Issue 34
Bruce Wayne Destroys the World
For months Bruce had sat alone imprisoned by the very tools he mastered so long ago. That left plenty of time to think about himself, his enemies, and his choices. No longer were the lines of morality permanently drawn in his mind. Dangerous questions arose about the sacrifice of others. His own personal costs remained acceptable but the effect or outcome of his actions on the rest of Gotham couldn't be as easily reconciled. Originally he passed responsibility for his enemies' actions onto the choices they made. Many were genuinely insane and therefore couldn't be expected to know right from wrong.
The problems arose at the admission of his own clarity on terms of morality. He knew or thought he knew the lines between good and bad so maybe the accountability rested on him and his inaction of necessary punishment. His reluctance to kill first developed with the introduction of Dick Grayson to the fold. Forced by the impetuous youth Bruce realized a certain amount of control was required in the crusade. However as time passed his enemies grew and rarely abandoned their pursuits which made Gotham busy and unwieldy to manage.
When Dick graduated from the role of Robin Jason took over and Bruce found an entirely new problem. The boy proved just as angry and volatile as Bruce had been at that age but instead of honing his craft and maturing over a span of years Bruce let him jump directly into the fray. Many in the Justice League voiced their concern over the impulsive boy though never to his face but Bruce ignored them believing he could handle any contingency until Jason leveled out. Then tragedy struck, just once he slipped, and Joker killed the boy without a thought.
He almost gave it up then and there. His heart broke under the weight of his own failure and the loss of the child who implicitly trusted him. When Tim Drake, the third Robin, came along Bruce rejected him at first despite Tim's intelligence. After all the boy deduced Bruce's identity unaided which few in the world could claim. Eventually Bruce relented and accepted Tim. Thankfully Tim proved himself more like Dick than Jason and he quickly learned the role of a sidekick.
Later Damian Wayne came into the picture, the love child of Bruce and Talia Al-Ghul. In a way Damian began even worse than Jason as his mother and grandfather raised him as a killer in the League of Assassins. By the time Bruce took control of the boy he was an experienced killer who took immense patience and time to correct. By this time Jason returned from the grave as they were so apt to do and became the vigilante Bruce could have easily become.
Obviously Bruce rejected his former protégé's methods which drove Jason further underground though occasionally he participated in Gotham's crises as long as he followed the rules. Bruce never forgot the black sheep of his family, the corruption of his pupil but despite his actions he only ever viewed it as his failure. Now after the heavy hand of SECURE he couldn't be so confident in his disappointment.
SECURE was composed of regular people who had enough of the crime and atrocities that occurred in Gotham. They couldn't wage a war without casualties and couldn't be held responsible for collateral damage like him. Wasn't it his own mistakes that caused this backlash in the first place? For everyone he saved how many more died at the hands of unrepentant repeat offenders? How many were killed because he refused to soil his hands on those who deserved it ten times over? Even then murder couldn't be rationalized away and philosophical musings didn't justify the intent.
In the end Bruce Wayne was just a man who lived a legendary life but remained susceptible to the emotions that drive us onward through existence. Love, hate, anger, hope, selfishness, and more all built up behind that expressionless mask and now it broke. Jason was lost again after his own refusal to do what had to be done. He sacrificed himself so Bruce and Damian might have a chance to live free and happy. The game truly ended in that nondescript building surrounded by a city that shunned the angels of its better nature.
"You will let the boy go," Bruce commanded behind an agony in his eyes that rivaled that gut wrenching moment in the alley hands drenched in the blood of those who loved him above all else. It wasn't a question or a request. It was a declaration of unwavering fact, an absolute truth in a whirlwind of utter confusion. The doubts fell like dead leaves and Bruce committed to the choice he feared for so long. When others stepped back only Bane moved forward as a worthy opponent and equal.
"There are many here who once feared the Batman," Bane announced spreading his arms wide, "but no longer are you the legend of Gotham. Now the façade falls so easily and you are just another man. We know how to kill a man."
"Do you know how to kill this man?" Bruce asked stepping up to the massive beast.
"Most assuredly," Bane stated but Bruce simply smiled. When Bane cocked his fist back to swing Bruce struck like lightning with the point of his flattened palm. His hand drove up under the big man's chin and everything stopped. Bane dropped his arm and reached for his throat. Blood gushed up through his mouth and he fell to his knees. One strike crushed Bane's throat and all the strength and all the Venom in the world couldn't deliver oxygen to his drowning lungs.
"Wait!" Penguin called from the back and Bruce looked up to see him next to Killer Croc who held Damian next to him. Bane fell to the side suffocating and the remaining Militia watched in awe.
"You can't do this! Batman has rules!" Penguin bargained but Bruce just stared unmoved, "We can still come to terms." Bruce said nothing but reached down and tore the needle from Bane's arm. Green, noxious looking Venom spit sporadically from the tip. Without a second thought he jammed the needle through his armor into his heart and felt the poison light up his system like a runway. He looked down at Bane and realized he felt nothing. Nobility meant no more than a whispered objection to a tornado at this point. All that mattered was his son threatened and susceptible.
"Fine," Penguin said to Croc, "String him up!" Croc threw a chain over a beam above them and slipped the noose over Damian's neck. The scarred man pulled and Damian felt his body leave the ground as the chain tightened around his neck. Croc wrapped the line around a catch on a cargo crate and turned to Bruce. Much of the Militia stared at Penguin now uncertain.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" Penguin shouted, "Do it!" They advanced forward at Bruce leaving Damian hanging. However the boy wasn't helpless as Penguin soon found. Desperately he rocked back and forth before he lost consciousness. Like all the rest Penguin turned his back on the boy and soon Damian had enough momentum to reach him with his legs. He caught Penguin's head between his knees gracefully.
For a moment he raised himself up giving him just enough slack to gulp another deep breath. He also wanted to give Penguin just enough time to realize what was happening to him then Damian twisted his body brutally snapping the small man's neck. The manipulative schemer dropped like a rock and Damian hung again kicking against a fate he couldn't escape. He saw his father dive into the melee enraged and bellowing but his vision grew blurry soon fading to black.
Amidst that flurry of Shakespearean death he relaxed somehow satisfied except for a small lingering question. He wondered if he would ever see the light again. Jacked up on Venom Bruce tore into the crowd that parted before his singular onslaught. Lady Shiva now free of SECURE's control struck first and Bruce caught her blades between the ridges along his gauntlets. Spinning and extending a boot in her back he disarmed her of one sword and sent her crashing through the mob.
Now armed he turned the weapon on the others. When Amygdala, a strong but dimwitted man, took a swing Bruce effortlessly slipped under it and brought the sword up taking his hand off at the wrist. Amygdala stumbled cradling the fresh wound and Bruce rolled over him back to back slicing through three more before the blade broke over Dragonfly's bow staff. As she swung again at his head Bruce caught the staff in the air and drove the broken blade through her eye out the back of her head until her eyebrow met the hilt.
Behind him Cluemaster threw a linked cluster of grenades but Bruce jumped allowing them to pass under him right into the face of Clock King who timed his appearance extremely poorly. Wrapping his cape in front of him he felt the concussive wave knock him backwards. After striking the ground he raised up to find Damian above him hanging unconscious, possibly even dead.
"No! No!" Bruce yelled scrambling to his feet reaching for his son but a strong scaly hand latched onto his cape. He flew back into the waiting arms of those who detested him. A dog pile formed holding him back from saving the boy. As Firefly flew over the swarm Bruce tore his arm free firing his grappler at the pyromaniac's harness attaching the device to his belt. Too much weight kept him from breaking free of the mob and Firefly's jets stalled whining against the resistance.
Beyond desperate now Bruce threw a batarang into the air slicing through the flyer's injector line dousing the crowd and himself in jet fuel. Before they realized what was happening, before they could scatter he struck a flare and sent them as well as himself up in flames. Through the indiscriminate fire he saw his son still hanging slightly twisting void of any signs of life and any hope he had left floated quietly away with the thick black smoke. All that remained in him now was retribution.
His failure finally reached its wicked completion and he thought back to one of the first nights Damian stayed at Wayne Manor after his mother abandoned him with Bruce. Well past midnight the boy finally slept in the guest bedroom. Quietly Bruce stood in the doorway watching him sleep. Even in slumber Damian's brow furrowed and Bruce could see the spitting image of himself in the child. Never before through all the deathtraps, ultimatums, and fear toxins had Bruce ever felt quite so afraid.
He feared the damage done to the innocent child by his mother and grandfather but that wasn't his main concern. Most of all he worried about his own inability to connect to and nurture his son in the way his father had. Robbed of his own parents Bruce wondered who Damian would become under his guidance and how long he could keep him safe from the corrupting forces of Gotham. Now as the heat rolled over his body Bruce desperately tried to remember the last time he told his son he loved him.
In that split second while he burned in solidarity with his enemies his grappler activated as the mob released their grip and he rocketed into the air closing fast on Firefly. Bruce latched onto his back between the spinning jets as Firefly spilled more fuel and lost altitude. Jerking the controls down Bruce aimed their trajectory at a large cluster of villains then reared back batarang in each hand slamming them into the cycling rotors. Screeching miserably the engine locked up and they plummeted towards the ground.
At the last second Bruce bailed bouncing across the ground as Firefly exploded into the concrete taking a few with him. Venom still pumping through his veins Bruce stood again bleeding, burned, and concussed but he was just getting started. Outside another battle was being fought with words. Those who had switched sides remained outside arguing over whether they should return to help. Harley demanded they go back but the others weren't convinced.
"He told us to go. Do you really want to disobey the first order he gave us?" Otis reminded stealing a glance at Grace who seemed undecided.
"I don't care what he told us," Harley contended, "They've got the kid. We need to make sure he's okay."
"I agree vith 'Arley," KGBeast stated, "Dis boy neveer turned 'is back on us yeet. Ve owe 'eem that much et leest."
"Fine, who should go back then? All of us?" Otis asked but Harley shook her head.
"I can do it," she maintained, "I should take one more to watch my back. This should be an in and out thing. Mr. Toad, are you up for one last job together?" The amphibious man nodded confidently.
"You fookin' know 'et," he began until his eyes went wide and he slapped a hand over his mouth, "I mean to say I don't foresee any problems. Shall we?" Just like that his voice returned to his suave accent but appeared shaken at his original outburst.
"Should we wait for you?" Grace asked meekly.
"No, you should all take off and we'll meet up later."
"Okay, I'll get everyone out of here. Get the kid and head for the sewers," Otis ordered.
"How will we find you?" Mr. Toad wondered.
"You won't. I'll find you. Now hurry and be careful," he replied and the group split. KGBeast, Orca, and Ratcatcher headed away from the airport through the opaque sheets of furious rain as Harley and Mr. Toad headed back to the hangar. At her prompting Harley boosted Mr. Toad high into the air to land safely on the roof. Urgently Harley sprinted toward the open doors around the front and witnessed the chaos they escaped.
Everyone, everything seemed to be on fire as the water poured through the holes in the ceiling. Mr. Toad entered the roof through one such breach and danced lightly across the steel beams surveying the damage. When he saw Damian hanging motionless his stomach jumped into his chest and he leaped down a stack of crates to meet Harley. She picked the boy up around the waist giving Mr. Toad enough slack to slip the noose off his neck and they carried him out unseen.
In the midst of the battle Bruce saw the rescue and never felt so thankful for someone ignoring his orders. He also managed to keep all eyes on him to allow their getaway and even surprised himself with a quick prayer something he hadn't done in what felt like a lifetime.
"His heart is still beating but he isn't breathing," Mr. Toad announced as they laid Damian on the ground just outside the doors. Harley began mouth to mouth fully convinced she could bring him back. His black hair was swept off his forehead channeling the rain down his temples and his dark eyes remained shut tight. Breath after breath Harley forced past his lips begging with each pause.
"Come on, kid. You wouldn't let us go and we won't either!" she yelled at the unresponsive Damian, "Your dad is in there doing the unthinkable for you. He's giving up the entire world for you! Please come back. Please!" As Mr. Toad stood by feeling useless he saw shadows against the wall as people approached them from behind. Spinning on his heels he saw the Militia's recon team meant to contain the battle and provide reinforcements if necessary. Red Claw, Silver Monkey, and Harpy surrounded them in formation observing the private moment.
"Traitors," Red Claw announced leaning on her bow staff as lightning crackled across the skyline. Silver Monkey giggled psychotically causing his katana to shake in his hands.
"There's nothing I hate more than fucking hypocrites," Harpy declared resting a machine gun over her shoulder wings spread wide.
"Mr. Toad-" Harley began but he stopped her raising a webbed hand.
"Worry about the boy first. I'll handle this," he assured in his new charming accent. Empty handed palms out he approached the trio as diplomatic as possible.
"We have no problem with you yet," Mr. Toad explained, "We wanted to try something different and be someone else. All my life I've been pushed into being the bad guy. I used to think it was their fault but it was only ever my choices, what I did, who I was that put me there. That kid tried to help us when we were down and hunted then you string him up for nothing. You can call us traitors all you want but you take one step towards this boy and it will be your last." Harley continued focusing on the boy as they moved closer.
"That's big talk from a frog freak," Red Claw stated, "Let's see you put your money where your mouth is." Reluctantly Mr. Toad unsheathed his sword and the others prepared to attack surrounding him. Silver Monkey came on first brandishing his own blade and soulless smile. They dueled across the tarmac and Mr. Toad matched him strike for strike. When he heard Harpy cock the gun behind him Mr. Toad slid under his opponent's legs and Silver Monkey took a chest full of bullets.
Dodging and darting Mr. Toad closed on Harpy flipping over Red Claw's homerun swing. Finally she had him at pointblank range but as she pulled the trigger the gun clicked empty. Cursing she spread her wings to take to the air but it was too late. With a massive leap Mr. Toad buried his sword in one of her wings nearly shearing it from the harness. Unfortunately the sword stuck in the splintered metal and he was forced to abandon it knocking the foul mouthed woman out with a swift spinning kick across her jaw.
Immediately Red Claw fell on him landing excruciating blows with her staff. Continually backpedalling he dodged here and parried there. Something strange and disconcerting began happening to Mr. Toad. He felt the strength and agility that came so easy fading away to somewhere he couldn't reach. Bit by bit the old Mr. Toad returned and his mind grew hazy again. The combat skills and tactical expertise burned out in the fury of the fight.
Harder now Red Claw struck as she read his growing weakness and when he misjudged her movements she caught him in the stomach with the end of her staff. Wind knocked out of him he slid across the slick pavement gasping for fleeting air.
"Not so mouthy now, are you?" Red Claw asked smugly towering over him, "I've never seen such a disgusting form of life and you presume to give me orders?"
"Aye, Mistah Toad ain' ah prettiest mate y'evah seen en yet you'll be ah one wif' uh closed casket," he responded pointing over her shoulder. Red Claw spun around just in time for her face to meet Harley's bat. In slow motion he watched her nose shatter under the force spraying blood that mixed evenly into the drowning rain. Harley hammered blows down on the woman until she was dead twice over.
Behind her he saw Damian leaning against the wall of the hangar rattled but still alive and Mr. Toad grinned broadly. Groaning but still alive Harpy rolled over and stared up at the impenetrable mass of clouds.
"Go on and finish it," she called as the others approached her, "I'll never be happy in this goddamned world. Every morning I wake up and wonder how I keep going when I hate everything. Everything! Fuck the Militia, fuck SECURE, and fuck you! Just put me down…please." They looked at Damian unsure and the boy shook his head slowly crouching down in front of her. The links of the chain left imprints around his neck and his voice was raspy, straining against the recent constriction.
"KGBeast, I mean Anatoli told me about you," Damian croaked, "He said you were special and there was good in you. Is that true?" He tore Mr. Toad's sword loose from her damaged wing.
"I-I don't know. I can't get past myself. Nothing helps. Nothing eases the rage. I have no idea who I am," Iris confessed.
"My father gave everyone in there a chance. Anatoli took that opportunity and walked away. He wasn't the only one either. I'm giving you that choice now. It's not about heroes or villains anymore. For you I think it's a question of motivation," Damian explained leveling the point of the blade to her throat, "Do you want to live, Iris?" For a long time she stared at the sword until she looked up with fiery determination in her eyes.
"Yes," she answered and Damian dropped the sword on the ground.
"So live," he shrugged and extended his hand. As the four of them turned back towards the hangar they saw the clouds break above and beams of light shot out through the rain. Although Damian didn't believe in a higher power he would have likened it to the hand of God coming down from on high to separate the slippery sinners from the disinclined saints.
Engines of hate in Gotham's murder machine. That's what Bruce sees as he looks out onto the mob of villains so he takes them apart piece by piece. Diving clear of Clayface's sticky grasp he breaks arms, faces, and weapons with his bare hands. The Absence, Scorpiana, and Prometheus fall like litter to the unfeeling ground beneath his feet. He snaps one of the Trigger Twins' necks and unloads his revolver into the other's face.
He breaks Black Mask's wrist disarming him and grabs Roman under the chin. With a roar Bruce tears the permanent mask from his face leaving the man a shrieking skinless monster. Still it goes on. Nimbly Bruce fires the grappler into Deadshot's helmet and pulls the shooter in close. Wrapping the slack line around his neck Bruce guides the machine gun on Deadshot's wrist cutting another swath of them down. Tallyman, Madame Zodiac, and Dala fall before he's satisfied Deadshot is gone.
At that moment Big Top wraps her massive hand over his head and lifts him off the ground but before she can squeeze he brutally slashes her wrist with a batarang severing her tendons. As her hand opens up he sees Professor Strange lining up a shot with an Atomizer rifle. Grabbing Big Top's forearm he flips over her shoulder just as Strange pulls the trigger. The blast tears a wide uniform hole through her ample belly and Bruce lands behind her as the woman's guts begin spilling across the floor while she crashes to her knees screaming.
The rifle buzzes recharging and Bruce closes on the bald man ducking under a round of scattershot from the combat shotgun of Wrath. A few bearings clip his shoulder and Bruce immediately feels the sting and blood welling up. Regardless he snatches the Atomizer from Strange and puts the steel tipped toe of his boot through the professor's temple. Flipping the Atomizer to the stream setting he aims the weapon at Clayface who rears up in front of him.
A continuous beam from the alien rifle disintegrates Clayface's malleable frame faster than he can regenerate it. Soon the muckish man vanishes completely vaporized but Bruce is knocked to the floor by someone from behind him. When he rolls over shaken and most certainly concussed he sees Phantasm a woman named Andrea Beaumont hovering over him. Once he was engaged to Andrea, once he loved her but the relationship quickly deteriorated due to his emotional isolation among other things.
Now she gazes down on the man she still loves through the mask shaped like a skull and a bladed gauntlet covering her hand. For a moment Bruce pauses thinking about Andrea and all the other women so graceful and generous with their devotion, so willing to sacrifice a part of themselves for a man that wasn't there. He wonders what kind of lives he might have led with so many incredible women but quickly remembers what the Tripping Darlings told him. In all known universes Bruce was one of two things, either Batman or dead.
This was the purpose of SECURE to create a world where Bruce Wayne could be cured from his obsession. From the spirits of what might be described as his greatest tools: darkness, rage, and fear SECURE rose as tribute to the form of voodoo justice he created. Love, hope, mercy, and grace weren't inherently positive or necessarily the mere ideas they were regularly defined as. Instead they existed as echoes or facets of some absolute truth in the same way darkness, rage, fear, and hate were.
It was easy to fight for love or honor or justice but it was another business entirely to battle the negative with its own weapons, to strike fear into the hearts of those who sowed it. This wasn't overlooked by that truth on high some called the Source. All this and more passes through Bruce's mind as he looks on Andrea but none of it changes where they are now or the choice he made. So he kicks out and shatters her ankle.
Falling forward arms outstretched more out of instinct than malice Andrea cries out and Bruce tosses a handful of smoke pellets into the air like flower petals at a wedding. Just before the blade pierces his armor he catches her arm folding it at the elbow back on itself and plunges the blade into her chest breaking her heart for the second and last time. Instead of struggling she releases a shocked breath then rests her head against his chest surrendering.
Around them the smoke pellets erupt and Bruce sees Cassandra, Jezebel, and Selina still unconscious across the way. He takes one last calming breath before the white smoke covers everything. Again they come on Amygdala short a hand leading with his massive boot. Shoving Andrea's body clear Bruce rolls the other way just in time. When the foot meets the ground next to him Bruce slaps a pack of thermite across his thigh but Amygdala raises his other leg.
Before the muscular behemoth can get his momentum behind the stomp Bruce catches the boot forcing him up and backwards. Amygdala flies backwards off balance into a group of villains and Bruce ignites the thermite with his remote detonator. Turning away from the blast he feels the heat smash its blunt maul across his cheek while the explosion completely severs Amygdala's leg tearing up into his torso. Mentally Bruce notes Magpie and Captain Stingaree are also fatally wounded.
Under cover now he becomes a phantom delivering death with his bare hands. He slips behind Wrath easily disarming his of his shotgun and unloads a shell between the rapist's legs taking away the only thing that makes him feel powerful then it turns into a shooting gallery. Zeiss, Sister Crystal, and Vox all succumb to the gunfire. Through the smoke Witch attacks from his right sinking her razor claws into his armor and shreds the flesh down his shoulder before he breaks her jaw with the other hand.
A break in the artificial cloud reveals The Dealer hobbling hastily towards the exit weapons discarded. Bruce's well thrown batarang buries itself through the old man's Achilles heel sending him crashing to the ground. By now the blood loss and miscellaneous wounds begin to slow him down and the Venom has long since abandoned healing the damage. Somehow he seemed to metabolize the drug faster than Bane.
Bruce barely dodges a vicious slash by Killer Croc and buries a knee in the monster's stomach. In that moment of shock and weakness Bruce removes two specialized batarangs and stabs them as far as he can into Croc's neck. When activated they emit a sonic scream like every car alarm in Gotham set off at once. Croc opens his mouth to release a scream that can't be heard and the others uselessly cover their ears.
The Ventriloquist looks up just in time to see Bruce snap Scarface's gun arm off and catch Arnold around the neck. Mercilessly he snaps the weak man's neck and takes the dummy as Arnold collapses. Like a twig for kindling Bruce cracks the doll into pieces at each joint sprinkling the body parts over his former owner. Suddenly he is surrounded by three Hellhound, Nyssa, and Whisper A'Daire and it quickly turns into a brawl.
Blow for blow he receives and returns until all three lay at his feet broken however Lady Shiva always opportunistic stabs a fatally aimed strike at his heart. Dodging but not quickly enough Bruce takes the blade through the chest skewering his left lung. He pushes forward howling until the blade retracts and he falls to his knees struggling for air. Only a small group remains alive, those smart enough to let others tire and weaken their opponent.
Cluemaster, Lady Shiva, Dr. Hurt, Lynx, Nocturna, Killer Croc (deafened and furious), Bronze Tiger, Whip and Penumbra tighten the circle around him. He looks from one to the other deciding who will bring the next attack and how to stop it without falling unconscious. A hesitation halts the onslaught and he realizes they are just as scared as he is unsure of the extent of his injuries.
"Master Bruce, it's time to come home now," Alfred states and at first Bruce believes he must be hallucinating until he realizes the voice comes from the communicator in his cowl. Despite the pain and hopelessness of the situation Bruce smiles at the sound of his oldest friend.
"I don't think I'm going to make it home tonight. There's too much left to do," Bruce weakly whispers coughing up dark blood. Instinctively he catches Bronze Tiger's fist and throws the man over his hip.
"You won't last another thirty seconds," Alfred insists, "Let me help you."
"You're an old man. How are you going to help me?"
"I've done what any respectable butler would do, sir. I've sent for your ride." From the sky Bruce hears the roar of jet engines and the Batwing lowers itself in front of the hangar doors. Spotlights ignite blinding the room and everyone turns toward the plane.
"Just say the word and come back. Your son needs you very much," Alfred states. Nodding Bruce gives the signal.
"Yes Alfred, thank you. I think I'm ready to come home," he agrees. Weapons unlock and a miniature rail gun begins to spin under the cockpit. Soon the hangar is filled with biological and mechanical screams as the bullets unleash. Quickly his remaining enemies are shredded in front of his eyes.
Bruce collapses to his knees exhausted but unharmed due to the Batwing's targeting systems. Around him is a field of death now past relics of an age he can never return to but when he sees Damian shuffle around the corner any last concern or question vanishes. The boy rushes as best he can to his father.
"I'm sorry," Damian sputters, "I'm so sorry-it wasn't supposed to-and Jason-"
"No," Bruce grabs him by a shoulder, "No more apologies or sacrifices. From now on it's you and me building the lives we want. The world has to take care of itself now. I'll never put anything else before you ever again." He wants to say more but he can't catch his breath from the punctured lung. Damian embraces his father and lets loose the tears that have built for months, years, his entire life. In fact they both cry amid the wreckage and just like that it's over for better or worse.