A quick upward nod as I let myself drop to the leather sofa behind me and the door flung open and Matt exploded into my place, laptop in hand, mouth going already.
"Please tell me you are watching the fuckin' news. Why isn't your tv on Lucas? You made the news man! Someone got you on fucking film. Ha ha haaaah! This is exactly what I've wanted to do with you for the last year. I respected your wishes like you asked, didn't do it and just a year later someone else does it for me and you've got nothing to stand behind but you're precious little destiny bullshit cuz if this isn't fuckin' fate I don't know what is."
I made him shut up. I closed his mouth and held it shut with just the smallest bit of effort on my part.
"Shut up for five minutes."
His mouth popped open. "You said you'd never do your shit on me."
"Shut up."
"You did your shit on me man. You said you'd never use your fucking powers on me for evil."
The uncomfortable silence we were drowning in was all voluntary.
"It wasn't for evil. Are you doing coke again?"
"No and fuck you for asking."
I met Matt about a year ago when I first arrived in Richmond. It was my search for her that led me to one of my closest mortal friends. Matthew had always been my favorite name. When my dreams of her involve a child, his name is always Matthew. Matt is a great kid but he is just that, a kid. In this lifetime, being 22, and because he is still in his first age, in the grander outlook, he has much to learn. I met him at a bar. He is the bartender at place appropriately named The Hell Hole. Immediately I was drawn to its name. One look at the sign and I could already taste the whiskey and smell the musty aroma of stale beer that all great corner bars have in the city. I found myself the only soul at the bar, save for the couple playing darts and making out in the side room. Matt and I strung up one of the most surprising conversations I have had with a mortal. It being Christmas Eve, which explained my solitary drinking, our discussion led to that of religion and most importantly spirituality. Soon, I found myself drawn to the place late at night and it bacame my favorite place to unwind after my work was done.
The silence had grown uncomfortable at this point and I snapped myself out of my memories long enough to realize that I had hurt his feelings. Leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees I assured him that I had not meant it when I asked if he had been doing coke again. He felt it and the energy in the room shifted to a more positive one.
"Matthew, you cannot be my Robin if I refuse to be Batman."
"I don't want you to be Batman in the literal sense but man you're a gajillionaire, genius, philanthropic tycoon with super powers; you're already Batman in the figurative, which by default makes me your figurative Robin."
I sometimes forget how intense my glare can be.
"I want to help" his voice cracking.
"I do need your help Young Grayson."
"Huh?" I nearly groaned aloud at the look of confusion on his face.
"You don't know that Dick Grayson was Robin's name? Well, one of them at least."
"No, but he went on to become Nightwing."
"Yes he did Matt."
"What do you need my help with?"
"Finding out who is responsible for 2 child abduction attempts so we can stop a third from happening tomorrow."
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