Batman Drunk Novels & Stories

I would call Robin. The man who had once banished me from my pack, who had watched guards drag me away while I screamed for my child—I didn't know what he was capable of now. The Damon I knew wouldn't hurt me. But the Damon I knew died the day he believed those photographs. He moved suddenly, staggering slightly. The bottle in his hand caught the moonlight—half-empty, the liquid sloshing as he stepped toward me. He was drunk. The Bastard was drunk. "Oh, baby, you came back..." His words slurred together, his eyes unfocused as they roamed over my body. "I knew you would..."

My heart began to beat faster because of what I was hearing. Quietly, I peeked inside. I saw Draken sitting on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed. He was crying, his hands resting on both of his knees. One hand held a bottle of liquor, while the other held a cigarette. His room was a mess. The broken bottle was still scattered across the floor. What had happened to this man? In the ten years that I hadn’t seen him, I never imagined he would end up like this. He didn’t even smoke before. He used to drink occasionally, but I had never seen him cry or lose control like this.

At this moment, I am still drinking even though I am now sleepy. A few minutes later, my phone started to ring, which meant someone was calling me. I took it in my pocket, and I answered the phone call. “H-Hello,” I said to the person in the other line. “W-What do y-you want?” I asked while stuttering. “Are you drunk?!” Mantus irritably asked me. He is the brother of Sage. Wow! He learns I am drunk. “Oh Mantus.” I said to him. Then, I drank beer.

I tell him, rolling my eyes. "Hey, I'm pretty drunk as well. I am in no situation to be driving right now, and Megan doesn't drink. So, here we are to your rescue. Think of us like Batman and Robin. Robin is only here for moral support, though." "I don't remember Batman being so annoying," I say, rolling my eyes. "You're a cutie. Ethan, aren't you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?" "That's not his girlfriend. He fucks everything up, remember?" Frailey says, nudging her shoulder.

He said the shot would catch both of us. So that was what he'd really been framing—every single detail on that bed. My hand started shaking. Not from anger. A real, physical tremor, like Parkinson's, until I could barely hold onto the phone. I thought back to that night. Axel had sat beside me the whole time, overly eager, overly warm. He kept pressing me to drink more. I was never good with alcohol. But out of politeness, I drank. Glass after glass. I'd trusted my boyfriend would take care of me. How could I not trust him? We'd been together for so long.

"Because from now on, the three of us work together against Damon Banks, whether you like it or not." Banks poured himself a third shot of tequila, hoping he would not be conscious for much longer. There was a side table next to the window, and he used it as support for the bottle. The man lifted the glass to his lips and drank all the flammable liquid as if it were water. Damon did not mind getting drunk, as he would spend many hours on a flight and would have enough time to recover. "You are at rock bottom," Volkov, a mysterious man, commented.

Did he want to dig more holes for her or what? "Come here." Ethan nodded to Matt. "Big Bro, what is it?" Matt swayed forward. "Come closer," Ethan added. Matt looked apprehensive, and as he moved closer, Ethan grabbed his collar and sniffed him. "You've been drinking." Eve gasped and covered her mouth. Matt was drunk? That explained everything. "Come on, Big Bro. Me? Drinking? The only drink this Young Master has taken today is water." "You're lying." Ethan glared at him. "You got yourself drunk, and you drove here recklessly. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Lifting my hand to catch the bartender's attention, I motion for another pint of Guinness. I prefer whiskey, but I have all night to drink and don't need to find myself shit-faced in less than twenty minutes. Still though, my plan tonight is to get stinking drunk because I have no idea what else to do. Ever since my father, Nolan Mennetti, was gunned down by the Volkanov family, I've felt lost. Spinning out of control and without answers.

I moved through the crowd, but someone yanked me back. A tattooed guy with a crooked smile. “You need to loosen up,” he said, dragging me closer. His hardness pressed against me through our clothes. “Or are you just a scared little girl?” He shoved a drink in my hand. “Prove you’re not.” I glared. But before I could decide, the cup was slapped from my hand and Ian’s fist connected with the guy’s jaw. “Are you INSANE?!” I shoved Ian. He stared at me like I was stupid. “That was Drake. He’s a gangster. That drink? Probably laced with Lucid.”

“That’s the third controller you broke, bro. You’re going to have to put more money in the entertainment budget if you keep that shit up.” “I’m going to bed.” I stand up and stumble. “I’ll see you guys at breakfast.” The silver in my liver makes me get drunk easily and we’ve been drinking like fish all day. That stupid game is rigged, anyway. That’s not what war is like. “Bronx?” I hear Leni call my name. “What are you doing?” “Going to bed.” I try to turn around, but stumble again. “I drank too much.” “Let me help you, big brother.” She puts my arm over her shoulders and helps me up the steps. “You know you have to take it easy with the drinking. You’re a lightweight even by human standards