From the confessions of Bruce Wayne

This marked the end of my first year as The Batman. As we know, World War II began just a short while later, in September, and Wayne Enterprises started preparations with the military in the case that the United States of America might be pulled into it. As you’ll also know, we eventually were. I hung up the uniform in a snazzy little display case and put it in the bat-cave for my own personal admiration. I had never intended to continue the fight past that final confrontation with Crane, but the world works in mysterious ways - or at the very least, Gotham does. It wouldn’t be long until the call came beckoning to me once again, and I would be faced with the realization that my quest hadn’t ended when I had faced my past and put an end to the worst chapter of my life. And in fact, I had another reason to go on fighting: the sanctity and protection of my city. I felt indebted, for whatever reason, to its people, and indeed to my parents who worked so hard to make their living situation better, when I myself had perhaps made it worse for a time. This would become my duty and my cause.

I hadn’t the slightest inclination of it then, however. To me, I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and the whole ordeal was finally over (much to Alfred’s relief, I might add). The newest threat to Gotham lay within my periphery, something I had only vaguely heard about in the papers and on the lips of my associates as the Fall and Winter months treaded on by. Much like myself, this figure was merely known by an alias, The Joker.

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I must take a pause here and reflect. Admittedly, I had not initially intended to go into such detail, and - having only covered the first of many years of the Batman’s career - I suppose I have set upon a new journey with this confessional writing venture. Had I known back then all the trifles that would riddle my time as the caped crusader, perhaps I would have been too terrified to return to the life. However, looking back now, I do own a certain sense of profound dignity and encouragement. No one can truly know whether what I have done was for the better or the worse of Gotham. I do not believe the answer can be narrowed down to a simple truth or falsity. For all the good I had accomplished, more misery was wrought upon us by the sheer reality of Batman’s existence. Like a carousel, it moved in cycles round and round.

There was no end to any of it, except for me. Now there are others who carry the burden. And though I look back at my time under the cowl with a sense of pride, I do not envy them the task. As to the reasons behind that, allow me to divulge them to you…