The Other Demon

Room Service

———Hours Earlier———

Bruce's P.O.V.:

After kicking my daughter out of my room, I place my luggage on my bed. I stretch and rub the back of my neck in exhaustion. "I need some sleep," I tell myself, "but there's no time for that." I walk over to my door and close it, and begin to walk straight to my connecting bathroom. Getting ready to strip and step into the shower, I stop mid-way lifting my shirt, looking around the bathroom. I squint at the walls and search in and under cabinets for any surveillance cameras. Let's just say that the last time I didn't check, the amount of clothing I had on couldn't save me.

After thoroughly checking, I proceed to take off my clothes and step into the shower, turning the handle straight to hot. I grab the bar of soap, mounted on the wall, wetting it. I begin to scrub my arms with the bar. The hot, sprinkling water from the showerhead pelts my body as I stand under it, staring at the water running down the drain. Lost in my train of thought, I hadn't realized that I've been standing in the same position, scrubbing one arm for 10 minutes, until the bar of soap slipped out of my hands, landing on the ground with a loud thud. I sigh, picking up the soap, continuing with the normal shower routine—scrub body, rinse, scrub hair, and then rinse.

I turn the water off the hot water and realize, that I didn't bring a towel with me. I look out the shower, over to the towel rack, hoping that there is already a towel in there. Luckily for me, there hangs a clean white towel. I smile in satisfaction, grabbing the towel and drying myself. After drying my body, I walk over to the large foggy mirror. Wiping it clean, I look at myself, grabbing my chin and trying to catch a glimpse of myself from different angles, coming to a conclusion that I should shave. Shaving off the small stubble on my face, I walk out of the bathroom with my hair still dripping wet. Going towards my bed, I reach over to the towel around my waist, about to pull it off to dry my hair. As I do that, a knock from the other side of the door reaches my ear. "Come in," I say without thinking. My mentally curse at myself for not asking who's at the other side. This is what years of bring a CEO does to you.

I retract my hand from my towel as the door opens. Through the door is Demetria. Mid-way through opening the door, she sees me and freezes. Great job Bruce. You scared your own kid. Probably scarred her.

"Is there something wrong, Demetria?" I ask her.

She blinks, making eye contact with me once again. "Oh, no. Nothing wrong, Father. I was wondering if I could order some room service."

"Of course, you don't need to ask me," I say in a matter-of-factly tone. I wouldn't have thought that permission and slight mannerism is something that they were taught by the Leauge of Shadows, but she had proved me wrong.

"Why?" she asks.

Her question catches me off guard. "Why what?" I ask her, grabbing my clothes and slipping them on.

"I trust you."

"Even after what I've done?"

I guess those events made a huge negative impact on her mentality. I pull off my towel after putting on a pair of boxers and tell her that room service is nothing since we have tons of money and I'll make sure that they get their food. I tell Demetria to make sure that she and her brother rest for the time being as they wait for their food. She leaves the room, thanking me. 

Slipping on a pair of pants, I dig into my luggage pulling out my laptop. A laptop that I had designed, for nightly duties. I have inserted different barriers into the system to prevent myself from getting hacked or traced and made it linked, just like all of Batman's electronics, to the Wayne satellite. Thanks to Tim, everything that I had initially for this device has been enhanced. Enhanced enough to keep even those who work in the Pentagon to keep out, but sadly not Tim Drake.