A Fragile Mind
The chill of night brushes off me. Amidst the shadows I can see the Joker's face, smiling as the moon casts down through the bars on the window of the van. I'm following him back to Arkham, a place where he belongs, just to make sure.
He is laughing. I can hear it as it echoes through the air gnawing away at my conscious. Heh, maybe Clark was right. Maybe I should do more than just catch them and lock them away. This city has suffered enough at the hands of his . . . their psychotic crime sprees. But . . . I can't . . . I don't, I won't!
I believe in the justice system. Joker, Penguin and the others . . . they can be reformed, I know it.
Yet, the blood of the innocent lives they take each time they escape leaves a stain on my hands and within me that can't be washed away. But . . . what more can I do? An eye for an eye, what kind of justice is that? It makes me no better than them, it doesn't bring back those who suffered. It doesn't bring back . . . father . . . mother. I will catch him; I will get the man who took you away from me. Alfred . . .
***
Now that the Joker is back in Arkham the streets are a little safer than yesterday, but for how long? I pull into the cave, park the car and head upstairs for the rest of the evening. As usual, Alfred cleans up the cave and shuts it down for the night.
"Will you be eating before turning in this evening Master Bruce"?
"I'm not hungry tonight Alfred, sorry"
"Very well, Master Bruce, good night".
The next day when I awoke, I saw Alfred standing bedside waiting with coffee and paper in hand; he seemed his usual pleasant self, the same as always.
"Good morning Master Bruce, it's a rather glorious day, wouldn't you say?"
"Good morning, Alfred it sure was a rough night", I say as the blinding sun casts a shadow over the skyline of Gotham. Rubbing my eyes and squinting to avoid the glare I turn towards Alfred and say "You know Alfred, the Joker's tactical maneuvers are becoming more difficult to read."
"You don't say sir?" he responds. "Begging your pardon, Master Bruce, but you have a 10:30 appointment with Lucius down at Wayne Tech this morning and its already 9:30".
"Right you are Alfred; we're meeting with the Mayor to discuss our contribution to the Martha Wayne homeless shelter", I say as I head toward the shower and grab a towel off the bed post.
"Will you be having breakfast before you head out this morning, sir", Alfred asks.
His continuous attempts to get me to eat three squares a day, will never grow old.
"I'll get something on the way to the office Alfred, thanks".
Through the reflection in the mirror I can see him mumble to himself, "Of course you will sir", as he turns walking out the door.
"Alfred"!
"Yes Master Bruce"?
"Could you fix the brakes on the car and clean it up for me today"?
"Yes sir, right away Master Bruce. You needn't worry everything will be ready for this evenings patrol."
* * *
That's when it happens. I'm not really sure what that is, but it happens . . .
Daylight fades and I walk toward the grandfather clock on the far end of the panel. The clock was a gift given to my father by his father; it has been in the family for years. I lose my train of thought as I gaze at the second hand. I'm lost in the hypnotic sounds of time ticking away. After a few seconds I recover and head down past the clock into the cave ready for another night of protecting the streets of Gotham.
The lights turn on automatically as I enter the cave. I notice that there is still dirt crusted on the under carriage and tires of the car.
"Alfred"!
"Alfred"!!
"Hmm, nowhere to be found, I wonder why he didn't clean the car?"
Just then signals flash on the computer. There's a disturbance in the green light district!
"That's down by the docks, a good distance away, I better get going," I mumble to myself. I jump in the car, flames burst out of the turbo jets as I race into the crime riddled city.
I get caught up in the moment. "Why am I noticing the city skyline? It's always this beautiful, with its amazing sunsets".
The rustic and modern buildings clash with the dark backdrop of the evening sky, a sight I could never get tired of. Nights like this should be peaceful and quiet, but this is Gotham . . . that's never going to happen.
When I arrive on the scene I see that Gotham PD is already on sight. I wait in the shadows to talk to Jim. It seems Jim and his men have everything under control so I head down toward the docks. I need to follow up on a lead I was given the night before last.
As I drive down Carnegie and Vine past the Wayne building, I hang a sharp left onto Canal Street. That's when a homeless man and his dog walk right out in front of me.
"Where did they come from"?
I slam on the brakes with great force. Nothing happens. The grinding shrilling sound pulsates up through my legs as I press down hard on the pedal. I swerve to the right and barely miss them; stopping just in time to avoid the trash cans in front of an alley.
"Damn it, Alfred"!
I place a call to the cave and there is no response. I try again . . . and still nothing. Then I hear it. A gut wrenching laughter that rips through the phone line.
"Aha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha".
"Joker"!
Something is not right! I race back toward the cave. Anxiously, I try again to reach my friend, but this time there is no laughter . . . not a sound.
I put a call into Arkham, just to make sure. It turns out Joker has been in his cell the entire night, behaving in typical Joker fashion . . .
***
Look at him, how pitiful, the Batman, following me back, like always. Ohhhh, he is my guardian, my captor, no my champion, heh, hah, ha, thinks he's the savior of his beloved Gotham. Ha, ha, ha, but Batman is merely a man, just like me flesh and bones and ha, ha, ha . . . blood. Whether good or bad, happy or sad, man cannot control their feelings and emotions. After all, he has no super powers.
How does one man with such obvious flaws think he can protect an entire city? Ha, ha, ha, ha, why he can't even take care of himself, much less anyone else. The simple fact is that the man behind the cape and cowl is even more pathetic . . . heh, heh, then his darker self.
Aha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Why he'd probably be dead already if he didn't have someone taking care of him, wiping his behind like a little baby.
Poor little thing, he had to watch dear old mommy and daddy be taken away from him, right before his very eyes . . . by the very hands of those who commit crimes against the innocent.
It's deliciously thrilling to know that it drives him. It consumes his very essence, his soul. Makes him dress up in a Halloween costume, ha, ha, ha, ha and run around in the shadows of the night protecting others, hah, ha, ha, attempting to right the wrongs of the past. But, the truth is Bruce Wayne; billionaire playboy is merely lamenting . . . over things that can't be undone. Aha, ha, ha, ha, ha.