This is the first chapter of my first attempt at a fanfic of any kind! I'm hoping to maintain the motivation to finish it… This one features Catwoman!
Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters.
Dream Knight
Chapter 1: Superunknown
All things that appear are manifestations of mind.
The surrounding environment which appears to be inanimate, that too is mind.
The sentient life-forms which appear as the six classes of living beings, they too are mind…
There are no appearances at all apart from the mind.
- "The Introduction to Awareness: Natural Liberation through Naked Perception,"
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
"They are a superstitious and cowardly lot," a familiar voice says, "easily manipulated by fear."
Alfred, he thinks. Alfred is here. I know Alfred.
"It is fear that keeps them here. They are afraid of what lies beyond the borders of what they know and understand."
He is awash in a sea of colour and indistinct shapes. Gradually, he becomes aware of direction and space. He listens to Alfred's voice, reaches out for him – an anchor, an island in a sea of sickly greens and purples. A distant, maniacal laughter seems to echo in his mind.
"They fear you," Alfred continues methodically, "because you represent the unknown. They fear that you will shatter the order they have forged for themselves, such as it is."
Shapes begin to coalesce around him. The nauseating colours give way to sedate browns and greys, which give way to Alfred standing over him. He becomes aware of his body. He is in a bed in a small cabin.
"Alfred," he says weakly.
Alfred starts, looks down at him. "You… you're awake. You are awake!"
The laughter subsides. He tries to move his hands. They are stiff, sluggish, as though they were buried in sand.
"Where am I?" If his body feels buried in sand, he thinks, his mind is in mud. Thoughts come slowly, and his memory is slow to return.
"Arkham," Alfred says. "You are in Arkham."
The word makes him uneasy, but he cannot recall why. He asks, "What is Arkham?"
A look of perplexity crosses Alfred's face. "Arkham is a village on the island of Gotham. It is south of Gotham City, near the sea." He narrows his eyes. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"
Surprised, he says, "It's me, Alfred!" He pauses, searches, but cannot find a name. "It's me. You know me."
"No, sir, I do not believe I do. I found you on the side of the road, but no one here knows who you are." He pauses. "And yet, there is something very familiar about you. How might I know you?"
He sits up. Memories are not forthcoming. They are lost, left behind in the green and purple sea. "I don't know, Alfred. I think… I think I've lost my memory. What happened to me?"
Alfred helps him stand. "I am not sure. As I said, you were on the side of the road that leads to the sea. I assumed you had been injured by bandits, since there is a very active band of them around here. But I have been trained in medicine, and you do not seem to have any injuries. You had been in a coma for several days, at least, but I cannot begin to guess why."
He walks gingerly at first, with Alfred's help, but soon his motor functions return to him. He paces around the cabin to rid himself of the stiffness, his mind trying furiously, but vainly, to retrieve any clues concerning his identity. "Did I have anything on me that would give any indication?"
"No, sir. In fact, you were completely naked. I provided you with the clothes you are wearing now." He glances down at the nondescript black tunic he is wearing. It is similar to the tunic Alfred is wearing, but larger, fitting a more robust frame.
"Strange," he says.
"Quite," Alfred replies. "Your appearance is very much a mystery. Indeed, I had hoped that you would be able to provide some answers once you awoke. The villagers have been calling you the Unknown Man."
He smiles wryly. "Appropriate enough."
Alfred looks out the window at the evening sky. "The sheriff asked to be alerted when you came to. It is getting late; I should go. Do you fancy a walk, sir?"
He nods. "Maybe it will jog my memory."
Somewhere, in a dark corner of his mind, there is gleeful, evil laughter. Automatically, he recites a mantra, then focuses on Alfred, the cabin door, and the world beyond.
***
The world moves in and out of focus before his eyes. He is in a small village full of simple houses and villagers with undefined faces. They wander aimlessly back and forth in the dying light. Some stare at him with blank expressions, while others appear oblivious to their surroundings. All around the village there is a wall made of upright pointed logs. Beyond the wall is trees, but the shapes and colours do not match, and they blend to a vague smear in the distance. There is fear in the air, and he can sense it. It is a familiar sensation, almost comforting to him, but he does not know why.
He asks Alfred about himself, and as they walk, Alfred explains, "Once, not long ago, there were a good king and queen who were rulers of this land. They lived in a palace overlooking Gotham City, and their reign was a time of peace and justice. I was their servant for many years. But then, one day, they were murdered by the League of Shadows, a ruthless guild of assassins. Their leader usurped the throne, becoming the Shadow King, and he has ruled this land with an iron fist ever since. I was on an errand when this took place, and I have lived here in hiding ever since."
The Unknown Man listens. The story has a familiar ring to it. A deep sadness arises from within him, but he does not know the source. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says. Then something compels him to ask, "What were their names?"
Alfred says softly, "Thomas and Martha."
The despair rises into his throat, suffocating him. "Om mani padme hum," he recites silently to himself.
Alfred has seen his anxiety and asks, "Are you alright, sir?"
"Yes," he lies, trying vainly to find the source of his pain.
A door opens to a building before them, and a man emerges. He is unlike the others, the Unknown Man thinks. This man has a face. His face is weathered, sad. He has a strong jaw, a moustache, and stern eyes which stare cautiously at the Unknown Man.
"Sheriff Gordon," Alfred says, "this is the stranger."
Gordon does not smile. "Who are you?"
"I don't know," he answers. "I've lost my memory."
"Then you don't know where you came from? Or what happened to you?"
He shakes his head.
Gordon grins humourlessly. "Some of the villagers say you're a bandit, and that you've come to infiltrate our village, sabotage our defences, and let your gang in to plunder and kill us."
"That isn't why I'm here," he says flatly.
"Maybe not. But you understand why I'm suspicious. Alfred finds you by the side of the road, with no visible injuries, and brings you in against our advice. Now you claim to have no memory."
"Alfred says I was unconscious for several days," he counters.
Gordon's gaze is unrelenting. "They say that the assassins of the League of Shadows can enter a death trance that leaves them unconscious for days, or even weeks, at a time. And you are built like an assassin."
"If he was one of the League of Shadows," Alfred interjects, "we would be dead by now."
"Perhaps you are waiting for sundown?" Gordon says coolly.
"Then lock me up," the Unknown Man tells him. "Or cast me out. I don't belong here anyway."
Gordon stares at him for a long moment, then says, "No. You'll be treated to our hospitality. If we give in to our fear, we'll have already lost." He gestures to the house behind him. "Come into my home and we'll treat you to a meal."
Hunger overtakes him like a wave, and he realizes it may have been days since he has eaten. "Thank you," he says. Gordon is silent.
***
"There would be no point to locking you up anyway," Gordon is saying as he refills his glass of wine. "The bandits can easily overrun our defences at any time, with or without you. But instead, they keep us here, like caged animals, taking what they please from us and forcing us to live off of what remains."
Gordon's wife, Barbara, sips her wine pensively. Alfred chews his mutton with determination.
The Unknown Man says, "Maybe I can help you."
Gordon's expression does not change. "There isn't much that can be done."
"No?"
Taking a deep breath, Gordon says, "For over two years, we've been terrorized by these bandits. It's reached the point where any travellers, incoming or outgoing, are more likely than not to be attacked. So traffic has essentially stopped completely. These days, no one leaves Arkham, and you're the first visitor we've had in months."
The Unknown Man considers this. "These attacks – is there any pattern to them?"
"More or less. It's the same group of bandits each time. We think there's about fifteen of them, all told. We know their leader as the Cat Woman."
His pulse quickens, and he wonders why. "Catwoman?"
Gordon nods. "I believe she may have been trained by the League of Shadows and gone rogue, although I've heard that's rare. She's a deadly fighter, though. Once bested five of my deputies, killing two of them."
"So you've tried fighting them."
"Yes. It's not much use, though. There aren't enough trained fighting men in Arkham, and they fight using ambushes. The element of surprise, traps, and so on."
"I suppose help from the authorities in Gotham is not forthcoming?"
Gordon's jaw tightens. "We called on them for assistance once, nearly two years ago. Their 'help' proved worse than the bandits themselves. A group of assassins arrived in Arkham. The bandits knew they were coming and disappeared. The assassins stayed in Arkham for months, though, imposing curfews, searching our homes without warning, and subjecting villagers to the most brutal questioning techniques. They abducted fourteen of our townsfolk on charges of collaboration, and sent them to the dungeons in Gotham. We haven't seen any of them since, and I am certain that none of them were guilty."
"Then they just left one day, saying they'd finished, and then the bandits returned bolder than ever!" Barbara adds.
The Unknown Man finishes his mutton. "Then we must defeat the bandits ourselves."
Gordon raises an eyebrow. Alfred smiles slightly, and Barbara stares at him intently.
"If," the Unknown Man says, "as you say, there are less than twenty of them, and they attack you so regularly, they must be based nearby, and they must have an informant in Arkham telling them when to strike."
"I have considered that." Gordon pauses. "I believe the informant is one of my deputies."
"But you haven't acted on your suspicion?"
"Flass is well-liked in the village. I have no evidence to incriminate him."
"That does explain," Barbara interjects, "why he's so afraid of you."
The Unknown Man stares at her. "Afraid of me?"
"He thinks you're the Dream Knight," she tells him. "The Oracle – Gotham's finest fortune teller – once said that a warrior called the Dream Knight would come from Arkham and bring freedom to Gotham."
"Why is he afraid of that?"
Alfred says, "No one wants war, sir. Whether against the League of Shadows or against these bandits. Many in the village are content to accept things as they are for fear of losing what little they have."
"Which we most certainly would," Gordon says indignantly. "It is my duty to protect the people of Arkham, and I will not risk their lives in an impossible fight against the better armed, more highly trained bandits."
The Unknown Man listens impassively to Gordon's protests. "Fear," he says, "this will be our weapon. It is one that they have long used against you, but we will turn it against them. Your deputy, is afraid of me. We will use his fear against him, and instil it in the bandits."
"Do you actually plan to fight them?" Gordon is incredulous. "You will be killed!"
"We will fight them together," he says, "to free Arkham."
"You will have my help," says Alfred.
Gordon stands up and shouts, "You're both outsiders! You don't understand the suffering your 'help' will bring! Get out of my home!"
They stand, turn, and walk to the door. Before they leave, Alfred says to Gordon, "The walls of Arkham were built to keep our enemies out, but now they keep us in. Arkham has become a prison, and you hold the keys."
"Get out," Gordon growls again. Barbara's eyes move between Alfred, the Unknown Man, and Gordon.
"Let's go," the Unknown Man says, and they leave.
***
The Unknown Man dreams a dark dream.
He dreams of a dark world, a world of sickly lights and steam. A world choked in fear, which moves through the streets and alleyways like an invisible river.
He is overcome by a crippling pain. It emanates from the depths of his being. He struggles against it, tries to raise his consciousness above the pain, but it is very strong, and all he can do is run from it, as if by continuous motion he can remain one step ahead of it.
He sees the moon, eclipsed by a great, ghostly figure. It is a bat, and he knows it is calling him. Beneath its gaze, he moves silently through the dark world, following the currents of fear.
There is laughter all around him. He can see a boy in a mask standing before him, and a pale man with a hideous grin.
He runs forward, but they are gone, leaving only steam and darkness. The steam fills his lungs.
He is lying alone in the darkness now, alone except for the bat in the moon. He can hear Alfred's voice, but cannot see him.
"Master Bruce," Alfred says.
***
He awakens to a light shining in the window. He is lying on a mat on the floor of Alfred's cabin. He can hear Alfred in the small storage room. He goes to investigate, and sees Alfred struggling with a large trunk sitting amid a mess of odds and ends.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
Alfred looks up. "Ah. Well, it occurred to me that, if we are indeed going to present you as the Dream Knight, you should look the part."
He opens the trunk. Inside is a suit of armour. It is perfectly polished so that every surface functions as a mirror, and he can see his face in it, warped and distorted. Next to the armour, in a quiver of black cloth, is a set of finely-crafted boomerangs made of a solid black wood.
Alfred tells him, "When the king and queen were… deposed… I had been on an errand to retrieve this. It was forged by the great blacksmith Lucius the Fox, and the king had intended to present it to the leader of the League as a gift to buy his loyalty. But when I heard of the coup, I fled to Arkham, still in possession of the armour. I have not known what to do with it, but it seems appropriate for the Dream Knight. Do try it on."
He removes it from the trunk. The armour is light but extremely strong. Alfred helps him put it on, and he asks, "Do you know much about the Dream Knight?"
"I know that the Oracle is seldom mistaken," Alfred tells him, "but her prophecies are obscure and not easily interpreted. I don't believe she said anything about the Dream Knight except that he will liberate Gotham. Most of the villagers believe she means he will overthrow the Shadow King, but the prophecy predates his rise, so even that is not certain."
There is a cowl and a set of gauntlets with sharp scallops with the armour, made from the same mirrored metal. Putting them on, he asks Alfred, "Do I have the right to do this? What if Gordon's right, and fighting the bandits will cost them everything?"
"They have already lost everything, but they deny it. They're like the walking dead, but all they need is a spark. Something to make them remember what's worth fighting for."
The armour is a perfect fit, flexible but sturdy. Alfred observes, "Fascinating. It fits perfectly, even though it was forged for the Shadow King."
"Maybe I am the Shadow King," he muses.
"If you were, you could give me my job back," Alfred jokes.
The Unknown Man holds one of the boomerangs. It is perfectly weighted, and decorated with an intricate design. "These are beautiful."
"The boomerang is a preferred weapon of the assassins of the League of Shadows. I suggest you familiarize yourself with their use."
He observes his face in the reflection on his gauntlet. "Alfred," he says, "I had a dream where you called me 'Master Bruce.' Does that mean anything to you?"
He shakes his head. "No, sir. Does it mean anything to you?"
He searches his memory. "It's familiar," he says. "I don't think it's my name, but it feels like – it almost feels like an alias, or a name from a past life."
"If I may, sir, you do need a name."
He nods. "Call me Bruce, then. It'll do for now."
"Very well, Master Bruce."
***
He is in a deep meditative trance.
He is sitting in the shadows in a barn outside of Arkham. This is the third night he has spent here, meditating, waiting.
Around him, the barn is ghostly. The new moon casts no light, and even to his well-adjusted eyes, he can only see vague outlines around him like a charcoal sketch on black paper.
The barn belongs to a farmer named Cyrus Gold. It is a frequent target of raids by the Cat Woman and her gang, who often strike under the darkness of the new moon. So Bruce, the Unknown Man, is waiting.
He has been seeking the bliss of Samadhi, the meditative dissolution between Self and Being, but it has eluded him thus far. He cannot remember if he has ever attained this state. Maybe in his past life, before he lost his memory. Now he is haunted by the same laughter that continues to haunt the fringes of his consciousness.
He hears a sound. There are footsteps outside the door of the barn, and muttering. They are here. He waits, preparing himself for battle.
The door opens, and a torch is lit. He is in the far end of the barn, and can see its light but cannot make out the figures. He can hear three distinct male voices.
"Spread out," one says. "Let's get as much as we can. You know the drill."
The others acknowledge his orders and begin gathering fruit from the barn. Bruce rises slowly to his feet as one of the bandits approaches. He is clad in black, with a black mask, and carries a sword. The light of the torch reflects off of Bruce's armour, and shock crosses his indistinct face. Before he can make a sound, Bruce covers his mouth, whirls him around, and delivers a swift blow to a varma vital point on his lower back. The bandit grunts and goes limp, and Bruce extinguishes his torch and lays his unconscious form on the barn floor.
"Hey," one of the bandits calls out, "you alright over there?"
Bruce crouches and waits. The two bandits have joined together and are approaching, concerned about their comrade. He rises, pulls a boomerang from the quiver on his back, and hurls it at one of the two bandits, striking him in the shin. He cries out and drops, and Bruce is running at the second. Before his opponent can react, Bruce has driven his knee into the bandit's stomach. He sputters and drops.
One of the bandits is still conscious, cradling his broken leg. Bruce retrieves his boomerang, takes a torch, and seizes the injured bandit by the tunic.
"Are there any more outside?" he asks in a low, authoritative voice that he feels as though he has used a thousand times.
The bandit groans, nearly masking the sound of swiftly approaching footsteps. Bruce releases the bandit and whirls, holding his torch ahead of him. His attacker recoils. By the torchlight he can see her. She is clad in black leather armour and a long black cloak, and she is brandishing a spiked whip. Over her face is a black cowl similar to Bruce's, but with short horns. Her form is lithe and muscular as a gymnast's, and her brilliant green eyes reflect the light of Bruce's torch.
The Cat Woman, he thinks to himself. He steadies his breathing and draws the largest of his boomerangs, holding it like a sword in one hand and his torch in the other.
"Who are you?" she demands, slowly circling around him, arms held in a defensive stance. He can see that she has a type of brass-knuckle weapon with sharp blades, giving the effect of claws protruding from her fist.
"I am the Dream Knight," he says.
"Indeed," she growls. With blinding speed, she lashes her whip at him, and he sidesteps and deflects the whip with his boomerang. As he is doing this, she leaps at him, slashing her claw. This he catches using the scallops in his gauntlet, redirecting the force of her attack. For a split-second, they are locked together as she returns her whip, and he can feel the focused power of her qi. He lets it blend with his so that their movements are attuned, and uses his torch to force her to draw back.
"You are one of the League," she says, "here to kill me."
"I'm not."
They circle each other warily, their movements synchronized. "Then where did you learn your techniques?"
He considers this question carefully, not fully knowing the answer. "They are a part of me, just as they're part of you."
Her muscles tense in anticipation of another attack, and he uses the opportunity for an attack of his own. He slashes the torch ahead of him to confuse her vision while sidestepping quickly for a sidelong jab at her with his boomerang. She does a forward flip, and he realizes she had been feigning an attack to draw him in. She spins and drives her knee into the back of his leg, and it buckles. As he goes down, he sees her driving her claw towards his neck. He twists, shielding his neck with his shoulder, and pain erupts as the blades stab into his flesh. Knowing that her claw is momentarily embedded in his shoulder, he focuses and swings his boomerang low with his other hand, striking her hard in the ankle. She drops and rolls away from him. It takes her a moment longer than him to return to her feet, and he uses the opportunity to lunge forward and slash his boomerang down hard towards her. She brings her whip up and it wraps around his weapon, redirecting it, but he pulls back suddenly, tearing the weapon from her hand. She leaps backwards.
"Your skills are impressive," the Cat Woman says, bringing her breathing under control. "I underestimated you, but I won't again."
The pain in his shoulder is like a drunken boor shouting in his ear, but he ignores it, focusing on his breathing. "You and your bandits are finished. You won't trouble Arkham again."
"Arkham is a village of cowards and fools. They won't stand against us, and you can't fight us alone."
"We'll see about that." Despite his injured shoulder, he is still clutching his torch tightly, and his boomerang is now wrapped in her spiked whip, making it a deadly spiked club. However, she is now fighting with both claw weapons and will be a far quicker and more agile fighter. He knows what is next, and shifts his weight, ready for her next attack.
She feints, and then lunges forward with a flurry of kicks and slashes. He parries, angling himself to force her to put her weight on her injured ankle. This slows her down slightly, and he uses his torch to parry one of her kicks, allowing it to be knocked from his numb fingers. It lands on the earthen floor of the barn and the flame dies, plunging them into darkness. Having anticipated this, he is ready, and suddenly kicks her in the injured ankle, and she drops to the ground. He plunges his boomerang downwards, and it makes contact. He feels the spikes tearing leather and flesh. She snarls and rolls backwards.
"You've made a mistake." She is breathing heavily now, and he can hear the pain causing her voice to tremble. "Arkham will pay for this."
"This fight is between us," he responds. "If you punish them for what I've done, then you're the real coward."
She hisses and retreats quickly. He can hear the unevenness of her footsteps as they recede out of the barn into the night.
He waits until he is certain that she has gone, then binds his wound with cloth from one of the unconscious bandits. The dawn's light is beginning to emerge, and in the dim purple half-light, he finds some baling twine and ties his still-unconscious captives together. Then exhaustion begins to over take him, and he seats himself near the captives, his back against a barrel of fruit, and allows himself a moment of rest.
***
The sun reaches its zenith, and he is driving a mule and cart into Arkham, still wearing his Dream Knight armour.
A village sentry meets him at the gate, and Bruce says, "I have captured three of the bandits. Tell Gordon to prepare the jail cell."
Surprise crosses the sentry's vague features. "Captured them?"
"They were robbing Cyrus Gold. I surprised them."
The sentry hurries off, and Bruce continues to drive his cart. Within minutes, Gordon meets him in the town square. A crowd of faceless villagers has gathered behind him. They are whispering, and he hears the words "Dream Knight."
"What's the meaning of this?" Gordon demands.
Bruce stops the cart and forces the three captives to lift their heads. They grunt angrily against the makeshift cloth gags he fashioned.
"I captured these bandits last night at the Gold farm. I also fought their leader, the Cat Woman, but she escaped."
Gasps and murmurs come from the crowd, and Gordon steps forward. "What are we supposed to do with them?"
"Lock them up," he answers.
"The bandits will come for them! Don't you realize you've brought war upon Arkham?"
He shakes his head. "I've studied maps of the forest around Arkham. I can find their base. The Cat Woman is injured, and it'll be at least a day before she's ready to fight again. I'll find them before that and destroy them."
"You can't fight them alone!" Gordon protests.
He stares into Gordon's eyes. "Then are you prepared to fight them when they come?"
Gordon looks at the crowd. Bruce can distinguish their faces now, and can feel an energy coming from them that did not exist a moment ago.
Turning to face Bruce again, Gordon says, "We will fight them with you. We're through living in fear."
The crowd cheers, and Bruce smiles slightly. "Then there's work to be done."
***
Preparations have gone well, Bruce thinks as he wanders Arkham in full Dream Knight armour. Since yesterday, many of the able-bodied villagers have been given rudimentary combat training. The others have set traps throughout town, learned basic first aid, or been prepared to deliver messages and supplies. The progress they have made, Bruce notes, is largely thanks to the willingness of the villagers' drive. He has gotten to know many of them, and their determination has sustained him during the often-frustrating training sessions.
Now it is sunset, and he wonders if an attack will come this night. He knows that few of the villagers slept last night, and wonders whether the Cat Woman is waiting in order to exhaust them.
"Dream Knight," comes a girl's voice, "come quickly!"
It comes from a copse of trees near the Arkham outer wall. He hurries into the trees, wondering what could be wrong, and suddenly finds his good arm twisted behind his back and a metal claw at his throat.
"Move," the Cat Woman breathes into his ear, "and I will kill you."
He curses himself for not recognizing her voice. "How did you get in?"
"I have my contacts on the inside," she hisses. "Not all of Gordon's men share his confidence in you. But I have heard how you gave them their fighting spirit back."
He considers a hundred scenarios in which he tries an escape. None of them are likely to make it past the claw at his jugular. He steadies his voice and says, "You can kill me, but they'll fight you. I will become a symbol for them to rally around."
"Unlikely," she says, her breath hot against his neck. "But I'm not here to take your life."
He is perplexed, and a shade relieved. "No?"
"No. You will release my men that you are holding, and my bandits will trouble Arkham no more. You have my word."
"Why are you doing this?"
The claw lowers slightly. "Because I have seen your capacity to inspire. People believe that you are the Dream Knight. And that is what you will become. What you have started here, you will bring to all of Gotham, and bring freedom from the Shadow King."
"And you believe I can do that?"
She says in a low voice, "I spared your life today. Understand that it belongs to me now. I've heard that you were called 'the Unknown Man.' He is dead now. You are only the Dream Knight, and you will either fulfill the prophecy or die trying."
She places a rolled-up paper in the hand behind his back and releases him. By the time he turns around, she is in a tree next to the outer wall.
"Wait!" he calls. "How can I be the Dream Knight? What do you want me to do?"
She looks down at him from the tree. "Go to the Oracle. Ask her."
She tenses, ready to jump over the wall, and he calls again, "If you want me to succeed, help me!"
"You will see me again," she says, her green eyes flashing. Then she leaps over the wall and is gone. He hears a gentle landing and her nearly-silent footsteps receding. Rubbing his throat, he emerges from the copse of trees.
Alfred and Gordon are in the town square co-ordinating the town's defences. He approaches them and says, "It's over. We've won. Release the prisoners."
They turn to him incredulously. "What?" Gordon says, his eyes narrowed.
"The Cat Woman came to me," he tells them. "She wants us to release the prisoners, and she gave me her word that they'll leave us alone."
A number of villagers is watching them now. "Do you believe her?" Gordon asks.
"Yes," Bruce replies, and finds that he means it. "She could have killed me and burned Arkham to the ground, but she knows that by overcoming our fear, we've already won."
Gordon turns to Alfred. "What do you think?"
Alfred considers this. "I think we should do as she says, but be prepared for treachery. But I must say that if she had the opportunity to kill our Dream Knight but did not, it certainly does not seem likely that she would choose to attack later." He points to the paper Bruce is holding. "What is that?"
Bruce unfurls it. It is a map of Arkham and the surrounding area, and a location is marked in the woods. On the map is written, "This is our base. You will find it abandoned, and much that we have taken from Arkham is inside for you to take."
Gordon regards the map, then says to his deputies, "Take the prisoners outside the gate and release them, but keep a watch tonight in case the Cat Woman changes her mind."
They acknowledge his orders. The crowd disperses, talking jubilantly among themselves, and Gordon takes Bruce and Alfred aside.
"Did she say anything else to you?" he asks Bruce.
"Yes. She wants – she demanded that I fulfill the prophecy of the Dream Knight."
"Intriguing," Alfred muses. "Of course, we have a common enemy in the Shadow King and his League."
Bruce nods. "And she said I should go to the Oracle."
"I'd ask you to stay here a few days first, just to be safe," Gordon tells him. "Then we can direct you there. But when you go, be careful; no one's been able to reach the Oracle since the Shadow King came to power. There's apparently a mad monk who doesn't let anyone near her. They call him the Riddler."
"A few days will allow your shoulder to heal fully," Alfred adds.
"Very well," Bruce says. "Let's see if the Cat Woman keeps her word."
***
He is meditating outside Alfred's cabin.
The crisp night air fills his lungs. It is a clear night, and the forest is a sea of purple. He recites a mantra, closes his eyes, and focuses on his breathing.
He hears the laughter again in his mind. He tightens his jaw resolutely. Who are you, he wonders angrily, who interrupts my tranquility?
He tries to focus on the laughter. It is elusive, but with determination, he concentrates on it, and draws it into his consciousness.
Now the laughter has grown more tangible. Instead of echoing from the edges of his mind, he can hear it clearly now as if from directly in front of him, shrill and hysterical like a hyena.
He opens his eyes. Sitting before him, mimicking his lotus position, is a jester clad in purple and green. His limbs are long, his hair is green, and his skin is a pale grey. An unnatural grin seems permanently etched upon his face, and in his eyes, there is nothing but madness.
"Joker," Bruce says, somehow knowing his name.
"Well, well," the Joker says, looking around. "Nice night, isn't it?"
"Why are you here?" he asks the madman.
"Why, you brought me here, Brucie!" He licks his lips with a long, black tongue. "Or maybe I brought you here. I'm not sure. Time… it can be confusing."
Bruce glares at the Joker. "How do you know my name?"
"Same way you know mine!" He cackles to himself. "I also hear you've got another alias these days. Something dreamy – Dream Night, Night Dreamer, Nightmarer, Wet Dreamer… am I close?"
"What do you want?" Bruce says sternly.
"Oh, I'm just popping in to see how you're doing. I think it's great what you're trying to do here. Really exciting. Stuff of legends. Folks in Gotham won't know what hit 'em."
"Get to the point, Joker."
"The point? There's no point. That's the point!" He breaks into hysterical laughter.
Bruce sighs and leans forward to stand. The Joker sees this, and says, "Now, Bruce, there's no need to get violent. Just close your eyes and count to three, and I'll be gone."
"Joker…"
"CLOSE YOUR EYES, DAMN IT!" he shrieks. Then, calmly, "You do want me to leave you alone."
Bruce rolls his eyes, then closes them. Listening intently for movement from the Joker, he counts to three –
– and he is alone in the night.
He shakes his head, then returns to the lotus position, closes his eyes, and seeks the peace of Samadhi.