Today was a day of celebration in Gotham City. A new mayor was being sworn in and the winds of change could be felt blowing through the city streets. Hamilton Hill, the former mayor of Gotham City, had been killed by the Clock King six months ago and the city decided to hold an emergency reelection to replace him. The Batman broke his usual silence and displayed his personal endorsement of Marion Grange for Mayor. Years ago, Marion Grange had served as the district attorney for Gotham City until a change of heart, and a loss to a young upstart named Harvey Dent, led her to becoming the head of the public defender's office. With Batman's endorsement, and a campaign funded by billionaire Bruce Wayne, Grange won the election by a landslide. Today she has a special present for one of Gotham City's finest citizens: today she is presenting the vigilante hero Batman the key to the city, an award she believes he has earned many times over. No one knows of today's ceremony outside of a very privileged few.
Bobby Billiard was not one of those privileged few, but still he knew. Bobby Billiard was no one special: he was not a police officer or a politician. Bobby Billiard had never met the mayor, or talked with the chief of police. Bobby Billiard was not a criminal: he had never been arrested for trafficking drugs or murdering a man. Bobby Billiard's name was not in the CODIS database, and he had never been seen in the company of any gang members. Bobby Billiard was an ordinary man with an ordinary wife and two ordinary kids. Bobby Billiard wore an ordinary white t-shirt, ordinary blue jeans, and combed his hair in an ordinary fashion. Bobby Billiard had never served in the United States military and had never fired a gun, but in his ordinary hands he held a military grade sniper rifle. Bobby Billiard was an ordinary man with an extraordinary secret: Bobby Billiard was going to kill the Batman.
Bobby Billiard sat in the tight corner of a pale loft that he had rented just for this special day, his precious rifle clutched tight against his chest. The plain white walls seemed to be closing in on him, and he knew that the time for betrayal was close at hand. He pushed his horn-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose and wiped the anticipatory sweat from his brow. His mind raced with thoughts ranging from how could he pull this off to where would he run after the deed had been done: but none of those thoughts truly mattered, did they? The only thought that mattered was the simple truth contained inside that tiny insignificant bullet.
Bobby Billiard threw his head back against the wall, his mind conflicted over what he was doing and why. "I'm no criminal," Bobby Billiard thought to himself. "But they will all remember my name, won't they?" He slowly rose from his seated position and began a slow romp toward the windowsill. "Sure, I'm not a crazy like the joker, or a brain like the Riddler, but the people will always remember the name Bobby Billiard." The window he now stood before overlooked the podium in Gotham Central Square, where the mayor would hold her public presentation to Batman. Billiard raised the gun to position and pointed it at the spot where he felt Batman would be standing in a few short minutes. "BANG!" he shouted, simulating the recoil effect that would send him shuffling back a few feet. "And that will be the end of it. And the name Bobby Billiard will go down in history as the man who killed Batman!"
The delusional man began to pace around the room, planning his daring escape from the loft and down the fire escape. He knew that he made a crucial mistake renting the loft in his name and that he would not elude police for long. But his goal was not to escape: in fact, it was quite the opposite, he wanted to be captured. He wanted his picture in every paper underneath a big bold headline that read BOBBY BILLIARD, THE MAN WHO KILLED BATMAN, APPREHENDED. He even believed that he would be assissting the Batman. He told himself how he would be helping him to transcend his earthly body and become a legend, immortalized for all time in the annals of history. Look at John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. They were famous men in life, but did not gain the ultimate form of notoriety until they left this world in a bang. But even more famous than those men, were the ones who took their lives: Lee Harvey Oswald and James Earl Ray. After today, one more name would join those prestigious ranks: Bobby Billiard, the man who killed Batman.
Suddenly the small fourth story loft was filled with the delightful tones of the police band. The celebration had begun and Bobby Billiard flew to his window perch and stared down at the podium. Balloons rose to the heavens as newly inaugurated Mayor Grange marched toward her michrophone accompanied by a police escort. Billiard cursed slightly as the brightly colored balloons clouded his line of sight. The balloons quickly dispersed and Billiard tried desperately to calm his rapid breathing: he needed his hands to be steady to aim when the time came. A thin smile crept over his face as he listened to Mayor Grange introduce her mystery guest. She tried to hide his identity as she spoke of how this man had made Gotham City a safer place to live by appearing when the city needed him most. Her riveting words drew cries of acceptance and hate alike from the crowd, and Bobby Billiard's lip began to quiver in excitement: he could almost taste the blood of the Bat.
And then, like a God descending from on high, the Batman floated down from the sky. His great cape unfolding in the breeze, cast an ominous, dark, shadow over the city. He landed on the platform with all the grace of a beautiful butterfly and a hush fell over the crowd. Children whimpered and parents held their breath, overwhelmed with fear at the imposing sight of the master vigilante. Bobby Billiard stared at the Batman in awe, his eyes opened wide in wonder. He examined the suit and the symbol and contemplated how different he looked in the daylight. At night, the Batman was a creature of shadow and an invincible phantom, but now, with the sun blazing down upon him, the Batman was no more a creature than Mayor Grange, Commissioner Gordon or even Bobby Billiard. The Batman's stoic gaze passed over the crowd and eventually came to a window where Bobby Billiard stood poised to fire at any moment.
In a flash, Bobby Billiard lowered the rifle to his side and scurried away from the window. His breath left him and he fell to one knee, wheezing and coughing uncontrollably. From his pocket, he drew a small red inhaler and brought it to his lips. He struggled to draw in a breath deep enough for the medication to open his airway, but eventually oxygen returned to his airway. For a moment, he wondered to himself, could Batman see me? Could Batman see the gun? He wondered if, perhaps, he should give up this futile task and turn away now, while he still had the chance. But if the Batman had seen him, then police would most certainly be on their way, and Bobby Billiard would still be arrested, his picture in every newspaper under the headline BOBBY BILLIARD, THE MAN WHO ALMOST KILLED BATMAN, APPREHENDED. No, Bobby Billiard did not come this far only to be stopped now. His name WOULD go down in history and so he, again, steadied his breathing and drew up his rifle.
By now, the Batman was standing at the head of the platform, speaking into a small microphone. He addressed the citizens of Gotham City and lamented to them his sorrow at the sight of Gotham City so many years ago. He expressed how he had heard the unspoken call of the people and felt compelled to answer it himself. Batman spoke to them of the many deeds he had accomplished that had only been possible thanks to the faithful and diligent cooperation of the Gotham City Police Department. He thanked Mayor Grange for the illustrious honor bestowed upon him, and he acknowledged Police Commissioner James Gordon for his many, storied, years of support. What the Batman planned to say next will forever remain a mystery, for just as he parted his lips to speak, a gunshot rang out from a small fourth story window and a single insignificant bullet pierced the skull of Gotham City's dark knight. The people screamed, the police scrambled to the loft, and Batman simply fell to the ground, his body a lifeless mass of muscle and flesh.
Bobby Billiard lowered the rifle to his side, and then let it drop harmlessly to the ground. For a moment, he pondered over the escape route he had fashioned in his mind, wondering if he should run now while he may yet have a chance to escape. But his gaze was fixed on the Batman. He watched the blood pool around Batman's skull and his sadistic smile widened. Bobby Billiard had seen the bullet shoot from the barrel of the gun in slow motion, and felt a burst of erotic pleasure as the bullet entered Batman's cranium. Even now, Bobby Billiard continued to admire his handiwork: his reflection in the glass showed his sick grin and blazing eyes, the bullet hole off to the right of his image. He heard the resounding steps of the police as they came barging up the stairs to arrest him. Rather than turn to fight or plead his innocence, Bobby Billiard merely dropped to his knees, slowly and calmly, and placed both hands on the top of his head. He heard the police officers shatter the wooden door to the loft with a battering ram, but still he sat like a statue. The officers swarmed on him like vultures to their prey, slamming Bobby Billiard face first into the hardwood flooring. Bobby Billiard did not resist arrest and the police handcuffed him without incident. They dragged him out of the loft by the collar of his shirt and let his body bounce along the stairs, not bothering to pick up the coward who had killed their hero.
Commissioner James Gordon collected the rifle and paused for a moment to look down at the body of his friend and ally. He gently ran his fingers over the hole in the glass, his heart sinking with every moment he gazed upon the scene unfolding below him. A single glistening tear rolled down his cheeks as he wondered what kind of sick, twisted, evil, demented fuck could commit such a crime.
Bobby Billiard was not one of those privileged few, but still he knew. Bobby Billiard was no one special: he was not a police officer or a politician. Bobby Billiard had never met the mayor or talked with the chief of police. Bobby Billiard was not a criminal: he had never been arrested for trafficking drugs or murdering a man. Bobby Billiard's name was not in the CODIS database and he had never been seen in the company of any gang members. Bobby Billiard was an ordinary man with an ordinary wife and two ordinary children. Bobby Billiard wore an ordinary white t-shirt and ordinary blue jeans and combed his hair in an ordinary fashion. Bobby Billiard had never served in the United States military and had never fired a gun, but in his ordinary hands he held a military grade sniper rifle. Bobby Billiard was an ordinary man with an extraordinary secret: Bobby Billiard was the man who killed Batman.