I own nothing. I earned nothing. I just play with the characters for a little bit….
I know
I know.
I've always known, actually.
I was born in Crime Alley, lived there all my life. I was twenty when I looked out the window at just the right moment to see a child's parents die. The little boy did not make a sound, just fell to his knees in the puddle of blood and pearls.
I wept for him that night.
Years passed, and I dreamt of that night, would wake in tears, and pray that God (yes, I believed, I had to) would somehow help that poor little boy to find his way in the cruel world. I would fall asleep, and feel, that somehow, someway, that little boy would be all right.
I looked out the window.
The alley got worse and worse and worse. I put six locks on my doors.
And then, the whispers on the wind began. Things began to change, slowly, very slowly. A strong hand seemed to have caught Gotham by the wrist and was muscling her back from her abyss of damnation.
'the Batman,' they'd say, and shudder. The devout would cross themselves, and I would shiver, though I had done no wrong except live in the same apartment for twenty long years.
I looked out the window… and there, just out of the street lamp, stood a man. Shadows danced in and around him, and I saw him drop two roses before falling to his knees, cape puddling around him like blood, the white rose petals catching the dingy light and shining like pearls.
I closed my curtains, and wept for the little boy who became the batman.
I knew.
I'd always known.