From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
The subsequent weeks came and went in a flash. It seemed that on the subject of Jonathan Crane, there was no news to be announced publicly. The abductions had ceased just as briskly as they had begun, and according to the papers, there had been no progress on the front of finding the man. As well, it was said that Lieutenant James Gordon had been temporarily relieved of duty with the GCPD, but as no one (including Jim himself) had been willing to offer comment on the matter, the circumstances behind the suspension and his future with the department had been rather hazy. As for the Batman, he was similarly written off as Crane had been; current location and status entirely questionable.
In my condition, I could not reach out to the Lieutenant even if I’d deemed it essential. I had been ordered to recover in my bed for a full week, consequently feeling as if I were going out of my mind in the process. All the while, I had been tormented with questions. Had Crane truly disappeared once again, never to appear for a period of years? Or was he plotting something far more diabolical than we could previously have imagined? Was it my fault what had befallen Jim Gordon? And what were the consequences to be had now that he had been placed on (assumed) involuntary leave? And lastly, what was to become of me, now that I had been forced to give up my cause? As the Batman had ceased operations of making the streets safer in Gotham, should Bruce Wayne’s latest economical projects fade into the night as well?
“‘Morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred came into my room one morning, about a week after my run-in with the police.
“Alfred. I see we’re still forgetting to knock before entry.”
“I told ye, yer not to be dressin’ yerself without me help until Doctor Thompkins says otherwise.”
“I’m fine now, really.”
“When you can show me the proper medical licenses, then I’ll take ye at your word. Now, a number of messages for you.”
I sat up in my bed and breathed a heavy sigh.
He held up his notepad a foot away from his face and strained to begin reading from it, “Speaking of our good doctor, she’ll be out to visit later this afternoon.”
“Lovely,” I fidgeted uncomfortably.
“Secondly,” he continued. “Ye’ve been invited to the museum’s grand opening for their new exhibits.”
“New exhibits?” I did so love the museum, and this had been news to me.
“Yessir, an expansion to one of ‘em, and a brand new one… the gem collection hall,” he said matter of factly. “It’s in three weeks time. Will you be making an appearance, then?”
“I suppose I should. It may be wise to get in touch with Miss Vale again to announce my return to Gotham beforehand, however, or I’m going to be getting a lot of odd stares at the event.”
“Indeed, I’ll reach out to her today,” he continued. “Also, have ye thought any more about that Dent fella? Seems to me ye were planning some announcement of public support fer his campaign?”
Whatever would I have done without Alfred to keep me in line? I had completely forgotten about the election while being laid up in bed and wallowing in my personal failures. I would need to do that soon.
“Any chance we can fit it in directly following the interview with the paper?”
“I think we can make it work,” Alfred smiled at that. It occurred to me that he was in quite good spirits, no doubt owing to the fact that our day-to-day routine had finally returned to normalcy. “Any chance ye’ve been able to peruse the Arkham estate papers?”
“I have! And a fine idea it is, old chap. You’ve truly outdone yourself on this one!”
There is a backstory to this, of course, which I will touch upon momentarily. We knew, as the handsome Miss Vale had pointed out to me previously, that the crime syndicates would not be in favor of opening a hospital for the criminally insane in Gotham, and that we would soon be met with road blocks of their creation. A such, we would need an ace in the hole, as it were; something the City Council Board members would not be able to contend with. Alfred had ingeniously found a solution, and I was meant to present these findings at our next meeting regarding the asylum. As that meeting was to occur on the morrow, I had made sure to familiarize myself with the details of his plan ahead of time.
“Splendid!” Alfred smiled. “D’ye think it’ll work?”
“It simply must. If it does not, I will make a point of educating them on the consequences of their actions.”
“Right. Ye hafta get the ‘okay’ from the doctor first, mind ye. I don’t want ye attending any meetings if it poses a risk to yer health.”
“I’m fine, Alfred. I told you as much, have I not?”
As it turned out, the good doctor gave me her reluctant approval that very afternoon. She made her concerns very apparent, which in turn wrought nothing but worries upon my caretaker, but the deed was done, as far as I was concerned.
On the next day, as I had premonished, the members of City Council informed me that they had reconsidered my proposal and decided against it. When I had inquired as to why, they replied that it was entirely a financial issue, and that they would not allow a citizen to cover the entirety of the costs for a project that affected the entire city, as he would yield far too much power over the thing. I was prepared, however.
“Am I correct, then, that the matter is entirely based on the money you would have to contribute to the building?”
“Yes, Mr. Wayne,” one of the council members spoke up. “The costs associated with such a thing are far too great for us to deal with at present. Not to mention, it would take at least a few years’ time before this space could even become available. Perhaps we might be able to fix the problems at Blackgate in the meantime, and then what use would the facility be to anyone?”
“Consider this, then,” I folded my arms. “Arkham Mansion. My parents owned the deed to it, as they had purchased it shortly before their deaths. They had been plotting to use the place as a refuge for the homeless, before the city opened up their own program downtown. It’s been abandoned for some time, but we still own the property. Suppose we spruced it up and turned it into the very facility we need, with the intention of expanding upon its foundations in the coming years. This would cut down on the financial costs significantly, and we could have it in operating condition in only a few short months! I would, however, still reserve my right to a seat on the board, as I have taken a great interest in wanting to help oversee the employment of medical professionals. Aside from that one stipulation, however, I am wholly willing to donate the mansion to this cause.”
Arkham Mansion has a rather storied history. The Arkhams were one of the founders of Gotham, along with the likes of the Waynes and the Cobblepots, and they played no small part in the city’s construction and growth in the early days. Unfortunately, at the turn of the century, the family matriarch, Elizabeth, had fallen ill, and slowly began to lose control of her mental faculties. We know the disease much better now; coined Alzheimer’s Disease, named after its discoverer, Alois Alzheimer. Elizabeth’s son, believing to be doing the noble thing, and unable to handle the shock of her no longer knowing who he was, took it upon himself to assist in her death. The way he had gone about it, however, was particularly barbaric, and involved a heavy bludgeoning of some sort. Overwhelmed with guilt, he committed suicide shortly thereafter, and the horrors of those events would go on to become a thing of legend in the years following. Despite this grueling history, the mansion itself was enormous, elaborately decorated, and could serve as quite the welcoming new home to those suffering from mental illnesses. This was a win-win situation for the council, and they would have to have a damned good reason to turn it down outrightly.
“Arkham… I…” the councilman floundered for words as the other members whispered amongst themselves in a panic. “We can’t do this, Mr. Wayne. It just doesn’t suit Gotham, especially given its history.”
“I’m not concerned with its history, only its potential for the future. Gentlemen, if you still intend on turning down my proposal, I would like to point out that the world is fast approaching another global scale war, and I am destined to become an even wealthier man than any Wayne before me. I am not going away, and neither are my aims for this project.” They did not want me as an enemy, more plainly. “Furthermore, I am scheduled to make my public debut soon. I would be enlivened to share the good news of our plans with the papers. In the case that there was only bad news to share, on the other hand, I would not hesitate to divulge your half-cooked excuses with the city. Indeed, it seems the many rumors about your council’s devious affiliations with the Falcones may prove to be further substantiated by such a revelation.”
“Are you threatening us, Mr. Wayne?” the outraged speaker bursted.
“Merely stating the facts, Councilman.”
Still panicked, the members of the Board bickered and blathered amongst one another for a time longer. I waited patiently, demonstrating my sense of calmness whilst maintaining a foreboding glare.
“Alright, Mr. Wayne,” the spokesperson returned his attention to me. “If the council is, as you have surmised, in leagues with the likes of the Falcones… why then would you believe you could sway us from carrying out his decree?”
“Because, gentlemen, I am prepared to spend all of my time and resources towards proving to you that the devil you know is far less pernicious than the one you do not,” I gave him the Batman eyes then, somewhat by accident. “And you therefore must ask yourselves, is the cost of one small forfeiture worth the prospect of dozens more?
They looked around at each other, uncertain, no one wanting to speak out of turn. Again, more bickering soon followed.
“I believe you’ve made your case, Mr. Wayne. Work on this Arkham Asylum will continue as originally planned.”
From the personal diaries of Selina Kyle, renowned cat burglar extraordinaire
7-29-39
Dear diary,
It’s been over a week now, and still no sign or word of either the Batman or of Holly’s killer. I’ve been neglecting the little everyday necessities along the way, my obsession getting in the way of taking care of myself. I haven’t been eating, and can’t sleep no matter what I try. My money situation is worse than ever. I need to get back to doing some odd jobs, or it’s back to the dominatrix lifestyle again.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
In a moment of weakness, I almost did fall back in. I figured, since there’s no Holly to worry about anymore, why not go back to what I know? Felt wrong, though. Like somehow I’d be spitting in the face of her memory, slinking back to those moronic pimps. Holly wouldn’t want that for me, just the same as I didn’t want it for her.
So it’s gonna be tight for a bit, and I’m really gonna hafta try my best to get back into the looting life. I’ve got a couple ideas about how to get started.
Funny though… I came across a newspaper today, the headline got me all excited. Seems there’s some sort of gem collection hall opening at the Gotham Museum this coming month. If I could figure out a way to nab one of them, betcha I could make a killing for it. Then I at least wouldn’t have to worry about starving for a while, and can get back on the trail of that psycho killer.
I think I’ll start making some preliminary plans for that in the coming days. It ain’t gonna be a walk in the park.
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
A few days past my meeting with the council, I had my second encounter with the reporter, Miss Victoria Vale. In this second attempt at an interview, things had gone far more smoothly, I must say. I thanked her wholeheartedly for recommending Harvey Dent’s acquaintance, and I do believe she was quite happy to know of our newfound friendship. It seems I had made a much better first impression than either she or Mr. Dent had previously anticipated, and the beautiful redheaded woman acted more warmly towards me this time.
As well, I was able to apprise her of my accomplishments with the council, and assured her that things would begin moving on all fronts very quickly. She at first had her doubts, but I do feel I was able to persuade her in the end.
At the conclusion of our time together, I extended an invitation to my upcoming charity event, which was scheduled to be held a week from that very day. She graciously accepted - and with great enthusiasm - and I was overjoyed. It seemed, despite our tense first meeting with one another, that I had harbored a deepening fancy for the girl. She was, after all, quite a stirring specimen; Intelligent, well educated, outspoken, and actually quite funny when in the proper sort of mood. Even so, I had no intention of relaying my budding feelings for her to Alfred, who was never above gloating.
During that first week of August, there had still been no signs of the Streetnapper, and as far as the newspapers had reported, no more abductions either.
I can recall a meeting with Lucius around this time, when I had to break the news to him that I had retired from my investigation. He was in his lab, as always, and hard at work on some new invention or other.
“Lucius, my good man, how are you?”
“Mister Wayne! Glad to see you’re out and moving about again!” he smiled.
“Indeed, it appears I’m on the mend,” I beamed in reciprocation.
“I have some news. I was able to apply a mouthpiece to the mask, acting as a gas mask. It took some time to get it right, but it pops right into place,” he stepped aside to reveal the completed product on the table behind him. “Similarly, I’ve slotted these two glass pieces into the eye sockets. Works a charm! I tested it myself.”
“Oh…? That’s… wonderful. Actually, that’s what I came to see you about, old chum. And I apologize that it has taken me this long, but it’s been a busy sort of time.”
He leaned back on the table and folded his arms. Somehow, I believe he knew then what it was I was about to say, as his face showed concern of a disappointed nature.
“You see, Lucius, I’ve made the decision to be done with this investigative business. As it turns out, I’m not as smart or as cunning as I’d thought,” I explained.
“Alfred,” Mr. Fox grumbled.
“Well, yes. And no. He merely pointed out what I wished not to see. I daresay, I knew it all from the beginning.”
“Selling yourself short. You did some grade A detective work, Mister Wayne. Not to mention, you struck fear into the hearts of the ones who figured they’d owned this city. No small feet, in my estimation.”
“All I did was convince a mobster to keep tighter security at all times,” I reflected.
“Because he was no match for you,” Lucius offered. “Mister Wayne… I told you in the beginning of all this, the less I knew of the details was for the better. I’ve refrained from prying, and held back on offering advice. In fact, the only thing I’ve ever offered was to do as you asked, without question, so long as it could be done.”
“I’ll happily concede to that, yes.”
“So I’m telling you now, Bruce,” he stared gravely into my eyes, “you’re making a mistake.”
The man walked away from me then, gathering his new inventions up from the table and transporting them to some backroom as I wrestled with my thoughts.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting all traces of the Batman figure destroyed then?” he wandered back and awoke me from my trance.
“Mm? Oh, uh… yes. Yes, I feel that might be for the best.”
“Very well. I will take care of it.”
With that matter settled for the time being, I was left to focus upon the charity event of the next week. The newspaper article announcing my return to Gotham was in the next day’s Gotham Gazette. Somewhat surprisingly, it was posted on page 3. It seemed the Batman had outdone Bruce Wayne in matters of relevance after all. I smiled at that, only realizing moments later that this would not be a positive step forward for my charitable foundation or the asylum. Perhaps there would be more written about both in the near future (I can’t remember if there was, but do believe it to be so).
In the week leading up to the Wayne Foundation’s Grand Re-establishment party, my recovery continued, and I was able to get back to my daily routines. For whatever reason, I worked myself into enough of a frenzy that I was able to keep up with the Batman’s previous schedule, even though I had no intentions of ever dawning the garb again. The bruises began to fade slowly, although they made certain exercises much more difficult to perform while they remained. And though the nightmares had plagued me from time to time, there appeared to be no other lasting effects from Crane’s serum.
We held the Wayne Foundation’s event at Wayne Tower, which was Wayne Enterprises’ headquarters. It was located in Old Gotham, not far from the clocktower, and just a few streets off from the GCPD headquarters. Many of Gotham’s elite were in attendance, which included some of the shadier types of folk as well as the more distinguished and forward minded individuals. I had thought about extending an invitation to Jim Gordon, but something inside me had urged me to refrain from doing so at the last minute. No need to draw attention to the suspicious timing of my return to the city, though the papers had gravely underestimated how long I’d been back.
I made an effort to do my rounds and meet as many people as I could, taking note of the names and occupations all the while. It was difficult, as I’m not one for small talk and have always been admittedly on the shy side (though I did my utmost to paint the opposite picture when in a public setting). I also did not enjoy having to exchange niceties with the likes of people like Commissioner Loeb, who, as you have likely already surmised, was amongst the most despicable of crooks the city had known at the time.
The moment that Harvey Dent walked through the entrance was the moment my heart dropped, as there, clinging comfortably through interlinking arms, I caught sight of Vicky. Adorned with a most luxurious golden dress that clung to her form like a second set of skin, and ornamented in matching gold jewelry and a flashy crystal necklace, my breath was stolen crudely from my lungs at the sight. Whether my reaction could be owed entirely to the immensity of her beauty, or if it were simply the extreme jealousy I felt for Harvey in that moment, I do not know for sure. Perhaps both.
Just friends, my buttocks!
“Harvey, Vicky! So nice to see you both!” I felt a twitching at the corners of my very simulated smile.
“Wayne,” Harvey nodded coolly, and then looked about as if trying to find someone else more interesting to mingle with.
“Bruce, how lovely!” Vicky gushed over the sights surrounding us.
“So glad you could both make it,” I took her hand and kissed it, holding my hand out to shake with Harvey. He did not notice my gesture, however, as his gaze shifted around nervously.
“I see you invited a few of my political enemies,” Harvey grumbled. “I thought you said you didn’t want to share them with me.”
“Precisely the reason I invited them, Harv,” I shrugged. “What do I know of political factions in Gotham, anyway? I only just arrived in town, and you were the first office runner I happened to run into.”
“Just how long do you suppose acting the aloof ignoramus will serve you, Bruce?” Vicky laughed under her breath.
“Oh, whatever do you mean, Miss Vale?” I saw Harvey glaring at me throughout our flirtatious banter. He did not seem impressed.
The festivities came and went, and we unveiled our newest plans for the foundation and the many events we would be hosting over the coming months. We introduced the charities and organizational supports we would be working with, and then I gave a rousing speech regarding the asylum and how it aimed to rid the streets of the Blackgate escape artists.
“Before I take my leave, I do want to mention one last thing,” I sermonized. “I want to speak to you about the upcoming election for District Attorney. Now, I don’t want to pretend to know of Gotham’s criminal activities past what I’ve read in the papers. The asylum is simply my small contribution to bettering our city’s reputation on a grander scale. However, I have heard rumblings. They tell me of a town rife with crime, and plagued with unnecessary hardships. Upon my arrival, I had a chance encounter with that fellow over there,” I pointed to Harvey, and everyone eyed him curiously. “His name is Harvey Dent. He has dedicated the better part of a decade to cleaning our streets and giving Gotham back its good name, a name I’m ashamed to say I helped tarnish when I abandoned the Wayne Foundation upon my departure. I’m merely here to try and earn my good name back and to restore the reputation that Gotham deserves. There’s no personal gain for Harvey, and yet, here he has stayed for all these years, weathering the very worst of it all. Harvey Dent is the man Gotham needs, a man impassioned by his virtues and his ethics. And that is why I am throwing my full support behind him and his campaign. Together, let’s give Gotham back her dignity. I believe in Harvey Dent!” I raised my glass and sipped. Some followed suit, others scoffed in dismay, and there was a significant portion of the crowd who cheered and clapped.
“That was wonderful, Bruce,” Vicky found me a short time later, Harvey following at a close distance behind her.
“Not exactly the cold reception I was expecting. Nicely done, Wayne.” Dent shook my hand, at last.
“Think nothing of it. The rest is up to you, my friend.”
And on those terms, the night continued to great success. Harvey loosened up - just as with our first encounter - after a few glasses of chardonnay, and I did what I could to simulate his boisterous behavior as I nursed my own drink. When it was over, Harvey and Vicky left together, arm in arm, just as they’d arrived. I felt the sting of it again. In my quiet reflections later in the night, alone in my room, I had determined that it wasn’t Miss Vale that had gotten me so perturbed. No, it was my own shortcomings rearing their heads and causing me suffering. I was alone, and, I believed, unable to connect with people on the same level as so many others I had witnessed. Indeed, the thought occurred to me that perhaps I would never truly experience romantic love in my lifetime, for there would always be a Harvey Dent - someone whose charisma was authentic - standing in the way. It was pathetic, I know now, to harbor these thoughts when everything this evening had gone so swimmingly. Still, it had shown me how truthfully broken I was.
To this day, such feelings of estrangement have never wholly gone away.
From the personal diaries of Selina Kyle, renowned cat burglar extraordinaire
8-4-39
Dear diary,
I managed to pull a few jobs, just enough to get some dough for the essentials. Got a bit of a bigger gig tomorrow night. My old friend Riff wants me to head down to some club and retrieve a little trinket that was stolen from him a while back. It pays well, and it’ll be good practice for my big gem collection heist that’s coming up.
I’m gonna use the funds I get tomorrow for a real nice dress. Still not sure how I’m gonna snoop my way into the party without a formal invitation, but I’m willing to bet I can dupe some lonely sucker into letting me accompany him if I put on the sad kitty eyes and let ‘em know how much I wish I could see the exhibition.
Been a while since I was last in that kind of dress, truth be told. I betcha I can still rock it like back in the day. More I think about it though, if I’m gonna be making a thing of hanging out with the higher classed Gothamites, might be I should let my hair grow out some. I’ve had it cut so short for so long, I kinda forgot it was only ever like that because it suited my line of work better. Didn’t want them johns having more to grab onto, in case shit went bad, ya know? Now it’s enough to make me stand out as one of the more homely gals. I’m gonna need to fix that.
Phew, I’m pooped. Been working my butt off the last couple of weeks. Here’s hoping it’s about to all finally pay off!