Part One
I've been crouching here in the cold night time air on this roof for the last fifteen minutes, beginning to cramp up. But I'm used to it. If my source was correct, those lowlifes will arrive any minute. Well, Commissioner Gordon hasn't been wrong yet. There they are now. Three of them, dressed in clothes that are far too baggy. What are they called? 'Gangstas'. Huh, what would they know about organized crime? And why do they always conduct their business in a building with a skylight? I never new there were so many abandoned warehouses in Gotham. Looks like your standard illicit drug trade, third this week. My work is never done. I plunge through the glass and land between them. I swear one of them wet himself, and to be honest, dropping in like this gives me a thrill. Alfred would disapprove my acrobatics. I'm still healing from my last encounter with Bane and I wince as a stabbing pain lances through my chest. But I push it aside.
"Holy #!," screams one. "What is that?"
"Who cares?" replies another. "Get him!"
Sometimes I just wish they could go peacefully. Still, the sensation of my boot slamming into the soft flabby stomach of a scumbag gives me a little satisfaction. His friend tries to hit me with a baseball bat that must have been hidden nearby. The swing is clumsy and I easily dodge it then slug him with a straight left. He's still on his feet so I strike him in the solar plexus. I turn to the third guy that has been hanging back. He snaps into a forward stance. "I'm warning you man, I'm a black-belt." Fine with me. This ought to be interesting. He lashes out and I block each of his punches. He's not bad, but he's not great either. I wait until he's off balance then dart in past his guard and grab his shirt.
"You really shouldn't have tried that!" I growl. I can see fear dancing in his eyes. I guess an angry Batman is not something that exactly instils hope into the hearts of mankind. I'm not like Clark. For a moment I hesitate. Am I going to far? Should I really be giving people panic attacks? Is the cape an cowl just another of many ways for me to get a rush? And then my mind goes back to that night all those years ago…
No! Must not dwell on the past now, what's done is done and I must focus on the task at hand. My unworthy opponent is struggling to wriggle out of my grip and hit me, so I drive my elbow into his chin. As he crumples to the ground, I realise that someone else has entered the building.
"Hey Joey, what's going on?" asks the fourth member, then he sees me. Cursing he pulls a pistol from the his waistband. But I'm faster and hurl a bat-rang which knocks the gun right out of his hands. He runs out of the door. I sigh and quickly truss up his friends for Jim. Racing out to the streets, I climb into my Bat-mobile and take off after him. It's pretty simple finding his bright yellow convertible. Not a very low profile vehicle for someone who wants to cruise under police radar. His car is fast, but thanks to Wayne Enterprises, mine is equipped with one of the biggest and most powerful engines in existence. Definitely one of the perks for this job. Plus, he's a lot more nervous then I am which gives me another advantage. He's more likely to make mistakes. I'd better stop him before we get to an area with heavy traffic. It's about now that his luck runs out. There's road works up along this street forcing him to swerve to avoid a collision. Since I'm cutting off his only route of escape, he climbs out of his car and runs. Good. I'm in the mood for a chase. I pursue him into a construction site. He's pretty quick on his feet and I cannot run my fastest with my injury. I hear his ragged breathing a just ahead, he's terrified now. I round a corner in time to see him disappear over the fence. Suddenly there is a bright flash of blue light, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. I vault over the fence and see my quarry sitting down, quite stunned. Someone else is lying there, with what looks like smoke rising from his form.
"Are you alright mister?" I ask. He stands up.
"Don't worry about me citizen, I'll shake it off."
I stare at him, mouth open. Not just because he sounds like a character from some detective movie from the fifties, but he looks quite familiar. He's wearing grey skin-tight lycra and has a bright yellow utility belt. A dark blue cape and cowl with two little horns and matching gloves. He also has an yellow and black insignia which I recognize instantly. From the looks of things, I think he's just as confused by my appearance too. The drug dealer manages to get his tongue working. "Who are you freaks?"
"I'm Batman," says the newcomer and strikes a heroic pose.
"You can't be, I'm Batman!" I answer, staring at him in disbelief. My friend from the underworld seizes the opportunity to make an exit. Before I can do anything, the other 'Batman' whips out an aerosol can and sprays it in his face following up with an impressive uppercut.
"Bat-mace," he explains and re-holsters it. Then it strikes me. This fruitcake must be another one of these geeks who think they can be me. I haven't seen any lately. Like that one who had the armour with nipples. Time to intervene before he gets himself hurt.
"That was quite brave of you," I say in what I hope is a kind tone. Friendly, genuine warmth is not my strong suit. "But you could get yourself into a lot of trouble."
"Yes, but that's the price one must pay for justice I think," the imposter replies. This guy is obviously a hardcore fan.
"You should leave this game to the professionals."
"Oh yes? Well Commissioner Gordon seems to think I do a good job."
"Who are you? And don't tell me that you're Batman!"
"Bruce Wayne, millionaire playboy."
Okay, this just became very serious. He knows my true identity. I grab him and push him up against a wall.
"How the hell did you find that out?"
"My you are quite the dark one. Quite Anti-social."
"How much else do you know?"
"I know why you do what you do. You do it for them."
"What?"
"Thomas and Martha Wayne. Your parents."
"How to you know all this?"
"It's quite simple really," he shrugged, "I'm you."