Prelude
Another slug to the face, he followed the flow of the punch, reducing damage. While the brute was still relishing that one hit, the dark figure swiftly transferred his weight, twisting, and slamming his leg against the hooligan's ribs. There was a sickening crack. The man fell.
Who? The Batman? Oh yes, Batsy is a good little bat. He makes the perfect nightmare for the criminally inclined. Powerful, silent, incorruptible… Yes, yes. Batsy is a good little bat, he tries so hard to be.
Two more, coming from both sides. Blood thick in his mouth, Batman leapt up to grab a low hanging part of the piping, the joints of his arms screaming in protest. The men ran right into the simultaneous kicks. The force of the hits was brutal on his knees, one of the men collapsed, the other still swinging blearily. He was soon put out as well.
Why? So that you, and I, can sleep at night. Huzzah!
"Master Bruce, there is noble sacrifice, and there is suicide. I'm beginning to fear that you have forgotten the difference." The butler wrapped up the last of his charge's injuries, a line of what seemed to be disapproval made itself clear between his white brows.
"Sorry, Alfred." Wayne winced a little as he sat up, the bruises that riddled his body, and the tortured muscles all feuding for the occupation of his mind. "Gotham needs Batman, and as long as it needs him-"
"Gotham needs an intact, functioning Batman. At this point, sir, neither describes your condition."
I wonder, do you sleep, Batsy? Or is Joker keeping up the punchlines for his darling? Is the Riddler pelting you with his insatiable pride? Are you just dying for madness to come home? To come and play?
Desperate, grappling hands, clumsily welded metal, sweet perfume amongst the blood and gunpowder, moonlight on a scarlet-soaked tie, pearls, pearls, pearls…
Wayne woke again. While Gotham slept, the Batman wept.
Sleep, Batsy. Sleep.
Gotham doesn't need another mad man to play with the mad. We have enough. And you cannot put them all away. Arkham can only hold so many, and you are too weak to send them deeper.
Give up, Dark Knight. Give up on the city that doesn't want to be saved. We don't want to be saved. We want to burn. Let us burn, or burn, burn, burn with us. Don't keep up with that silly dance. Let them eat us. Let them take us.
Don't you see, Batsy? This is the punchline of Fate. This is the natural course of nature. This is the sound of Chance's laughter. We will be slaughtered, for no sense but the sense that matters, the sense of a world in which you have no place.
For you are the only thing keeping us trapped in this static battle between the obsolete and the inevitable.
Who do you really fight for?
Us? Or Arkham's children?
Who do you really want to save?
Gotham? Or the Batman?
Author in Rant: When I should have been studying, I fell back in love with Batman, The Animated Series. Someone had given us a tape of the episode with Mr. Freeze when I was younger, and I have always remembered snippets of it. Soon after reacquainting myself with the cartoon, I was introduced to the wonderful world of graphic novels, and got to know Batman even better. I was quickly hooked, and couldn't help but try my hand at writing a fanfic. Don't worry, I'm not going to leave off with this wacky chapter. ...Maybe you should worry. One thing I like about Batman, is that there is so much madness in it, and the madness isn't just there to laugh in your face and leave you baffled. They explain it to you. By the time they're through, you thoroughly understand, and are convinced of the reality and depth to the madness. I can't claim to be anywhere as good, or as dark a storyteller as the likes of Alan Moore, but I am a rather stubborn fan, so I will try.
But enough of my ramblings. Let's get on with the story.