Jul. 21st, 2015 08:57 pm
master_bruce: (AU Week - Agent of Shield)
Bruce Wayne's parents were not murdered by Joe Chill, but by members of Hyrdra. As a result, Bruce joined SHIELD out of law school, obsessively working his way up the ranks (buying his way?) in order to use the organisation in his vengeance against the Green Skull.

Colonel Wayne is a cold-hearted man who definitely has no qualms about killing. He's single-minded and tough, Director of SHIELD, and tends to follow his own path rather than listen to advice. He was trained by Nick Fury, is friends with a crippled Tony Stark (idek), and is in a relationship with Barbara Hardy (Black Bat).

Please assume he's always been this version! He won't remember anything after Friday. He won't be open about his job, obviously, but much like Dick, it can be assumed that people might have made assumptions close to the truth by now. Feel free to assume previous conversations/knowledge about him, I'll go with it.

Slightly more detailed background info here.
master_bruce: (Looking Over Gotham)
Bruce hadn't said much after he escorted Robin off the premises. He just wanted to go and work out. He's mad at the kid, mad at himself. And doesn't want to think about parallel worlds; alternate versions of himself that might be doing all this better.

It's a hard workout. Running, weights, the heavy bag. Weapons, and then sparring. X is a great training partner, and she's got no qualms about beating the crap out of him when he asks it. It's only when he hits the deck for the twentieth time, and finds he can't physically make it back up again, does he hold a hand in the air.

'Think I'm done.'

His mind's more clear than it was. It can only concentrate on the physical pain he's in. He's glad of it.

OOM: Robin

May. 10th, 2013 01:20 pm
master_bruce: (Bruce - Shoulder)
 His plans for the day are much the same as they are every day, at the moment - the business stuff is done, for the most part. So now; training, lunch, and working on the Batcave. His mind is already on these things as he leaves Milliways, and crosses the front hall of Wayne Manor to head for the wing with the gyms in.
master_bruce: (Half Profile)

The door brings them, as it usually does, to the main entrance hall of Wayne Manor. Bruce casually takes her hand, and leads her through a door to the East Wing. It takes them through a drawing room, a few smaller ones that all seem to be some kind of sitting room, heading south. Eventually, they end up in a room with a grand piano, and he nods at the wall of bookcases. 

'The cave's down there. You can see later, if you like. I put the suit in one of the gyms.''

For now though, through another door and down a long flight of stairs. The decor down here is cool and neutral, such as you'd find in the most exclusive of private health clubs. He opens an unmarked door, and stands aside to let her enter first.

There's a climbing wall on one side, various blocks and obstacles scattered over the vast open floor. Ledges are cut into the side of the far wall, spaced at such distance that most people would think impossible to jump across. By the door, and stretched along the near wall, is a bench on which various weapons and utilities are laid out. The whole place has obviously been set up as a testing area.

In the corner, the Batsuit stands in its clear perspex case. Bruce glances towards it, and then hits a security number on the door, so they can't be heard, or disturbed.

'I thought we should probably test its manouverability under pressure before setting weapons on it.'

In case, y'know. A gunshot blows a hole through it.

master_bruce: (A Little Pissed)
Bruce has next to no use for Christmas. The only difference it really makes to him is that he has to go to more pointless parties in Gotham. Though on the flipside, the crime rate usually does drop a bit.

Anyway, Milliways tends to give him a place to escape to, with the added bonus of more time spent with X. Not that she's here tonight, but he'll see her tomorrow. He was looking forward to catching up on some rest tonight - so he's actually kind of annoyed when he wakes up to find someone else in his room.

His hand is on a batarang before he's anywhere near sitting up.
master_bruce: (Default)

Bruce likes X's apartment. Not that there's anything wrong with Wayne Manor per say, but it's hardly what one could call...intimate. It's home, and it's his parent's home, and it's the Wayne house, for all those who don't live there. It means things to different people, whether good or bad. 

For him, it's just a bit huge. Great when he needs space to work out, or build the Batcave, or throw elaborate parties. Not so great when you feel like watching a movie with your girlfriend. Somehow, the movie theatre there lacks the personal touch. It's far nicer to sprawl on the sofa in her apartment, and share popcorn (and occasionally get attacked by cats). 

Maybe Wayne Manor could use a cat. He's thinking it wouldn't make that much difference, though.
master_bruce: (Bruce - Amused/I Like You)
The door opens onto the foyer of Wayne Manor. No Alfred this time though.

Bruce is dressed in a really good suit and he seems to wear it with confidence. There's a slightly different air to him as he holds the door for her, still himself but a little less unsure of things.

'Shall we?'

OOM: Date

May. 17th, 2010 10:35 pm
master_bruce: (Bruce - Dressing)

He's more nervous about this than he'd care to admit. It's not helped by the fact that when the time came to go and meet X, he couldn't find a route to the bar. He'd resorted to opening every door in Wayne Manor and...well. It's a really big house.

Eventually, it was the front door that gave in and put him out of his misery. So he'd taken a breath and gone on through, dressed casually in jeans and a plain, untucked, white shirt and sneakers. It had taken a while to decide on what to wear because he had no way of predicting what she would wear and had guessed, in the end, that she'll opt for casual as well. Especially as they talked about sparring. And...caves. Maybe.

So, here he is. Jeans and combed hair, clean shaved and just a dash of expensive cologne, opening the door from Milliways onto the expanse of entrance hall that welcomes people to Wayne Manor.

There is also an Alfred, which he was not expecting. An enquiring look at his friend receives a silent reply of I know when you're getting ready to meet a young lady, Master Bruce, conveyed neatly with just the lifting of one corner of his mouth.

Bruce looks at X, slightly off-stride already.

'This is Alfred. Alfred, this is...X.'

If the man looks suprised at the name, nothing shows. He's far too professional for that.

'A pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Is there anything you require?'

Sep. 17th, 2009 09:50 pm
master_bruce: (Default)

In the first three months of his self-imposed mission, Bruce learns there are three kinds of criminals in this city. The first kind are the most common; people who have no job and no money and no way to feed their kids. They steal to eat and he finds that he has more sympathy with them than he ever thought he would. They're desperate people for the most part, let down by their government and a system that doesn't help them.

The second type are career criminals. These mostly consist of kids who grew up in the families of the first type of crook, disillusioned with life and hooked into street gangs as a means to help support their family. Once within the ranks, they find an identity for themselves and a chance to make a name. It becomes a way of life and as they get deeper into it, the crimes worsen.

Bruce has less sympathy for this type of criminal.

His Chinese is rudimentary at best but one afternoon he notices something outside a school and he manages to ask a young woman (with the help of hand gestures and some miming) why there are so many people hanging around in cars who are quite clearly not parents. Drugs is the answer he was expecting and yes, he gets it in the form of the woman mimicking a needle in her arm. He nods once and turns to look at the waiting dealers when she says something else, something he doesn't understand. He looks back but she seems unwilling to help with sign language this time and just repeats what she said. Bruce looks at her helplessly until she taps him on the arm and points.

There's a group of girls in untidy uniforms leaving the school. One of them is called over by a man in a car with blacked out windows. She smiles and goes to talk to him; this is clearly someone she's met before. Just as clearly, he's trying to cajole her into the vehicle and she's laughing, thinking it's a game and eventually returning safely to her friends. But Bruce sees the look on the man's face as they leave and the way he bends to speak to a colleague in the back of the car. The next time some girls come from the school, the scene is repeated and this time, a girl does get in. She does not laugh or smile, she has no friends nearby to call her over and ask where she's going.

What gets Bruce is the way that underneath the fear on her face, there's a kind of resignation. It's obvious in the way her hand clutches the strap of her schoolbag across her chest as if trying to protect herself, but she doesn't try to argue about her fate for the rest of the day. Or night or next few days, for all Bruce knows. If a child is a prostitute to make money, he's guessing that the folks at home aren't going to be knocking the doors of the police station down to report her gone.

The gangs do what they want, mostly unchecked. It seems ironic to him that all these thousands of miles away from Gotham, nothing is really different. Which brings him to the third type of criminal; the ones who do it for fun.

He sees it the day he comes out of his cheap hostel and cuts through an alleyway, only to discover the mutilated body of a homeless man. No Triad symbols on him to mark this as a gang killing, it's simply gratuitous. He sees it in an abandoned warehouse near the docks, where men go to street fight and show off their martial arts prowess. The bets get larger whenever certain fighters appear because there are fewer willing opponents; when these men fight, they usually don't stop at a mere knockout. They just like the sound of breaking bones.

He sees it when he watches places where men in expensive leather jackets and dark glasses converge, with guns on open display as they protect the leaders entering restaurants, brothels, casinos. The bosses, the untouchables. The people who organise all this and sit back to reap the profits while everyone else suffers.

Night after night, Bruce returns to his filthy bunk and lies awake, muscles aching from the jujitsu he's learning and a day of trying to find ways to eat, wondering how he could come so far only to find things are exactly the same. But what was he expecting? He's not sure.

What he is sure about is that he can't sit back and watch forever. But also, that if he's not smart and just jumps in with two feet, he'll end up dead quicker than a person can blink. He has to remind himself that he's here to learn and that the idea is to go home eventually. He can't change the world when he doesn't even have a name.

There may be three types of criminal but there are many more ways to deal with them. The thing he has to figure out, once he's worked out how to move among them, is what to do afterwards. And already there's a nagging suspicion that that isn't going to be as straightforward as he'd hoped. Here, he's just a lost gweilo and a poor one at that. In Gotham, he's Bruce Wayne; rich, famous and with a past everyone knows...completely hamstrung by his position and the things that are expected of him.

There are nights when this whole thing seems impossible. But every time his thoughts turn defeatist, he hears that voice

(you always fear what you don't understand)

and feels the now instantaneous gorge of rebellion that flares in him at the thought of ever being afraid again. And then it's alright. Then he knows he's doing the right thing.

He just has to be patient.
master_bruce: (Young - Thief/Eating)

The boat stays in dock for only another two hours before it leaves for the South China Seas. The time is spent trying to get the captain to understand that yes, he has money, but no, no passport. No passport, no name. Eventually, the man takes the cash and gets a dirty sailor who smells of oil to take him below.

China. It'll do.


He shares a cabin with four sailors who look at him suspiciously for two weeks, discussing between themselves what crimes he's committed to be running away. Bruce doesn't speak Chinese but he gets the drift. It's exactly what he'd think if he were in their position. Or maybe they're not. Maybe they're wondering why he spents six hours a day in a seemingly futile race with himself through the cargo decks, climbing the containers, jumping between them, running endless miles in circles, over and over. When he's not running and jumping and climbing, there are always sit-ups, press-ups, chin-ups, squats, lunges, shadow boxing...

...even he's not sure why. But he can't sit still. At night, when he should be sleeping, he thinks of Chill and the desperate look in his eyes as his father handed him his wallet, dropped it, ("It's fine, it's fine..."), the expression afterwards when his mother lay dead and his father dying, ("Bruce, don't cry..."), the words in the courthouse and the way the man couldn't turn to look at him...did he feel guilty? Did Joe Chill, double murderer, feel bad for what he had done?

                                                                                                                                                                                                 (If I hadn't got scared, they'd still be alive.)

He comes to the conclusion it doesn't matter, as he rises from his bunk and goes to run some more. Because it's not just Chill he's mad at any more. It's the system that released him, the politics that made it necessary, the crime that ruins lives like his. Falcone, for robbing him of his chance to be free.

Bruce doesn't sleep much these days.

He learns some words in Chinese. Then a sentence or two. His cabinmates decide that, for a man who is obviously a murderer or rapist or something, he's not so bad. At least he keeps to himself and doesn't get in the way. As stowaways go, he's not so bad.


For three weeks, he doesn't think of anything except what happened he night he left. Then practicality asserts itself - what exactly is he doing? This isn't some existential angst borne from an impulsive decision, though it was impulsive...no, this is the methodical thinking of a man who started down a path he has no desire, or ability, to veer from.

So, what is he doing? Falcone was right. People from his world, they never understand. Bruce thought he did and then he discovered he knew nothing. And (why do we fall, Bruce?) what do people do when they know nothing?

They learn.

He'll learn. He'll teach himself and when he can't, he'll get others to do it. He'll discover what makes a criminal, he'll live among them, he'll show Falcone that if you fear what you don't understand, then understanding will bring fearlessness. And then...well, that part he hasn't worked out yet.

But he knows one thing. He won't be Bruce Wayne any more. If he has to go a thousand miles to find someone who doesn't know his name, then he'll go six thousand to not have to have one at all.
master_bruce: (Young - Petulant)

We don’t need to see this.

I do.

Chill’s dead. He supposes he should be glad. But Chill’s dead and he didn’t kill him.

He doesn’t feel glad. He feels robbed.


Bruce was Prom King, of course. He didn’t want to be but knew it would happen about two years before it actually did. He was dutiful. He took the right girl. He acted surprised and pleased when they called his name. Inside, he just felt like asking whether he would have got it if his name wasn’t Wayne or if his parents hadn’t been murdered.

The day after graduation, he took up bungee jumping. He was only sorry when the band returned him to the applause of his friends and the girls telling him how brave he was. For a moment there, he forgot what it was like to be rich and popular.


In the car, he’s quiet. He ruminates on why Falcone should have done what he’s wanted to do all these years. How dare he? For Chill to die for something as stupid and petty as keeping his mouth shut – doesn’t Falcone know how killing that man was supposed to free him? How it was supposed to cleanse his soul of guilt. How he’d now, finally, be able to go to his parents graves and say, look Mom, Dad. I did it. He paid. And then it would all be alright. Finally, mercifully, it would all be alright.

I’m not one of your good people, Rachel.

What’s he supposed to do now?

Your father would be ashamed of you.

She’s right. He would.


He made sure to graduate top of his class. At least that was something that could never be attributed to his name. Nobody seemed surprised though. He’s Bruce Wayne. Of course he’d be the smartest kid in school.


No gun. I’m insulted.

His father would be ashamed of him.

He wishes he could be proud of himself. He’s walked into Falcone’s den with nothing but words. He hopes his father would approve. He wishes he could be proud of himself but really, he just knows he’s got nothing to lose.


He had hoped it would be different at Princeton. It isn’t. He’s popular before he’s even got there. Everyone knew he was going. Everyone was waiting. Ready-made friends, endless parties, never short of an invitation, never a chance to get bored. Some of them are even nice. He makes friends. He studies hard. He plays lacrosse and soccer and rugby. He skis. Summers on the water, at beach houses, abroad.

Christmas with Alfred. He’ll suffer Wayne Manor, for Alfred, at Christmas.

And all the time, they laugh around him and he smiles and shares the jokes and dates endless beautiful girls and in the back of his mind; I’m going to kill him.

                                                                                                                  (Your father would be ashamed of you.)


You’ve never tasted desperate. You’re Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham. You’d have to go a thousand miles to meet someone who didn’t know your name.

Bruce has spent a lot of years, thinking he knew a lot of things. All those friends who looked at him and he could see them thinking two things; one was billionaire and the other was orphan. And he would pretend to ignore it and feel stoic and feel strong and feel good that in this privileged world, he knew what Bad was. He knew about crime. He knew what it could do to you.

Today, he realises he knows nothing and all it took was being told. By Falcone, of all people.

This is a world that you’ll never understand - and you always fear what you don’t understand.

But he does know what fear can do to you.

                                                                                                                                     (If I hadn’t got scared, they’d still be alive.)

If he has to go a thousand miles to find a place where no one knows his name, then that’s what he’ll do. It’ll be a relief. He doesn’t want to be Bruce Wayne anymore.

master_bruce: (Default)

Bruce Wayne will be entering the bar tonight from near the beginning of Batman Begins. He isn't Batman yet and hasn't left to go travelling and find a direction to take his life in. He's just walked out of the parole hearing of Mr. Chill, the man who killed his parents, and is hiding a gun in his sleeve because he's planning to kill him. He is not a danger to anyone in Milliways.

As I've explained to a couple of muns already, Bruce will be coming from movie canon, not from the DC Comic verse. If you want your pup to interact with Bruce and this would affect things in any way, please comment here and we can talk about it. For that matter, any OOC comments or discussion about threads can go here.

Also, for his entrance - if more than one person tags, please lets have only one 'this is Milliways' conversation. Any subsequent threads, we can assume he's been told the rules and gotten over the initial disbelief/shock factor. Thanks.

And please don't hate me if I mess him up while I'm finding my feet with him.


master_bruce: (Default)
Bruce Wayne

July 2015

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