The Aftermath of the Dark Knight's Death
Mike: Thanks for the weather forecast, Tom. Carry your umbrellas with you to work today, folks, but be prepared for sunshine for the rest of the week. And now, for the viewers who haven't heard, Gotham City's Batman was found dead in an alley last week with a bullet wound to the head. Medical examiners have identified the body as that of the billionaire Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises. The funeral is being held on the grounds of Wayne Manor today, and our Gotham City correspondent Nancy Petty is covering the occasion. Over to you, Nancy.
Scene switches to a buxom young blonde standing under a black umbrella with a microphone. Her perfect smile is somewhat strained due to the steady rain drumming around her. Behind her are a crowd of black-clad individuals huddling under similar umbrellas. She blinks in acknowledgment before launching into her story.
Nancy: Thanks, Mike. It is truly a tragic day for the citizens of Gotham. For the last thirty years, the notorious Batman has been patrolling their streets as a self-styled superhero vigilante. Practically single-handedly pulling Gotham out of the hands of the mobsters early in his career, Batman has fought his way through a slew of costumed maniacs and has cleared the streets of petty criminals. The citizens have come to revere him as some sort of "dark knight," a symbol of goodness that strikes terror into the hearts of evildoers. Over the decades, there has been much speculation, even among our own news cast, as to who Batman could possibly be. Well, the mystery is now solved. Bruce Wayne, son of the late Thomas and Martha Wayne, was obviously not the frivolous "spoiled rich kid" we all assumed him to be. Throughout the years he has kept constant vigilance over his home city, never seeking praise, never demanding recognition. Even unto his death, he remained anonymous. I was able to briefly speak to his butler, Alfred Pennyworth, about his experiences with tending Batman. Here is the clip.
Scene switches to an extremely aged Alfred in a wheelchair. Nancy is speaking animatedly, shoving the microphone practically up the old man's nose.
Nancy: When did you realize your charge was the famous Batman?
Alfred: I knew from the beginning. We planned it together.
Nancy: Are you claiming that the entire "Batman" idea was your own?
Alfred: No, no young lady. It was all young Bruce's idea. I made many attempts to dissuade him at first, but when I saw that his obsession could not be turned aside, I gave him any assistance I could.
Nancy: Do you believe that his parents' deaths drove him to insanity, which in turn led him to adopt his "Batman" alter-ego?
Alfred: Insane? Bruce Wayne was anything but insane. Believe me, young lady; I have known many who were truly insane. But yes, the depression and survivor's guilt stemming from his parents' untimely deaths likely aided in the birth of Batman.
Nancy: Did you see this tragic event coming?
Alfred: I suspected it. Bruce was getting older. His reflexes were slowing. Even legends age. We both knew, I think, that the time was drawing near. When Robin left, I attempted to persuade him to put away his suit forever, but he would not listen. He grew more obsessed about his Batman persona than in the early days. I did not wish it upon him, but I think that Bruce Wayne could only die as Batman.
Nancy: Commissioner Gordon soon tracked down Bruce's killer: a common thief found gloating that he had "killed the Batman." Do you find it somewhat anticlimactic that this local hero has met his death at the hands of, for lack of better word, scum?
Alfred: Anticlimactic? I little bit, yes. But I also think that it is somewhat fitting. In a very real sense, Batman was born on the day his parents where shot…by a common criminal. It is ironic that he should die that way.
Nancy: Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth, for you insights.
Scene switches to an armored vehicle pulling into the driveway. As the vehicle slows to a stop, armed men pile out, aiming assault rifles with expert precision as an unusual individual dressed in a transferring prisoner's orange jumpsuit steps out of the back. Heavy chains clank about his feet and hands. His lined face is chalk-white, and his green hair has lost most of its former vibrancy. The familiar rigid smile clashes with the look of sincere sadness in the usually manic eyes. A bouquet of flowers rests lightly in his hands.
Nancy: Well, this is a surprise. It seems that the Joker has been temporarily released from his cell at Arkham Asylum to witness his arch-rival's funeral. Let's see if I can get a quick interview…
She scurries over to the Joker, her high heels nearly sending her sprawling on the slick pavement. She ignores a guard's warning upraised hand and pushes the microphone into the Joker's face.
Nancy: Mr. Joker, what do you have to say about the recent death of Bruce Wayne, better known as Batman?
The Joker favors her with a yellowed smile. She surreptitiously edges back warily.
The Joker: Terrible, simply terrible. I was supposed to kill him, after all. That man had better hope that they lock him in a very secure cell.
Guard #1: No threats!
The Joker: Of course, my good man. The Batman, I must say, was a very good man. True, he had a detrimental sense of humor. And, yes, he was altruistic enough to sicken a nun on Christmas Eve. But, by golly, he had spunk. I still have a bruise on my backside he gave me from that one time I tried to blow up that subway station. Wanna see?
Guard #2: Harassment! Back off, Joker! I'm warning you!
Nancy: Um, no thank you, Mr. Joker. If it were up to you, would you have the Batman alive and well today?
The Joker: Definitely. With him gone, there are no true challenges to my genius anymore. No offense, guys.
Nancy: Why do you think Bruce Wayne decided to take up his Batman persona?
The Joker: Because he was completely batty, of course!
Guard #1: Better stop there, ma'am. Once he gets started on his bad jokes, there's no stopping him.
The Joker: Bad jokes? Oh dear, you'll pay for that one.
Nancy: Yes…well…Those are some lovely flowers you're bringing for your fallen rival.
The Joker: They certainly are. The considerate staff of Arkham was kind enough to import them for me. They are quite expensive, but are well worth the price. Nothing less will do for the great Batman's funeral. Care for a whiff?
Nancy: Um…okay. Don't mind if I do.
She sticks her nose into the bouquet and immediately swoons.
The Joker: Of course, they are extremely toxic and are unfortunately fatal to anyone who breathes in their fumes. Sorry, my dear.
Guard #3: Code Red! Code Red! He has a weapon. Take him down!
The Joker throws the bouquet into the guard's face. He keels over. As the other guards swivel their rifles, the Joker wraps the chain of his handcuffs around Guard #1's neck and draws him close as a human shield. The unfortunate guard is hit by a spray of bullets. The Kevlar vest he is wearing prevents the bullets from going through his body and hitting the Joker. The guards all empty their magazines and frantically begin reloading. The Joker smoothly removes the keys from his "shield's" belt, unlocks his bonds, and picks up the two fallen guards' machine guns. He then proceeds to decimate the remaining guards, cackling hysterically the entire time. The guests panic, dashing about in all directions. Somehow Bruce Wayne's coffin gets overturned, spilling the waxy corpse into the soaked grass. The funeral is utterly ruined by the Joker.
The cameraman gets hit by a stray shot, and the camera is dumped lens-first into the pavement. All is dark, and the only sounds are the screams of the guests, the spurts of gunfire, and maniacal laughter.
The scene quickly switches back to Mike in the studio, his eyes round with shock.
Mike: Um…right. And now to our next story. In a small town in Iowa, a man attempted to murder his wife with a frozen chicken, but tripped over his cat and clubbed his own head with the icy fowl. He is now in critical condition. You'll get more updates as we receive them….
Author's Note: So…The gods of this website saw it fit to remove this story from their site. I'm not at all sure why. The only thing I can think of was because I made a reference to a certain once-bald pop-star celebrity. I have rewritten that part, and hopefully I won't anger said gods again. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this revised fic.