Chapter 6

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From: Dick 😎
Hey. I gotta do some things at the Cave before I head home. I'll be there by midnight tho!

To: Dick 😎
Sounds good. Bruce is taking me out to dinner around 8:00, so we probably won't be back till 9:30 anyways.

From: Dick 😎
😒 He never takes me out to dinner.

To: Dick 😎
He takes you to ice cream every other week!

From: Dick 😎
Oh yeah! ☺️

To: Dick 😎
🙄

From: Dick 😎
Btw, tell him that you and I are gonna go on the morning patrol.

To: Dick 😎
Why?

From: Dick 😎
We can give him part of the night off. Besides, I've got enough adrenaline in me to fuel me all night.

To: Dick 😎
Rough mission?

From: Dick 😎
I'll tell you about it when I get back. Ttyl!

To: Dick 😎
🤗

§~§~§~§~§~§

Team: Year One
April 16th, 21:35
Gotham Docks

The little eleven-year-old boy thought about the mysterious Mask quite often since their encounter. Should he have said something? Maybe she could have helped; that was was they were for, after all, right? Perhaps she could help him with his parents.

His wishful thinking brought him back to the dock where he had seen her. The boy brought a cigarette box with him this time. The lighter would only last a little longer under its constant use. He used it sparingly, only to light the cigarettes.

Tonight, he did not bother with hiding in a box or crate. He sat on the top of crane. Under him were twenty stories at least, but he hardly noticed. Heights had never bothered him. If he fell, he would just get to leave his life behind and not have to worry about it anymore.

The poor kid had nothing to live for, except for maybe his parents. Well, now only his mother remained. His father had been arrested two days ago, and his mother was not taking it well. At his young age, he had taken over the responsibility of caring for his addict of a mom, who was currently passed out on the couch back home. He allowed her to sleep. It gave him time to hide some of her drugs and have some time alone.

He knew he would need to get back soon. For some odd reason, he was hoping that the Mask would return. If he was honest with himself, he wanted someone to talk to other than drunk and high neighbors. Speaking with a sane person would be a nice change.

God, his life was a mess. He had promised himself that he would never get addicted to anything, but that was after he had begun smoking. A puff of smoke was blown out of his mouth as he thought about it. It was not his fault he had become addicted. It had been an accident. A few years ago, he saw his dad doing it, and, at the time, he looked up to his father. He decided to try it, knowing nothing about what it did. By the time he found out what consequences there could be, he did not care.

He looked at the cigarette in between his fingers. His headache had not gone away, so he did not put it out. In fact, he calculated how many more he might need that night.

A surprising hand plucked it right out of his mouth, dropped it on the ground, and drilled it off the crane.

"What the hell are you doing?" He turned around to see the Mask. His eyes went wide with both thankfulness and terror.

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