Dis: don't own

Sum: after the invasion, might evole into a story^^


He looked down the little text message, it read:

After my parents death I always feared to be left alone again. Now, these last few weeks of solitude, were just too much for me.

It wasn't his first or even second attempt. No the words just wouldn't come out right something like 'you knew I always feared to be left alone again' would sound like he blamed the others for his action. It was his own decision to do this. 'I am sorry' would be a lie, too. He wasn't sorry in a way it felt natural to do this. Maybe he should have made his decision years ago, it would have saved them all a lot of unnecessary drama. Strangely at ease he let the lighter drop in his livingroom, watching as the spark found its way to the oil on the floor and pressed sent on his mobile phone. The flames consumed he previously oh so cherished pictures of friends and the family he built here. Wonderful people until something went wrong and he either got replaced as son and partner or blamed as scapegoat for a necessary lose. Well they would have to find someone new to blame, he was sick and tired of it. As the fire destroyed the last material properties of Richard John Grayson they created space for something new, or rather someone...


Sargeant Amy looked at the text message with a sick feeling in her stomach. She had been the instructor of the rookie Richard Grayson, a bright if not sometimes a little clumsy kid. He had taken the last weeks off to get somethings straight. At first she thought girlfriend or maybe boyfriend trouble, but this, this sounded just wrong. The news of the fire already confirmed her worst fears but she suppressed them, arriving at the crime scene all she could do was nod as the suggestion of suicide came up, the fire was down professional and kept to one flat, and showed her mobile phone.

"Kent we got to drive to Buldhaven", called Louis as he entered the room with his usual smile, "the Wayne heir committed suicide", he froze that couldn't be not true, not his godson.

"Mr Wayne", called a secretary in the middle of an important meeting," not now", he answered and forced a smile to his business partners. "But it is about your oldest son", tried the woman again. "What ever it is can surly wait", was his dismissive reply. There was a short silence and then "as you wish, sir", her tone had gotten frosty. Two hours later he left the building only to be surrounded by a bunch of reporters. " How do you feel about the suicide of your ward?" He paused refusing to believe what he just heard and stormed to his car.


I'm curious how does it feel to drive the child you have watched growing up since the age of eight through emotional abuse into committing suicide? The question was sent to every communicator of every hero by a smug mercenary.