Chapter Twelve: Relapse

From the confessions of Bruce Wayne

Later in the day, I welcomed the newly christened Batmobile at Wayne Manor. Lucius had managed to acquire a transport truck both big and sturdy enough to haul it across the city in; a task that he had somehow managed to accomplish all by his lonesome. For the meantime I would house it in my garage along with all my other vehicles, but I knew that soon I would need to relocate it to the batcave somehow. And unfortunately, that would mean expanding the cave to allow for an outside exit. Nevertheless, current matters dictated that I put the thing to use on this very evening, and so it could not be helped for the moment.

“Now, don’t you go wrecking the damned thing right away,” Lucius warned me as he readied himself to leave.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my friend.”

“Mmhmm,” he did his best to sound skeptical. “And all that hubbub I saw in the news this morning, you wouldn’t happen to be intent on doing anything about that, would you?”

“Perish the thought, Mr. Fox,” I teased, but the expression he wore then was anything but droll.

“You know, Bruce… sometimes it's best to just leave things as they lie.”

“And how do they lie, if I might ask your point of view?”

“Not everything has to be your fight. You’d do best to realize that.”

I nodded ever so slightly, knowing that indeed the fellow had a good point.

“I see he bloody well listens when you say it! I been tryin’ ta smash it into his blocky head since he begun this foolish escapade,” Alfred appeared from around the front of the truck.

“Oh, do shut up, you old coot,” I eyed him in annoyance.

“And anuva thing, maybe this new fella ain’t so bad after ole. Ever think of that, then? Maybe he can properly take over for ye in this business and ye can leave well enough alone!”

“As far as we know, his intent was entirely malicious, and the victims of his brutality, for all we are aware, were entirely innocent. Nor can I see fit to approve of the level of force he utilized,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Innit funny how we’re so quick to judge others by their actions, and ourselves only by our intentions,” Alfred pointed his chin upward, smugly.

I merely batted at the air, dismissing his presence entirely in an attempt to mask my wounded ego, for his argument had indeed cut me to the quick.

“Abyssinia, y’all,” Lucius laughed and crawled into the vehicle.

“Y’see, he agrees wi’me,” Alfred chided. I simply walked away, unable to control the frown stitching its way across my brows.

“I need you to do something for me, old man.”

He did not follow, but only shouted at my backside, “Wuzzat then?”

“Call Miss Storme, er, Madison - and cancel my date for this evening.” While I did not look back to see his reaction, I could somehow feel him shaking his head in disfavor.

Now, dear readers, I will instill upon you the events of that evening, when I set out in my batmobile for the first time and headed into the heart of the red light district in search of the Batman’s doppelganger.

I came across very little traffic and even fewer passersby on my way, but I did perceive some looks of stupefaction as I passed. While the vehicle’s speed was indeed nothing to be astonished by, both its immensity and the sheer magnitude of ruckus it emitted throughout the city streets must surely have disconcerted more than a few onlookers. Upon my arrival just outside of the Bowery, I turned off the engine and exited through the top hatch, locking up quickly before departing. As I took leave of my new ride, a small crowd of pedestrians emerged from the alleyways to investigate the source of such a racket, but just as briskly, they ran off upon recognizing my identity.

I became one with the shadows, dashing in and out of the alleyways and trudging across the rooftops of the surrounding buildings in search of any trace of a disturbance I could detect. And for a long time, I witnessed not a thing. It was late into the night that I sensed a disturbance, deep within the heart of the district. At first, the premonition came in the form of a faint wailing, and slowly transformed into the howling of a terrified crowd. I moved swiftly towards the commotion, darting this way and that, as quietly as practicable.

My copycat was in the center of the uproar, and swarms of people could now be seen fleeing from him. He carried in his hand a heavy metal bat, and a sidearm could be perceived holstered at his side. From his backside, the top of a shotgun protruded out from behind his figure, strapped overtop of a dismally constructed cape.

I moved out from my veil of shadows and dodged the oncoming stampede of scared citizens, jaunting to a run towards my prey. I could see him more clearly now. His cowl was little more than a bulky helmet, crudely painted with plastic ears glued to the sides. His bodysuit, if one could even call it that, was merely a heavy black vest with baggy underclothes. His gloves and boots, while of considerable size, did not appear to be armored. His eyes were covered with what appeared to be some sort of protective goggles, and the rest of his face was hidden behind an odd looking mask. Evidently, he was a poorly manufactured replica of myself, and the crowd seemed to know it as many of them stopped dead in their tracks to look upon me as I closed in on the imposter.

Two brave men had occupied my foe’s attention, attempting to subdue the villain. I hoped to reach the fight before any damage could be imposed on either of them, but alas, this doppelganger was too quick, and I watched helpless as he bashed the first fellow in the arms with his bat, and then, spinning around, landed a haughty blow upon the second man’s head. Aghast, I grabbed for a batarang and hurled it towards the imposter, and in that brief moment it appeared almost as if he were hesitating… looking down upon his victim in surprise.

The batarang struck him in the shoulder and he flinched, catching sight of me at the same time. His injured first attacker fell backwards, caught unaware of what had just transpired before him.

“You!” The false Batman yelled at me, tearing the batarang out from his shoulder. As he flung it away, I realized that beneath the cape, he was indeed padded with shoulder protection.

I leapt into the air and attempted a lunging front kick to his face, which he dodged easily. As he swung the bat at me, I narrowly managed to shimmy sideways and away from his striking zone. As he tried to wind up for yet another swing, I careened my entire being against him, and he sprawled backwards, unable to keep his footing. He was indeed fast, but I could match him in that area, and I also had a good deal of body mass over him. I stalked towards his helpless form as he sat up on one knee, readying his weapon once more. I caught hold of his arm just before he could muster the strength for another assault, and punched downwards upon his helmet. He fell once more, and again I was upon him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and forcibly turning him over to face me.

It was at this moment that he managed to catch me off my guard. He dropped his bat and his hands came together, a motion I could not follow as it was too fast to see. But the sensation I felt was unmistakable. A mist sprayed me in the face, a familiar cloud of gas which stopped my heart from beating momentarily, the realization of my predicament sweeping over me. The mask on his face, I could now see more visibly, was a gas mask. Crane’s concoction! But how? Surely, this couldn’t be Crane himself, could it?

I reached for his mask, attempting to peel it away from him, but he was too brisk in his movements, and he managed a heavy jab to my exposed mouth. We tumbled upon the ground for a time then, and I could vaguely see a small number of sightseers surrounding us in a circle.

“Run!” I told them, horrified that the gas may have been released close enough to affect some of them. Somehow, my imposter was now on top of me, and began punching down at my head, which bounced several times off of the concrete beneath me. I jutted my knee ferociously into his groin, and flipped him over me, somersaulting backwards to regain my footing. Already, I was beginning to feel the effects of the serum, and my breathing became more rapid. I tried to ignore it, though the pangs of paranoia were beginning to nip at my mind, and heavy perspiration seeped from my skin.

I spun to lunge at my downed adversary, but something was off, and my timing had been compromised. He laid a kick towards my chest and I backed off long enough for him to roll to his feet once more. At this, I saw him reach for his firearm and point it at me. I crashed into him with my entire weight, and the gun went off beside my head. The deafening blast jolted my nerves, and a sense of panic threatened to overtake me. I grabbed the man in a bearhug, pinning his sidearm against him. Unable to move his upper body, he instead forced me backward, using the strength of both legs to guide us. I hit a brick wall and my grasp on him was relinquished. It was then that he struck me in the face once more, and then again and again. I fell to my knees, exhausted, ragged of breath, and head spinning out of control. The drug had overpowered me, and what began as an increasing state of anxiety could now be classified as an immobilizing plight of petrification.

“That’s some impressive suit you’ve got there,” his voice boomed agonizingly loud in my head. He kicked me hard to the chest, and I was then crouched down on all fours. I shook my head, trying to right my senses, but everything was spinning, and I realized I was gasping for air, seemingly unable to acquire enough oxygen. I could sense footsteps… he was walking away.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

For a brief moment, only one word entered my mind in warning… GUN! He was going to grab his gun! With all my strength of will, I hauled myself upward to a standing position, and began to run away. A shot rang out and my body lurched forward. The shock of the wound stung the lower left side of my back and permeated outward as I fell to one knee. I hadn’t even time to think as my body moved of its own accord, and I pulled out a smoke bomb, slamming it down upon the ground.

I somersaulted forward and two more shots rang out behind me. I felt one of the bullets graze across my right shoulder, and I stumbled forward out into the unknown, foggy darkness beyond. Nothing made sense to my eyes, or perhaps it was just my mind in general. Everything had gone topsy-turvy, and I knew the dosage I’d been administered had been stronger than the one I had previously been drugged with by Crane. Even so, I could not properly make sense of that information, and all I could feel was total and unrelenting panic.

Bang!

I felt my left rib cage shattering as I stumbled again.

I saw faces, or rather, I thought I saw faces as I made my way through the blackened tunnels beyond. Voices echoed all around, but no discernible words could be understood. All I knew was that my attacker remained in pursuit of me, and I had to get away. Though I could not make sense of the words he hurled at me, his taunting indeed urged me onwards, as I wanted nothing more than to escape their looming promise of death.

Onward I stumbled through a haze of confusion and terror. Another shot cracked out from behind me, further away than before, if I was not mistaken. I do not know how my fortune had changed during this time, but somehow, by some miracle, I found myself standing in front of the batmobile. I fumbled for the key and climbed my way up to the hatch. In my state of utter trepidation, I boggled several attempts to fit the key into the lock.

Finally successful in my blundering about, I opened the hatch and pain once again overtook me on my left side at this exertion.

I had barely managed to close the hatch with my right arm, as the pain was so immense, and my wits still eluded me. Though I was safe inside my armored vehicle, the fear still enveloped me completely. All I knew was that I needed to get away. I took a few breaths, deep as I was able to muster, and turned the battery on. It was only then that I became cognizant of the sirens surrounding me. Police sirens. Indeed, it may not have been the other Batman that had just shot me, but a police officer instead. I could not know for certain, for I was in such a daze that my thoughts intermingled with one another and I struggled to coherently string two of them together sufficiently.

Must… drive….

And that I did. I crashed into something clumsily and the vehicle jolted to a halt. I pushed down upon the pedal harder, and slowly began to move forward, forcing whatever I’d hit to be jostled backward. In another moment I pulled free of it, and I could hear bullets spraying against the batmobile’s armored plating.

I honed in my senses as best I could upon the paved road ahead, trying as I might to stay the course. There were police vehicles in rapid pursuit of me, however, and the horror of it made steering tremendously difficult as my limbs threatened to cease operation entirely. At one point, one of them had been able to push his way alongside of me. I did not wish to force him into a crash, but it seemed that was his exact intent for myself, as I was being moved further and further to the left. As a curve in the road was steadily approaching, I determined there was no longer a choice, and I turned into him, forcing the car to collide roughly against the side of a building.

I took the turn hastily, oversteering and sliding my back end hard into a brick wall. Upon righting itself, the batmobile again followed the track with two cop cars still on my tail.

In a blur, and seemingly out of thin air, another flashing vehicle appeared right in front of me, blocking my path forward. I had almost no time to react, but pulled the wheel hard with my right arm (the only one working properly at this moment) and bulldozed through the backside of the car, lurching the vehicle aside as I continued on the narrow path ahead.

From my rearview mirror, I could abstractedly detect one of my pursuing chasers stopping to aid the now broken and battered automobile. There was only one left on my chase now. But what was this…? Something else… Something smaller was coming up behind it. Oh, how I struggled to maintain some semblance of consciousness through the fog of insanity then!

It was… a motorbike? I peered at my rear-viewer intently, and was able to perceive a flinging motion from the rider. The cop car beside him hit whatever he’d thrown in front of it and suddenly had its tires blown out. It leapt into the air and curved sideways, bashing awkwardly into a lamp post and knocking it down upon itself.

I sensed the motorcycle driver getting closer to me now. Looking to the side, I could see him clearly. It was, indeed, my imposter, though he had taken a demonic form of a sort, and it closed in upon me like some godly apparition from hell. I screamed in fright.

Get a hold of yourself, fool, my brain bellowed. Weapons, you have weapons!

I hadn’t the wits about me to remember what they were or which button belonged to which, but I was in luck that night, and happened upon the most fitting option for the situation. I pressed it, and something shot out from the front of the batmobile and landed ahead of us by about ten or so feet. I looked again to my side, just as the beast-like entity aimed its massive shotgun towards my window. The flash grenade blew up right in the nick of time, blinding the imposter and sending him whirling about into the darkness beyond.

In my state of disarray, I could not see what had happened to him afterward, but indeed, I knew I was in no condition to stop and find out. I had to get home, and I knew it was going to be extraordinarily difficult, as nothing looked even somewhat familiar to me then.

I do not know how long I spent scouring the city streets after that, or, in fact, how I had managed to find my way back to Wayne Manor without anyone managing to regain track of me… but indeed, I had.

Crawling out from my armored vehicle, broken and transfixed with fear, I crawled my way out from the garage to the front door of my abode, where Alfred greeted in me absolute hysterics and shock at the sight of me. I can remember nothing more of the rest of that night.

And do not think it lost on me how fortuitous I was to have had the batmobile ready for use on that very night, for if it had not been ready, I fear the Batman may have been captured on that very occasion. Or worse, perhaps killed. Such are the wondrous coincidences that leave me lying awake at night in perplexion. Or perhaps, it is not merely coincidence, but some higher power you and I are not meant to comprehend. Whatever it was, I owe my life and career to this peculiar happenstance, for which I have never been able to fully explain.

From the audio logs of Dr. Hugo Strenj

Strenj: Yes, yes, just hold on a minute. I must record this. Ahem… This is Doctor Hugo Strenj of Arkham Asylum. July the eighteenth, nineteen forty.

Cort: I was saying… I almost fuckin’ had the louse.

Strenj: Were you not able to use Crane’s serum?

Cort: I did… and it worked like a charm, but… I dunno how he got away. God DAMN it!

Strenj: Wait, wait, wait, so you successfully used it against him. So he is, as far as we know, incapacitated somewhere in the city, unable to go out into the night. Drats! If there were only some clue as to who he is…

Cort: He ain’t like anyone I ever knew. The amount of stuff this guy’s got… it’s like he spent an entire lifetime preparing for this. Flash bombs and magic cars, and…

Strenj: Cars?

Cort: Yeah, big heavy monster of one. Never seen anything like it.

Strenj: Hmm, one would have to have a considerable amount of capital to… nevermind. I need some time to think, Sergeant. Give me a couple days, and we’ll devise the next step of our plan.

Cort: Next step?

Strenj: Well we’ve spoiled the surprise with the fear toxin, haven’t we? So now we must come up with something new, as he already knows what to expect of our arsenal.

Cort: Oh… right.

Strenj: Good. I bid you a goodnight, then. And uh… nice try.

Cort: I was so close!

Strenj: Yes, yes, as you’ve said. Goodnight, Maxwell.

(Slam)

Hmm… is it pure know-how when it comes to this man’s resources, or is there a significant amount of financial backing behind him? This is quite distressing, indeed. What if the American military is behind it all? What if this is simply a test of their new gadgets in case the Americans were to enter into war? Am I too late?

(Garbling sounds)

NOTE: The rest of this transcription has been damaged beyond the hope for restoration. At the end of the recording, all that is left is the following:

I’ve done it… I have figured it out! I know who he is!

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

Batman Task Force

Cptn. James Gordon Date: Jul. 18, 1940

We almost had a break in the Batman case tonight. Maxwell Cort was doing rounds in the red light district and radioed in a disturbance, apparently involving the Batman himself.

Our guys arrived on the scene as some big… I don’t even know what it was, a tank of some sort, started pulling out of the district. Our officers started chasing it through the streets, and that’s when the Batman showed up, riding a motorcycle. I wouldn’t have believed it myself, but I arrived on the scene just as the chase was going down, and there he was on the back of a hog, closing in on the armored vehicle. Which, by the way, rammed right into my back end! My car is totaled. Luckily, no injuries.

I don’t know what happened to the vehicle or the Batman. We checked with the military and they claim to have no knowledge of the thing. The whole mess just makes no sense. What the hell was it? And why was the Batman going after it? Was he just trying to help us, like he has in the past? Then what was with the disturbance beforehand?

Cort said the vigilante started a scuffle in the middle of the Bowery, completely unprovoked. Apparently Cort got injured in the fight, and he’s got the bruises to prove it. He won’t find any sympathy from me though. All I wanted was just ONE witness, but he sent anyone in the vicinity home, telling them it was too dangerous to be there. Even though the Batman had already left the premises! What the hell was he thinking?

Batman had guns on him again. I’m still of the mind that something’s not adding up here. Whose side is he on now? What the hell was that tank? I don’t even know what to do with all that. In any case, I’m going home for the night to think on it.