Chapter One
They're all dead. Lifeless, just another immobile object. That's how all these people seem to be. I try to make them into something more, but they don't listen. Can't you see? These citizens of Gotham, all so anxiously waiting for their own storybook ending…it won't be happy.
They've all seemed too have forgotten about what we are, not civilized humans but animals who are savage and filled with unacknowledged rage. We run on it, like the adrenaline of a gazelle escaping from the lion. You can only go so far before it catches up with you.
It's not about money, rules, government, religion or power. It's about choosing whether to be a cause or effect. What are you, the reason for the direction our world is headed...or what happens when we get there? Can you hear me Batsy? I'm talking about you. You can't prevent destruction; all you can do is slow it down.
It's a lust, a want, a need…to see us head to the breaking point of our conceded and selfish minds. I'll watch as people kill each other in the streets and get the tingle of self accomplishment, knowing that I helped lead us to the long awaited finale. I wait for the absolute destruction of order, the final plan of our demise caused by none other than ourselves. And I'll be sure to laugh.
You want truth, is that it? My truth is the brutal facts that this disgusting, peace driven country decides to ignore. They're all too afraid to look inside themselves and realize that they're not as perfect as they really think they are. It's a joke that lost its humor years ago.
This planet could use a bit of thinning out of the rapidly growing population. I'm only doing us all a favor by pitching in. Call it an act of selflessness. Just like what I'll do for Gotham, or what I already have done.
Boundaries…Consequences…It's all a bunch of nothingness. Why? Because I have already defied these laws of….let's say insufficiency. Nothing makes sense anymore, and it doesn't have too. Nothingness, Nothing. Get it?
Oh, but that began years ago, the nothingness. A time where my mind began its slow decay into a maddening fury. A time where I was another face waiting to be beaten down, its entrails so beautifully placed around its form in a halo of glorification. Doesn't it make you want to smile?
Running. Hiding. Waiting. But afraid? No, no. Never. They're searching for me, as if I'm a strand of hay in a needle stack. They're only going to get more damage the harder they look. Ha. Ha.
They think they'll catch me, that they'll somehow be able to lock me away. But they're not the ones hunting anymore, because I'm going in for the kill. Why can't Gotham's great, caped crusader see the good that I'm actually doing for this place? Of course, everyone knows bats are blind, but anarchy isn't an invisible force.
All these citizens, going through their day as if it's a dream, unreal. Oh, but it's not. It's not. If they weren't so afraid to step out of the gray and into oblivion, they could see that its as close to being alive as you can get. Gotham, I hear you calling for me, begging me to return and show them life's real meaning. And I will. But not now. It's not safe yet. Not safe, not.
Who am I? That's what they all want to know. But what's funny is I don't think they even know who they are. Who are they? Everyone who tries to ignore that cry, that scream, begging to be released into the world. To destroy it. To. Burn. It. Sorry, my pathetic audience, but I'm not the one wearing a different face.
And what about you? What about you, Batman? Who are you? That's the question everyone should be asking. The shadow that protects them, that makes them feel so safe. They're not. Oh, no. And when I return, Gotham, you never will be.
Time. Time. It ticks away. Ticking. Where am I? I need to go back. Chicago...was it a month? More? Time. I'm losing track. I need to go back. It's Friday...or was Friday...
Gotham. What's the time?
Chicago
9:42 A.M
Late. Late. He can't even recall the meaning of words, phrases. But he knows that it's late, and he has somewhere to be. Somewhere. Does he even know where that is? The answer is no. But he doesn't need to know. Fate will lead him. Isn't that what everyone believes? Fate. Destiny. Lies.
The joke: it's not late. In fact, it's the morning. His blinds are just closed too tight to tell.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!
"No."
But the things. The things! What about all the work that you did, all the tests...all the planning.
He's up.
And it hits him.
"John, why don't you go out and walk around the city for a while? You've been stuck in the house too long. Come on, baby, get out of the bed."
"Baby, who were those men outside? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"Marie...What are you doing? You shouldn't be looking at those."
"I saw the letter, John! Who's Jack Napier? Is that your name? Who are you? Where's the man I married?"
"It hurts, John...You're hurting me!"
Don't do this to me, Marie. Can't you see, I did it all because I love you! Why can't you see that?"
"They promised money...money that we need."
"I hear you have a wife, Napier. You don't want to see her get hurt, do you?"
"Mr. John Williams? I'm so sorry...there's been an accident. Your wife, Marie...she's dead."
"Why are you doing this to me? I did what you asked! Why did you take my wife?"
"You should stop frowning, Jacky boy. Smile, huh? Come on and smile!"
"Don't let him go!"
"This will only hurt for a while."
"You shouldn't have let her get involved. She's was such a nice girl."
"Sometimes bad things happen to good people, Jack."
Good people.
He was a good person.
He was a killer, a liar, and a thief. But he was a good person. He just did bad things.
The memories, the flashes...they hit him like an acid trip. The tears, they come first. Salty and painful. He breaks something. Yells. Screams. It's raw...It's real...the emotions tease him.
Finally, he laughs. They build up as giggles, escalating to high pitched wales.
And then he forgets. Because there was nothing to remember in the first place. You see, the memories...they were lies. They were never real. And he knows that. As fast as they come...they disappear. And the story always changes. A brother, a mother, a wife. A father, a friend, a child, their life.
He didn't know what happened before all of this. But he knows his purpose, and he will pursue it. Destroy. Burn. Ruin. He hears it and listens, because it's what he does best. He has a purpose.
Chicago, it's almost ten o'clock.
Morning mass is coming to an end in one of the city's renowned cathedrals. A mother and her son decide to leave early. An elderly couple arrive late. A small girl with blonde hair plays hopscotch in front of the steps. You can hear the preacher's words drift out the door as someone walks inside.
He set's the detonator, let's out a contented sigh, and looks up into the sky. It's a sunny day. Not a cloud to be seen. He can change that.
The fireworks...begin.
"Beautiful."
A/N: A thanks to HoistTheColors! Expect the second chapter soon.
