Happy Birthday... Mr. Hannigan
| Happy Birthday... Mr. Hannigan | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 03 June 2022 |
| Location: | Gotham Cemetery |
| Synopsis: | Not all Birthday traditions are fun ones. |
| Cast of Characters: | Michael Hannigan |
Mike has changed the routine outfit today. Despite the summer heat, the musician is dressed up in black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. Even though the sleeves are long, the material is thin enough not to be problematic. Considering his occupation, one might not be too surprised with the black clothing. Still, normally there's something that breaks the pattern. It's not the case here as the tennis shoes he typically wears got replaced with shoes of the same color as the pants.
The pony-tailed main quietly makes his way along the path that allows passage through the maintained grounds. Little attention is paid to the various monuments that he passes. He heads to a less ornate area and steps off of the designated path. Eventually he comes to a stop and looks down to the one waiting and cracks a small smile. "I got more this time."
Another year down in the Gotham weather, and the bronze lettering on the stone is still visible.
Eileen Hannigan
Beloved mother
Born: December 13, 1973
Died: June 3, 2002
Mike kneels down, reaching over to twist and pull out the vase hidden within the marker. He sets it upright before putting the small bouquet of pink roses and pink lilies inside. "They had lilies this time too."
Task complete, Mike shifts his weight, legs twisting to where he falls back. Rear hitting the ground. The legs fold, allowing him to sit cross legged as he looks to the marker.
Silence.
Obviously, Mike was the first to speak.
"I guess one good thing is that even if I don't say it, you already know about it." Mike comments. "Helpful when there are others around but still..." He pauses, glancing around, finding the area to be devoid of any other living soul. "I still don't really get why I ended up like this. I mean, I know that bartender had something to do with it but it'd have been really nice if the guy stuck around to explain things."
...
"Yeah, I probably would have just punched him if he did. But I'd have bothered to at least get the real name. I knew well enough that's not his last name. It just didn't matter before."
...
"I made some friends since last time. You met one then. He and I got pulled into something weird and- Well, everything's weird. Seems the weird is what's making me meet them. But a few of them helped out with that- problem. Made me finish writing the song I had lying around. I ended up helping a few others with their problems. Trying to help with another but won't know how that turns out until later."
...
"I lost some friends too. No surprise there. Guess Rod counts in that. He did help save Wade's life. He went back to his world. "
...
"I wonder if I made a mistake."
Silence takes hold of the area once more as the one who speaks seems to take things to DMs. His presence lingers by the graveside. Still sitting upon the grass. Time's not really monitored by Mike at this point. It could have been seconds, maybe minutes, or even an hour that he sits, not breaking the quiet vigil.
There's a light croaking sound.
Mike tilts his head up, turning his head towards a section with larger headstones. Seeing the large black bird perched there, the musician stares. A raven. The bird itself seems not to pay the musician any heed. But the noises coming from the corvid does provide sufficient distraction.
It seems so appropriate that it is a raven that Mike finds in a Gotham cemetery.
Solitary in nature.
His phone starts beeping.
When the bird flies off, Mike shakes his head, taking a moment to check his phone.
"...Speaking of weird stuff, I need to go." He states, putting the phone away. He shifts to his feet, pausing for a moment to look back to the marker.
"I love you Mom."
The glance lasts a few more seconds before Mike tears himself away. Stepping back onto the path, he adjusts his direction towards the maintenance building on the grounds. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a key.
