Only Batman Can be Batman

by alice chess

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING! This is both a critical review of the treatment of Bruce Wayne inside Christopher Nolan's new sequel, "The Dark Knight Rises," & an *attempted* rewrite of the story itself. If you have not seen the film yet, why are you reading fanfiction? GO SEE IT! And then you can read this. Beware: spoilers in here.

1. Part I

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

WARNING!

WARNING!

WARNING!

WARNING!

If you haven't seen The Dark Knight Rises, then by all means, DON'T READ THIS!

There are major spoilers in here!

THE WHOLE THING IS A SPOILER!

You have been warned! Don't complain, now!

If you have an opinion on this piece, by all means, please message or review me. I might eventually take this down, or post it to the forums, but it still is something for everyone to think about. I would like to start a dialogue about my topic here, if possible.

With all this said, the review is below.

Again, and for the last time: BEWARE THE SPOILERS! You have been warned.

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Disclaimer:

I don't own The Dark Knight Rises. I make no money, though I have paid and probably will pay to see the movie again. Despite my qualms here, I do VERY MUCH recommend the movie: you will not regret going to see it! I sure don't.

Author's Note (19 July 2012):

Not sure if anyone on this site remembers me: after all, I've been gone for around a year now. I was one of the first writers to start on the Dark Knight section here on ffnet, and I was also the first writer (to my knowledge) to write a "Bruce Wayne gets kidnapped by the Joker" story in the Nolanverse. My story wasn't slash, and sadly it remains probably one of the few. Given that my reaction to TDKR was so strong, I'm considering starting Foundations up again. I'm weighing my options; my job is really involved and takes a lot out of me. I mean, I get up at 5:30 am each day: so I think I have a good excuse why I haven't been writing, as much as that pains me to say.

I write this to everyone from South Korea: I just saw the movie today, and this means I have seen it probably a good 10 hours before the people of the USA have. Therefore, know that my thoughts on this are entirely fresh and new. However, given my strong reaction to TDKR, I think perhaps other people might share the same point of view—or, at least, have a good argument against mine. I welcome all points of view on this topic. Have a nice day!

After posting this, someone in a PM suggested turning this into a story. Therefore I have added the beginnings of the story to the bottom of this, and will probably add on at least one more chapter tomorrow. I need to see the movie again before making any definite plans. Therefore, I will have the review first, and the story second. Let me know how you like both, and depending on what you want, I'll continue or not.

So, here we go...

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ONLY THE BATMAN IS BATMAN: WHY I MUST DISAGREE WITH NOLAN

Christopher Nolan, my all-time favorite director, is well known for creating puzzles and playing mind games with his audience. His movies are all well written, tightly plotted, and masterfully executed—and, if there is ever anything to complain about, it is always that he has put "too much" into his movies, rather than the "too little" that so often characterizes Hollywood blockbusters these days. In terms of giving people a movie to think about, he is truly the master of our age.

Therefore, before getting into the meat of my subject, I wish to proclaim the following quite loudly: my issue is not with the directing, the casting, or the acting. It is not even with the writing or dialogue. Everything about this movie is superb. I am glad I saw it, and I will probably see it again. And, if the movie were about anything but Batman, I would have no reason to write this article.

But it is about Batman. And that's the problem.

I think, in retrospect, Nolan here has actually bitten off more than he can chew: not because the story is flawed or because the movie is in some way faulty, but because, in order to tell the story he wants to tell, he has acted as if he was creating in a vacuum. As a result of this, he has done what so many other Hollywood directors and producers have done to so many other comics and books that have been translated to the screen. He has given us something named "Batman"—and he has given the longtime fans a number of important references and nods to the comics—but, in the end, he has removed the soul from the work. In essence, he has treated the wider Batman Mythos poorly. This is not a movie about Batman. It is about a creation of Nolan's, which just so happens to share the same name and costume as Batman.

Here's why: Nolan makes the argument that anybody can be Batman. Not just Bruce Wayne. Anyone. You, me, and a city cop named Robin. All of us: we can all be Batman.

On a surface level, this argument sounds wonderful. It certainly holds the potential to be inspiring, and given the current climate of the United States, especially economically, anything inspiring deserves a round of applause. But there is a serious problem in this argument. In the pages of the comics, the Batman writers recently came up against the same quandary: could someone else, besides the individual born as Bruce Wayne, become the Batman? It is telling that the comics reached the exact opposite conclusion from Nolan: namely, that No, nobody but Bruce Wayne can be Batman. Because Batman is unique.

Let's back up a bit.

In May of 1939, a writer named Bob Kane was working for a simple comic book series, "Detective Comics." Almost one year before, June of 1938, the first Superman comic had been released, and had enjoyed wide popularity: therefore, costumed heroes were the latest fashion. Kane, under orders from his editor, decided to create a masked superhero for the newest addition to his series, "Detective Comics #27." This would be a new kind of superhero, however: all of the others were thinly veiled clones of Superman, possessing super powers and special hidden identities. They tossed men through the air and jumped buildings in a single bound. But Kane's creation, in keeping with the theme of "Detective Comics," would not be an alien or magical being. Kane would create a super detective: a man whose power was in his mind, as well as his muscles. Most importantly, Kane would create a hero who was just like his readers: a human being. This was an inspiring thing. After all, it is one thing if a super alien can fight the bad guys—and quite another if a normal person is doing the same.

Now, fast forward. Today, DC Comics owns the rights to both Superman and Batman. These two characters, along with the character of Wonder Woman, form the three members of DC's "Trinity," the members of which vaguely resemble the religious reference that their title implies. Superman is God the Father: he is practically an all-powerful, otherworldly being who nonetheless has compassion for us human ants. Batman is therefore like Jesus the God-Man: he is also a hero, also capable of incredible and amazing things, but nonetheless is somehow still human. Wonder Woman, having only the vaguest ties to the Holy Spirit, fulfills the role of being a token female on the team and rounds the team's number out to three, a more comfortable number than two. Together these are the "big three," the most important of Earth's heroes in all of DC.

There are other heroes in DC Comics, of course. Some of them have even found their way onto the big screen, including Green Lantern. Others have not yet entered the cinema, including Flash, Captain Marvel, Blue Beetle, and so forth. However, Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman all share something that these heroes often do not: they have no "legacy heroes."

The term "legacy hero" refers to a second character that is created to fulfill the heroic role that the first character can no longer fill. For example, there is more than one Green Lantern: Guy Gardener, Hal Jordan, Kyle Rainer, Alan Scott, and John Stewart are all Green Lanterns. They come from different backgrounds and have different personalities, but they all share the same basic powers and therefore the same title: "Green Lantern." In a similar way, there is more than one Flash. And more than one Blue Beetle. There are other examples, of course, but you get the point.

The point is not that Superman, Batman, & Wonder Woman are the only characters with no legacy heroes. The point is that they are the three characters who must NEVER have legacy heroes, because they are something unique. Having more than one Flash means that the title "Flash" is no longer as special. Ditto for Green Lantern. And, given how important the DC Trinity is inside the DC universe, diluting their importance with a legacy hero would be a bad call.

It is important to quickly note, here, that having a legacy hero is different from having a sidekick. Sidekicks come and go: they are popular in their own right, but they are never the main selling point of a comic family. Batman has had five Robins, three Batgirls, and other sidekicks besides. Robin is not the same thing as Batman: and this is evidenced by the fact that when the Robins each "grow up," they do not become Batman II, Batman III, and so forth. They take on their own code names: the first Robin, Dick Grayson, became Nightwing; the second, Jason Todd, became the Red Hood; the third, Tim Drake, became Red Robin. These characters are popular, but they always will be second to the main hero of the Bat Family, Batman.

This difference between a sidekick and a legacy character holds true even when the sidekick temporarily assumes the role of the main hero, as Dick Grayson did by temporarily becoming Batman. Even though there were two Batmen for a while, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, eventually Dick returned to being Nightwing. Therefore a sidekick is of no real impact to a hero's lasting image: the evidence for this remains clear in the comics, where despite having been gone for years, Bruce Wayne is now the sole man behind the Batman cowl, the sole man holding the title "Batman" in the DC Universe. Even though DC has attempted to "farm out" the Batman legacy by creating a group of heroes who work with Batman under the title Batman Incorporated, these heroes are also not "legacy heroes," because they have different titles. Nobody is Batman in the comics, but Batman.

Now that that's out the way, let's show an example of how a legacy character can damage a hero.

Superman is a character who is generally safe from having a legacy hero. Being one of the last of his kind, the Kryptonians, makes it rather hard for DC Comics to replace him. But, let us suppose, for a moment, that they do indeed decide to do just that. They will kill off, irreparably maim, or otherwise get rid of Clark Kent, in order to introduce a second hero. A second Superman!

But that Superman would not be the real Superman.

Because the real Superman is Clark Kent. Superman is more than the red cape, tight outer underwear and emblazoned "S." He is also the alien baby from a dying world, who was sent to Earth by his desperate parents. A farming couple picked him up in their field, and raised him with the good-old country style of living, the old-timey morals of which he carries with him into the dangerous and wild big city, as he works his job as a newspaper writer. Clark Kent is a real softie, the moral center of Superman. He bumbles his way through life, always trying to help in whatever way he can and smile at anyone who is having a bad day. He won't ask Lois Lane out for a date, because he is just too shy about it. Even though he is capable of flying right into the heart of the sun, he is still somehow a sweethearted country boy who is just trying to make his way in the wide world.

A legacy character, Superman II, would not and could not have the same background story. And even if he did, he would be only a copycat character, and a copycat is never as good as the original. That's why copycats copy: because they can't make it on their own. In short, no matter what, killing off Clark Kent would be to kill off the heart of Superman.

I submit that the same is true for Batman. Only, in the opposite sense.

There is a rather fun and well-known argument among fans of Batman and Superman. The argument goes like this: Who is the character's "true face?" For example, when the character of Clark Kent/Superman looks in the mirror, who does he see? Does he see Superman? Or Clark Kent? The same is true of Batman: when he thinks of himself in third person, does he say, "Okay, Bruce, let's do this," or does he say, "Okay, Batman, let's do that"?

The most common answer to this question is that, for Superman, the secret identity is his real identity. In other words, Clark Kent is his real self. Clark merely puts on a cape and tights to hide his identity, because Clark wants to protect his loved ones. Superman is the false identity: Clark is the real thing.

For Batman, the answer is usually the opposite. It is Bruce Wayne who is the illusion; Batman is the real being, wearing Bruce Wayne as the disguise. When he puts on his cowl, he is putting on his true face.

This is also the view of Batman reflected most frequently in the comics. For example, in Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on a Serious Earth, there comes a moment when the inmates of Arkham want to tear off Batman's mask and see the face underneath. But the Joker, Batman's equal and opposite, crows back at them:

"Oh, don't be so predictable [...] That is his real face!"

This is just one of many instances. Many other examples abound, but I don't have the patience to dig them up, so if you want you can easily do that yourself.

There are times when other writers challenge this prevailing view, of course. For example, in a storyline called "Bruce Wayne: Fugitive," Bruce Wayne is framed for the murder of his latest love interest. After being put in prison and breaking out, he decides to completely abandon his public Bruce Wayne persona and only live as Batman, 100% of the time. The other members of the comic book Bat Family, including Nightwing (Richard Grayson, the first Robin), Robin (then Timothy Drake) and Oracle (Barbara Gordon, former Batgirl and daughter of Jim Gordon) all attempt to persuade him otherwise, and emotional theatrics result. In the end, Batman is forced to admit that by giving up on Bruce Wayne, he is indeed giving up a vital part of himself.

But even this story does not mean that Bruce Wayne is his real face: it just means that Batman can't give up where he came from, his origins, since Bruce is sort of like the "parent" of the Batman. And it certainly does not provide fodder for the idea that Bruce Wayne can ever give up being Batman. Not without dying, at least.

But that is exactly what Nolan wants us to believe in the third movie.

In one particularly telling scene in the film, the character played by Gordon-Levitt admits (and I'm paraphrasing here) that he feels the same emotions as Bruce, being haunted by the loss of his own parents. He talks about his foster home and how the foster parents claimed to "understand," the subtle emphasis being that they did not, in fact, understand. Then, the Gordon-Levitt character says something profound: he talks about how eventually, an orphan is expected to be able to move on, but, despite all his efforts, an orphan cannot. He cannot simply forget about what has happened to him. It is never going to go away. The tragedy never heals. And it spurs him on, the rest of his life.

Now, categorically, to say this is always true is to be wrong. While traumatic events can seriously impact a person's life, it would be false to say that they always have to be the exact center of a person's consciousness. A person who has suffered an ordeal does not need to make it the defining moment of their life. I have seen this truth in the people I know: some have been able to find something else that moves their world, while others simply cannot. I say this here and now because of the possibility that someone reading this might themselves have experienced something terrible; and I don't mean to spread despair, any more than I want to spread false hope. The simple fact is that some can move on. Some can't, even though they can always try.

Now, answer this question: Which of these groups does Bruce Wayne fall into?

The problem in the movie here is that Bruce Wayne is not the sort of individual who moves on. Nolan should have taken what Gordon-Levitt's character said, and applied that to Bruce Wayne. Why is it that Gordon-Levitt's character can't move on, but Bruce's character eventually can? Because Nolan wants a legacy hero: he wants a demonstration of his movie's dramatic theme, that we all can become heroes. Therefore, in order to make Gordon-Levitt into the new Batman, Nolan must somehow get rid of Bruce Wayne. Killing off Batman would make too big a splash. So the only other alternative, if this movie is going to end happily, is to have him retire, in order for his successor to take up the mantle. This message—anyone can be Batman—rings loud and clear through the movie, and make no mistake, it is indeed inspiring.

But Batman can't retire. The comics, the animated series, and even Nolan's previous two movies all make this perfectly clear. The only other series where Batman retires permanently is the animated series Batman Beyond, but even then, Bruce Wayne is a cantankerous old fart who is just itching in his skin to somehow, somehow, somehow get back on the front lines, damnit! Batman does not, and will not, ever accept going peaceably into the night. Because, in his true heart, he is Batman: and Bruce Wayne is his mask. He will no more hang up his cape than Superman will choose to crush his glasses, forsake his parents and Lois Lane, and live permanently in his tights. For them, such choices would make life unbearable.

Even if one were to take the point of view that Batman and Bruce Wayne are both masks—that, in fact, the individual who was born with the name of Bruce Wayne does not ever show his true face, and neither Batman nor Bruce Wayne are his true self—this one fact about him will not change. He will not stop being Batman. Ever. He cannot. It is what keeps him going; in a way, it keeps him sane.

Nolan understood this perfectly in the first two movies. Both of them take this theme and run with it, seamlessly.

Batman Begins shows a Bruce Wayne who is so driven, he gives up everything and even ends up in a Chinese prison in order to find something that brings meaning into his life. Since that movie was dedicated to showing how a normal human being can decide to put on a mask and beat up dangerous people in alleys, of course this is the perfect note: one needs to rationalize this decision to become Batman, and making Bruce Wayne into a driven and haunted man is the perfect rationalization. Superman has awesome powers; and so he has the sense of responsibility. But Bruce Wayne has no powers, and he has a giant bank account. What is to stop him from just bankrolling a ton of charities, and being an activist in that way? Why would a billionaire wear a mask? Well, the only possible answer is that he needs something more: that he cannot live just sitting back and taking it easy, and instead is driven to near madness before adopting a mask.

The Dark Knight kept up this theme perfectly. The Joker was introduced as Batman's foil: and he mocks Batman, claiming, "Don't act like you're one of them, you're not! Even if you'd like to be." The Batman's arch nemesis clearly sees that Bruce Wayne is something different, and no amount of Bruce wishing will stop this reality. Batman is there to stay.

And with the way that Bruce/Batman keeps refusing to give up his mask, until practically forced to, it is obvious that he doesn't want to stop, either. Even when, at Dent's press conference, he is given the opportunity to use Dent as bait—hardly a good decision and a sign of a deeply manipulative person, which is also a hallmark of Batman's personality in the comics—he takes it without a second thought. Though he has some qualms, ones that he reveals only to Alfred (who continually pushes Bruce to remain Batman, perhaps sensing that it is something Bruce desperately needs), on a deep level, he wants to keep being Batman. And Bruce's ending lines in the movie seem to imply that he has lost all of his hesitancy, and will bear the brunt of being Batman unflinchingly from here on out: "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I can do those things. Because I'm not a hero. Not like Dent. I killed those people. That's what I can be... I'm whatever Gotham needs me to be."

(By the way, Alfred's support of Batman in TDK is a marked difference from his disapproval in the third movie, where Alfred is willing to quit in order to try and force Bruce to stop; this character change is never explained.)

On top of this, the person who Bruce loves the most also sees the same thing. In perhaps one of the most intimate and telling moments of TDK, Rachel Dawes writes her "Dear John" letter to Bruce, which contains this amazing quote:

"When I told you that when Gotham no longer needed Batman, we could be together, I meant it. But now I'm sure the day won't come when you no longer need Batman. I hope it does."

Emphasis mine. But what an emphasis!

This is the reason why Rachel Dawes, the love of Bruce's life, who grew up with him, is going to break his heart. She is marrying Harvey Dent, because of Batman. Because Bruce Wayne needs Batman. He can't live without it. It is who he is, on a fundamental level. To end Batman would be to die in his soul.

Until the third movie... where, somehow, he has magically gone into retirement: a retirement that in no way is hinted at in the ending of The Dark Knight. If anything, the end of TDK seems to suggest that, having nothing left, Bruce Wayne will be Batman—always and forevermore. Nolan had set things up perfectly: no strings attached, and stuck with the responsibility of his city, Bruce Wayne is now Batman's alter ego, instead of the other way around. Rachel's death has severed that last real string that attached him to the possibility of becoming solely Bruce Wayne: as Rachel warned him, "Don't make me your one chance for a normal life." But he did, and he paid the price for it: the price to always be Batman.

Yet, in this third movie, Nolan effectively sacrifices Bruce's character for the sake of his message: one of empowerment, one that says we all can become Batmen. I have no problem with the message that anyone can be a hero. In today's climate, it is the perfect sort of message that the people of the United States need; heck, people around the world need it. But the problem here is confusion between "Batman" and "Hero." The Dark Knight perfectly drew a line in the sand between Batman and Hero: they are similar, but not synonymous. In Rises, however, they are the same. Nolanverse seems clear: there can be no other masked hero but Batman. This is a limitation that severely cuts into Batman himself.

The comics do not have this limitation. By adding in secondary characters, sidekicks, the comics allow for the possibility that there can be more than one masked hero in Gotham. And, more than that: they mean that every person, as a unique person, can become his own unique hero. Dick Grayson was Batman for a short time: but, even though he wore the cowl, in the comics he discussed how it felt more like "playing a role" than actually being Batman. Because he wasn't really Batman; not like how Bruce Wayne was. He was Dick Grayson. And as Dick Grayson, his alternate identity should have been Nightwing—he should have been free to be himself.

Seeing as Nolan's version of Gotham did not have room for a Robin, Nolan's ability to give this message was hindered from the beginning. But Nolan's decision to sacrifice Bruce Wayne's driving motivations and character persona for the sake of Nolan's central message was, I believe, the largest mistake in the film, a structural and thematic mistake that makes The Dark Knight Rises into something completely different from the previous two films. It just does not seem to mesh with anything: with Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, as well as with the whole Batman Mythos in general. I don't know who the central character of TDKR is, but although he has the same name, he is definitely not Bruce Wayne.

All this being said, however, the film is still a wonderful masterpiece. A lot of reviews have been giving Nolan the label of "auteur"—and, given the themes and displays of this movie, it is a title he fully deserves. I confess to be disappointed with the treatment of Batman in this film, but that will not stop me from hurrying to the theatre to see it again, or from buying it on DVD, nor from being excited to hear about Nolan's next new big project. Given how Nolan now has the name recognition and probably the funds to do his own works, I would hope that he would turn next to some fiction sprung from his own imagination. Because it is obvious that he was chafing under the pressure of delivering something truly Batmanesque this time: and a true creator like him should be free to tell the story he wants and needs to tell. My one ending point is, simply, that while the movie was fantastic, its subject matter should have been something else other than Batman, seeing as Batman has a larger story behind him than just a single movie.

Only Clark Kent can be Superman, since he is the true face of Superman. And since Bruce Wayne is only a shadow of Batman, it is proper for me to say: only Batman can be Batman. Anything else hurts his legacy, and it is a deep shame that Nolan could not find a way to salvage it within the confines of his film.

alice chess

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Given the responses I've already gotten to this review, I've decided to go ahead and post a potential "TDKR" rewrite I was working on to the end. Note that if the above review didn't already have enough spoilers, then THIS SECTION WILL PRACTICALLY SPOIL THE WHOLE MOVIE FOR YOU. Don't read it until you have seen the movie!

I must admit to a little bit of nervousness about this, however. Nolan is a professional; and on top of that, he is a genius. So there is no way that I can compare myself with his storytelling ability. Especially because I wrote this in, like, 5 hours last night! I might be able to write fanfiction, but there is a difference between writing fanfiction and rewriting someone's work. Therefore, take the whole thing with a grain of salt. In fact, you readers probably ought to come up with your own versions of the rewrite: you have your own imaginations, after all.

Another thing I want to point out is that this is not meant to be an insult to the movie or to Nolan. In fact, this probably should be treated as an homage of sorts. It's only because I care about Nolan's version that I am going to rewrite it as my own. Therefore, I am going to try and keep many of his version's plot elements; with one exception. Seeing as this is fanfiction, I do not have to worry about the death of Heath Ledger. And while I completely understand Nolan's refusal to add anything about the Joker in his new film, because he saw that as possibly tainting Ledger's performance, I must also disagree on that point. Wiping Ledger from the film was a little bit too much like saying, "He never had an effect on this universe." While recasting the Joker definitely would have been wrong, perhaps it would have been better to say at least something about the Joker, so that maybe this could show some kind of impact he had on Bruce. In any case, without the use of actors, I can write the Joker into my version—after all, fanfiction is fanfiction.

Anyway, apologies if this seems rushed. Maybe I'll revise sometime.

On to the story...

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TDKR: Rewritten

It has been two years since the Joker was captured and Dent was killed. Bruce has never given up being Batman: he still stalks the streets but he does so with a new fervency. Seeing as he has almost always been hunted, even since the ending of Batman Begins, this new manhunt over his killing of Dent does not make him shirk his duties: he is used to being tracked by the police. It does make things harder, though. A couple examples:

The police are now hunting him with a new sense of need. He's now a wanted killer, not an unnamed hero of the masses, and the man who puts him behind bars will surely be celebrated. Many of the police will even open fire first, asking questions later. This is a change that even Gordon cannot stop, because it would make him seem too soft on Dent's killer.

The media, while not a physical threat, nevertheless provide a constant source of stress. Every newspaper in the country has an article out about the evils of the Batman. Every day, GCN's most popular night anchor, with a twisted look of glee, ends his broadcast with the following: "It has been 734 days since the death of Harvey Dent. 734 days since his killer, the Batman, is on the streets. If you know anything, please contact the number on the bottom of your screen. Together, we can finally give Harvey Dent rest, and free Gotham from its resident madman."

And, worst of all, the people now fear him. Before, he cast fear into the hearts of the criminals, but was inspiring to the general people. Now the same little boy who used to say, "I want to be Batman!" runs screaming from him in terror. This hurts him, in a place of his heart that he did not think he had any more.

But Dent's legacy is assured. A new wave of politicians, all speaking in the same tones and with the same words, have come to light in every election. Most are simply lying to ride the wave of Dent's popularity. Others—a few, but present nonetheless—appear to be the genuine thing. Reformers. Dent has actually done it; in death, but he has done it. He is truly the symbol of hope that Batman could never be.

To further protect himself, Bruce has decided to adopt a new characteristic into his Bruce Wayne persona. After his fight with the Joker and Dent, he had lain in bed for over a week, nursing his injuries to both body and soul. Afterwards, for over a month, he walked with a heavy limp. His excuses were many and varied—rock climbing, motorcycle accident, fell down the stairs—but eventually this crystallized into a new trick: he always carries a cane with him, leaning heavily upon it. After all, a cripple cannot be Batman.

This extra precaution sometimes provides him with a source of amusement. Because he is seen as a cripple, when he sneaks up on others he is always unexpected. It is a valuable skill—one that he is currently using on the woman.

He has hosted another party at the newly rebuilt Wayne Manor; and, while the rich happily attend, they do so now with a hushed sense of caution, concerned that Crazy Wayne will fly off and insult them again. Still, money is money, and they come when invited.

As has the woman with the catsuit.

She's not wearing it now, Bruce can tell. She probably doesn't even have it on underneath the maid's uniform. Her posture was perfect, most of the night: head bowed, eyes darting around the floor. Her hair is tightly wound in a bun, but messily so. No makeup. It gives the perfect impression of a younger girl who is in no way prepared to be in high society, even as a maid. She is too shy to be a waitress, let alone a burglar.

He is not fooled.

Bruce has been watching her for over a year. She started in Paris, and made her way across the continent. Normally he would not care overmuch about a particular thief, even one as successful as her—but anyone who wears a costume, after the Joker, immediately gains his attention. The only other person, aside from her, who has likewise gained his attention in this manner is a man, codenamed "Bane," who is currently in South America. This woman, however, is here now; in his own rooms—and to be honest, he is more concerned about her anyway, as Bane seems only to be using a mask to relieve his suffering over a series of facial wounds.

Instead of serving a legitimate purpose, this woman's sense of humor, of robbing others in a catsuit, speaks volumes about her obviously vibrant personality. Unlike Bane, who is constrained to the South American drug trade, she is another potential mastermind. Even the Joker had begun as a common thief; so who knew what she could turn out to be?

He watches as she snoops around in his rooms. She moves with a feline grace, all traces of the hesitancy she had previously employed gone. Once she is alone, she feels free to be herself, a prowler and hunter, and Bruce can see her inner soul very well.

But what a soul! He finds himself almost willing to step into the room, wanting to get a closer look at her. She is moving like a whisper of wind, carefully inspecting everything, but leaving no traces. This is not an ordinary thief; it's not something most of the populace could do, even with the proper training. She's been born to do this. And some animal magnetism about her, something spiraling through her and out of her form, seems to beckon to him. He wants to step in and introduce himself—perhaps she'll react poorly, perhaps not, but either option feels good to him, and the anticipation is enough to make him dizzy. Yet he holds back, merely watches.

After all, a cat will eat a bat, if given the chance.

This is a reconnaissance mission, he surmises. She isn't here to take anything tonight, not while she doesn't have her suit on. That wouldn't fit with her M.O.

Then she pauses, turns, and glances in his direction. Immediately her face becomes that of a cowed schoolgirl. He's been caught, and he didn't even see it coming.

Leaning heavily on his prop, Bruce hobbles into the room. He wonders if she will notice that he's limping on the wrong side; the cane should be in his left hand, not his right. Still, he had absentmindedly been switching it in his hands while watching her, and didn't think to switch it back before appearing. He's gone and lost his head, he realizes. It's a dreadful thing. Yet the idea that she could catch him in his act—that should not bring a thrill up his spine, but it does.

"Oh!" She says, feigning surprise. "Oh, please excuse me, Mr. Wayne! I-I didn't mean to intrude." She rambles on a moment, playing her part just as he grips the prop of his, but his attention has left her, magically—because now, from his new position in the room, he can see something he couldn't from his previous angle.

"Incredible," he finds himself muttering, the cane switching hands as he uses it to swing the chest doors open wider, revealing the cracked safe within. "This was supposed to be unbreakable." After all, he'd designed it himself. This realization makes him place the cane back on the ground, leaning heavily upon it; it's not a prop anymore, he really does need it. Who is this woman? He feels giddy and terrified all at once; after all, in the false bottom of that safe, he has a series of important Batman documents...

"Oops," she says, and there's a newness to her tone, a condescension, that wasn't there before. He barely has time to lift his eyes to her before she knocks the cane out from under him, and thank goodness he'd really been leaning on it instead of just pretending, because he doesn't need to feign collapsing. From the floor he simply stares up at her, bewildered, as she announces,

"It's been a pleasure, Mr. Wayne. Your caviar was a little dry, though. Crunched in my teeth, and we can't have that. In any case, adieu—we won't meet again."

Then she is gone through the window. He marvels for a few moments; after all, the dexterity with which she jumped to the frame, and the sight of her deliciously long legs in tights, are still quite fresh. Then he realizes his quandary. As a cripple, he cannot go after her. It is a clean getaway on her part. Whatever she has taken is lost—and he knows that he has left his mother's pearls in that safe...

He rages then, for a few seconds, playing his part as he gets on hands and knees to crawl over and retrieve the cane, keeping up the appearance of his second costume just in case she's watching, although he's quite certain that she's left him now. After all, she must have bought into his disguise as a cripple, not realized that he'd switched hands, if she was confident enough to think that knocking out his cane would stop him from following.

Only when he has the cane in his hands, does he realize that he might be mistaken. She might, indeed, have realized that he'd switched hands, or else been knowledgeable enough about the human body to realize that he was faking a limp. After all, she could simply have gambled that he wouldn't want to reveal his disguise... and this makes a bitter taste swell in his mouth.

Making his way over to the safe, however, he finds a further surprise: the valuables within are gone, and the false bottom has not been disturbed; but there is a light residue on the outside. She has dusted for his fingerprints. Which must mean that this was more than a simple robbery.

A cold feeling washes over him; she has moved up in the world, gone from robbery to identity theft. Who knows where she will stray next?

He ignores the new thrill that races through him.

.

The Catwoman had kidnapped a Congressman on her way out. This led to a nation-wide woman-hunt, but she was nowhere to be found.

It also confirmed Bruce's worst suspicions: she was indeed becoming more dangerous. He just hadn't thought that her evolution would have happened so fast—indeed, that she would move all the way up from identity theft to kidnapping as he lay there on Wayne Manor's floor.

Thus the Batman found his night occupied by searching for her. Usually, at this time of night, he would be tracking the latest information the mob. However, a Congressman took priority... one was national, and the other, while important, was local.

And the Catwoman weighed heavily on his mind. She was an even bigger threat.

What the hell did she want with his fingerprints, anyway?

It was past four in the morning, with only one more scant hour before daylight, when he finally received what he was waiting for over the police monitor: they had picked up a text message sent via the Congressman's cell phone. With the police and SWAT on high alert, Batman knew he had literally minutes before they would swoop down on the location.

He still managed to get there first.

As befitting his training in "theatricality and deception," bursting through the skylight was his method of entry. Several of the people inside the bar, being merely normal patrons, saw him and, screaming, rushed to flee. There was a small minority of men, centered around a table, did not follow. These opened fire, but their bullets went wild, and there were only four of them. Two were taken down within seconds; one of the remainder fled, and the last decided to hold up his hands in surrender. The Batman punched him down anyway.

Hiding under the table, he found the congressman, dazed and drugged, and another man whom Bruce vaguely recognized—the fellow was a secretary, he knew that much, but the name of the man's employer escaped him in the heat of the moment. Beside them cowered the Catwoman.

"You," Batman growled, and, reaching out to seize her arm, he dragged her out from under the table. "Why did you bring the congressman here?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, fairly shrieking in manufactured terror. "I didn't!"

"The hell you didn't," Batman replied flatly, kicking over the table. The secretary was blubbering in infantile shock, but the drugged congressman giggled like a girl. Ignoring both of them, Batman moved to grip her close, lifting an arm with the intent of shooting off a grappling hook to send them both airborne.

However, the moment she was being held by only one of his arms, she elbowed him in the gut.

It was a hard blow and without his armor, Bruce was certain he would have been flattened. He stared at her, incredulously, realizing that she had possessed some form of advanced martial training in addition to the gymnastics and theft skills she already had demonstrated.

"Oops," she merely said in response to his silent query, lilting her voice, and tilting her head just so. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had started to purr.

Is she toying with me? Bruce had to wonder. Does she know I'm Wayne? Why repeat the same phrase if she doesn't know who I am underneath the suit?

Then everything went to hell. The bang of the front door behind him told Batman that the police had arrived, nearly two minutes sooner than expected. Amongst all the sudden chaos, the Catwoman's immediate knee to his balls was unexpected. Due to the armor, it didn't truly hurt; although the sudden feeling of her sharpened stiletto sinking into his foot—that did.

He stumbled, made the mistake of releasing her, and she immediately ran toward the policemen.

"Help me!" she screamed, her panicked face fitting perfectly with the role of an ordinary bar-hopper. "Oh shit, help me! It's the Batman!"

Having no choice, unable even in his armor to take what surely would have been a hail of bullets, Batman used his already-raised arm to tell the grappling hook fly. He was swept up out of the room, cape swirling behind him like a tornado, and the beast within him raging. He'd lost her—she was going to get free from this!

The only thing he could do, he surmised, would be to flee, double back, and try to pick up her trail. Maybe she would lead him to her base location, although given how skilled she was in a variety of disciplines, this would seem to be a long shot.

Then a bullet bit into his shoulder.

It wasn't a cop, he realized, dimly. He was airborne, therefore the shot had to have come from above. There was no way the SWAT had gotten into the higher levels of the buildings around them. This led to one conclusion: Catwoman was not working alone.

This had been a trap all along.

His arm numb, he could only watch in horror as his fingers released the gun, and he dropped six stories to the ground.

.

Strange dreams came to him, in the twilight of his unconsciousness. He found himself remembering Dent, Rachel, his parents. Cruel, hilarious laughter cackled somewhere in the background, and he nearly curled up into himself trying to block the sound out. A vague image: a man in purple, upside down, swinging perilously from a great height. The same height that he had fallen from...

Then Ra's voice: If you make yourself more than just a man...

"So, it seems you are just a man after all, are you not, Bruce Wayne?"

And that was the voice that woke him. He found himself staring into the face of someone he had not expected; although the voice, distorted as it was, should have given him some warning. It was a face he had only seen on computer monitors: the face of Bane.

"Don't bother trying to puzzle it all out," Bane said. "We already know everything, and there's no point in me explaining anything to you. I am not a man who wastes words, when every breath for me holds the potential of pain."

Sitting up, he found himself in some sort of cage, the rusted metal bars thick and twisted, like some kind of animal had tried to burst its way out. Bane stood in the center of it, a mere ten feet from him; and on the other side of the bars, the indistinct shapes of men carrying guns stood grimly like sentries. The cage was narrow but several stories tall, suggesting they were underground. One figure in the shadows was moving, however; prowling on the outside, its lithe form gained Bruce's attention immediately. It was too thin to be a man.

The Catwoman. And she was pacing, two stories above them, her sharp eyes focused upon Bruce. A frown marred her features.

"Tell me, Bruce," said Bane, refocusing Batman's attention upon him. "Can you guess how I know you under that mask—that lovely piece of theatricality and deception?"

Bruce let out a long breath.

"The League of Shadows," he responded. Bane nodded, his small, beady eyes making his face doubly difficult to read, seeing as most of it was already constrained by the life-giving mask. His next words came out in a rushed, harsh timbre:

"And now you have a choice to make."

Turning, revealing his back, the man began to stride about the cage, and in these moments Bruce realized just how big the fellow was. Almost twice his size; with muscles huge and gaping, hands almost as big as half a dinner plate. The man's shoulder was at the same level as Bruce's forehead. He was, in short, a giant—and his loping, self-assured gait told Batman that he knew how to use his size as his advantage.

"In the League," boomed Bane's voice, "the position of Ra's al Ghul is assured only through ascendancy—that is, he who is mightiest and most intelligent. Our previous mentor assumed his role only through the eventual defeat of his own master."

Bane raised one beefy arm, gestured. At this, another form stepped forward—and Bruce realized that the Catwoman was not the only woman present. This new woman, with her bronzed skin and glittery brown eyes, she formed the definition of "exotic beauty." But her chilled glare at Bruce sent a very cold feeling into his bones.

"As the killer of my father," she announced, "You, Bruce Wayne, are the rightful heir to the title of Ra's al Ghul."

Batman stared back. He did not think to protest: to claim that he had not, in fact, killed her father, but instead had only refused to offer him aid, a technicality that had both saved his city and allowed him to sleep at night. In the face of her open hatred, however, he found himself unable to speak, to justify what for her was surely a defining moment of her life.

After all, he remembered what it was like to face the killer of his own parents.

Distracted by this, it took a few seconds for the reality of her statement to settle into his mind. Staring out at the guards, Bane, and the metal bars around him, he found his throat dry.

"Will you take up the mantle?" The woman demanded. "I am Talia—and as the daughter of the last Ra's, I demand he have a proper successor. Will you take up my father's pledge to heal this world, and do what he did not?"

Forcibly, Bruce kept his voice even, neglecting to use the Batman's harsh rasp. "And if I refuse?"

Bane snorted, the sound loud and reverberating through his mask. His eyes, beady as they were, widened in obvious excitement. "Then someone else needs to take the position of Ra's. From you."

The wound in his shoulder throbbed. It could not have been more than a very sharp bruise, but it definitely gave Bruce trouble as he managed to stand. Bane's eyes remained focused on him; but the Catwoman, up in the balcony above, looked away.

Talia's face grew even more vicious. "So your answer is 'no'?"

Bruce didn't say anything.

What followed felt very much like it was the continuation of the dreams he had been having; with the addition of a great deal of pain, of course, but even that faded after a while, as new hurts were added onto the slightly less new ones. He gave back as well as he could; Bane also certainly sported his own share of bruises. The problem was that Bane had a great deal more of himself to be bruised. To defeat an opponent such as this, Bruce knew that he would have had to work twice as hard, or rely on the Batman's theatre to support him; but this was impossible.

For Bane also knew about deception. He laughed at the smoke bombs Batman hurled; and an attempt to short-circuit the lights and use the cloak of darkness only proved that Bane was equally adept in the dark. In the end, Batman found himself suspended in midair, both of Bane's meaty hands supporting the heavy weight of his body—

Only to be thrown down over Bane's knee. The feeling was like being ripped in two—agony, unspeakably strong, swirled through him. And then came something even more horrifying: the feeling that his legs were completely gone, leaving pain only coursing through his belly and chest, which was constricted too tightly to allow him to scream.

He barely heard Bane's voice, soft now, as the hulking figure leaned low and explained what was to be done with him. He was going to be banished, thrown into the depths of a pit of hell. To die.

But not before being forced to watch Gotham die, first.

.

At first, the disappearance of the Batman was welcomed by Gotham.

There usually was a Batman sighting every night, even if it was only by hardened criminals. After a few days of no sighting, word got around. Mobsters hastily convened their friendly gangs, discussing what ought to be done, whether this was a trap, or if it was possible that someone had indeed defeated their great nemesis.

The Gotham media was frantic. On the one hand, they gloated. On the other, behind closed doors, they cursed the fact that they had no more information, that their great money-selling story had vanished overnight.

The police were relieved. Some of the pressures placed upon them eased.

Construction crews, around the city, discovered that some of their new hires had gone mysteriously missing. No explanation was immediately found.

Until the bombs went off.

Most of the bridges were destroyed. The tunnels in and out of the city were carefully collapsed. In the wreckage of the Gotham City Football Field, Bane himself stood and announced how he was returning Gotham to the people, and how a nuclear bomb was carefully tucked away inside the city. The police were ordered to surrender, or the bomb would explode in ten minutes. In a panic, most did as told; other fled into the civilian population and kept their heads down. Gordon, attempting to restore order, was shot by a recent police hire who then proclaimed allegiance to Bane, although he managed somehow to escape despite his wound.

With his allies beside him, the new Ra's moved through the city, stopping at the jails, at the courts, and finally ending up at the Asylum. Carefully explaining through a loudspeaker that he was merely setting "the people" free, Bane ordered that the asylum doors be opened, and that the police should take residence in the cells instead.

As the booming voice of Bane echoed through the halls, deep inside Arkham, in a cell sheltered from the rest, a man smiled. A low giggle escaped from his torn lips—but it was silenced, quickly, as the door to his room swung open, in conjunction with all the other doors in the asylum. Slipping out of his cell, the lanky man trailed up into the general population of lunatics, lost in the sea of bodies that swelled and flowed outside of the asylum doors. Nobody recognized him. How could they? His face was entirely nude; he was not himself.

Nobody was able to wonder, therefore, why his face was so hard, and his smile so grim.

.

.

.

Author's notes:

I'll post more, probably tomorrow, or the next day.

As I said before, this is rushed. I just wanted to jot down my ideas before I lost them; if anyone wants to take this story idea and run with it, by all means please do so, and tell me, because I want to read it! I promise to give good concrit.

Speaking of concrit, if you feel like it, by all means then please supply some. I wasn't checking my grammar and spelling overmuch while writing this, just trying to let the story come, so please don't worry about those things, focus on the story itself.

I also am aware that I've left out a great deal of the story in TDKR: there's no stock exchange hostage scene here, for instance, and Bane's opening is entirely absent, as are the characters of Alfred, Gordon, and Lucius. That's because I am focusing on Bruce in here, so the story thus far is coming entirely with a spotlight on him. I've also made Catwoman into a member of the League; that's because being a superhero/villain is no ordinary thing, and if you aren't crazy (like the Joker) then you probably need extensive training. The League is one of the few places to get that. (And that's another reason why I dislike the Gordon-Levitt ending; how is an ordinary beat cop supposed to be a vigilante without getting himself killed? It's not like Bruce can mentor or train him, seeing as he's given up entirely on Batman and is now living the private life while in hiding in Europe with Selina. Oh, I know-it's the idea of anyone being a hero that counts, and I can accept that much.)

Of course, if I were to make this into a full story, I would revise the whole thing, and this section here should probably be expanded to at least 3 chapters long. Here, I've given it to you in a rushed manner, oh well.

Also, if you ever see any stories where the Joker gets loose during Bane's reign over the city, know that that idea appeared here first, LOL! XD

Concerning the fact that I chose to make Bruce wounded when he fights Bane, I used that in a way to keep the same general idea as Nolan & the comics: when Batman first meets Bane, he isn't in top condition. In the comics, he'd just finished fighting all of his other villains. In the movie, he's older and more out of shape and practice than Bane. So I was trying to keep things even.

I wish I had put Alfred in there somewhere. Oh well. :/

As a final addendum, I want to offer my thoughts and prayers to the victims of the TDKR shooting in Colorado. It is a tragedy that someone has taken something meant to be only a good night out and turned it into this monstrous event. May such a thing never happen again. :(

alice chess