It suddenly rains on me, and when it rains, it pours.
This is the final straw. My absolute and total breaking point. I cannot gamble with these stakes, I am the one that is supposed to be calling the shots here. I am the righteous one. The one who is in control, I tell myself. Even though I tell myself this, I know I have played right into his ploy. He has me right where he wants me, and there isn't a damn thing I can do to prevent it. It's as if he is always one step ahead of me, thinking things through and noticing things I overlooked. If there ever was a time when I could not contain myself or stand to be toyed with, this was it. All I am, all I stand for, none of that matters at this moment, none of it on my mind. I can only hear see, think, and breathe one thing: The situation at hand. It irks me immensely, because I notice all of these things, and he is pushing me, testing me.
My initial acts of aggression mean nothing, as he just sits there and laughs at me. This is what he has wanted all along. He wants to push me over the limit, he knows that I am about to lose. As before, he seems as though he craves my insanity, and longs for his death at my hands. I try not to play into it, but at this point I have lost all sense of rationality.
In my act of pure rage and frustration, I hit him. I lose it, and there is no stopping me now. If he wants to play this game, he leaves me no choice but to stoop to his level. I am backed into a corner, yet I still let myself go, knowing that he wants this. He laughs, and I proceed, ignoring the immense pain developing in my knuckles.
He has crossed the line. I hit him again and again, and I feel myself slowly slipping, losing my sanity, losing myself. If this is what it will take for me to regain everything that he has taken away from me, then it is a price I will gladly pay.
He laughs at me, yet when I look into his eyes, my heart only swells with anger and contempt, mixed with a bit of pity. "Where are THEY"? I demand again, and this time I unleash some more pack into my punch, causing his head to jerk at an awkward angle. Not dead, not yet. I may have lost myself, but I have not crossed that line, broken the one rule that I live by. I may have given into him some, but I have enough self restraint to keep him alive.
I am not him. I stand for the things that are totally opposite of him, yet he compares us as if we are on the same level. Two sides of the same coin, bound to be opposites, yet sharing similarities at the same time. Can I really be rated on the same scale as this monster? How can that be, if I stand up for what is right, while he threatens to destroy the very order that I have sworn to protect? He provokes me to prove that I am just like him, but I convince myself that I am not. He is a psychotic murderer. I commit acts of justice. Are they really the same?
The answer is simple, and I make up my mind, I will make him talk. He seems to sense my conviction through my fists, which speak very much for themselves, and finally gives up the location of both Rachel and Harvey.
My heart wrenches, and I already know what he is going to say. I have to make a decision. Gotham's white knight, shining ray of hope, or the love of my life?
The decision is simple, as I am still human. I may be a vigilante, the Batman, but under this armor and alter identity I am Bruce Wayne, a man, who is madly in love with this woman.
I, as all men are, am a slave to my heart. The decision is made instantaneously, and I rush to the scene.
Please be alive…Please…