From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
I entered the broken down abandoned warehouse through its loading port. A bullet pummeled into my right arm, shocking and numbing the area where my bicep and tricep connected. Another bullet grazed my lower back, which I barely felt. My cape flapped about behind me, and I would later find many holes had torn their way through it.
I burst through a door leading into a larger area, the purposes of which could not be discerned as the facility had not been in use for years. The many loading containers lined along the waters had since replaced the need for such a space, it seemed. As I tore my way through the room with very little in the way of light to find my way, I crashed into a few objects here and there, slowing my progress and allowing the police to gain on me.
At the far end, I reached a set of stairs I’d previously treaded lightly upon while conducting my scouting procedures of the place. They creaked loudly, and the wood felt as though it were rotting away beneath my steps. More gunshots fired at me then, and I took another direct hit - this one to my right breast just below the metal bat moniker. I flinched, as it knocked the wind from my sails, and I keeled over, which again slowed my movements.
“The stairway!” someone called.
Clouded by darkness, a majority of the bullets swept wide of me, but the adrenaline pulsing through my veins made it difficult to calm my focus even so. At the top of the stairs there a room leading into a hallway. In a brief moment of clarity, knowing I was safe for at least for a few seconds, I managed to turn on my radio device. The chatter was rampant, and the voices echoed down the hallways as I hobbled ever forward.
“This is Howard Branden, I’m relieving Lieutenant Gordon of his duties on this mission.”
“Branden, don’t do this!”
“He’s on the second floor! Patrols 2 and 4, head around back and block the escape.”
That eliminated my option of exiting via the back entrance that I had seen before. I departed the hallway and found myself now in the 3-story storage area, the largest room in the warehouse. It was empty. A tunnel at the far end on the first floor led down a hallway towards the exit I couldn’t use, and there was nothing to hold me up but the rotting floorboards lining the walls of the facility. Another staircase in the corner led to the top floor, and I had no choice but to run for it.
“He’s in the storage room, block the exit!” another static voice buzzed.
“Probably heading up, get the ladders and we’ll head him off on the roof!”
“We need him alive!” I recognized Gordon’s furious tone again.
“Disregard that. I’m authorizing lethal force.”
“Branden!”
“Someone, restrain him! You’re off this case, Jim. Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”
I was truly on my own. As I rounded the next set of stairs, the bullets began to fly at me once more. I was immediately struck inside of my left shoulder and then at the outside of my right thigh, causing me to stumble to my knees. Gritting through the pain, I forced myself up and crawled my way up the steps. A plank broke then, and my right leg had been caught momentarily as it fell through the permanent cavity.
“The ladders don’t reach!”
“Fuck… get ‘em down. We’ll smoke him out instead. Get out the lighter fluid!”
“Stop it!” I thought I could hear Jim’s cries, but my mind was beginning to waver, so I could no longer be certain of anything.
With all my might, I wrenched my leg out from its crevice and pulled myself up the remainder of the steps. I felt it now, the fear toxin had begun to take effect. I was running out of breath, far more easily than what is usual for me. My rasping breaths came too quickly, and my body was exhausting itself as it gasped desperately for oxygen.
It was then that I heard a sort of smattering noise from above. As I reached the top of the third floor and continued trudging my way across the planks, I began to smell an earthy smoke. More of the noises followed… they were attempting to burn the building down, shattering what I could only presume were some form of molotov cocktails upon the rooftops. I was trapped!
“The roof’s ablaze! Stay where you are, let him come to you!”
I could see light through the cracks of the boarded ceiling. It was, indeed, on fire. More shots zoomed past me on both sides. Below, I could vaguely perceive the numerous bodies huddling together on the deck of the second floor as well as the bottom of the first.
The fear and the panic threatened to cloud my vision, and it was beginning to become difficult to think straight. Smoke had begun to seep down from the roof, making it even more difficult to see. I wrapped my cape about me, protecting my nose and mouth from it. Perchance, across the way, I noticed a window I’d not before noticed along the deck of the second floor. If I could just get to it…
Looking up, I studied the curve of the rafters, judging that I would have just enough room to arch my grapnel hook around them if I could aim correctly. I unleashed it from my belt, spinning it above my head as the smoke threatened to obstruct my view. I let rip of it. The tool curved its way around a plank and wrapped twice around it successfully. The smoke no doubt hid me from the visibility of the spectators below, but more gunfire rang out regardless. It was now or never…
I moved slightly left along the boards, aiming as best I could for the window, and stepped up on top of the railing. Anxiety battered at me now. The drug effects could be felt stronger and stronger as the seconds ticked by.
I leapt.
Swinging down upon the crowds of officers, I must have looked like a demon or vampire emerging suddenly from the smoke above. I cannot remember the scene vividly, but I believe they moved back in awe, and, perhaps out of terror as well. Then, I began my upward swing towards the window. I crashed through it headfirst, and was falling.
The landing was softened ever so slightly as I fell upon a small group of four policemen who had been stationed outside the alleyway of the building. Mind in a fog, I stumbled weakly to my feet, leaving them to wonder upon their poor luck and to un-rattle their own battered heads. I staggered twice, and moved down another alleyway amidst a flurry of hollering voices.
“Report! What’s going on in there?!”
Here is where my recollection becomes too muddled to coherently describe events to you, as the potency of the narcotics in my system had completely taken hold of me. Of what I can remember, there was only fear.
You may recall, earlier in my confession, that I often struggle to recall moments in my life when I felt true fear. This was yet the second instance I can wholeheartedly avow to. The sense was overwhelming, and the feeling that I was suffocating flooded my every thought. The darkness, it seemed, took on a new form unlike any I can accurately relate to you. It became a living, bestial entity, swallowing me whole from virtually every angle. Colors, when they could be perceived, became stronger and more vibrant than I had ever experienced before.
But the terror itself overrode every sensation I may have experienced during those minutes. My mind screamed and cried for an escape, but the words could not come to my lips, as the breath had been sharply pilfered from my lungs. I remember crawling along the ground, trying as I might to gain the speed I knew I should be capable of achieving. My heart throbbed so heavily in my state of panic that I was almost certain my body would implode at any moment.
Then, a monster was upon me. A gigantic, bright nightmare, lunging at me and enveloping me whole. I collapsed to the ground, feeling nothing of an assault. Surely, it was all in my head, but I could not cease my horrific trepidations. I felt arms wrap around me, coming from behind. I am captured, I thought!
“Master Wayne? Whatever’s the matter?!”
That voice… I knew that voice…! The arms pulled at me, but I was oh so weak, and I could do nothing but slouch further into their grasp.
“Come on, then! Lift, damn you!”
…Alfred…? Was that Alfred’s voice I heard? I felt myself being dragged, and then subsequently loaded somewhere like a heavy parcel. I could do nothing more but wallow in my insanity, shaking and trembling uncontrollably. From there, either I lost consciousness, or was simply too far gone to commit anything new to memory.
From the personal diaries of Selina Kyle, renowned cat burglar extraordinaire
7-21-39
Dear diary,
I almost had him… but the little worm slipped away.
I managed to steer clear of helping the Bat Man or whatever for once. Around 9pm I headed over to the docks to watch the show, hoping he’d catch this Crane guy so I could get the jump on them and kill the weasel. It didn’t happen like that, though. I noticed a few cop cars parked in some pretty odd places, and knew something bad was going down. There was a boat down at the pier, and figuring the warehouse would be a good place to get myself trapped like a rat, I decided I’d rather hide on it for the time being.
So that’s where it all went to hell. It was just these two guys on there, a couple of Falcone’s men. And… I wanna say Crane, the guy I want dead. Couldn’t see his face, it was covered under a sack. But I gotta tell you, if that was him, he’s not at all what I was expecting. He was this sniveling little cockroach, whimpering and shaking like a schoolgirl. They had him at gunpoint, so I mean, he definitely wasn’t in control of the situation or anything. But still… it was really weird.
They go over the plan with him. He’s basically luring the Bat Man or Batman or however the hell you wanna say it down to the pier, then they were gonna shoot a flare into the sky so the cops could surround him. Gotta admit, as much as I don’t think much of the Batman’s wits, even I somehow didn’t see that one coming.
So the Batman guy shows up, and it all goes according to how they said it would. Here’s where I screwed up though... I intended to get the drop on them before the signal could be sent, but I overestimated how well I’d be able to hold them off. I was able to fend off the first guy easily enough, but the other one was too quick. The flare went up, and I had to get the hell outta there.
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So I hid. By the time the gunshots started going off, I figured I could slip away and hopefully catch Crane without anyone noticing. I was too late though.
The guys who sent off the flare were already holding him up and passing through the police swarms, probably passing him off as being drunk, and they were just helping him to get home. None of the coppers paid more than a second’s glance at them. Their main focus was on Batman.
If only I had stayed to fight off those two idiots… but I got scared. So Stupid. Now the Batman is either dead or in custody, and I’m all the way back to square one.
From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City
Complaint: Incompetence
Officer: Lt. James Gordon Date: July 21, 1939
I’ve been forced to lodge yet another complaint with the department. Commissioner Loeb gave Howard Branden, head of Gotham’s Special Ops Team, permission to relieve me of duty on MY investigation. With all the tips I’ve been providing the department with, I was promoted to number one on the case, even though I knew Loeb made the call begrudgingly. This was more than just an abuse of power, it was an obstruction of justice!
I confronted Loeb after the event, and he didn’t even deny it. Said he had his suspicions I was in leagues with the Batman, but didn’t have any kind of proof whatsoever. He said I gave him no choice, that this case had become too big for the likes of me, and that the Special Ops Team’s authority supersedes my own. He did this all behind my back. I was completely set up from the get-go! And they even cuffed me and threw me in the back of a car like a criminal! Branden gave the call to use LETHAL FORCE without need.
I argued with Loeb and he suspended me for insubordination.
I’m off the case and out of a job for the foreseeable future because this incompetent and corrupt Commissioner cares more about catching some vigilante who keeps embarrassing our department than he does about catching the man responsible for abductions that have been going on for almost 2 full decades!
This needs to stop. We can’t get anywhere with Loeb continuing on like this. He’s working for the guys we’re supposed to be locking up. Please, remove this man and let me do my goddamned job!
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
For two days, I lay unconscious. And I dreamt. Oh, how I dreamt! Such nightmares, unlike anything I had ever known. The constant fear of being chased as I jumped between one incomprehensible scenario to the next, terrified that if I were to stop running, I would be caught - by god knows what!
As dreams go, many of them were completely nonsensical jumbles. I have visions of jumping from one rooftop to the next, being chased down by none other than my own counterpart, the Batman. He taunted me without words, and as each passing thought clouded my brain, my running became hampered and slowed. He caught me then, and I could swear I felt our entities converging into one. The bat, however, overpowered the man, and Bruce Wayne seemed no longer in control of all his faculties. Perhaps, and I do not profess this lightly, this was not so much a dream, but my mind’s manifestation of what had taken place within my soul.
Ah - the soul. I have many a times contemplated its meaning, as well as its worth, and indeed, its very existence. I do not think I ever believed in the concept. Nor a god, for that matter. Not since the night of my parents’ deaths could I ever force myself to believe a just god would allow such a travesty to occur. And if he were not a just god, then exactly what good was he to me anyway? If one possesses the power and ability to stop evildoings from occurring, how then can he be seen as anything but evil if he stands back and simply allows them to happen? Just as when I left Gotham - I dreamed of that as well. I saw my city burning as I relaxed on a beach somewhere, smiling to myself and laughing at its people’s misfortunes. I was to blame for so many things, because I had the power to influence such injustices and yet I chose not to. I knew I would forever suffer for it, and perhaps by catching this kidnapper I was seeking to perform an act of contrition or some such thing. Would that be enough? No… surely I owed the people of this city more than that. If god would not help us, then we would need to help ourselves. So to hell with him.
At one point, I do remember waking up in a room I did not recognize. It was dark, and I was confused. Alfred lay off to the side, slunken over in a chair, asleep. But then I quickly fell out of consciousness once more, and the nightmares became even more vicious than ever before.
I relived the night of my parents’ murders, again and again, just as I had experienced many times throughout my childhood. Each time I attempted to produce a different outcome, and in each instance I failed miserably. Once more I would be thrown into the small enclosure and taunted by the dreaded man and his bat. Only this time, I was not granted an escape, but merely fell back into the perilous loop of hopelessness.
My final reverie came in the form of Crane, draped as always in his usual burlap sack. He appeared to me as he had when I was a child, through the eyes of one thoroughly under the influence of his narcotics. He was tall, much larger in every way than I. His eyes, visible through the eye holes, were wide and intense, and a deep sense of anger radiated from them towards me. The stitching around where his mouth would have been curved on both ends, as if mimicking a human smile.
“For all your smarts, you still couldn’t catch me!” he laughed. “That was your last chance, kid.”
“No,” I was shocked to hear my voice was that of a child’s. “No! That doesn’t make sense!”
“Of course it does! I’ve disappeared once before. Why shouldn’t you have to wait another ten years for my return?”
It was true, that would complete the pattern. But why did it have to be a pattern? No, something else was amiss, but I was too confused to understand precisely what.
Think, Bruce… What was it that drove this man? What is it that made him tick?!
“Revenge” my voice sounded.
He stared at me a while, the smile dissolving from the bag’s contours. Then he disappeared, and I was faced with the bitter realization that he and I were one and the same in our mission. We both sought revenge in all its splendor. Upon arriving at this dreaded revelation, I suddenly felt I could no longer breathe.
And I awoke.
“Okay, calm down, kiddo,” I stared into the face of a comely older woman, seemingly in her mid to late fifties. She wore her dark gray hair up in a bun, and placed upon the bridge of her nose were a pair of spectacles rivaling the thickness of the ones Lieutenant Gordon had sported.
I blinked uncomprehendingly, willing my faculties about me with all my might. I was lying in a bed, and a rather uncomfortable one at that. After a few more seconds of recomposing my eyesight, I spotted Alfred and Lucius standing behind the woman, both staring upon me completely agasp.
“Are you alright, sir?” Alfred pleaded in alarm.
“A… Alfred…” my voice cracked hoarsely. My throat had been too dry to utter much more than that.
“He’s alright. Here, drink this,” the woman produced a small cup full of water. Through the pain of my wounds, I reached up to take it and drank from it steadily. “You gave us quite the scare there, young buck.” This was followed by an awkward silence as I gaped at her in total confusion.
“Mister Wayne,” Lucius stepped forward, “this is the one I had told you about. My friend, Doctor Leslie Thompkins.”
Ah, I thought. The one who aided us in deciphering the pharmaceutical jargon.
“Pleased to meet you, Bruce. And I can tell by the look on your face you’re in a bit of a panic. Don’t be, I can keep a secret. Even if I don’t quite agree with your… methods,” she half smiled.
“Wh -” I cleared my throat again. “What happened?”
“What happened? You nearly died, ye bloody ox!” Alfred chastised me.
“You’ve been out of your wits for two whole days,” Lucius chimed in.
I shook my head, frustrated that they did not understand my question. My head, however, was far too cloudy for me to properly arrange the correct string of words together.
“You were drugged,” Leslie took a stab at giving me what I wanted to know. “Quite the dosage, too. If you were in any other kind of shape heading into this mess, my young friend, you likely wouldn’t have survived. Your heart stopped from cardiac arrest and I had to revive you. Lucky you’re in tip-top athletic form. In fact…” she eyed me curiously. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an impressive physical specimen.”
Feeling my throat close up with dryness once again, I took another sip of the water. I was still thoroughly dissatisfied with the answers being given.
“You took quite the beating too,” she continued. “Those punctures and bruises all around your body, what kind of force could have caused that?”
“Bullet wounds,” I said dismissively.
“Jaysus…” Alfred threw up his hands and paced the room heatedly.
Leslie studied me seriously, “Interesting… I wonder what kind of protective gear one would have to be wearing to avoid them from extruding through the body.” She cocked a wicked eyebrow as she turned to look upon a rather sheepish Mr. Fox.
“Erm, more importantly,” Lucius deflected, “Can we take his consciousness as a sign that he’ll be alright?”
“I think the worst is behind him,” Doctor Thompkins turned back to face me now. “Now that the narcotics have left your system, your vitals are looking better. You still need more rest, but my professional prescription is to cease doing whatever it is that put you into this state in the first place.”
“Crane!” I finally got the word out.
I saw Alfred and Lucius share a look between them then, and it was not a happy one.
“He got away,” Alfred admitted. “But what matters is, so did you.”
He was wrong. A wave of rage washed over my being at his words, and I felt so completely pathetic. The sense of failure I had felt in my dreams had carried over into the real world, and I was faced with the knowledge that it had all been for naught. They must have read it in my eyes, for they all froze in comprehensive silence.
“I have some things to attend to, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Leslie took leave of us, and Lucius tipped his hat toward me regretfully as he trailed along after her.
“Where am I?” I asked Alfred absently.
“The good doctor runs a private clinic from her abode. Yer safe.”
“I had him, Alfred,” my mind was singularly focused. “I was so close…”
“Aye, and now it’s all done. And at what cost?”
“It’s not over.”
“Then when the bloody hell is it? Can’t you understand what this has done to you?! What it’s doing to me and Lucius?!” he was half pleading and half chastising.
“I can have no peace until I’ve had my revenge!” I tried to yell, but the rasp in my voice was thick and choking.
“And just what kind of revenge are you after?”
“You know what kind. I have to kill him, Alfred!”
“Then there’ll be no difference between the two of you at ole! You’ll have become the very thing you’ve hated most your whole life.”
“It’s DIFFERENT!” I cried.
“Aye, s’pose you’ll always be able to compare numbers. It don’t make any difference to the courts though, I tells ye. You’d be locked up just the same.”
“It doesn’t matter what happens to me…” It struck me then just how true that felt.
“ IT BLOODY WELL MATTERS TO ME!” he shouted, and his composure melted away at once. “I made a promise, to you, to your parents, to meself and my god all ‘em years ago that if ye were found alive that night I’d do anything in my power to look after ye and to make sure you stayed safe!” And now, he broke down, the tears streaming down his reddened face. He wiped at them and reached for his handkerchief. “I can’t do it any longer, and it’s for no lack o’ tryin’! I did everything I could to give ye some semblance of a regular childhood, but nothing could ever lessen the darkness inside of ye. God help me, I don’t know what else to do…” He covered his face with the kerchief and wept into it.
I felt the coldness of my heart thawing at the sight of him so distraught. He truly did care for me, even if I could no longer care for my own self. And, perhaps he’d had a point about being a killer. How far would I go before I’d realized I had become the very thing I hated so? I hadn’t the answer to that. I just sat in silence, overwhelmed at the weight of his worries. Was there any scenario where I could give up the chase? I could not imagine it, not now that I’d been so close. But now I was finally having to face the reality of what my mission would mean for those around me. What would Alfred do with himself if he failed in his mission? And had he already done so? What happens to him after I die or go to prison?
I could no longer stand his grief, and this time, there was no walking away as I had always done in the past.
“Alfred, I…” my voice choked. “I’m so very sorry. I have been utterly selfish throughout this whole ordeal. I have only been thinking of myself, and you are deserving of much more than that.”
“Words mean nothing in the end, Master Bruce,” he dabbed at his eyes.
“I know that… And that is why I am going to put an end to my vengeful exploits.” I suppose in the back of my mind I had already known that to continue this work would be quite futile. I had lost my one chance at capturing the heathen, after all, and would only have to begin all over again. Falcone would never allow me another chance at getting near him, as his levels of security would surely be at an all time high as of now, and it was even more likely that he’d gone into hiding as further insurance. And I, in my current state, would be useless for quite some time. My whole body ached, I felt weak, and my mind was in a daze. And even if I had recovered quickly, it was doubtful James Gordon would ever allow himself to work with me again. It was time to put this business all behind me, and attempt to move on. For the sake of those I loved.
“You don’t mean that,” Alfred shook his head unconvinced.
“I give you my word, old chap. Look at me, I’ve failed. I shouldn’t even be alive, as the doctor said. Perhaps this is a sign… that I have been granted a second chance.”
He studied me seriously, and I could still see the doubt behind his swollen eyes. He said, “I want your word.”
“You have it.”
We stared at one another for a time, sizing one another up as never before. And then, with a simple nod, he stood up and moved for the door. I suppose there was nothing left to say. Words, after all, mean nothing in the end.