My whole body aches. Tonight's patrol was especially brutal, and it shows. The cuts in my arm are dripping onto the floor of the BatCave, and bruises decorate my body in multi-hued patterns.
I'm sitting on a locker-room style bench with my head hanging low. At this moment my entire existence is focused on catching my breath.
My uniform is destroyed. The electrical shock burned my clothes and skin in huge patches. My body feels as though it has been through a small explosion.
Alfred is stiching the wounds on my arms while Father is monitoring my vitals. I barely even notice.
My ears are ringing and I really don't feel good. Before it even registers that I am moving, I am on my hands and knees vomiting onto the cave floor.
That's the last thing I remember before I pass out.
When I regain consciousness, I notice that I am in bed, and that it is late afternoon. Directly behind that thought comes the waves of pain. My cuts sting, my body aches, and everything hurts .
Father is sitting in my armchair reading Plutarch's Lives. He sees that I am awake and rushes to me.
"Damian," he says, worry in his voice,"I'm so glad you're okay."
My mouth is horrendously dry, but I manage to choke out a few words.
"What....day...is..."
Father stops me before I can continue. "It's been a day and half since you passed out. We were very worried about you. Being hit with that kind of voltage can seriously damage you."
"What...happened..." I say.
"We infiltrated the Meringio family's warehouse. We had gotten a tip that they were ready to move a shipment of drugs, and we were there to stop it. The whole place was rigged with faulty wiring, and when you shot your grappling hook, it tore one of the exposed wires. The shock nearly killed you." Father explains.
A wisp of a smile crosses my face when he says that.
"I...won't die...so easy...again." I whisper.
A shadow passes Father's face, but is almost instantly replaced with his normal expression.
"Either way, " he says, "you have to be off of your normal duties for at least a week. You were seriously injured, and I can't risk putting you out there again too soon."
I want to protest this decision. I truly do. But I feel so tired and sore, that I can't fight it.
"Very well, Father. " I say to him.