Drunk Texting | T. Drake ✔

[15]

D: your girlfriend picked up the wrong battle.

T: what the hell do you mean?

D: I'll give you two hints.

D: Two Face

D: the Bowery.

D: and you're welcome.

T: fucking crap, Damian, and you did nothing?

D: thought it would be better for you to save her instead of me.

D: now hurry up, dumbass, or else she'll get killed.

***

The light was blinding when she opened her eyes, head throbbing as if it had been hit several times. Out of instinct, her hands automatically reached up to her face in order to check if the mask was still in place or not.

Coming in contact with the familiar material over her eyes, her tenseness relieved a bit. She was still wearing her mask though its vision settings had been disrupted, disabling her from seeing anything.

She readjusted the settings by pressing the small knob located near her temple gently and soon enough a giant room swam into focus.

Her body was aching and urging her to rest but she couldn't fully relax until she had found out where she was. Because in her position, being unaware could prove to be a fatal mistake.

She had switched into an alert mode, for the room was unfamiliar to her and she didn't recall how she could have possibly gotten there. She wasn't bound in chains though which was a temporary relief.

But she wasn't certain whether she was fully safe or not.

"Hey," a rather familiar voice reached her and she turned her head quickly in the direction where it had come from, despite the fact that her head was causing extreme pain to her already.

"Relax, it's just me. Tim."

True enough, sitting on a chair beside her bed was Timothy Drake, the last person she could expect to see after waking up from a concussion.

"Where am I?" She demanded.

"At Wayne Manor," he replied, "don't worry, you're safe here."

His voice was soft like chocolate and the reassurance in his tone made her feel safe as well. But before she could lay her head back down and rest, an unsettling thought gripped her; what if Tim had discovered her secret?

And in a move faster than lightning, she had pounced on him, catching him completely off guard. A knife that had slid up from her wrist was held threateningly close to his throat.

Tim was rather alarmed as he leaned back, holding his hands away from her, "what the hell?"

"I don't know where you found me or why you've brought me here, but I swear to these pretty blue eyes of yours that if you've dared to peel off my mask and figured out who I am, I will not hesitate for a second before slitting your throat," her voice was hushed yet threatening and even though he couldn't see her eyes due to the mask, he knew very well that they would be blazing in anger as well.

Tim gulped because never before had she seemed so frightening, "woah, hold up. I might be a narcissistic piece of shit but other than that I'm a pretty decent guy. I respect your secrecy, Ren."

"So you don't know who I am?"

"Absolutely not. I do not know who you are because I did not try to find it out."