This story is labeled as an NSFW story. (MDNI!!!!!) Any findings of a minor (17 and under) interacting with this story or account will be blocked for our safety and your own. Thanks! -RC (NSFW Chapter will be labeled with an X )
LeroyAndCompany Official Instagram- @/leroy.andcompany
Meet the Characters!
Chapter 1 - Party Crasher
Chapter 2 - Exes can Reconcile!
Chapter 3 -
Chapter 4 -
Chapter 5 -
Chapter 6 -
Chapter 7 -
Chapter 8 -
Chapter 9 -
Chapter 10 -
Meet The Creative Minds Behind The Story!
What to support us elsewhere?
Wattpad - https://www.wattpad.com/story/359498803-his-songbird
Ao3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/69879356
[Disclaimer about Damian Wayne: This version is purely our own. Somethings are true to cannon, but as he is in several different universes, it was hard to pin point all the accurate data on him. So we decided to take some creative liberties. Hope you understand and still enjoy, thank you! (: ]
Two days had crawled by since the Horizon Charity Ball nightmare, and still the police had no answers. Most of the suspects were either dead or vanished into the city’s shadows. Leroy had clung to a fragile hope that Gotham’s finest might finally get their act together, but it was a foolish hope.
Gotham didn’t play fair. Gotham didn’t care.
The only real protection in this city came from men like Batman, or those who moved in his orbit. And yet, thinking of Batman brought no comfort. How could one rely on a man who appeared only when he deemed it necessary? He didn’t answer calls, didn’t give warnings, didn’t save anyone unless he wanted to. Not the Charity Ball. Not Leroy.
And then there was Hashishin. The man had shown up when it mattered, and apparently, he intended to stay in touch. But that wasn’t comforting either. The shadow of fear still clung to Leroy, heavy and unrelenting. In Gotham, survival was never guaranteed, and hope was always fleeting.
It was all too draining.
Leroy barely dragged himself out of bed after the Charity Ball nightmare. The only effort he could muster was sending quick texts to check on his friends, and thankfully, they were all safe, unscathed. That small reassurance was enough for him to abandon further interaction. He tossed his phone aside, letting it vanish somewhere between mattress and bed frame, a problem for another day. Mostly, he stayed under the covers, forcing himself up only for essentials, or to care for the one living thing that kept him tethered: his golden dachshund, Sadie. One year old, tiny and relentless, she curled into the crook of his legs, sometimes wriggling up his chest to plant little kisses on his cheeks, as if to say, I’m here. I’ve got you. It was a small comfort, but in these dark stretches, it was enough.
By the third day of shutting out the world, something finally pierced Leroy’s fog. It was nearly ten in the morning when his phone buzzed beneath the covers, the vibration sending a jolt of urgency through him. He practically leapt out of bed, fumbling through blankets and pillows in a scramble. Sadie, ever alert, sprang from the bed, tail wagging furiously, convinced that any sudden movement from her human was cause for celebration. Finally, Leroy’s hand closed around his phone, wedged between the mattress and the wall. He yanked it free, heart still racing, and brought it up to see who had woken him from his self-imposed isolation.
𝗞𝗔𝗬𝗔 𝗧𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗢𝗥 𝗜𝗦 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚…
Leroy’s eyes widened. Shit, was that today?
“Hey…!” Leroy said, his voice sounding strange even to him. It felt almost foreign to speak after days of silence, the simple act carrying more weight than it should.
“Hey, you! I tried texting you last night and all this morning. Are we still on for brunch today?” Kaya’s bright, bubbly tone cut through the fog in Leroy’s mind, bringing a small, welcome sense of normalcy. Human interaction. Socialization. He hadn’t realized how desperately he needed it after nearly three days of hiding under a self-imposed ‘do not disturb’ bubble.
“Oh… geez. Sorry, Kaya. A lot’s happened these past couple of days and… well…” Leroy trailed off, not wanting to get into it, letting out a nervous, awkward laugh to fill the pause. “Doesn’t matter. I’m definitely still on for brunch. We’re meeting at Morning Bird’s, right?”
“Duh, silly goose! Where else would we go? Morning Bird’s has the best fruit smoothies, you know that. Eleven it is?”
“Yup, eleven! I’m gonna have Sadie with me too, she needs to get out.”
Kaya squealed before she replied, “Yay! It’s been too long since I’ve seen that cutie. I can’t wait. See you both soon!”
The call ended, and Leroy realized he had under thirty minutes to get it together and make it to Morning Bird Café. Charity Ball drama? Hashishin? Not today! Today’s challenge was far more terrifying: talking to his ex-girlfriend like a grown-up.
Twenty minutes later, Leroy was showered and dressed for Gotham’s perpetually bitter weather. Even in summer, the city seemed to carry a chill that seeped into your bones. Sadie was bundled up too, sporting a red plaid sweater with a tiny skirt, while Leroy layered a pale blue sweater over a cream-white button-up. Black Converse on his feet, Sadie’s harness secured, he headed for the door.
He yanked it open, and nearly fell backward. A towering figure blocked his way. The man’s eyes were sharp and unyielding, scanning Leroy as though measuring every movement, every twitch, for weakness.
“Oh! Whoa—shit, you scared me,” Leroy said, tightening his grip on Sadie’s leash. “Uh… can I help you? I, uh, was just about to head out.”
“I know. I intend to follow you.”
“Excuse me?” Leroy took a cautious step back. Just when he thought the Charity Ball nightmare had faded from his mind, this looming figure dragged it back into sharp focus. The timing, the intensity—it had to be more than coincidence. This had to be someone who wanted him dead, didn’t it?
“Tch,” he muttered, voice low and cutting. “Clueless, as always. I am Hashishin.”
Leroy’s eyes widened in sudden recognition. Oh. OH. He hadn’t recognized Hashishin without the mask and the martial-arts gi. As his gaze lingered, the truth became impossible to ignore: the man was strikingly attractive. His olive-toned skin, jade eyes that glinted like knives, and the sheer scale of his broad frame—it all hit Leroy at once. Compared to the imposing figure before him, Leroy felt almost delicate, tiny, swallowed up by the man’s presence. Six-five, commanding, impossible to look away from.
Regardless, Leroy’s eyes widened again as the thought struck him: Hashishin couldn’t follow him. Not now. He had a serious conversation to have with Kaya; matters that were intensely personal, delicate, and far beyond the reach of any stranger, no matter how dangerous or impressive. Even with a bounty on his head, he couldn’t just let this formidable man step into his life and uncover every private detail about him.
“Hashishin… right. Okay, look, you can’t come with me. There’s just no way—I’m sorry,” Leroy said, holding his hands up defensively and waving them in front of himself. “Can’t you… come by another time?”
“Don’t be foolish. If I don’t accompany you, I fail my mission. End of story.” Hashishin said, his expression hard and uncompromising.
“Your mission?” Leroy echoed, eyebrows furrowing. “Dude, this is my life, not some mission. It’d be… really embarrassing if you came with me, okay? Just… spare me this one time, and then you can do your mission. Deal?”
“Absolutely not.”
Leroy smacked a hand to his forehead. “Ah! Fine, fine. I’m gonna be late if I hang around any longer. Just… keep your distance and act like you don’t know me. You can do that, right… ninja man?”
“Don’t call me that,” Hashishin snapped, eyes sharp. Leroy flinched. “And save your commentary. I don’t need instructions from a child on how to complete my work.”
“Right. Okay, geez… Let’s just go already. C’mon Sadie.”
With Sadie tugging at her leash and a foot already out the door, Leroy and Hashishin set off. Morning Bird Café was only about a fifteen-minute walk from his penthouse, both tucked in Gotham’s Diamond District; a part of the city relatively safe during the day. Skyscrapers loomed overhead, monuments to some of Gotham’s most elite businesses: Horizon Enterprises, Wayne Enterprises, and countless others. Leroy felt a flicker of pride as he walked among them. He hadn’t been born into this world of luxury; everything he owned had been earned through hard work and relentless effort. To stroll through these streets, surrounded by wealth he had clawed his way toward, was proof of that labor; he was grateful, even amidst the lingering unease that clung to Gotham like a shadow.
Hashishin adhered to Leroy’s request, keeping his distance with seamless skill. Yet Leroy couldn’t ignore the way people’s eyes lingered on the tall man. There had to be more to him than the enigmatic ninja act. But even thinking about asking made Leroy’s stomach twist. Gorgeous. Commanding. Untouchable. Hashishin was every bit as intimidating as he was captivating.
“Is that Damian Wayne?”
Heads turned, conversations stalling as people whispered and pointed.
“What’s he doing here?”
The name rang a faint bell in Leroy’s mind. Wayne—that was obvious enough; everyone in Gotham knew it. But Damian? Why did that sound so familiar? He twisted his head, scanning the busy sidewalk for the man who had drawn so much attention. But before he could make sense of it, Hashishin’s broad frame filled his vision. Leroy’s eyes flickered nervously upward, meeting the tanned, intimidating figure. A frown creased his brow. Did I do something wrong?
“Hey um—”
In a flash, Hashishin’s hand clamped onto Leroy’s bicep, tugging him forward. A car honked violently behind them as they landed back on the sidewalk. Leroy’s hand shot up to brace against Hashishin’s chest—and holy hell! Muscular, firm, impossibly strong. One touch and Leroy could feel the sheer power coiled beneath the jacket.
“Are you even paying attention?” Hashishin’s voice dripped with contempt, his jade eyes narrowing like daggers. “Or are you too hopelessly clueless to comprehend anything without hand-holding?”
“But, I—”
“But nothing. Pull yourself together. I’m not here to shield you from every danger, especially something as mundane as traffic. I have a mission to complete. So—will you cross the road without my intervention, or do I need to do everything for you?” Leroy frowned, Hashishin’s words stung.
“Yeah, sorry. I… I just got distracted, and everyone kept saying—” Hashishin’s glare cut him off. “Never mind. Let’s just move on…” Leroy trailed off, swallowing nervously as he turned back to the crosswalk. He waited for the light to change, then stepped forward cautiously, the red countdown ticking down from twenty seconds.
About five minutes later, Leroy arrived at Morning Bird Café and spotted Kaya seated on the patio. The moment she saw him, she waved her slender hand and flashed a radiant smile. Kaya Taylor looked like she’d stepped straight off the cover of a Playboy magazine; blonde curls framing a perfect face, bright blue eyes, and nails manicured to perfection. A man’s dream, and, inconveniently for him, Leroy’s ex-girlfriend. So why on earth they had broken up… well, that was a long, complicated story.
Before reaching Kaya, Leroy cast a quick, discreet glance over his shoulder to make sure Hashishin wasn’t trailing too closely. Relief washed over him when the tanned man headed inside the café instead. For a brief heartbeat, their eyes met, and Leroy felt his stomach knot; promptly snapping his gaze back to Kaya. His expression was tight with nerves as he stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug.
“Kaya, it’s good to see you!” Leroy said, smiling as he pulled back and took a seat across from her.
She grinned mischievously. “OMG… Leroy! Did you and Damian Wayne show up here together?”
“What?!” Leroy whipped his head around, scanning the patio, then back at her, flustered. “No! Absolutely not! I didn’t come with anyone. Seriously, what are you talking about?”
Kaya burst out laughing. “I literally saw you and him make eye contact before you sat down. Is he going inside to order for you or something?”
Leroy blinked, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Hashishin… he’s Damian Wayne! How had he not recognized him? He was supposed to be well-versed in Gotham’s social scene; this should have been obvious. Groaning loudly, Leroy buried his face in his hands. Absolutely mortifying.
Now, Damian Wayne was certainly a name Leroy knew. The youngest son of Bruce Wayne, recently been thrust into the spotlight. According to the Gotham Gazette, Damian was brilliant and ruthless. Unlike his father, he lacked charm, charisma, and the knack for headlines tied to scandal. He only made the front pages for business triumphs, never for playboy antics or flashy affairs like Bruce. Brutal, cutthroat, and intimidating; Damian Wayne was the kind of man who commanded respect without even trying. And all this time, Leroy hadn’t realized. He felt like an absolute fool.
“Aw, Lele, relax. I’m just teasing,” Kaya said, gently tugging his hands away from his face. “Come on, I know you’re gay. No need to act like it’s a crime.”
“I AM NOT—” Leroy spun around, eyes darting to make sure Damian was out of sight. He whirled back to Kaya, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Okay… maybe I am? I don’t know, Kaya. This… this is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about…”
It was true. Leroy had been questioning things for a while—trying to deny it, trying to convince himself it didn’t matter. After all, he had the perfect girlfriend. Kaya was a stunning package—a Victoria’s Secret-level model, the daughter of one of Gotham’s wealthiest legacies. But beyond the looks, she was genuinely good. Kind, sweet, full of a fun energy that could make him smile even on the dampest, gloomiest days. She was supposed to be it. They had talked about marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. And then… Leroy got confused. Couldn’t get it up anymore. She thought it might mean he was cheating, but there was no one else. It wasn’t that. It was impossible to explain, even to himself.
“It’s okay, Lele. No need to whisper,” Kaya said with a reassuring smile, nodding toward the street a short distance from the patio. “I doubt anyone can hear us over the traffic anyway. But how about we order first, and then we can talk? I assume you already know what you want.”
“Yeah, I am good to go.” This café had been a regular spot for the two of them, so they knew the menu like the back of their hands. Kaya waved over the waiter with practiced confidence and placed her order: strawberry French toast with a side of scrambled eggs, and, naturally, the supreme fruit smoothie. Leroy followed suit, requesting a cinnamon roll, bacon, and a fruit smoothie as well. Once the waiter recorded their orders, he disappeared inside the café. Leroy’s gaze dropped toward the table. Now came the hard part. The conversation he had been dreading. When he had originally broken up with Kaya, she had not taken it well. He feared it might have been the end of their connection entirely. He didn’t want to be her boyfriend anymore, but he still cared deeply for her and wanted them to remain close, at least as friends. After a week of simmering down, Kaya had suggested reconciling over brunch; a chance to repair what had been strained.
“Look…” Leroy raised his gaze to Kaya, fingers nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I know that night was… a mess. I can’t imagine how you felt, hearing me say I wanted to break up after all these years. I never really got the chance to explain why, so…”
“It’s okay, Lele. I didn’t exactly let you explain yourself, did I?” Kaya smiled, a hint of sheepishness in her expression. “I freaked out, and yeah… that wasn’t cool of me.”
“No, no, Kaya. Don’t blame yourself. I mean… we were together for four years! I get why you freaked out. It’s okay. I’m just glad we can talk now.” His voice dropped to a hesitant mumble. “I was so worried that we couldn’t be friends… but I’d understand if you didn’t want that.” It would hurt, sure, but Leroy knew he had to be understanding and respect Kaya’s wishes if that’s what she truly wanted.
“Aw, no! Don’t be silly, I definitely want to stay friends,” Kaya said, smiling reassuringly. “After I calmed down, I started thinking about why you would’ve broken up with me—since, you know, I never really gave you a chance to explain. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it became.” She giggled lightly. “I think I even started to suspect… maybe you weren’t one hundred percent into women. Honestly, even my friends thought you were a little fruity.”
“Hey…! That’s… maybe true,” Leroy admitted, his voice low. “I really don’t know. You’re the only person I’ve ever talked to about this… ever. I’m still figuring it out.”
“I can tell! Is Damian Wayne helping you figure it out?” Kaya wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Kaya!” Leroy gasped.
“Kidding, kidding. But seriously Lele, Damian Wayne is totally hot. I say go for it,” She shrugged, “Anyway, I know what you mean about figuring things out. I’ve kinda come to the conclusion that maybe I want to date more than one person.”
“What do you mean? Like you want an open relationship?” Leroy asked as he tilted his head.
Kaya nodded, “Yeah, exactly. For a while, I always thought you were the one and it would be forever. But after we broke up, I realized that I want more than one partner. Before we got together, I always had crushes on multiple people and I had a hard time picking between them. I just wanted to date them all but…” She laughed a little, “Not everyone wants that.”
The waiter approached the table again, and delivered them each a fruit smoothie. Kaya and Leroy both provided a ‘thank you’ to the waiter and then, he left. Leroy raised his smoothie towards Kaya.
“To figuring our shit out?”
“To figuring our shit out!” Kaya tapped her smoothie glass gently against Leroy’s glass, and then they both took a sip.
There was nothing more extravagant than a charity ball in Gotham; glittering chandeliers, velvet gowns, and champagne poured as if the city’s troubles had never existed. One often wondered if the hosts spent more on the spectacle itself than the cause it claimed to serve. Still, tonight’s air was electric, for the honor of unveiling the evening’s great announcement had been entrusted to none other than Leroy Jacobs. Gotham adored him: young, golden-haired, and blessed with a smile that could topple defenses more swiftly than any army. He glided through the crowd with the easy grace of a man born to command attention, his charm weaving effortlessly among the city’s most formidable elite. Yet beneath the flawless poise thrummed a current of nerves; tonight was no ordinary task. Horizon Enterprises had chosen him, Leroy Jacobs, to present their grand charity check. It was more than a performance; it was a proving ground. Leroy & Company—his creation, his lifeblood—balanced on the edge of this moment, and perfection was the only currency he could afford.
“Hello? Earth to Leroy?”
Leroy snapped out of his daze and focused his attention upon Cyrus; fellow band member to Leroy & Company and his bestest friend in all the world.
“Ah, sorry,” Leroy offered a sheepish smile, “This is just… Wow.”
“Don’t overthink it, bro. We’ve played venues bigger than this—it’ll be a cakewalk,” Cyrus said with an easy grin, the kind that smoothed nerves before a note was even struck. And in truth, he wasn’t wrong. Leroy & Company weren’t some fresh faces scrambling for recognition; they’d carved out a legacy on Gotham’s stages, a standard other performers now aspired to. Leroy, barely twenty-one, had built that reputation with relentless drive, sweat, and a refusal to let the city swallow him whole. The band’s talent was undeniable, but in Gotham, talent alone never guaranteed survival. Here, it was the connections, the handshakes, the whispers in velvet-draped halls, and Leroy had fought to master them all.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’ve got this,” Leroy said with a quick nod, as if willing the words into truth. His light brown eyes swept over the glittering crowd, catching flashes of silk and crystal under the chandeliers. A smile tugged at his lips, half nerves, half bravado. “Now—where are the others?”
“Well, you know Malcolm. He has probably flirted with half the room by now. And I think Theo and Cindy went to grab drinks at the bar.” Cyrus turned his head around the room though had no luck in spotting any of their friends. With a shrug, he faced Leroy again.
“Can you try and round them up soon? I wanna talk about—”
“Mr. Jacobs, it’s time.”
Leroy’s eyes widened for the briefest moment before he slipped on a practiced smile, turning to greet the event employee with effortless warmth.
“Of course, I’ll be right there,” The employee nodded and disappeared into the crowd, “Well, I guess this is it. I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Or will you?” Cyrus teased with a playful wink, his hand settling reassuringly on Leroy’s shoulder before giving it a firm squeeze. “Nah, I’m just messing with you, bro. You got this. You’re gonna take us far with this.”
“Thanks, man. See you soon!” Leroy shot back with a grin, offering a quick salute as he backpedaled into the thrumming crowd. He pivoted toward the stage, his stride sharpening with purpose. All around him, glittering eyes and heavy wallets tracked his movements, eager for a word, a smile, a sliver of his time. But that could wait. Tonight, duty called first; Horizon Enterprises had trusted him with their spotlight, and Leroy Jacobs would meet that trust without hesitation.
The event employee was waiting at the foot of the stage, microphone in hand. As Leroy approached, the man offered it with a respectful nod, and Leroy accepted with a soft, “Thank you.” He began his ascent up the staircase, and with each step the music bled away, the chatter fading into silence. By the time he reached center stage, the ballroom itself seemed to hold its breath.
The lights dimmed, leaving a single spotlight to crown him in gold. Leroy’s smile caught the glow, his presence radiating against the darkness. On stage, he carried an effortless grace, a touch of something almost otherworldly. It was clear in the hush of the room, in the eyes fixed on him; Leroy Jacobs was born for this.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for joining Horizon Enterprises for the annual Charity Ball!” The crowd responded with a ripple of applause until Leroy lifted his hand, commanding quiet once more. “Horizon Enterprises brings us together tonight as a reminder that there is more to business than success; that there are services we must give without expectation, and that is true compassion for community. After all, without the people of Gotham, Horizon Enterprises could never have become the international powerhouse in technology that it is today. And so, in honor of such a strong and supportive city, Horizon Enterprises has chosen Gotham’s Children’s Hospital for—”
The rest of his words were swallowed by sudden darkness. The ballroom plunged into pitch black, a collective gasp sweeping the audience before breaking into scattered whispers. In a breath, the sanctuary of light was swallowed whole by darkness. Leroy’s instinct urged him to search the crowd for his bandmates, but he forced himself to remain steady, to remember that hundreds of eyes, though unseen, still looked to him. His grip on the microphone tightened. Leroy cast his gaze toward the wings of the stage, straining to catch some sign of movement, a cue from the crew, but the void offered nothing.
“Aha… technical difficulties, am I right?” Leroy called into the dark, his microphone suddenly useless. His voice carried anyway, practiced enough to reach the nearest rows. A ripple of polite laughter broke through the crowd, thin and uncertain, but the unease beneath it lingered. Something about this wasn’t right. Horizon Enterprises didn’t stumble, not on their biggest night of the year. And yet here they all were, hundreds of Gotham’s finest plunged into darkness. It didn’t feel like an accident. It felt… off.
Leroy’s instincts proved right when, seconds later, a shrill scream cut through the tension like glass shattering. The floor trembled beneath him, the building itself seeming to convulse, and he staggered to keep his balance. Then came the chaos; panic bursting across the ballroom as silhouettes lurched and collided in the dark, desperate to escape. Forcing his frozen legs into motion, Leroy tried to move, to get off the stage and out of harm’s way. But he barely managed two steps before the sharp crack of gunfire tore through the air. The sound thundered from the back of the ballroom, echoing like a death knell. He dropped instantly, crumpling against the stage floor. His hands flew over his head, arms curling tight around himself as if his body could make itself smaller, invisible. Each gunshot drove his heart higher into his throat, his chest heaving as tremors wracked him. Eyes screwed shut, he clung to the single, desperate hope that if he stayed still, if he made himself unseen, the nightmare might pass him by.
Why? Leroy cursed in his head. Why? It was the only thought he could hold onto as screams, gunshots, and the crash of chaos blurred together into one deafening roar. His mind drowned in it, spiraling, the word pounding through him like a drumbeat.
Why why why why why why why why why why why why—
The spiral shattered when an unyielding hand clamped around his bicep and hauled him upright in one brutal pull. Leroy’s breath caught, his vision swimming as his eyes blinked open to new details. The lights had returned, though weak and flickering, casting the ballroom in a sickly glow. And standing before him was a figure who froze every thought in his head.
The man looked like something torn out of a nightmare, or a comic book. A deep green gi, trimmed in gold, covered his body, the fabric drawn tight across powerful lines of muscle. His arms, bare and scarred, flexed like steel. Behind a black mask, there was a pair of cold, unblinking eyes locked onto Leroy with lethal precision.
Leroy couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He stood caught in that gaze like a deer in headlights, lips parted but no words escaping. Fear hollowed him out until only one thought remained—Forget why. Who in the hell did I piss off?
“Get it together,” The man ordered, voice low and sharp as steel. “I’m the one keeping you alive right now. Try not to waste it.”
“Save?” Leroy echoed, the word escaping in a thin squeak as his eyes went wide. Save him from what?
It was only then that he noticed the man’s weapon: a katana, gleaming faintly in the dim light, but no gun in sight. That small detail offered a flicker of relief; whoever this man was, he likely wasn’t the one filling the ballroom with bullets. But that comfort was short-lived. The gunfire was growing louder now, sharper, ricocheting closer with every burst. Whoever held the trigger was moving in fast, too fast, and Leroy realized with a spike of dread that his precarious safety might already be gone.
“Hold onto me,” the man ordered, his voice flat, unyielding. Without waiting for permission, he slid a powerful arm around Leroy’s waist, anchoring him in place. The grip wasn’t comforting. It was control. Leroy hesitated, every instinct screaming at him to resist. But staring up at the masked man’s steely eyes, he realized trust didn’t matter. This wasn’t a request.
“There he is!”
Leroy’s head snapped toward a gruff voice, and his eyes locked on three men stationed at the base of the stage staircase, guns leveled squarely at them. No warning was needed. Instinct took over. He wrapped his arms tightly around the mysterious man’s torso. The man’s grip around Leroy’s waist remained unyielding, while his free hand slipped to his belt and produced a small, circular device. It looked like a bomb, though Leroy couldn’t be certain. Before he could register it, the man hurled the device to the foot of the stage. It detonated in a thick plume of smoke, choking the attackers into coughing fits. Without pause, the masked man snatched another device from his belt. Leroy barely had time to glance at it before they were lifted into the air, soaring toward the ceiling as the chaos below them erupted into panic.
The next sequence unfolded in a blur. One moment, Leroy was on the catwalk, high above the choking smoke and the armed men now flailing blindly below. The next, the man was yanking him along the narrow walkway toward a bright green EXIT sign. With a single, fluid kick, the metal door swung open, and they hurtled up the stairwell. Leroy stumbled to keep pace, but falling behind wasn’t an option; the man’s grip on his wrist was ironclad. Several flights later, they emerged onto the rooftop. The night air hit them like a blast of ice, sharp and clean, carrying with it the distant wail of sirens and the city’s hum below. Leroy’s chest heaved, his pulse pounding, and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the figure holding him aloft; calm, lethal, unyielding.
As the man released him, Leroy collapsed to hands and knees, wheezing heavily. He struggled to steady his breathing, mind racing, while the masked figure swept the rooftop with precise, practiced movements, scanning for any remaining threats. Once satisfied that the area was clear, the man turned back toward him. He moved with such deliberate purpose that Leroy instinctively scrambled to his feet, taking small steps back, heart hammering. Panic clouded his mind, blurring the line between danger and safety. The man seemed to notice, and abruptly halted—but his posture didn’t relax, and his gaze remained ice-cold, unyielding, and unreadable.
“Leroy Jacobs,” the man said, voice low and precise, each word sharp as a blade. “Care to tell me why someone thinks you’re worth killing?”
His stomach dropped like a stone. Somebody wanted him dead? Leroy’s breaths came fast and shallow, each one sharper than the last. No, no, no… who would want me dead? In a city like Gotham, every interaction was a gamble. He had spent years carefully navigating people’s egos, smoothing over offenses, and keeping himself on everyone’s good side. Every word, every smile; measured, precise, like walking on eggshells. And now… it still wasn’t enough.
“Tt.” The man tutted, voice flat and unyielding. “I’m here to keep you alive. So, talk. Why does someone want you dead?”
“I—I have no idea!” Leroy stammered, breaths rapid and ragged despite the man’s warning to calm down. “I don’t have any enemies… at least, I don’t think I do!”
“You’re wrong.” The man said, voice flat, cutting through Leroy’s panic. “You’ve made one very dangerous enemy. And I’m here to make sure they don’t finish the job.”
“But… why?” Leroy stammered, utterly dumbfounded. This man looked more like an assassin than a hero; lethal, precise, and unflinching. So why did he care that Leroy was in danger? Not that Leroy didn’t appreciate it. Hell, he wanted to live, of course. But… this man, the attack, the chaos; it all coiled his gut with a tight, anxious knot, screaming at him to get out, to run, to escape before it was too late.
“It benefits me.” The man said, moving to the roof’s edge. His gaze cut over the scene below, sharp and unflinching, like a predator assessing its prey. Leroy exhaled, tension easing just a fraction. He didn’t know what he had hoped to hear, but it was enough. At least this man would help him survive, even if his motives were entirely his own.
“I should hand you over to the police,” he said, turning from the roof’s edge. His eyes bore into Leroy, cold and unyielding, and for a moment, the younger man felt his resolve falter under the weight of that stare.
“Wait—wait. I mean, I want to go to the police, don’t get me wrong. But… What happens after this? Somebody wants me dead. I can’t be safe and…” Leroy trailed off, struggling to put the chaos of his thoughts into words. This couldn’t be the end. Whoever had attacked the Charity Ball was serious, ruthless enough to crash Horizon’s event. If tonight was any indication, they wouldn’t let this failure slide.
“Your safety’s my concern, not yours. Now get moving.” None of his concern? The words hit Leroy like a punch. His face contorted in a mixture of shock and indignation, eyes wide as he tried to process the audacity of the statement.
“Hold on! How am I supposed to trust you?” Leroy interjected, a spark of unusual boldness in his voice. “I don’t even know your name!”
“Congratulations,” he said, voice flat, dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve officially made yourself unbearable. Stop talking.” Leroy froze, stepping back instinctively. The man let out a long, sharp sigh, the kind that carried both irritation and judgment. “I saved your life, in case that escaped your fragile memory. Name? Just call me… Hashishin. Try to remember it, or I swear I’ll make you regret asking.”
“I… uh… alright…” Leroy stammered, words catching in his throat. His mind raced for something else to say, but the icy stare and rigid posture of Hashishin left him completely frozen.
For now, Leroy had no choice. He had to take a leap of faith. Trust this man, or face a far grimmer reality: staying in the dark about who wanted him dead, completely exposed to anyone who might come for him next.
Hashishin extended a hand, sharp and unwavering.
Leroy’s chest tightened. He drew a shaky breath, heart hammering, and slowly reached out, placing his hand in the other’s.
Hi! My name is Ripley, I'm the Tumblr manager for this blog. Here is where I and my co-part (the brains) will be posting our story His Songbird! The concept started so many years ago by our beloved Cat. Cat and I have been friends for about 14-ish. We are both avid writers (though I think she's better, shh!) and we've been writing together since we were in middle school.
About 𓆩⟡𓆪Ripley𓆩⟡𓆪 [The Tumblr Manager/Editor] -
Howdy! My name is Ripley! [Rips for short] {she/her}
☆ I'm 25
☆ An April Aries
☆ Love the color Green
☆ I'm an avid gamer
☆ I'm a tumblr vet, been around these parts since 2015!
𓆩⟡𓆪
I've been writing for probably as long as Cat has. It's something that helped grow our bond as little youngins. We'd sit in the pool and brainstorm a million ideas late into the night. Good times. This story was a big one that helped bring us closer when we were in middle school and it's something I always held very close to my heart. Staying up late and coming up with dialog and plot was so fun. I remember getting so giddy when she'd tell me a new chapter was ready. I'd read it right then and there, even if I had just gotten to her house. I hope you guys enjoy her story just as much as I do! <3
About ❀Cat❀ {The Author} -
Yo! Cat here and I am the author of 'His Songbird'! {she/her}
♡ 25 years old
♡ December Sagittarius Queen
♡ Actress + Producer + Director, film is my love outside of writing
♡ I am not the most seasoned Tumblr user, so I have my bestie to manage this page! ❤️
❀
Rips and I have been passionate writers since the day we met! Back then, we shared a love for fanfiction and character creation which we have carried into our adult years. I think some of our best memories is staying up late at sleepovers and fangirling over our stories together! 'His Songbird' is a story I created in Middle School after discovering a huge love for the bat family and DC comics in general. I wanted to rewrite the story with my improved writing skills, and for the enjoyment that Rips and I had for it many years ago! I hope you all enjoy the story and stick around for the ride. (:
