Note: The feelings of Barbara in this story are not the same as in the movie, where she despises masked vigilantism strongly. Please read and review. Thanks.
Disclaimer: This story written only for the enjoyment of readers and it does not intend to infringe on the copyright of DC Comics.
Doubts And Failures by Casey Toh
"Walker!" a sharp voice barked. "Be quick. We don't want the Bat coming down on us!"
The man called Walker worked nervously to fit wires into their allocated places. One could see his perspiration even in the dim light. "Gimme a sec, Jones." His trembling fingers pushed the last wire in. "Done."
Jones tugged on his accomplice's sleeve to get him going. "C'mon, slowpoke!" he hissed. "We need to get the demand for our money to Powers before we get caught."
Walker grabbed his tools and stuffed them into his knapsack, zipping it up. "Let's go."
They had barely taken a few steps when a cold, menacing voice froze them right in their tracks. "You are going to regret ever setting up the explosives."
* * *
Three gargoyles crouched sentinel on the rooftop of the Wyvern Building, just opposite Powers Cosmetics, when one of them moved, revealing itself to be alive. It detached itself from the shadows and stood up.
Batman, the guardian of Gotham City, watched his targeted building with eagle sight as an intrusive shadow crossed into his line of vision. He gave a frown. He didn't like other people messing up his business.
The Dark Knight leapt off the position he had been keeping, snapped open his gliders, and swooped down into the building. He landed in a crouch, and rose up to his full height. But before he could speak, a voice cut through the darkness, "You are going to regret ever setting up the explosives."
Right in front of his eyes, a figure seemed to materialize from the darkness and flipped towards the two crooks. The figure was distinctively a male who was in good shape. He kicked Jones in the face twice, and turned to face Walker, who had trained a gun on him.
But Batman was already on it, hurling a Batarang that connected with Walker's wrist, sending the weapon flying. He strode to the crook, and easily lifted the smaller man off the ground by his lapels. "Who sent you?"
The man struggled weakly, legs kicking empty air. His face had gone white in the moonlight streaming in from the window, and he was ready to faint. But the vigilante didn't let him, keeping him conscious by applying pressure on a nerve point.
"Who sent you?" Batman shook the crook, eyes narrowing ever so little.
"Nobody!" Walker screamed. "We needed cash and thought we could get it from Powers!"
Satisfied that it was the truth, the Dark Knight released the freaked out man, who fainted even before he hit the floor. Batman turned to the person who had helped him, to see the man aim an arrow at Jones's thigh, and an arrow heading straight for him.
He moved too slowly, and the weapon passed through suit and flesh as if they were air, and embedded itself in the wall behind. The breath-taking pain in his right shoulder came a millisecond later as blood poured out. "Why did you do that?" Batman managed to keep his voice steady.
"You are useless as a guardian of Gotham, Batman," the man growled. "Your control of your violence does not rid the city of evil. Gotham needs a new protector. You are replaced, Batman!"
"Who are you?" the vigilante demanded through gritted teeth. He pressed a gloved hand to his wound, wincing at the pain it caused.
"I am Shade," the man announced, triumphant. "And Gotham is mine. The city is yours no more!" He shot another arrow at the wounded Batman's heart.
But this time, Batman was prepared. His eye lenses' tracking device pinpointed the trajectory of the lethal weapon, and he reached up right on time to catch hold of the arrow, crushing it in his steel tipped claws.
"Pretty impressive." Shade already had another arrow in place. "But not enough."
Batman rolled away, and leapt out of the window, spreading his glider just in time to catch and updraft. His last image of Shade was the man's masked face at the window, filled with gloat.
* * *
The cave echoed with the high-pitched screeches of bats, the silent drip of water, the low hum of a computer…and the soft groans of a man.
Terry McGinnis gave a sharp intake of breath as he applied a strong dose of antiseptic to his wound, grunting as he pulled on one end of the bandage, and his Doberman, Ace, tugged on the other.
Once that was done, the twenty-year-old hoisted himself up from the console chair and lumbered towards his damaged suit. Seeing the torn fabric, he slammed his fist against the cave wall in anger, gasping as fresh pain shot down his arm. He had not prepared himself enough and that had caused Shade to get the better of him.
And the crooks. Terry could picture clearly the pain and fear evident in Jones's face as the arrow tore through his thigh; could still hear his scream in his head; could remember every movement as he slumped onto the marble floor, unconscious.
"Damn!" Ace gave a yelp of protest as Terry startled him. "I should have stayed to fight Shade. I should have stayed to help the men."
Sensing his master's mood, the loyal Doberman pushed its nose into Terry's palm, then licked it. Terry crouched down and caressed the dog's head sadly. "Ace, I failed Bruce. I'm sorry." He buried his face in the dog's fur. "I failed Bruce."
He glanced up at the Batsuit from his position, feeling his very soul rip apart with the decision he was about to make. "Bruce," Terry's voice was a mere whisper, "I'm sorry. I'm not worthy to be Batman—the Batman that you were.
In my fear, I fled from my adversary, and left two men to their fates." He stood up and crossed the cave to the light switches; Ace following. He cast one last glance around. "Batman is no more."
The cave plunged into darkness.
* * *
Six days later.
A sleek, shiny Black Knight motorcycle shot down the long driveway to Wayne Manor. As the vehicle neared the gates, Ace barked enthusiastically. Surprised, Terry slowed the bike down to a crawl, then stopped completely. "What's wrong, Ace?"
The thick bushes on either side of the driveway parted on one, and a white-haired woman stepped out. A long brown duster was draped around her shoulders, partially concealing her still attractive figure. "Terry."
Terry removed his helmet in respect. "Commissioner Gordon." He got off the bike. "What brings you here?"
The former Batgirl chuckled. "Let's shorten that down to Barbara, shall we?" She gestured at the manor. "And let's go inside before I state the purpose of my visit."
Fifteen minutes later, over steaming mugs of coffee, Barbara and Terry sat facing each other, Ace lying by Terry's legs. Barbara attempted some small talk to lighten the obvious tension, but Terry grew impatient and cut to the chase.
"Barbara, I have no time for small talk. Please, state your business here."
She gave a heavy sigh. "God, you sound so much like him." She placed her mug down. "I haven't seen Batman in a few days. Why? You decided to hang up the mantle all of a sudden?"
"What has it got to do with you?" Terry snapped. "I thought you wanted Batman to quit? Now he's gone and you're prodding. I have my life too, you know!"
"Yes, I wanted Batman to quit," Barbara retorted. "I didn't want anyone living their lives the same way Bruce did—in pain and in loneliness."
"Then why come to see me?" Terry was now more subdued.
Barbara changed the subject. "Who's the new guy? Your successor? Thugs have been frightened and hurt by him. That's not your way."
"I didn't choose him," the teen replied quietly as memories of his meeting with Shade came rushing back. He gave an involuntary shiver. "He chose himself. I quit."
She must have detected his pain, for she softened. "He tried to kill you and you ran."
Terry's head jerked upwards to glare at Barbara. "How did you know? Who told you that?"
"Jones and Walker," she supplied. "Look Terry, I admit that I looked down on the methods of masked vigilantism when I first became Commissioner, even though I was Batgirl. I thought we didn't need any Batman; that the GCPD could function without him.
But I was wrong." She averted her gaze from his. "When you helped save Sam from Curare, my relief was profound. And when you apprehended others like Inque and Spellbinder, criminals we couldn't catch, I realize why Dad needed a Batman.
But Gotham needs a hero who offers hope in the course of serving justice, not some Batman wannabe who lets violence control his actions and hurts criminals badly."
"Barbara," Terry's voice was quiet. "I feared death that night. I ran, and left two men at the mercy of the freak. I failed."
Barbara got out of her armchair and went over to Terry, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Terry, Gotham needs Batman. I need Batman. Yes, you ran from your fear, but who doesn't? Bruce was an exception, but even he sometimes run from his fears.
Yes, you failed. Bruce did too, many times. But what he did not do was let his failures consume him. He rose. He fought back. And in the end, his actions made a difference. Don't let him and his beliefs down by giving up on yourself."
"But," his throat choked on the words, "I am not worthy."
"You are worthy only if you prove yourself to be worthy," Barbara said. "You have a dream, and that is to be the Batman that Bruce once was. If it serves as an encouragement, remember Bruce's words: A dream worth having is a dream worth fighting for."
"But—
She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "The choice is yours to make, Terry." She left, her words leaving footprints in Terry's heart.
* * *
"Noooo!" Jason Briggs screamed. He pressed himself as hard to the brick wall as he could, as if that could save him from the frightening image heading for him. The purse he had just stolen slipped from his grasp, as he raised his arms over his head in a futile attempt to defend himself.
The figure in a death mask raised his arm, where a crossbow was attached to it. An arrow pointed right at the thief's heart. "You shall pay dearly for your crime."
But before the weapon could be fired, something whirled out of the darkness and struck his arm. A sudden lightening of weight from his wrist indicated that his weapon had been knocked away. With a soft growl of anger, he cast his glance upwards…to see a pair of gleaming eyes. "Who dares interfere with Shade?"
From the shadows, darkness itself came forth. "I advise you to give it up, Shade. I am the only guardian worthy of Gotham City."
"Batman!" Shade roared with fury, the thug forgotten. "You will die tonight!"
The Dark Knight revealed himself. "No, I will apprehend you before you kill me, in the name of justice." He snapped his leg out in a kick.
Shade dodged it and returned with a barrage of strikes. The vigilante blocked each perfectly, sensed an opening, and connected with two quick jabs. Shade staggered backwards, winded, but recovered fast. He struck out wildly, each action fueled by anger.
Batman deflected those easily, letting Shade tire himself out, then knocked him unconscious with a knife-hand strike to his neck. After stripping the man of his mask and weapons, Batman handcuffed him and called the cops.
He then turned his attention to the thief, who cowered in fear as the vigilante looked at him. Batman pressed something into his palm. "Get a job." And he was gone.
Jason looked down at his palm. It held a five hundred dollar bill. He looked up at the night sky. "Thank you," he whispered.
* * *
Storm clouds gathered and lightning flashed frequently. Barbara Gordon looked up from her work and crossed to the window, throwing it open. Cool, fresh wind blew into her office, bringing with it the scent of rain.
Her eyes caught on a shadow on the opposite building. Its owner was shrouded in darkness, but she knew who it was. She allowed herself a smile as she returned to work, the night sky briefly illuminated by lightning, and the wind bringing to her his declaration of, "I am Batman!"
THE END