Batman Versus the Time Tyrants
by Matthew Snee
Chapter One: A Day in the Life of Batman
"Take one step closer and I'll kill her," said the Creep.
Batman said nothing, did not move. The Creep was a minor super villain of little repute. But somehow he had taken a hostage seven stories up on a roof in Uptown, Gotham. The Creep had never killed before - that the Batman knew of - but he was edging dangerously close.
"Let her go," Batman growled.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" asked the Creep. He was pumped on something - coke, meth, something. He was covered in sweat and it was deep January.
"Don't make me ask again," said Batman.
The girl shrieked. She was maybe twenty, maybe twenty-one. A college student, probably. Innocent.
The Creep took another step closer to the edge of the roof. He was inches away from falling - and taking the girl with him.
Batman could wait any longer - he had to act now, and he had to act according to his plan.
He cast his batarang into the air. It struck the Creep's knife-hand with sharp certainy. The Creep dropped the knife, but not the girl - and finally took that last step back.
"Noooooo!" screamed the girl, falling backward with the Creep.
A normal man would have had to choose between them. But the Dark Knight was no normal man. He reached out, so quickly that it seemed like he had teleported, and grabbed the girl by her outstretched wrist.
She would be safe.
Then with his other hand, he shot his grapple, which wrapped around the Creep's leg until he was securely fastened to the Batman - and hanging seven stories above the street, whimpering like a baby.
Batman pulled the Creep back to the roof.
"Why'd you have to do that?!" the Creep wailed.
Batman punched him in the chin, knocking the villain out.
"Is it over?" the girl asked the Batman.
"Yes, it's over," he told her.
Batman escorted her back down the stairs with one hand, and dragged the Creep behind him by the leg with the other. He had already radioed for a black & white to meet him downstairs on the street.
Still, there was a presence on the roof that no one - not even the Batman - had noticed: a hooded shape silent in the shadows, watching the whole thing.
"No, Batman," said the figure in a dark voice. "No, it's only just begun."
Later, back at Wayne Mansion, Bruce Wayne and his thirteen-year old ward, Richard Grayson, had a late dinner. As usual, dinner was quiet until Richard spoke.
"You ever notice Gotham's spiral street design?"
"I might have once or twice," Bruce quipped.
"What do you think that means?"
"It means Gotham grew naturally, rather than man imposing illusionary grids on the world. At least that's how I think about it. Anyway, urban planning was different back in the 1700's. That is to say: it did not exist, practically."
"So, the spiral thing doesn't freak you out?"
"No. Spirals are naturally occurring in nature. I don't suppose you've ever seen a sea shell?" Bruce expressed this last sentence sharply.
"Like evil is naturally occurring in men?"
Bruce sighed, impressed and annoyed by the boy's wit. "I suppose so."
"Can I go out with you on patrol tomorrow? I missed all action out there tonight!"
"Richard, we've talked about this. You're not old enough. You're not trained enough. And finally, you're not wise enough."
"But yesterday we were talking about the future!" Dick complained.
"I can't worry about the future when the present is in so much danger."
Richard sighed. There was little use arguing with the Batman.
"Now finish your dinner, and go back to your studies, I - what?"
Richard was looking astonished through the window. "It's been months!" he exclaimed.
Bruce turned and looked: high above the Gotham skyline, the Bat Signal shone brightly.
Something was wrong in the city.
Wayne descended into the Batcave, leaving Richard and the mansion behind. He checked his remote camera of the roof of the main Gotham City Police Department building, downtown, where the Bat Signal was located. Sure enough, police commissioner Jim Gordon was waiting nearby, drinking what Wayne surmised was coffee - maybe with a hint of Irish whiskey in it.
It was late, but Wayne knew night could be eternal sometimes. He decided to waste no time anyway - and quickly prepared the Bat Jet for launch.
Now was the ritual, the sacrament - dressing in the Bat Suit, preparing his utility belt, donning the cowl. He had performed this same routine for thirteen years now, and its significance and power never ceased to amaze him.
And in minutes, he was the Batman.
Once ready, he jumped into the Bat Jet's cockpit and closed the hatch behind him. He gripped the throttle, and the jets kicked in. Encased in billions of dollars of metal, he rose out of the Bat Cave and into the night sky in an impossible silence.
It would take mere minutes to reach the G.C.P.D. building, minutes he used to wonder what had happened, what awaited him, and -
What had begun.