I disagree with them. Whatever they say, I disagree.

The world needed a hero and perhaps Gotham needed one more than the rest of the world. We had one for a time and for a time we had hope. But the problem with ideals like hope is that when they are given human form they have human weaknesses.

All it took was just one bullet to kill Gotham's hope. "The bullet that killed the bat" was on display like a trophy in the criminal underworld. They even had the audacity to charge admission to see it in the back room of some south-side dive. When the cops came, I hear they even charged Gordon. Just goes to show the kind of sway the criminal underworld has in Gotham now that Batman is gone.

When he was still on the streets, there was peace. His stubborn message about the resilience of the human spirit drove back the darkness in Gotham for almost five years. For five years we could go out at night and the only ones who felt fear where the men with the eyes that watched us from the shadows. They were scared of HIM. At first they were scared of HIS power and HIS vigilance, but in time that spirit- that icon he became, emboldened us all. Vigilante groups drove back the time of scum that plagued our city. Together we were unstoppable! With the Dark Knight as our inspiration we saw the sun rise for the first time on a world cast in darkness for so long.

But all that stopped with a bullet. "Icons in human form" and all that… human weakness suck.

Slowly the vigilante groups grew quiet and complacent.

Even the police caved.

The sun that had grown so close to rising set once more and night fell on the streets of Gotham.

~Batman~

Long Days, Gotham Knights

Chapter 1

The Scream

I don't remember when I first got started, maybe in the elementary school's paper, but I've always had a "thing" for writing. I'd write stories when I was younger about stupid things like knights and superheroes I saw on the Saturday morning cartoons. When I got older, I just wrote about superheroes I saw on the Saturday evening news. Big change of pace, I know.

But there was always something "big" about heroes. They meant "more" to me than the other articles I'd write every week.

While the latest drug bust set a crime syndicate back two months, a single low-life caught jacking a car by Batman had a deeper impact. People would witness him doing it and see that crime didn't pay and then I'd write about it. The next morning, everyone would know about it. When I wrote for the Gotham Gazette I felt like I was helping him win back the city. While he swooped over the skyscrapers late at night, I burned the midnight oil getting tomorrow's article ready for print.

There was an unspoken comradely I felt with him, even though we'd never meet. As I wrote about him, I felt like I knew him. I felt like I could get into his pointy-eared head and decipher the reason's he did things.

When Robin- the boy wonder, came to the world's attention I empathized. He was the same way I was. I was one of the paper's youngest journalists and I was trying to carve out my legacy in a world of giants. He was the boy living in the shadow of the Bat and I could almost hear him screaming for recognition.

To that end, I decided to give him his own article.

"Who is the Boy Wonder?"

That's where it all started.

I asked myself "Who is the Boy Wonder" and when I had finished I had found out.

Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard. A few pictures matched to local students. A lot of coffee, a some digging, a bit of off the clock investigation of financial records down at city hall, and I put the pieces together.

Dick Grayson.

Richard "Robin" Grayson was the boy wonder… and his mentor Batman…

I struggled with that. Releasing it to the press. I had conclusive evidence that Dick was Robin but should I share it? I thought back to my childhood and asked if the boy who wrote about yesterday's episode of Dragon Ball Z would have revealed Dick's identity.

With a sigh, I deleted my files and gave him a head start. I fingered some of the world's most talented child actors and made it into a publicity piece that their agents are still thanking me for.

But who was the Batman?

It was a thought that kept me up a lot during that time.

I matched faces. I dug. I traced leads.

But nothing.

Even his voice was all wrong. He clearly changed it…

But then, then one night I found it. I found the first little crack in the wall that was Batman.

I dug my nails into that little crevice and pulled myself up. Wrenching with pain, I worked long hours at the Gazette and stayed up all night coming the evidence. First it was a parking ticket paid for by Wayne Enterprises to a citizen who had their car wrecked by Batman. Next it was mysterious financials and clandestine expenditures on Wayne Enterprises tax returns. I searched power grids and traced inconsistencies in their power levels. If Batman was operating around Gotham, he had to have juice to power his little toys.

It all came together. It all came to a head.

I was living the dream.

I'd put it all together after two long years.
I knew who he was.

I knew where he lived.

I knew his mind and I was finally going to meet him face to face.

However… I was too late. Minutes too late.

Maybe even seconds too late.

It was the bullet.
The damn bullet.

The bullet pierced just below his second thoracic vertebrae, severing his T2 spinal nerve. It was an instant death.

That wasn't the case for the rest of us though. Even though we hadn't got shot, we felt the wound. Our hearts and our spirits were crushed and no medical procedure could fix that. We suffered for months before we could feel anything again. We watched from out windows as bangers and drug lords swept up what few decent people would stand against them.

I watched a girl who lived next door, no older than me, get snapped up by theFalconecrime family right out from under my nose. She was turning tricks in a week and in two she was dead. "Live fast- die hard" I guess. Her name was Jenny.

I watched a thousand Jennies every month and a thousand more the next. I sat and watched the world from my relatively safe little editor's desk as it caught fire and started to burn.

However… when your neighbor's house catches fire, a good man put's it out.

But Batman had been that "good man" and he wasn't here to put it out anymore.

So I did.