance, sir," Alfred remarked in his ear. "May I remind you to relax those uninviting tendons of yours that were beginning to surface along your neck and temple. Bruce Wayne never strained under the spotlight. He revelled in public attention. Gentle grace, remember, gentle grace." Hn...

It has been a long time since he appeared in a high society function, needless to say to host one. So long that he, quoting his omniscient butler, 'need to re-learn how to be Bruce Wayne.' How absurd that a man must pretend to be himself? It couldn't be helped that life decided to dump a bucket of gasoline into his already overflowing cup. Within a year, Dick has taken up the badge and gun against his advice; Jason was readjusting returning home from Arkham Asylum; and Tim, his youngest and supposedly the most obedient one, somehow got caught up in the kerfuffle with a fifteen years old pregnant girlfriend. 

Fortunately, the strength of a true bond was at its strongest when they faced the impossibles. Out from the ashes of horrendous disasters, his family has united again despite their disputes. At times he may give his kids scowls and glares, but the thought of his family brought forth a more genuine smile. 

"A champagne for Ms Starr and a ginger ale for myself." Said Bruce.

"Aww, call me Sophia." Sophia Starr accepted the crystal flute with a sultry smile. "I'd believe our history was enough to discard the formalities, Bruce."

"Of course, Sophia." Bruce replied automatically, although he was hardly listening to the beauteous queen at this point because, out of the corner of his eye, a figure caught his attention. The face and dress were unfamiliar, but he, of all people, should know looks could be deceiving. 

Faking a sip from his glass, he sent a silent apology to the woman clinging to his arm. It was time to play the tactless playboy. "Ah yes, a question, Sophia. I have been wanting to ask if you were still in touch with Mr Cobblepot?* I have this business initiative..."