plastic love (seven minute version) — mariya takeuchi
wasurerarenaino — sakanaction
count what you have now — vantage
the deep blue — the midnight
selfish high heels — yung bae
the deep blue — the midnight
tbd - tbd

The dark hair looks nice against the backdrop of ocean and sun, Michael thinks as he watches Joseph racing Ace for a frisbee Jarro is telepathically controlling. He remains beneath the enormous straw hat they'd bought as soon as they got to Okinawa, well aware that of the two he's a lot paler. Tanning wasn't in the equation at all for him, as he watches them play fight over the frisbee.

It's been four months together, and it's gone from dating to the gleaming ring on his left hand that he can't help but glance at over and over again at times. It's real, that he's married to Joseph, that he's Bruce Wayne, that his life has changed drastically in such a short time. Changed in ways he never thought he could ever see happening to him, much less entertained.

Or that he's this happy about it, making the sort of decision he always felt might be in the cards with anyone.

Ace hops on Joe's shoulders, catches the frizbee in his mouth. Joe lets out a laugh at the dog's creativity, and perched beside him, Jarro purrs.

Still, his dreams are odd during the trip. It seems as if every dream involves Bruce: a man with skin completely white and wild dark hair who offers Bruce a helmet that is ancient and old that Michael realizes is hanging from a bracelet on his wrist that day that hadn't been before. The next dream is a haze that he can't quite recall in the morning, only that he's very sure he ate a birthday cake with someone in a Bat costume that was much too small for the costume. In another dream though, well—

Bruce knows it's not exactly a dream when he looks at the terminal in front of him. This is a Bat Computer he recognizes, one that is outdated for today's time but back then had been more than twenty years too early. He blinks down at it, looking at, at how it seems to have every old detail that he had in that Bat Computer—and then it shivers, shifts towards the one he'd had in Neo Gotham, only sleeker, the first version he'd built before he'd missed the old feel, broken it down, and retrofitted it. It's dusty, and he pulls back, rubbing at his eyes.

It's a Batcave, one made up of several of them at once around him. Only every bit of it he can tell is artificial in nature, all built off of technology that bordered on wizardry in it's stature and how advanced it is.

"I guess you're Tsunetomo's wedding gift to me. We were supposed to come get you in the morning," he says, his voice echoing in the not-quite-dream. His hand cuts through the dust, looking at the touch screen, the glow there as words appear:

YES. HELLO, BRUCE-MICHAEL WAYNE-TERRANOVA. THIS IS YOUR NEW MOTHERBOX SPEAKING!

"Bruce or Michael is fine. We're both here now," Michael materializes beside him, clearly more surprised than Bruce is to be there. "Wherever here is."

YES. THIS IS A MINDSPACE I'VE CREATED TO TALK TO YOU-MICHAEL IN. I TIRED OF WAITING, SO I REACHED OUT TO YOU. TSUNETOMO HASN'T HAD USE OF ME IN THIS LIFE, AND I AM EAGER TO DO MORE THAN COLLECT DUST.

It gives a small, almost insistent beep.

IN YOUR MINDSPACE, WE CAN SKIP THE TRIP. ALL I HAVE TO DO IS CUSTOMIZE MYSELF FOR YOU HERE, AND WE CAN GET TO LEARNING EACH OTHER.

The words are impatient, eager from the Motherbox. Bruce doesn't have to explain the information to Michael, just almost lean his mind to it: that Mother Boxes were the kind of supercomputer that most people in this world called fiction. The kind that could manipulate reality, could think, could have opinions and a mind as surely as they could. That this one is old enough, impatient enough to want to reach out to them, to get to know them.

Michael grins to himself. "Sure. What do you have in mind for customization?"

Lights flicker, run through in a ribbon of rainbow before him and Bruce.

THINK OF SOMETHING. ANYTHING.

In the morning, he wakes up a chain on his neck, that's a little heavier than most. Glimmering at the very end of it, with something that is a litle more intelligent than most, is a sword pendant.

They do a lot of things on the island: Michael decides to indulge in old smoking habits, making sure to buy enough that he can take plenty back home for himself; they go out to night clubs where they can to dance together beneath the rotating lights, close bodies, the music thrumming between them; they walk Ace and Jarro down darkened streets at night, knowing no one was watching, just enjoying the night life; they go somewher private where Joe can spread his wings and Jarro can split into different versions of himself and Ace just relaxes; Michael browses shops for Superman toys that he can ship back and then spends idle time in a record store by himself for an hour while Ace and Joseph eat lunch together and pop into souvenir booths; they tour a temple where Michael feels something more in the air, something that tells him he's been here before; he calls his parents when he's sure they're awake and he lets Jarro show Connor some of the things they've got for him.

The beach is warm, beautiful. The party going on is normal, almost. This though, is a mix of life

It's supposed to be a Mayday Party. A place to celebrate workers, but really it's about the coffers. At least in part—even if his associates are clapping and greedy, Michael knows how to tip the scale for some of them if he wanted to.

It's just supposed to be hosted in the evening, allow everyone to have their fun and be gone no later than midnight so that Michael could think about the information he's collected, so that he could breathe a little bit.

He's not expecting mid conversation with the Maronis for Connor to say, You've got a visitor outside. One who doesn't wanna sign or anything. Just said he wanted you.

Michael had thought it was something about one of the men here who didn't know much. Or an emergency from another city finally coming to catch up.

He hadn't expected to see a bike. He hadn't expected to see Joseph, with his eyes boring into his at the bottom of the hill at Wayne Manor.

Mostly because: Joseph is dead. He's supposed to be dead.

Not staring up at him, waiting.