Author's Note: Hello everyone! Man, it's been just a little over a year since I posted something. Almost like my mind was on a timer, I came up with this new idea for a crossover. While I can't seem to shake free of the whole Nolanverse Batman, I have managed to make a new addition. There's nothing quite as immersive as a survival horror video game, and if anyone has played one, you'll know what I'm talking about. Some years ago this particular game gained popularity outside the video gamers' community when they made it a movie: Silent Hill.
This idea struck me not even a week ago, but it hasn't let go of me since. So…even though I am still working on my novel (the reason I put my other fanfics on hold) I decided to bang these thoughts out in the form of Chapter One.
Even if you've never watched or played Silent Hill, my fanfiction is a suitable story for you to read because the nature of Silent Hill is that not much is explained and it's left to your conclusions. That is what makes this mysterious tale so eerie and the game so terrifying.
A heartfelt thank you to all of you who have read my stories in the past and who kindly kept me on their Author Alert List all this time. A personal hello to Lasgalendil and J-Horror Girl. Ladies, it's been too long.
Enjoy.
Chapter One
Dear Bruce.
The open envelope is sitting beside me on the passenger seat. The letter is folded and hidden inside. I glance over. It seems to be channeling her. Her gentle, husky voice. Always a little more patient with me. Forever giving me the one extra chance she would spare no one else. Extending her grace just slightly further for my sake.
A long time ago, you vanished from my life. But you came back.
I only read it once. Eidetic memory. Once is enough to have it memorized. Enough to know how many words rested on each line of the loose-leaf paper. Enough to have noticed the droplet of blue ink on the page, where there had been a flaw at the factory during its printing. Enough to allow Bruce the chance to believe the impossible.
She's still alive.
But I know the truth. I know the certainty of that particular impossibility. Batman knows when he's being tricked. When he has been. Joker will not do it again. I will not underestimate him again. But that initial time was one too many. It was too costly. A loss unbearable. Irreparable. Unforgivable.
I don't know how I did it, but I dragged myself through those years without you.
It's night. My favorite time of the day. Silence. Darkness. Peace. And then the demons come out. The lights along the interstate glimmer past every few moments, reflecting off my windshield. The air whips past my armored vehicle, which is a fleeting shadow on the straight cement road. I cruise past speed limit signs at a hundred-and-thirty miles per hour. All it takes is a split second glance at the signs above the roadway to know how far off I am. Silent Hill. Exit 6A. Sixty-seven miles.
A few months after you disappeared, I just had to get away from it all. From the people. From the office. From the city.
I glance at the letter again. The postmark is from two days ago. New York State zip code. Ordinary postage stamp that can be purchased at any post office around the nation. Standard white security envelope. No hairs or dirt. No trace evidence of any kind. Except – her fingerprints. How do I know they're hers? The District Attorney's Office has fingerprints of all employees, current and former. Typical procedure for all workers. Even the janitors had their fingerprints on file. There was no mistake. Thirty-point match on one-hundred percent of samples collected. Perfect likeness. Undeniably her. Former Assistant DA., Miss Rachel Dawes.
Unless the evidence has been planted.
So I came to Silent Hill.
I glance at another sign. Silent Hill. Exit 6A. Forty-seven miles.
I forgot how peaceful it is here. Like the rest of the world doesn't exist anymore, and there's nothing but this modest little town, with its local church and hospital, elementary school and lakeside park. A society existing all by itself in perfect harmony. There's no place like it on earth, Bruce.
The way she said my name in that letter. Bruce. Like it was really her. I tighten my hands on the steering wheel. Bruce believes.
Batman wants to believe. But he knows better. I loosen my grip on the wheel. Holding it too tightly is dangerous. The power-steering is very sensitive. I look up as the next sign flashes by overhead, practically a blur. Silent Hill. Exit 6A. Twenty-seven miles.
After everything, I just thought it would be nice if I came back here again. You know. Just to get away. I'm not sure if you'd want to see me, though. You must be angry with me for not telling you sooner. But I'm here now. I'll wait for you if you want to come see me. It would make me happy if you did. I thought about you so much in this place the last time. It would be wonderful if you were here with me this time.
Exit 6A. Next right.
Love, always, Rachel.
Not another soul passes by on the interstate. When the partition in the road appears, I slow down, driving over the lanes to the right. Then I glide into the curving exit ramp. It swirls downward in a complete circle, making me dip slightly to the left with centrifugal force.
At the end of the exit is an intersection with blinking orange lights. Glancing quickly around I take a right, following an old rusty sign that says, Welcome to Silent Hill.
Not much marks the sides of the long straight road, and after a few initial pairs of flickering street lights, the street lies in darkness. I already have my high beams on, but seeing no signs, houses or lights made me wonder if I should turn around. Perhaps I have missed a turn back there somewhere, and this road just leads to a dead end. Tall grass flutters on the roadside as I race by.
I begin to slow down, wondering if I should turn off this straight road and find another direction to go. But just then the road takes a deep curve. Maybe it does lead somewhere. I notice that it starts to lead me downhill gradually. Trees have sprung up from the tall grass on the right, and a black cliff side rises up on the left. The road has lost its purposeful rigidity and has become a snake of swerves and bends. No signs are posted to caution drivers to slow down at dangerous turns.
The incline tilts deeper downward, and the turns don't let up. The only lights in the darkness are my bright white high beams and glowing green dashboard, throwing a relief of fluttering shadows in the blackness outside.
I glance again at the letter. Just for a moment. But in that moment, as unlikely and impossible as it is, there is a slender figure in the dead center of my path. The glance does not even last long enough for her to walk out there. But there she is. As bright as the high beams are, her features elude me, save for skin bleached of color by the headlights and a sheet of shoulder-length, dark hair. Her dress flutters up slightly as I hurtle toward her. My dashboard flickers and the high beams go black. The engine dies abruptly. Thick suffocating silence.
I don't get a chance to see if she flinches. I have no time to turn on night vision on my helmet. I slam the breaks with both my feet and spin the wheel to the right, going with the turn of the road. There is no impact at the expected moment, but the vehicle whirls out of control. The wheel fights in my grip as the tires grind against the edges of the road.
Then the Tumbler slams into the cliff side, coming to a dead stop. The only sound is of little rocks and twigs breaking free of the cliff wall and tapping on the roof of the car. The dashboard flickers and the Tumbler comes to life again, the high beams reaching over the curve in the road.
Momentarily stunned, I resettle myself in my seat. I check my seatbelt to make sure the mechanisms are not jammed from the crash.
The Tumbler is voice activated, so I mutter, "Engine, on."
But there is no response. My dashboard doesn't even inform me that there is a problem. Ordinarily, if the engine is malfunctioning, the Tumbler will give me a status report and diagnosis.
I undo the seat belt again and turn off the vehicle, plunging myself in darkness once more. Since getting out of the vehicle is impossible from the driver's side, I leave from the passenger side. Then I turn on the night vision on my visor.
I pick up the letter and store it inside one of the empty evidence compartments on my belt. I guess I'll have to walk. Rachel says she's waiting for me.
