Father of the Night 1: Supply Run.


                                            =Father of the Night=


                                            >The Ponyville grocery store.

                                            >The cereal aisle.

                                            >You glance between the two boxes on the shelf.

                                            >Hmm...Heybites? Or Sugar Oats?

                                            >They both taste terribly to you, but he seemed to like them.

                                            >You compare and contrast the two for the ninetieth time.

                                            "Screw it."

                                            >You take a single bit from your pocket and send it spinning through the air

                                            >The coin flips and rotates in slow motion before you snatch it from in front of your face.

                                            >You open the palm of your hand: Heads.

                                            >Sugar oats it is.

                                            >You grab the cereal and throw it in your cart before heading to the counter.

                                            >The mare behind it, a young pretty thing, looks you over.

                                            >You'd been here a few months or so, everyone in the town more or less knew you.

                                            >Still, you were always expecting some bigotry. It was who you were.

                                            >Luckily, the girl just begins to ring up your items.

                                            >You follow her gaze down to the items she is ringing up.

                                            >Cereal.

                                            >A first aid kit.

                                            >A spray bottle.

                                            >"Got a little one at home?" she asks.

                                            >She makes a small face when she rings up the bolt cutters.

                                            "Something like that."

                                            >You toss the bits on the counter and grab your things.

                                            >"Uh...have a nice day mister."

                                            "Yeah, thanks..."


                                            >You walk through the center of town with your groceries in your bag.

                                            >Your home was at one end of the town, far enough away that it'd be hard for him to get out.

                                            >Still, you feel like you wouldn't be there for long.

                                            >The trust fund came in, and you were the single person who could do something with it.

                                            >You were TRYING to keep him...restrained but it wasn't working out too well.

                                            >He just kept GETTING OUT.

                                            >You walk past a familiar apple stall in the square. "Hey there Anon!" a young voice calls.

                                            >Applebloom waves from behind the stand as you stop in front.

                                            "How're you doing, Bloom?"

                                            >Bloom's thousand-watt smile lights up. "Just helpin' big sis out at the stand today, we got a real nice collection of apples today!"

                                            >You lean on the stall and look the crop over.

                                            >The setting sun catches the deep and rich reds, the smooth greens and the striking golds, each of them catching your eye.

                                            >Apples had been more or less you go to food of choice since coming here, you had even worked on Sweet Apple Acres a bit before you took on your ward.

                                            "Can I get two of everything?"

                                            >Blooms smiles wide and scrambles around to gather your order into a plastic bag.

                                            >"That'll be ten bits!" she exclaims with her hoof out.

                                            >You drop twelve bits into her hoof, you could spare the money these days.

                                            "Because I like you."

                                            >You grab your bag and walk back down the road.

                                            >"See ya later, Anon!"

                                            "Bye Bloom!"

                                            >That Applebloom...nice kid.

                                            >Why couldn't they all be like that?


                                            >Night time in Ponyville.

                                            >You hated night time.

                                            >Night time was when he started acting nuts.

                                            >Well, more nuts than usual.

                                            >You were Anonymous and you were so stressed you were sure you had an ulcer.

                                            >In the short weeks that you had taken in your ward, he had turned your relatively peaceful life into a living hell.

                                            >Waking you up every morning with the sound of martial training.

                                            >Stealing your things to take to god knows where.

                                            >Contradicting you at almost every turn and requiring you to place tripline bells around the house just to keep track of him.

                                            >That kid could sneak into Canterlot castle and walk out with the crown jewels without making a peep.

                                            >Above you came the sound of tiny hooves on wood.

                                            >Shit, he was in the walls again.

                                            >You got up off your chair and poked the ceiling with a broom.

                                            "Boy! Get out of there! It's not safe!"

                                            >Muffled yells were your only response followed by the pitter patter scampering elsewhere.

                                            >Oh no he didn't.

                                            >You follow along his path and bang the broom behind him.

                                            "Bruce! By all that is holy get out of th-"

                                            >You were cut off by the sound of crumbling wood and drywall falling in front of you.

                                            >You instinctively jump back and wait for the dust to clear, as it does, you make out a figure.

                                            >He wore a cowl that ended in two sharp points, a skintight suit over his body and a long flowing cape that hung to the floor.

                                            >His light blue coat and permanent scowl met your gaze as he hung upside down wrapped in wires.

                                            >Before you hung your ward, sole heir to one of the biggest fortunes in Equestria.

                                            >Bruce Mane.

                                            >Or as he preferred to be called; Batmane.


                                            >You met the child's scowl with your own.

                                            "Bruce."

                                            >"Keeper." he spits.

                                            "Why are you in the ceiling?"

                                            >He yanks himself down and falls to the floor.

                                            >"I needed the copper wires." he says as he rights himself.

                                            >You drag your palm down your face.

                                            "Why in the world do you need copper wiring, Bruce?"

                                            >"I am making a grapping device, I need wires to work with that."

                                            "Of course you are..."

                                            >He'd been like this since he got here, constantly working towards some brand of "justice" you couldn't quantify.

                                            >He seemed content to spend the entire day training before you had confronted him about it.

                                            "Well, get to bed. You start school tomorrow."

                                            >Bruce shoots you a glare. "Those infants will be learning nothing I need to know."

                                            >You reach down and pick him up by the scruff of his neck, holding him far enough out that he couldn't get to you.

                                            >It was practically the only thing you could do to keep him at bay.

                                            "You need to learn how to interact with people your own age, and you CERTIANLY need to learn how to act with ponies you don't intend to bash over the head."

                                            >He struggles in your grasp. "I do not bash! I strike!"

                                            "Whatever..."


                                            >You carry the boy into your room and rip the suit off, Bruce fighting you at literally every step.

                                            >You eventually get it off him and climb into bed, pulling Bruce close and not letting go.

                                            >He struggles for a moment before settling his icy blue eyes on you.

                                            >"I'll get out of this when you sleep." he says.

                                            "And the bells will wake me up."

                                            >Bruce ALMOST puffs up his cheeks and closes his eyes in seeming defeat.

                                            >You sigh.

                                            >It had been like this every night he had been here.

                                            >You'd fight over something, words or punches would be thrown, you'd bind him to the bed and do it all again the next day.

                                            >Literally the only time he had ever been civil for the entire night was when he caught you watching some old cartoons from earth and said "I will watch these with you."

                                            >Poor kid...

                                            >You knew all of this was because of what happened to his parents, all the anger and determination.

                                            >Bruce could be a royal prick sometimes, but it still broke your heart.

                                            >The gentle sound of snoring from your chest told you that Bruce was either asleep or faking it.

                                            >Ah well...can't solve all his problems in one night.

                                            >You close your eyes and drift off to sleep, your vigilante child wrapped in a blanket he called Jim breathing steadily on your chest.