Batman: Arkham Island
Written by the Hakar-G
Prologue:
Detached from the world and pondering on his life an elder Bruce Wayne sits on his comfy chair waiting for the sound of more thunder. The fireplace flickers in the dim lit room crackling in the eerie silence.
The moans of an old man arise from the other room. Narration: My world wasn't as depressing as it seems, Gotham City used to be a lot more colourful then I remembered. The cloudy sky; this was morning and judging from the atmosphere the day would be less than pleasant for any one to endure.
How does one forget death? I always ask myself this question, sitting on the chair in my lounge exchanging long stares with the fire.
The vein in my head screams in pain like the scream of a boy being clambered at the head by a crowbar.
Yes, my friend, my only companion, a son I hadn't had since Dick Grayson, a boy named Jason Todd.
He was so adamant to find his mother, that he was consumed by the mighty cold hands of a murdering psychopath.
I blame myself for his death. Day and day I think of his bruised face and the blood protruding from his squashed brain.
There was always Barbara I could look to and Alfred. Alfred poor guy, sick as a rabid rat; he suffers from cancer and Alzheimer's the doctors say, terminally ill they tell me, where do I go from here?
Bruce stands up with the glass of whiskey in his hand, he plonks it on the table and walks towards the mirror watching the glow of the city's lights shining with glee back at him.
Three years it's been already since his death and I can't get over it, I refuse. I yearn to have my revenge over his death on my greatest foe, The Joker.
It's all a big joke he'd say, laughing maniacally-I can still hear his high pitch laugh in the moaning wind outside.
The dead trees creak in the moaning wind outside and through the winding road of Wayne Drive we move through the city towards a large building-Gotham Police Department.
A much older man, gray and tired, sitting on his chair watching baseball and drinking a glass of good old scotch is Commissioner James Gordon.
And then there's old Jim, still as tough as the rest of us looking after the city of Gotham and occasionally watching a good match of baseball. He stays in touch with me often and eventually sometime ago realized I was Batman.
I say "was" because it's past tense, after Jason's death I gave up the costume wearing days and became an angry sad old man.
Rather pathetic if you ask me. Everyday the bat haunts me, calling me to the Bat-cave, but nothing ever happens after that. I stare at the glass case of the costume and burst into tears thinking of "a boy screaming as he's clambered to death."
One night I lay my eyes opened staring at the moon. Its eerie beautiful glare shining in to the room with the shadow's of bats flapping outside around the room.
As I started to fall of to sleep, my dreams started to attack from all sides, it almost seemed like I was induced to The Scarecrow's fear gas.
I was in a hallway.
Bruce Wayne now walks in his bed robes, barefoot, across the flooded hallway. He looks down and sees his reflection in the water.
Lightning strikes around him. He looks up and finds a door open beside him. He looks in through the white light. Steam rises up into the air and slithers up the walls with its snake like wisps.
I looked through the bright lit room and heard a familiar song that my old gal, Selina Kyle used to love listening to. "Bye, bye Blackbird."
It was the voice of a boy.
I looked down to see my feet comfortably walking in their black slippers along the tiled floor. It was wet and stained with a red substance.
I lean down to touch it. I bring it closer to my lips and lick it.
It was blood.
I looked up in shock and walked towards a bath tub. The mist of steam was unclear to see what lay in the tub. The water was dark red; as I neared it the mist of steam circled around my ankles. I felt the chill of fear run down my spine.
I leaned down to get a closer look and found a man with his head hanging low. His eyes were closed and he was stained with blood on his face. I felt his pulse, it was beating. I picked up his chin and saw the familiarities of Jason Todd in his features.
"Sir, wake up!" I said. My voice seemed to echo in the dream world.
"Sir,"
His eyes shot up, it was shined a bright white luminous color. He looked at me and smiled grimly.
A cold voice came from his mouth, "Hello, Bruce." I jumped back. He climbed out of the bath and his skin started to deteriorate, he opened his mouth widely, through it back and started to cackle like The Joker.
I screamed incessantly and shot up from my bed to the floor. I looked around the room and realized I was safe.