TOGETHER
For My Dad
Because He Survived
There will always be a light to keep us from the dark.
--Thomas Wayne
Justice is as blind as a bat.
--Sam Hamm
(The scene: Crime Alley, Gotham City. A young boy is on his knees near the corpses of his mother and father. The man who shot them has just escaped. The police are on their way. The boy looks broken, as if he can't comprehend what has just occurred. The blood of the father and the mother surround the child, the same blood that made him. From somewhere on high, amidst the grey and black architecture, something indescribable watches him with a sympathetic eye.)
You poor, poor child.
I have seen this played out numerous times. A child, numb and helpless, watches as the two people he loves most in this world are taken away from him. Only in the next life will they be together again.
It's alright, child, you may cry. The bad man is gone now, and the men of the law are on their way. You will have cause to cry several more times in the future, and it is nothing to be ashamed of.
You are not the only one to have suffered such a fate. Countless children have had their mothers and their fathers stripped away from them too soon. At these moments, the child is neither alive nor dead. If they survive without the love they once knew, then they are reborn, with Death becoming their new mother and father.
But children are not the only ones to suffer such things. You may not know this now, but you will soon learn that adults are just as fragile as the children who depend on them. Just like children, men and women change when all that is dear to them is stolen. Some can't cope with the overwhelming pain and join their loved ones in death soon thereafter. Some, too afraid of death, live out the rest of their lives in a daze, oblivious to the wonders that life has to offer. Some actually manage to recover and go on to lead healthy lives, but their numbers are regrettably slim.
And then there are those who become avengers.
I do not know what I am. I do not know if I have a name, I do not know how old I am, and I do not know where I come from. I only know what I have done.
Some 1200 years ago, a prince of Denmark learned that his father's death was no accident. That boy so burned with rage that his aura shone like a beacon of fiery light. Whether or not he was aware of it, he called unto me and begged me to become one with him. I agreed, and together we righted the wrongs that had been inflicted upon him and his kin. Sadly, as promising as the boy was, he was also very uncertain. Oh, how I wished that boy could have lived longer. He was so bright, so intelligent, so sensitive. He would have made a fine king, and he would have probably would have surpassed his father. But he thought far too often of ethics and ontology, and he doubted himself excessively. His behavior grew erratic, and in trying to help his loved ones he ended up hurting them instead. Although he might have achieved his vengeance, I could not save him from himself.
Some 300 years ago, there was a samurai who served directly under the shogun as his personal executioner. This samurai was loyal, scrupulous, brave, and skilled: the ideal knight. He was also prestigious and affluent, and this raised the ire of enemies to cowardly to show themselves. The samurai executioner was framed for treason, his honor was tainted, and worst of all, his beloved wife was murdered. Only his infant son survived.
The samurai was expected to end his own life in order to reclaim his "lost" honor. Instead, he renounced his humanity, and declared that he and his son would no longer exist on Earth, but in Hell, that they would no longer live as men, but as wolves. Then the wolf and his cub swore vengeance against those that had ruined them, and proceeded to walk the blood-stained path of the assassin. Together, the lone wolf and his cub slaughtered hundreds and nearly brought the country to its knees.
It was when that samurai renounced all that he had ever been that I came to him. Together, we made even the most well protected lord tremble at the mere mention of our name. Together, we stained the grass on which we trod on red with the blood of our foes. Together, we became a whirlwind of destruction that could not be stopped, that would not be stopped, that hacked and slashed until we could finally witness the agony of our arch-enemies. Truly, in a land of sheep and wolves, we were the fiercest wolves.
But like all men, this samurai died, and his infant son survived him. The son might have ended the cycle of hatred and blood-lust, but he had seen more than his fair share of death. Tired of the relentless carnage, the cub did not desire my company. And so I left him, hoping that he would at last find peace.
Eons before that, I was present in a war that shook the very foundations of the planet. It was a war between men, it was a war between gods, and it was a war between the two mightiest forces known to man. Men called it the Trojan-Greek War. In due time, it would lead to the fall of the magnificent Trojan. But one man alone delayed the outcome of this war- a nearly invincible Greek warrior. This Greek, like the Danish prince, like the samurai, was tremendous: courageous, intelligent, sensitive, determined, and compassionate. However, like all humans, this soldier suffered his own fair share of flaws; in particular, he suffered the most from pride. Following a bitter dispute with a comrade, he abandoned the war and called upon the gods to let the Trojans, his former foes, win. And so, as he prepared to travel back to his native shores, his friends and his allies died with arrows through their hearts, with spears through their bellies, and with swords through their jaws.
Eventually, the Greek did return to the battlefield. But it was not humility that spurred him on; it took the death of his best and dearest friend to show him the errors of his ways.
It was then, in the blackest moment of his life, that I came to him. He accepted me, and together we rode into battle, we destroyed our enemies, and even Olympus shuddered at our frenzy. We won the war, we avenged his late brother-in-arms, and I, no longer needed, left him. Later, that Greek would mourn as deeply as any man could grieve, but I could not help him with that. I know the pain which strikes at the heart, but I do not know how to fix it.
I wish you could hear and see me, child. I want to tell you that everything will be all right, but that would be a lie. As you become older, you will become more familiar with misery than anyone should. The people that you love will die. You will shun the sun, and you will live in the dark of night. You will have many enemies, and they will never stop trying to bring about your death. Truly, you have much to dread.
But it is not all as tragic as it may sound. Where there is darkness, there must also be light. To take a life is a horrible thing, child, even to take the life of one who deserves it. Unlike the others, you will realize this. Though anger and grief will constantly surge through your being, you will not become the monster that created you.
There are things to look forward to. I know you are lonely and scared now, but soon you will receive a new family, one that will love and support you. You will push them away sometimes and even cause them pain, but they will never abandon you and you will never abandon them.
Right now, you are only a sobbing boy. Soon, I will become a part of you, and you will become so much more.
What am I, Bruce?
I am the thing that humans cry out to when all is lost.
I am nothing without a host, Bruce.
You are nothing but a dead boy without me.
Soon- not now, but soon- we will become one. And when that time comes, you will become much more than Bruce Wayne. Together, we will become the monster that preys upon other monsters. Together, we will inspire hope in the hearts of even the weakest and most unfortunate of souls. Together, the malevolent and depraved will feel a cold chill climbing their spines when they hear our name. Together, we will punish the guilty. Together, we will protect the innocent. Together, we will avenge the world.
Together, we are legend. Together, we are light. Together, we are darkness.
Together, we are the Caped Crusader.
Together, we are the King of Hell.
Together, we are the Dark Knight.
I am vengeance.
You are Bruce Wayne.
We are Batman.
Note: I am indebted to Neil Gaiman, Sam Hamm, and Kent Williams for their stories "Whatever Happened To The Caped Crusader?", "Blind Justice", and "Dead Boys Eyes", respectively. The idea of vengeance in this story is mine, but it would be a lie to say that these men and their fantastic tales didn't kick start some creative mechanism in my head. Of course, I'm also indebted to my father: we may not agree all the time, but he's taken on a lot in life yet has come out swinging. Sounds like someone else we all know, doesn't it?
And now for something completely different:
Omake!
Comic 1: Happy Birthday!
Panel 1: (Batman enters his cave, closes the door, and sighs because, well, because he's Batman. It's been a long day, and Bats is tired. Notice that Batman's back is to the cave…)
Panel 2: (Various superheroes pop out of nowhere with cute, happy expressions on their face and they all shout "Happy Birthday!" with balloons falling everywhere. Batman looks like he just shat a brick.)
Panel 3: (Batman does not look pleased)
Batman: What do you think you're doing?
Green Arrow: We're throwing you a birthday party, silly! Eat some cake!
Panel 4: (Batman points an accusatory finger at them and looks more than pissed)
Batman: How the hell did you people get in here?!
Zatana (Oblivious to Batman's rage): Alfred let us in!
Alfred: They held me at gunpoint, sir. I'm terribly sorry.
Comic 2: Legalize It
Panel 1: (Superman walks out of an interrogation room, looking very pale and nauseous)
Panel 2: (Batman is leaning against a wall and notices Superman's condition)
Batman: First time interrogating Joker, huh?
Panel 3: (Superman vomits)
Batman: Ah, regurgitation. Textbook symptom.
Panel 4: (Superman looks shocked and disgusted as he glances at Batman)
Superman: How can you live like this?!
Batman (Holding a bong): Pot helps. Want a rip?
Comic 3: Childhood Memories
Panel 1: (Batman and Superman are at a bar, exchanging stories.)
Superman: Heh, I remember, when I was a teen, I played music in my room really loudly, and my mom, from the downstairs kitchen, would take a broom and hit the ceiling with it to get me to stop. You ever do anything as a teen to drive your parents crazy?
Batman: I saw my parents get shot to death when I was eight.
Panel 2: (Superman is speechless. Batman gaze doesn't waver.)
Panel 3: (Superman looks down and scratches the back of his head with his neck, an uncomfortable look on his face. Awkward…)
One Last Final Note: If you like Death Note at all, then please, for the love of all that is good and holy, read and review my "I Can't Live In A World Without Light" fanfic. It's an ongoing story, but I've worked my ass off on it, and no one has posted any reviews on it so far. The only thing that will probably encourage me to finish it is praise (Er, I mean, "constructive criticism". Yeah.), and trust me, if you nag at me enough, I will not only shake the Death Note universe, but several other universes as well. I promise you: there will be blood.
God, I am such a whore for attention.