From the confessions of Bruce Wayne

“Are ye bloody well happy wi’ yerself, then?” Alfred crunched the morning’s newspaper against my chest as I hobbled into the kitchen the next morning. I jerked painfully at the gesture, my whole body hurt from the previous night’s outing. Aside from the bullet that had grazed my left hip and the two that hit me directly on my backside, the strain from moving against the tight fabric of the outfit itself had rendered my muscles tender to the touch. This morning’s workout was going to be dreadful, indeed.

Alfred had not realized the night before just how dangerous my predicament had been when he’d lambasted me for being gone for so long. When we’d returned to the mansion and I took off the suit to inspect my injuries in a mirror, he had happened upon the sight and shrieked as though he were a small schoolgirl, nearly fainting. The marks from the bullets were black and purple, and the sting on my left side was almost unbearable. This, of course, prompted another of Alfred’s berating lectures.

Attempting to shake myself of the memory, I held the paper out in front of me and inspected the main article, Bat-Man in Gotham.

“I wonder what page Bruce Wayne would have landed upon…” the competitive nature of my two egos was alive even then.

“Now ye have the entire city after you, ye bloody cretin!”

He continued his verbal assault as I began reading. I wish I had kept the newspaper clipping, because I cannot remember many details from within its contents. On the whole of it though, it stated that there was a masked vigilante on the loose, dressed to resemble a bat, and that any sighting must be reported to the police as soon as possible. He was suspected to be armed and dangerous, and likely had something to do with the various kidnappings going on in the city. The first half of the article painted him as a complete villain, who had assaulted police on multiple occasions. The second half featured a brief few quotes from Lieutenant Gordon, who believed him to be a vigilante with good intentions, using ill-advised and foolish methods to achieve his goals. He did not expand on that opinion, if I recall correctly.

“Quite the reactionary piece, if I do say so myself. This writer doesn’t seem to know which side of the issue to stand upon. I wonder what Miss Vale would have -”

“Blimey! Are ye even listening to me? I told you I would help ye to find this Streetnapper fella so we could finally achieve justice fer your parents. I didn’t sign up for any o’ this tomfoolery. This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Master Wayne. Them scars on ye are proof enough. Now this? It’s gone too far!”

“It means they’re scared, Alfred. We’re making progress!”

“Inciting fear, is it? In’t that exactly what the man you’re trying to catch is doing?”

I suppose he’d had a point there, but surely he could understand the distinct differences. As long as the police were focused on me, they were more likely to leave Gordon alone. If the ones the Streetnapper was hiring off the streets could be impaired by the same fear, it could mean less of them would become available to him, more mistakes would be made, and possibly, I might be able to intimidate them into giving me information regarding his whereabouts. I wanted the word of my presence spread far and wide throughout the city so that no one, whether criminal or citizen or authority, would think to cross me. I had seen this article as an opportunity, and was more determined than ever to proceed with my vigilantism.

Beginning with my workout regimen, I intended to double the amount of exercise and muscle building per day. I would also have to amend my routines to include a healthier dose of cardio. My workouts were broken up into working particular muscle groups, for the most part, and at that point I had dedicated myself to two-one hour and a half long routines in a day. Henceforth, I would be doing three instead. As an example of one of these routines, I shall outline my primary bicep regimen. Using two fifty pound free-weights, I would perform 3 sets of 20 inward curls, outward curls, incline curls, side-curls; 5 sets of zottman curls, sky-lifts and low-lifts; 10 minutes of slow push-ups, switching to various types with each passing minute; and these would be broken up by multiple ab exercises, featuring 10 forms of pull-ups and crunches. I had also determined I would begin performing these routines in the bat-suit, as I would soon begin referring to it as. For my cardio routines, I would sprinkle them throughout my day, mixing the activities up as much as possible. Running, rock climbing, swimming, and various other exercises were the most frequent ones.

“Oye!” Alfred snapped his fingers in front of my eyes, as I had once again placed more focus upon the newspaper than his ramblings.

“I’m sorry, old chap, I’m afraid my head’s in a bit of a mess this morning. I’m going to start with my workouts and attempt to work out some of these kinks. I look forward to a cold breakfast when I’m back.”

“Are ye not hearing me proper, or just ignoring me?”

“Alfred, your concerns for me have been noted. You know how much this means to me, I simply must catch this fiend.”

“And you know how much you mean to me!” He was yelling now, frustration now turned to anger. “I will not bloody stand here,” he indignantly fought back a threatening tear, “and watch as the last closest thing to family I have… commits himself to an inevitable demise.”

“But I’m -”

“You act as though ye were the only one who lost something that night.” His glistening eyes penetrated the many walls I’d built up over so long, and I felt miserable then. “I lost something too. And when it happened, I swore to myself… swore to them, that I would do everything in my power to make sure you were taken care of. That you were safe!” He wiped his eyes and began removing the food he’d prepared from the table. “I may not be able to bloody well stop ye, but I won’t contribute any further to your eventual undoing. I don’t want any part of it anymore.”

I opened my mouth to object, but nothing came out. I knew very well that much of what he was saying was true. I didn’t care though. The only thing that mattered was my revenge. My entire life had been leading up to this point, and I felt I was too close now. Too close to finally nabbing the napper.

I left.

On my morning run, I cast all thoughts of this morning aside and focused once again on my new routines. I needed power, control, and sufficient energy to achieve them both. My diet had been rather strictly healthy since I was a small child, and Alfred had made sure this continued after my parents had died. In order to be able to weather the storms of my new workout regime, I would need to adjust it with an emphasis on significantly more protein levels. I would also expand my meals from three to six. In mornings, I would keep to my usual oatmeal, banana, and two boiled eggs, washed down with green tea. After my mid-morning meditation, some tuna with rice cakes and peanut butter seemed a nice snack-sized meal. For lunch, grilled chicken, a baked potato, and steamed vegetables. After my mid-day workout, oatmeal crackers, fruit, and some cheese and milk. For dinner, fish with either peas or corn and steamed carrots, with either rice or pasta of some sort. Upon coming back from my planned night outings as this Bat-Man figure, I would have some jumble of protein with some fruits and nuts. I would later come to realize the gastro-intestinal disadvantages of such a high caloric intake as this, but not until later on in the next year, where I would be forced to liquidize these components in order to avoid stomach issues. More on that later, however.

After the morning’s shortened meditation session, I ran over to meet with Lucius before my meeting with City Council. It seemed it had been a poor day to start on my new daily schedule, but it could not be helped.

“Lucius,” I entered the lab as he was settling into his chair. “What have you found?”

“My friend rang me up this morning with some interesting tidings, Mister Wayne,” he smiled rather smugly. “LSD… There’s a reason we hadn’t heard of it before. It’s new, and just starting to be introduced onto the streets. First synthesized in November of last year, as a matter of fact.”

“Intriguing…”

“It stands for Lysergic Acid Diethylamide. Albert Hoffman, a Swiss chemist under the employ of Sandoz Laboratories in Switzerland was the one who synthesized it. Seems he was researching lysergic acid derivatives when he happened upon this one. Strange, though… it was made with the intention of being used as a respiratory and circulatory stimulant, but had since been put on the back-burner. It wasn’t until recently that the drug itself was discovered to have hallucinogenic side effects when it reappeared on the streets… of Gotham. These abductees are the first ones to have traces of it in their systems.”

“There’s our connection then…” I announced mightily.

“I don’t follow.”

“Our Streetnapper fellow has a sincere interest in fungi-based hallucinogens, and thus, he would make it a priority to stay on top of the latest research involving them.”

“Like the ergot fungi producing lysergic acid… interesting. Looks like our Streetnapper is a step ahead of the research then. It’s likely this Hoffman fellow doesn’t even realize the extreme hallucinogenic properties, unless he’s seen fit to ingest the stuff himself.”

“Indeed. It may be he’s stumbled upon an important ingredient in his fear toxins. If last night’s episode is anything to go by, and it was included in the man’s particular cocktail… it would seem he’s making progress in being able to hone one’s fears in a way that would make him susceptible to suggestion. It is control over them he wants, but I have to wonder… to what end?” I knew that I needed to understand the man himself and his motives if I wanted to solve that riddle. Perhaps my visit to the University would help me with that.

“So? Was this of any help?”

“It remains to be seen. If the drug starts showing up in the hands of dealers on the streets, it may just render a lead to his whereabouts.” In the meantime, my only option was, unfortunately, to start interrogating random hoodlums amongst the town, in hopes that they’d been in contact with or known of any others who had encountered the napper himself.

The meeting with the City Council members is a bit of a blur, admittedly. I used whatever perceived charm I possessed to sway them into approving the asylum facility, and though there were many questions raised, I was ultimately successful in my plight. They agreed to the project, and we began scheduling further meetings to solidify operations. I informed them that I was heading to Johns Hopkins on the morrow, and would begin conducting my own research on the proper personnel we would need to be hiring. Being that I intended to fund the project myself, they allowed for me to take a significant portion of the tasks on my own. At my request, of course.

I knew there was a chance that Miss Vale had been correct, and that outside forces would attempt to tamper with the council’s decision soon, but I would deal with that when the time came.

Having thoroughly aggravated my caretaker, I knew I would be left to my own devices for the evening as I ventured out as the Bat-Man (as the papers were calling it). This, as one might have surmised, made things extra difficult. First off, there would be no one to rely upon when it came to looking after the vehicle. Parking near to Crime Alley, where I had chosen to conduct my first nightly rounds, would also prove incredibly difficult. Hoodlums near and around the area would jump at the chance to either steal it, or break it apart for its parts, and without a chaperone the thing would be left completely vulnerable. Parking too far outside of Crime Alley would mean exposing oneself to generally illuminated and highly populated areas, and thus I would risk having someone see me changing into my new uniform.

After some heavy contemplation, I had decided the Hill district might be the best place to leave the vehicle, so long as I steered clear of the docks. Crossing the bridge connecting Wayne Manor to the upper-most island of Gotham, I then skirted my way (Northward) around the forested areas that would someday become New Town, heading West, past the Otisburg District and climbing to slightly higher altitudes to my final destination. I felt I was wasting time, however, as it had taken me a considerable amount of time just to get there. As such, to my dismay and frustration, I headed back through Otisburg, Southward, and then East to the Burnley district, where I would have to take my chances with one of the more open area parking lots. This district was the home of many of Gotham’s more prestigious accomplishments, such as the newly established Gotham University (at the time only housing a small number of programs), the Natural Sciences Museum, the Giordano Botanical Gardens, as well as a slew of other well-known areas. I parked around the corner from the gardens, deeming it to be the darkest and most secluded lot I had seen, and quickly changed into my armor.

From there, the walk to Crime Alley only took around a half hour or so. I was lucky enough to keep out of sight of anyone along the way, but I knew that this would not work on a nightly basis, as I would undoubtedly be discovered by passersby eventually.

Not five full minutes upon entering the perimeter of the Bowery, I bore witness to a mugging taking place. Two men, appearing to be in their early thirties, dressed in ragged clothes, and slimed in a heavy concoction of sweat and dirt upon their faces, were the perpetrators of this incident. Their victim, a young woman in her early twenties, long golden hair waving its way down to her waist. They had her pinned up against the wall of a building, one man holding a knife to her back, the other fiend patting her down roughly.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I crept ever closer, painstakingly silent as can be, targeting my focus upon the man with the weapon. I had many options in terms of an attack strategy, but I worried if I did not disarm him as a first course of action, the knife might slip forward and gouge through flesh. As such, I leapt into the air and aimed the bladed side of my arm pads in a downward motion, stabbing the arm that held the knife. He screamed in pain and let go immediately, a loud clank echoing from the ground below. He turned to me in surprise, and I batted him with my forehead, the force of which dazed him and weakened his stance upon impact. I thus grabbed him by the throat and threw him into his startled accomplice. They both fell to the ground beside the girl and she screamed, covering her head with her arms and refusing to watch what was happening behind her.

The first man had now been incapacitated, while the second was attempting to stand in a panic. He saw me then, and his eyes went wide with terror. My foot came down harshly upon his left knee, and the leg snapped clean at the ligament. He made an inhuman kind of sound then, loud as can be imagined, and fell upon his buttocks once more. I grabbed him in a chokehold and held him firmly against the wall, bending low to meet his face.

“Tell me about the Streetnapper,” I beckoned in my gravelly voice.

“Ahaiiii!. What the ffff…”

“The STREETNAPPER!”

“I dunno anything, I swear!” he squealed. “My leg! Look what you did to my leg!”

I felt the girl turn then, and she jumped back and screamed once more. Staring at the scene before her for only a moment longer, she then ran off, crying and whimpering all the while.

I turned my attention back to my hostage. It was obvious they were not attempting to kidnap the girl, but merely robbing her. They were not my main priority on this night.

“You tell your friends, your partners, your bosses, and your mere acquaintances, the Batman is out to find him. You tell them all!” I reluctantly released my grip and stormed away, leaving him to wallow in fright.

Not long after, I came across the Red Light portion of the district. It was livelier than other areas, bright lights hanging from the various establishments, and crowds of people huddled in small groups along the sidestreets. Feeling rather exposed, I decided it would be safer to ascend to higher ground, so I flung my grapnel tool up to one of the smaller buildings and hauled myself up. Peering down, I happened upon seeing a young hooker and one of her johns taking their leave from a group and darting off into one of the alleyways beyond. I did not know much about prostitutes at the time, but I had an inkling that they saw and heard and knew quite a lot about the inner workings of Gotham’s underworld, and I thought it might do me well to question one of them. I studied my surroundings, estimating if there was a route across the rooftops to get to her. I believed it was doable, and as quietly as I could, began making jumps from one to the next. A short detour was in order - around one of the taller structures - but I managed to find the couple again as they discussed the terms of a business arrangement, as it were.

I appeared to them as I was becoming accustomed to doing: slowly, purposefully, emerging from the shadows towards them. They gawked in awe at the apparition before them, something else I was growing accustomed to.

“I would advise that you go back home, sir,” I instructed.

The john gave a questioning look toward the girl, and upon realizing her expression mirrored his own, he took off at a slow run back from whence he came.

“That’ll cost you extra…” she said, uncertain.

“I’m looking for information.”

“I don’t deal innat. Saree, fella.”

“I’m looking for the Streetnapper. He hires street thugs, likely from this neighborhood, to do his bidding for him.”

“That so? Well, as you can see, I ain’t no thug type.”

“Surely, you’ve heard something.”

“Maybe I have, maybe nat. If it don’t got nothin’ to do with me, I lose int’rest, fahst.” She folded her arms in defiance.

“You’re not worried about being abducted? Lots of people working the streets going missing lately.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, and she eyed me up and down in contemplation. It was clear to me then, she had thought of that. Often. Everyone was scared, and how could they not have been? The kidnappings were seemingly as random as could be, and someone of her occupation had been more than a little vulnerable.

“Look, I dunno anything, a’right? Rumor has it it’s got somethin’ to do with some new drug on the streets. Thas ole I heard. Can I go now, or you got some other business?” She looked away nervously, no doubt hoping I wouldn’t pursue her occupational services. I simply stared at her silently, allowing my intimidation mind tricks to seep into her mind. “...Whateva, freak.” She cautiously moved away from me, dashing into the shadows beyond when deeming herself far enough away from me.

A new drug on the streets… so word was spreading of my foe’s narcotics. Was he using them to lure his recruits, using them in lieu of money? Evidently, the rest of my night would need to be spent searching out possible drug deals or dealers.

And so, I swept the alleyways for hours, dashing across rooftops in search of anything suspicious. Towards the end of the night, my break finally came. A young man in his late teens handed off a small bag to a client just as I had arrived on the scene, and I took this chance to sneak up on him when he was alone.

Unhooking my grapnel from the rope, I tied the string in a noose and lowered it to the ground from a fire escape, anchoring it to the sturdiest railing available. When he stepped inside the loop, I pulled hard, and it tightened around his ankle. He yelped in shock as he was wrenched to the ground, and I then began to pull him. He now hung in an upside-down position, high in the air. I tied the rope off and hopped down from my landing to the floor below it, our faces meeting mere inches apart. He cried in fright when he saw my mask.

“The new drugs on the streets! Where do you get them!?” I roared.

“Please, don’t hurt me! Please, please, please!”

“What are you selling?!”

“Acid, man! It’s just acid!”

Of the lysergic variety, if I had ventured to guess. “Where’d you get it?!” I grabbed him by the hair forcefully.

“I dunno, man! I’m just a dealer!”

“Dealers get them from somewhere, who supplies them?!”

“The Roman! He’s spreading them through his crew! They say it’s the big craze right now!” he cried some more. “Please let me down, I swear I won’t do it anymore!”

“I have my eyes on you!” I trudged up the stairs and untied the rope, dropping him at a rapid pace, but strained to hold tighter as he got closer to the ground. He landed lightly, and I climbed the roof to steal out of sight.

Falcone… I knew of him. He virtually owned the city of Gotham when I left, and I assumed nothing had changed on that front during said absence. I had hoped to steer clear of his operations during this search, but had always known deep down that our paths would likely be crossing at some point. It was generally regarded that the man had everyone in his pocket. That included the mayor, the police commissioner, various city council members, etc. However, he had never had the Waynes. My parents made a point of not conducting business with the man, and Alfred had made that quite clear to me throughout my youth. He was known in some circles as the Roman, as it was japed here and there that the reach and formidability of his crime syndicate resembled that of the Roman Empire.

Reaching the man himself was going to prove difficult, to be sure. He had at least a dozen personal bodyguards, and rarely ventured out into public places. He was elusive as they come, and mostly relied upon others to do his bidding for him. However, it was a lead, and a strikingly good indication that the Roman was working together with the Streetnapper in some capacity. If anyone knew the whereabouts of the evildoer, it would be him.

I would need to brush up on my knowledge of the Mafiosi running the drug rings in the city, but I had acquired a more than adequate lead from the night’s tour, and was quite satisfied. Unfortunately, my ventures had run into the early hours of the morning, and I had no hope of reaching Gordon by this time. Thusly, I began my trek back to my vehicle, when suddenly, a commotion in the epicenter of the Bowery caught my attention. A screaming young girl, by the sounds of it, eccentric and crying hysterically. Other voices could be heard trying to calm her as I moved cautiously towards the scene.

From a distance, I saw the crowd around her suddenly back away in fear as she turned to expose her back to them. There was something attached to it, strapped to her person. A small light traveled its way up to it, and the horror struck me as I realized what it was. Dynamite!

The girl screamed and yelled, swatting at people as they moved to get away from her. I did the opposite, running as quickly as I could to her. It was far from being fast enough, I am sad to say. The bomb went off as I was still yards away, the heat from the blast washing over me like a wall of knives, and debris walloping every part of my self. It was a terrible sight, and an even more horrible assault upon my sensibilities. She appeared to be so young, sounded like a mere child by the tone of her cries. I knew it immediately, of course. The way she had been flapping about, screaming in fear… this was the Streetnapper’s doing. It seemed he had now graduated to being an intentional killer after all. And again, yet another unknown piece of the puzzle was introduced.

From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City

Case No: HS 07/15/39/5645

Incident: Possible Homicide

Reporting Officer: Lt. James Gordon Date: Jul. 15, 1939

We were alerted to an explosion in the Bowery early this morning. I got a call from headquarters and went rushing to the scene. One person is confirmed dead, and there were a few people who were hurt from shrapnel and debris. No ID on the deceased as of yet, but in our witness interviews it was revealed to be a young woman in her late teens or early twenties, and she was suspected to be delirious. It sounds very reminiscent of the Streetnapper’s latest victims.

Some witnesses claimed to have sighted our vigilante figure near the scene as well. Their descriptions seem credible enough, although they could have just been citing what they read in the papers. It makes me uneasy, nonetheless.

The blast may have caused too much damage to the side of one of the buildings, so we are having it inspected for safety. Other than that, there’s not a whole lot to go on as of yet. I’ll keep this one separate from the Napper investigation for now, but it seems highly probable they’re related.

From the confessions of Bruce Wayne

I briefly checked to ensure there were no seriously injured onlookers before ducking back into hiding. For as dreadful as the incident had been, I was at least relieved no one else had been hurt too severely. I myself had taken the heaviest toll from the blast, knocked back a few feet from the immensity of it.

I knew in my heart that the girl was very likely to be the one my one-time rescuer had been looking for. Holly Robinson. It pained me deeply to think upon it, and to know the woman may very well never know exactly what had happened to her kidnapped friend. I wondered where she was that night. Hoped with all my strength of will that she was nowhere near the vicinity.

I had wanted more than anything to run to the rooftops of the GCPD building and to wait for Gordon’s return. I yearned to give my report, and to learn more about his findings from the other night. It was, however, growing ever closer to dawn, and I could not afford to be seen in the light of day in the Batman’s attire. Instead, I wound my way through the alleyways back to my vehicle, and drove home feeling utterly lost and defeated.

Alfred and I spoke nary a word to one another that morning. There was so much I had wanted to say, and yet, as I was ought to do back in those days, I recoiled back into myself and shut out the world as best as I could. The investigation would proceed, and I would force myself to focus on the task at hand. And on that day, I was to be visiting the University.

We drove across the cities in total silence. I had intended to nap along the way, but every time I shut my eyes I saw the final moment of that poor girl’s life being snuffed out before me. Had I only thought to retire a few minutes earlier, perhaps I could have saved her. It was a tough business having to face such a possibility, and indeed, it reinforced my determination that once I had caught the Streetnapper, I could finally be done with this craziness for good. That had always been the plan from the beginning, after all.

The beginning of the tour was somewhat uneventful. I was met by the Dean, a man by the name of Lowell J. Reed. Conversations were quite shallow at first, but eventually we wound our way back to the reason for my visit.

“I’m actually interested in one particular fellow under your employ, a Mister John B. Watson?”

“Oh, yes, John! Brilliant man, from what everyone who worked with him has told me. Such a shame what has befallen him.”

“Oh?” I asked. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“You mean you hadn’t heard? His downward spiral was frontpage news for a good while. That graduate student assistant of his who worked with him on those baby experiments? They were having an affair at the time. John’s wife and her family were well known and well liked around the Baltimore area, so it was quite the ordeal.”

“I see…” I was not satisfied with this, however. Was he insinuating it led to his firing from the University? “Surely, an affair wasn’t enough reason for his firing!”

“Not on its own, no. There were those who disagreed with his methods in dealing with baby Albert, for one. For another, there were many rumors about him and his assistant. Some posit that they were conducting leud sexual experiments upon one another, and using University labs for them at that. And, of course, there was that ugly business with that Crane fellow.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Reed, I don’t know of him.”

“Very disturbed man, by all recollections. Jonathan Crane, I believe, was his name. He and Watson were hired around the same time, and were said to be inseparable friends for a time. Then, Crane tried to take credit for the Little Albert experiments, spouting all kinds of nonsense, saying Watson had perverted Crane’s initial idea and applied it in a way he deemed inconsequential. No one liked the man, this Crane fellow. Many-a-japes were told at his expense, and there was a lot of bad blood at the end of it all. Cutting ties with Watson was his true undoing. The University caught whiff of what his real plans were for the study and he was fired.”

“What happened to him after that?” I inquired.

“No one knows. Maybe John does, but it’s highly unlikely. Their friendship seemed to have been quite soured by the end.

“And Watson himself?”

“Terrible business. He was fired shortly after Crane, worked for some advertising firm for a time, then his new wife, that assistant girl he had the affair with, died of dysentery a few years ago. He’s said to reside in Woodbury now, with his lads on some farm.”

“Would you be able to put me in touch with him, by chance? I really am interested in his services.”

Reed seemed unsure at that, and looked distraught. “I may… but I have to warn you, Mister Wayne, from what I have heard of him, he is in no good shape. I have been told by more than a few sources he’s quite the alcoholic… since Rosalie’s death.”

“Hmm…” I still had many questions for Watson, but now my attention was turning more towards this Jonathan Crane individual. “I would still like to speak with him, if at all possible. Truly, I would be forever in your debt.”

“Well then, if that is your desire, I shall make it happen, good sir,” he smiled widely, and we bowed our heads in reciprocation.

Jonathan Crane. Could he be the one?