The Night Commeth
Click, click, click. A subtle sound of a safe slowly unlocking, pins moving into place, comforting, ticking, moving. Small subtle breathing in the night, the shadow of the thief slowly moving to open the safe. The Wayne Manor, silent, without life in it. The owner gone for the night. Until the silent sounds of a different click, something else clicking into place. The safe stopping, the figure knowing the sounds of that click, the slow rise of a heart rate and a feeling of adrenaline going from the brain to the heart, to the legs and finally arms. A shaky breath as the shadow remains looking calm, steeled, strong and unwavering, hiding their moment of panic and fear of death. The lights turning on, standing there was the Butler, Alfred "Double Tap" Pennyworth, he stands in front of what looks to be a young man breaking into one of the safes, a small bag of valuables besides them.
"I'm afraid you'll not be able to procure those items sir." Alfred holds up his 12 gauge, staring them down. "I'd put a kettle on; however, I do not believe you were invited."
The thief quickly puts their hand up, not wanting to be hurt or die, their body language, their face, every last bit of them shutting down to a default expression put on so many times. The two face off, nothing happening. The creaking of the house, settling, the gentle breeze through the open window, and soon, the sounds of a car driving back to the manor, deafening, the sounds of someone coming back to the house. And this wasn't good, not for anyone in this situation. Perhaps it was a sign that it was all over, or maybe a sign of things to come. However, one thing was certain, whoever was to open that door would more than likely kick their ass.
"Look, don't hurt me. I just need this, please." The thief looks at the door, slowly opening. "Shit."
There he was, the Batman. Standing in the door frame, the Thief not knowing what was going on, how Batman found them, but they weren't going to go down against batman in some rich boy's manor.
"Freakin bats. I ain't gonna lose like this." The thief looks around, terrified, before jumping out a window, leaving the two standing in the room confused.
"Master Wayne. . ."
"Alfred. . ."
"Shouldn't you, perhaps deal with that?" Alfred looks to Bruce who waves him dismissively.
"Not right now Alfred. We can deal with this in a moment. I must say that was rather impressive, he got past all of our security and was close to unlocking one of our safes. Who was that?" Bruce picks up what looked to be a jury-rigged lock pick and a piece of cut glass, seemingly as if it was cut to beak in. "I'm gonna search the area, figure out how he got in."
Bruce scans the room, brushing his hand on the carpet, full footsteps, heavy shoes most likely, however the suspect wasn't able to alert sound until after making it to the safe. He narrows his eyes, following the tail of footprints until they get to a window, the piece of glass matching the missing piece of the window, a few shards of glass sprinkle along the edge of the window glisten on the window seal outside, a small prick of blood, clearly the thief had no gloves. Following the trail down to the lawn there was a dropped scrap of something, most likely metal to cut the glass. The edges of the hole roughly cut clearly having a hack job. Whoever this was somehow inexperienced yet was able to do so much with almost nothing.
"Who is this, who taught you?" He looks at the footsteps, each one careful, calculated. "Curiouser, curiouser."
"What's so curious?" A voice came behind him. "Are you working on something Bruce?"
Bruce looks to the voice, he narrows his eyes slightly, going back to his work. "Tim." He examines some of the fingerprints on the window seal. "Don't worry too much. Someone just tried robbing us, Alfred took care of it."
"And there isn't a body on the floor? Alfred must be losing his touch." Tim puts his hand on one of the footprints. "This is a boot, size 9 men, or 11.5 women. Interesting, any tools anything unique about their break ins?"
"No, crude interments were used, handmade, very sloppy work, from what I believe is because of a lack of good tools. He was almost able to get into the safe." Bruce walks over to the safe. "No tools used, meaning he must have sharp ears."
"What's even in that safe Bruce? You never told anyone."
"It's just important documents and such, you know invaluable." Bruce lies, resetting the lock. "Don't worry Tim." He hands him a small vile. "I found some blood that might be of interest."
"Alright, I'll get that looked at." Tim grabs it, walking off, stumbling slightly as he shakes his head.
"I hope that things are okay, he was quite good, agile, perhaps I can try and contact them, help protect them, Gotham is dangerous, and a person of this skill can easily fall into the wrong crowd." Bruce sighs, taking off his cowl and setting it down on an end table. "Let's just hope, don't wanna end up fighting another Catwoman."
Bruce walks out, bringing his cowl to the bat cave.
"Shit, da bats is on my trail." The thief takes a deep breath, shaking slightly, becoming more expressive in private. "Come on Eve, you got this, you got something right?" She looks through her pockets finding nothing. "Shit. Okay calm down. Da Bats saw you, but you probably not gonna be hurt too bad, you stole nothing. Please, I don't want a broken bone." She was hyperventilating, gagging, eyes full of tears. "You're fine, you're fine. Just disappear."
Eve runs, she runs til she finds the most abandoned place in Gotham, getting cut up and banged up before settling down in an abandoned factory.