Epilogue

From the confessions of Bruce Wayne

This marked the end of anything worth noting in my second year as the Batman. Although, I would once again don the cowl later on in the year after I’d healed, and I went right back to my attempts to pick up the trails of my nemeses. I kept an ear to the ground, and never failed to listen in on the police chatter at night, in hopes that some word of Crane or the Joker would come up. There was nothing, however, and I spent the rest of my Summer healing from my wounds.

The damage to Wayne Manor had been extensive, indeed, and we were not able to return to living in it until December of that year. News of Cort’s attack had made its way to the papers, and I gave Miss Vicky Vale an exclusive interview on the subject. By all accounts, it seemed that poor Maxwell had become obsessed with catching the Batman, and had become mixed up with Doctor Hugo Strenj’s dastardly plans along the way. And on that matter, I had managed to return the recordings I’d nabbed from Arkham - some of which I had edited parts out of - before the police had performed a proper analysis of his belongings. When they had done so, his Nazi sympathies were quickly made known to the public, and the whole business was seemingly wrapped up in a tightly knit bow.

The Batman’s absence had not gone unnoticed by the newspapers, and it was around this time that they had begun to call him “The Dark Knight” of Justice. I haven’t a clue how or why this came to be, but it stuck nonetheless.

My meetings about Arkham Asylum continued over those next few months, and by the end of 1940, things remained at a standstill with the City Council, not knowing how or if to proceed. Oswald continued to impose himself upon anything and everything having to do with the Asylum, and I did my best to slight these advances. I knew, deep down, that Oswald had been corrupted by his criminal relationships, and that he worked in tandem with some of Gotham’s seediest inhabitants. If he could have it his way, Arkham would work much in the same way that Black Gate used to, and that we would see a heavy spike in breakouts whenever the Mafia bosses saw fit to divert police attention away from their own business. I could not let this happen.

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Harvey Dent, having won both the title of District Attorney and the good Miss Vicky Vale’s heart, had risen to the task and become quite an effective member of Gotham’s fight for freedom of corruption. The two had announced in late August that they would be marrying early the next year, and I had indeed accepted their invitation to attend.

In September, the United States of America began supplying military supplies to their allies, as World War II had now properly begun. Wayne Enterprises acquired a sizeable contract with the American Military to develop armored vehicles and paraphernalia for the allied troops, but we were no longer in the business of producing weaponry at that time, as I had convinced the Board it would not be in our financial best interests (with great difficulty, I must admit). Lucius continued his work in the Research and Development division, and had made some very significant advancements in defensive material technology. Most of those brilliant ideas, however, (just like with the Batman’s materials) had been deemed too expensive to produce. And, unfortunately, most of the ones that did pass our company’s budget restrictions were subsequently rejected by foreign military groups, also for financial reasons.

I must pause once more, as 1940 proved an even lengthier tale to recount than I’d expected. Hugo Strenj remains one of the most devious of villains I had encountered, and even though our meetings were few and his time in Gotham was short-lived, I still shudder to think of the lengths he went to in order to capture the Batman. The Joker, on the other hand, would become a constant nuisance to me, and I could not have known then just how prominent a figure he would become in my life. I shan’t go into detail of how it has affected me psychologically, as there are still many more exploits in relation to the Crown Prince of Crime for me to regurgitate before one can fully comprehend the depth of his reign of terror.

For now, I must take some time to rest, for the stories of 1941 are many, and I must prepare.

TO BE CONTINUED IN 1941: In The Shadow Of The Bat.