Issue 33
Martyrs and the Fools Who Kill Them
The dynamic power structure of Gotham did more than shift. It imploded before Ariadne Pixnit's eyes. After her tumultuous training she performed her duties admirably as the soldier Slade never wanted her to be. Tirelessly Pix fought against the legion of SECURE forces but just like that they disappeared. The battle ended instantly and the Militia was left to witness something else entirely. Red Hood's murder of Joker came as a shock to everyone and even more surprising he seemed to lose his mind in front of those he hated most. Now only Batman faced him and a nauseating fear gripped hold of her insides.
"Grace," Pix whispered to her enormous friend next to her, "I-I think we should go. This isn't how it was supposed to happen." Looking down Grace shook her head empathetically.
"This is what we worked towards," she whispered in return, "I can't walk out on everyone. It wouldn't be right. I won't be afraid anymore." Pix didn't have an answer to that but looked around desperately with a furrowed brow. As she slipped towards the back of the group she heard Penguin and Professor Pyg arguing in similar hushed tones.
"Didn't you see what happened?" Lazlo demanded, "Whatever was in Joker infected that young man on his death. What's to stop it from spreading more? We should regroup and approach this in another way. Think Oswald!" Killer Croc growled softly behind Penguin.
"We will not fall back," Penguin declared giving his squad leaders a hand signal to hold position, "SECURE and their leaders are gone, wiped clean. Joker's gone too. Now it looks like Batman has an entirely new problem. We're going to see where this goes." Professor Pyg threw his hands in the air and walked back to Mr. Toad who watched impassively. Pix sidled up to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"He's too greedy, Professor," Mr. Toad commented on Penguin, "He always has been, an overreacher. You should slip out now before this goes sideways. Just tell me how you want to play this."
"We must hold true to our word. Save the boy and get him out when the opportunity presents itself. The rest is your decision, my friend," Lazlo quietly prompted and Pix approached them cautiously.
"I want out too," she whispered and they both looked at her with surprise. Eventually Lazlo nodded and motioned to her.
"This way, discretely please," he stated and they quickly slipped away from the back of the crowd into the pouring rain. Mr. Toad didn't wave or acknowledge their retreat only slipped back into the crowd staring resolutely. Under sheets of stinging rain Pix and Lazlo hurried away from the airport as fast as they could.
"So what are you going to do now?" Pix yelled over the roaring precipitation dragging the saturated bangs from her forehead.
"I'm done with supercrime. I'm retiring and I plan on enjoying myself!"
"That sounds good. I think I might retire too!" she suggested.
"How old are you?" Lazlo wondered.
"Nineteen."
"The perfect age for retirement!" he decided and they disappeared into the storm.
All eyes remained on Jason as his chest heaved under the debilitating laughter. He was caught between what he wanted to be and a stone cold reality. The villains spread out before him like a poisonous rainbow silent but bright. That maleficent snake coiled around his heart and squeezed unrelenting. Bruce stood before him talking but Jason couldn't hear anything except crashing waves against an invisible shore. Suddenly Edward Nygma, the Riddler, appeared beside him in a typically boisterous suit and bowler's hat.
"It's time to end the cycle, Jason," he stated leaning on his cane, "You were strong enough to make it this far on your own. Only one big push remains." Incapable of any other reaction Jason laughed in his face but Edward simply grimaced and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"You have to see this for what it is," Edward said curtly and suddenly Jason was somewhere else.
Six years old the boy stands by the railing in his dilapidated, childhood apartment building. There are two flights of stairs above and one below. Winter seized control of Gotham a month ago and the hallway barely registers forty-five degrees. Echoing through the stairwell a domestic squabble masks the buzz of improperly installed light fixtures. Dirt, dust, and scattered trash accumulate in every corner like the windblown snow on the streets outside. A damp rotting smell emanates from the groove ridden carpet under his bare callused feet.
Jason's stomach aches as he entwines his arm through the railing. The night before his mother broke his piggy bank for pennies and lint to buy groceries but the pantry remained empty. She stayed locked in her room for most of the day and he grew bored cooped up in the cold apartment without a TV or video games. In his undersized red sweatshirt Jason watches the nondescript door at the end of their floor bearing the number 2G. Bad things happened in 2G.
A young handsome man lived there who always wore fancy clothes and people came and went at all hours, dirty people. Sometimes they banged on his door and begged or cried. Other times people went in and never came out. The man was fit often going to the gym but careful to engage all three locks on his door when he left. Occasionally his mother visited the man though Jason always refused to enter.
The man welcomed all children from the apartment complex into his home and most left with candy or toys but none ever seemed appreciative or proud of their rewards. Many intentionally broke or discarded their gifts immediately afterwards. This only confirmed Jason's confidence in his decision to avoid the man. Two things always stood out to the boy and made him feel immensely uneasy. One, the man had perfectly straight teeth and as a result constantly smiled.
The second was the state of the apartment itself. Whenever he opened the door no matter the time of day 2G consistently existed in a state of darkness. Jason couldn't ever see past the edge of the kitchen due to the absence of any lighting in his place. Often times the boy imagined he could see eyes reflected in the hallway lights that weakly forged the threshold of black but no sound or cry for help ever escaped 2G.
On this inconspicuous night Jason stares at the closed door without knowing why. He hates his life of neglect and want in a way only extreme poverty can cultivate. In the many rooms around him huddle people of all ages, races, and creeds stricken by the same lack that burns the hole in his belly. Naively or wisely he accepts this home is all that exists in this world. This is the state he and everyone else will remain in forever because if an old man or woman can live here then he will too when he is old.
"Why does he close his door?" the goofy man in the green suit asks when he appears next to him. Despite being trapped in the body of his past self Jason remembers everything that will be when he grows.
"He's a bad man. I never figured out what he was doing in there but they knocked that door down for a reason. It seems like the bad never ends in this world. People struggle so hard all over and the bad continues to feed on them. It's such a thankless, exhausting battle."
"Anything could have happened in there but I can guarantee he didn't think he was the evil one. In his mind he was just a guy living in an unfair world and if the world wasn't fair why the hell should he be? It doesn't really matter what kind of monster festered in that space after all. Do you know why?" Edward asks.
"No," Jason is forced to admit.
"Because it's all the same. Evil isn't a single bad decision or mistake. It's a chain and each link begets the next and it winds through people and time like a blackened root. Pain, suffering, whatever you decide to call it is passed on like a fever from one victim to the next until someone finally chooses to end the spread." From the first floor a SWAT team races up the steps and batters the door in with a heavy ram. Shouting breaks out as their flashlights pierce the darkness of 2G.
Gunshots muffle the shouting and police return fire generously. Eventually one of the officers emerges supporting a young woman naked and wild eyed. She can't be more than seventeen with knotted brown hair smeared with a dark viscous fluid that reminds him of leaking motor oil. They wrap a blanket around her shoulders and Jason wonders if they have any more. When she sees him she approaches purposefully and kneels in front of him.
"Stay away from that place. Don't ever go in there. Bad things live in there," she insists. Jason nods but is too afraid to respond and an officer comes over to lead her away.
"Why does he keep the door shut?" Edward repeats.
"I-I don't know. I don't understand any of it," he contends. Carefully Edward points through the threshold towards the officers inside illuminating the apartment with impossibly bright flashlights.
"Look closer. The smiling man closes his door to keep out the light. That's what darkness fears and retreats from," Edward clarifies and suddenly Jason's vision returns to the present with Bruce standing in front of him.
At the back of the massive shredded hangar Oswald Cobblepot rested on a large shipping container watching the showdown. Below him stood the captive son of Batman while Killer Croc held the hostage in place. Months of work provided better results than he ever expected. Though he appeared to take a passive role in the battle between the Militia and SECURE in reality Oswald toiled endlessly behind the scenes to enact a truer purpose for the rebellious criminals. Now he was content to watch the pieces fall into place.
The double, double-cross hadn't been easy. Almost one by one Oswald coaxed the villains to his side, his plan but no one could deny it wasn't a good move. Most wanted a chunk of the impending rewards and it was always easier to promise something he didn't have. A surprising number rejected his proposal for the new order and those women and men had to be blackmailed or threatened which wasn't necessarily a problem. Eventually they came around too.
Even stranger a few grew a bizarre affection and respect for the boy Robin fiercely protective of him. No restitution was enough to bring them over so he excluded them but kept a list of those who would need removed from the equation. Once the majority of the Militia lay under his control Oswald went about planning the real outcome of the war. The conceit to give Joker the Miracle Machine was hotly contested by many people but it remained the only option to bring the Clown Prince on board.
Unlike his small minded coconspirators Oswald understood Joker would never do anything drastic enough to destroy the game he loved so much. Surprisingly he found Red Hood more than willing to clean up that messy business when Oswald contacted him unaware that was the plan from the start. After the execution Oswald planned another contingency to remove the vigilante but that didn't seem necessary anymore.
Only Batman would remain in the end and he could be overpowered by their sheer force in numbers. Plus Robin remained as a hostage though Oswald no longer felt the boy was required for the coup d'état. After the Militia weeded the naysayers from their own ranks Gotham would be theirs to plunder. Beyond that the entire world waited heroless, villainless, and ripe for hostile takeover.
"You did this, didn't you?" Damian called up to him interrupting his smug thoughts, "Don't. You're smart, Oswald. You could have been a great ally, a friend even."
"I got plenty of friends, kid. Look around. They used to be yours," he quacked with laughter.
"Them? They're not your friends. They're people you bought or strong armed. If anything they're your employees and as a businessman I'm sure you know everybody hates the boss. To them you're just another stepping stone like I was to you. The truth is they think you're weak but worse than that you're ineffectual…and they're right."
"Shut up! You're in no position to give advice. What do you know anyway? You're just a kid," Oswald snapped.
"I'll tell you what I know. No matter how this ends or who is left I'm going to kill you myself. I promise you that, freak. You're going to die."
"And break your sanctimonious rule? How will you sleep at night?" Oswald goaded but the laugh that came from Damian knocked the smile from his face.
"Rules?" Damian asked, "We left the rules behind us so long ago I can't even remember when. Whether you know it or not we're in a whole new world now." Croc looked up at him now curious about their course of action.
"Hey Penguin, how come we don't just hit them now while they're distracted?" he asked.
"Why would we do that when it looks like they're about to turn on each other? Never stop your opponent when they're about to make a mistake, Waylon," Oswald explained and turned toward the inevitable breakdown.
Jason laughed like a madman and the whole world shivered. Lost in a fugue of hapless fears and incriminations he fought the monster inside his head. That demon was like an aggressive tumor that starving after a long winter attached itself to his brain stem and refused to release its malignant grip. Before him his tangential father begged for the soul of the one he couldn't save which Jason found hysterical, horrifically frustratingly hysterical.
"Put down the gun. You can't let it end like this," Bruce insisted and Jason found his hand trembling while his finger repeatedly skimmed the trigger.
"There's no Jason anymore," the devil whispered though its surrogate lips, "You can't destroy me as you couldn't destroy him." Jason motioned towards Joker's discarded corpse.
"I grew in him," it continued, "At first I was a simple, safe gag like water spraying from the flower but the harsh world changed me. You changed, challenged me and I got bigger, hungrier, and less satisfied by the cheap fun we used to have. The laughter turned to screams and undeserved torture. Life became the joke. Order was the long con you ran with no payoff or sensible conclusion. What responsibility do I hold for what they made me? I'm a victim no different than you."
"No!" Jason screamed wrenching control over his speech, "I'm so lost, Bruce. I don't know what's right anymore. This won't stop. It's still struggling against me and I'm so weak. I always was."
"You're not weak," Bruce declared, "That was never your problem and you don't need to know what is right. You only have to determine what's wrong."
"What's wrong is raising us as soldiers to fight your crusade. Was it worth our lives because that's what it comes down to inevitably? How many times do we have to sacrifice our happiness and come back unrewarded?" Jason accused.
"You're right. That is my failing as a father but I did the best I knew how at the time," Bruce removed the cowl revealing his raven hair and steely blue eyes.
"At the time? What's different now? You haven't raised Damian any different from the rest of us and look where he is again…in danger! You haven't learned anything! It's your fault!" Jason raised the gun at Bruce's face panting, heart pumping incessantly with three pounds of pressure straining against the four pound trigger, "You take this superior position of morality and it only causes more innocent deaths. At least your enemies don't pretend they're honorable.
They know exactly what they are and your hypocrisy is half the reason they hate you. It's the reason I hate you. You'll never let things change because that mask and the name of Batman is worth more to you than we ever were." Behind Bruce a moan slipped from Joker's dead lips and the murdered corpse drunkenly gained his footing.
"You're not there," Jason said backing away, "I killed you."
"Focus on me. There's nothing there," Bruce confirmed but it didn't stop Joker from shambling over eyes black and smile wide.
"You did kill me," Joker agreed, "but now you've got a little piece of me in you, the most important bit, the one that made me spectacular. We are together at last like we were so long ago. Now's your chance to punish him for leaving you to die, make him pay for what he did."
"And what about what you did?" Jason asked the figment of his imagination who looked shocked at the accusation.
"Me? All I did was open your eyes to the fool he really is. Don't you see what a joke everything has become?"
"It's a joke alright," Jason nodded, "It's just not the joke you think it is. See before any of this I knew I was different from Dick and Tim and Damian, damaged and damned. I knew I would come to some kind of bad end. Just a little kid I remember the blood in my mouth and your crowbar scrapping along the ground. My legs were shattered and I can still see the bomb ticking out of reach. The pain wiped away any thought of escape or rescue. When your work was done you prepared to leave. Do you remember what happened then?" Joker stared emotionless.
"As you stepped over me I reached out with the last bit of strength I had and grabbed your ankle. Of course you shook me right off but the point is all I wanted at that moment was to bring you down with me." Now Jason spoke to Bruce directly.
"You have to save Damian now. It's not too late for him. Do what you should have done from the beginning. Become something new. Let go of that mask and we'll finally be free," Jason stated.
"I don't know how to go back. It's been too long. Please Jason, we'll get you help. Don't leave us again," Bruce begged but Jason ignored him turning swiftly back towards the delusion of Joker.
"Let me ask you something. I killed Joker and now you're in my head. So it's like a natural selection type of deal. You jump hosts after their death into the ones who killed them, right?" Jason wondered but Joker gave no response, "What happens if the one who kills me isn't around anymore? Where do you go then?" Joker simply glared and Jason finally understood everything Edward tried to explain. The nightmare ended when a person opened their eyes to take in the light of the rising sun.
He couldn't fight hate with hate. That was the lesson Bruce hadn't learned. Jason looked toward the man he wanted to become for so long. He looked at Damian sullen, a victim of his confused guidance. He imagined their lives free of the monster inside him, an existence in the light happy and satisfied. Jason knew love like he hadn't in so long and turned to Bruce one last time.
"See? It's not all bad," Jason claimed and shoved the pistol in his mouth. Bruce and Joker lunged toward him both shouting but Jason pulled the trigger and sent a round through the back of his brain. Like he wanted to so long ago he grabbed the devil by the ankle and dragged it kicking and screaming into the hell from which it rose.
Sobbing Bruce cradled his son as black bitter smoke rolled through the hole in Jason's head. The entire Militia stood transfixed by the tragic scene. From somewhere in the back Damian struggled against his bindings and screamed.
"Not like this," Bruce worthlessly begged, "Not again! I can't-I-I." The words were replaced by the racking cries of a man bereft, lost in a sea of decisions he once thought correct. Then something changed that he couldn't pinpoint. It was like a little bird crashing through the glass of his window he believed unbreakable. He looked past his enemies to Damian whose face ran with tears then down at Jason. Then he said the seven words that broke the blessing and the curse that was Batman.
"Yes son, I will become a man." Bruce stood and removed a batarang from his belt. Violently he wrenched the bat symbol from the chest piece of his armor then held it up for all to see.
"My name is Bruce Wayne. I was Batman but that's over now. This can't, won't go on any longer. It ends right now with a choice. Every one of you now has carte blanche. All you have to do is renounce the criminal lives you lead and join me. Commit yourselves to fixing the damage you've caused in this city. If you decide not to I promise I'm all out of mercy. Make your choice now."
After a few seconds of deathly quiet Harley moved behind him. Then KGBeast followed along with Otis the Ratcatcher and a cautious Mr. Toad. Eventually Orca switched sides too and that was all. A large number of villains still remained against him but Bruce shook his head when Otis stepped up next to him.
"We can help," Mr. Toad insisted but Bruce forced them both back.
"This isn't your fight. Go home and I'll come to you when it's time," he ordered. The anger was palpable but it was the conviction in his voice that convinced them to go. As his new team of turncoats retreated through the entrance Jason created Bruce slipped the cowl back over his head and dropped the Batman emblem on the ground. He turned towards the remainder of his rogue's gallery as Batman no longer. Now he was simply Bruce Wayne, the most dangerous man in the world, and he only had one son left to lose.