Foolish, foolish mortal.

The atmosphere was starting to fill with an incomprehensible sense of dread, only accompanied by the sound of panicked breathing.

It took everything in “Richard” to keep the smile on his face, his lips stretched taut into as harmless of a grin as possible. He had become so fond of the mortal, just like his predecessor.

“The man you know and love is dead,” he softly explained, reaching out to comfortingly brush his fingers against their cheek with too soft of a touch. “But I have all of his memories and experiences. And all the feelings that come with them.”

There is no cheap mimicry to be found here, and in its place is something more than just an imitation. For “Richard” is far better than a mere copy. The day he had come across the corpse of the original, he wanted to try being human out of mere curiosity. And now, he won’t give up the life that he’s taken for himself.

Happiness. Anger. Longing. Grief.

All of them were emotions that an eldritch creature as ancient and as timeless as him couldn't fathom ever experiencing. Until now, of course. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep this new life within his claws.

“No one will ever believe you,” the terror warned, observing the frightened tremble of lips. Fear. “You’ll go mad before you can tell anyone.”

And at that?

A careful yet quick glimpse of his actual form, just to show the gravity behind his words. A being like him found no point in entertaining empty threats and promises.

He stared, for the briefest of moments — An existence that couldn't be bound by the laws of this worldly plane. A mass of writhing limbs and too many eyes, the clacking of jagged teeth, with details that couldn't even be rationalised.

Before he shifted back as a human again.

There’s so much to live for in this world, huh?

“Now answer me. Would you rather lose all traces of Richard Grayson from your life completely, or keep a secret?”