We’re taking part in this daily prompt – Daily Prompt – Sanctuary

Breathing heavily, his lungs felt heavy. Sweat droplets gathering underneath the black disguise. Congealed blood marking the rips in the latex, pin-pointing where he had been scratched. The reminder that he was indeed still human, still made from flesh and blood. No mask could hide that forever. Head thumping from the wallop received from that dreadful wooden mallet. A headache in preparation for the morning after.

A mountain out of a molehill, almost certainly, but his bloodshot eyes couldn’t stand the light. It had been a rough night, bluntly put. What started as a cruise around the neighbourhood, an inspection of the nice and the grim, turned upside down. Gotham didn’t feel right tonight. Quiet, too quiet, and soon I would know why.

The trap had been set, for the Suicide Squad were after their pound of flesh, again. This time, they used my weakness, my passion against me. For the Joker appeared, disgusting as ever wearing one of my earlier suits. Cursing my moniker, everything the suit stands for, I saw it now, tonight, graffiti covered into the Joker’s favourite colours. Knowing the implications of someone else wearing my suit, knowing my strengths, and also my weaknesses, it meant I couldn’t just walk away. I wanted to, my head begged me to, the day was already heavy enough. But my heart, it was taken. The suit needed to be mine again.

The battering was worth the end result. Harley’s sinister giggles still revolving around my head, tormenting. The Joker will have his fair share of war wounds too. The suit, battered, torn, but still the suit, is now back where it should be. In my sanctuary.

Underground, below the city lights, I feel secure. Almost content, at what has been achieved. A barrier between us and them, a real, physical cocoon. Sitting within the costume room, the battered suit back in it’s place. Tomorrow, it will be cleaned, fixed, prepared, upgraded. But for now, rest is needed.

The transmitter no longer flashing red, I can breathe again. Pulling the mask away from my face and head, it’s only here in my sanctuary that I can be. Just be myself. Looking at the mask in my hands, knowing what it can achieve, what has been done, and will be done with the mask being worn.

A smirk crosses my face, for I also know the trouble and the fun that this disguise, the black bat mask can bring.

Drifting off to sleep, in my sanctuary, waiting and preparing for what tomorrow will bring.

Bespoke Fantasy Costume team.

This was our take on the daily prompt – Sanctuary daily post prompt . You can find out what we’re usually up to here – Bespoke Fantasy Costumes


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