Undeserved
Chapter 2
Thoughts
"Perhaps, it's best time for some rest?" Alfred asked staring at Bruce, who was glaring at the TV.
"Rest? What Rest?" Bruce said silently. Alfred turned to the TV and watched the new report Bruce had been watching, the one about Quinn, which had been replayed over and over… and over. Alfred sighed and snatched the remote from Bruce's hands. Turning off the TV, Alfred turned on Bruce.
"Sir, it well past three AM and I insist-" Alfred stopped when he noticed Bruce was already out. Alfred laughed at himself, "Perhaps, it is, best time for some rest…"
Alfred walked down the humongous, marble staircase of the newly renovated Wayne Manor. He sniffed the air around him, that "newly restored smell" surrounded him. Kind of like the "new car smell." It would always bear with Alfred. But one thing he couldn't stand was having this huge of house and no one being in it other than himself. It got rather lonely spending hours worrying whether your "son" returned, dead or alive.
Alfred opened one of the many cupboards in the massive kitchen which no one attended. He pulled a small bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, twisted its cap off, and poured it into a shot glass. Screwing back on the cap and placing the bottle to the side, Alfred titled his head back and took the shot.
Alfred shook himself vigorously, trying to shake off the drink. "Yuck…" he said having not tasting the beverage for quite some time…
Although, Alfred was relieved of the burden of fretting, since Bruce "took some time off," it was all "quiet" in Gotham. The Trial seemed to have shut up Gotham up completely, no matter how much rage it brought. Businesses, crimes, and political structure seemed to have shut down, as if the fate of the trial rested on what was going to happen to next.
It certainly lifted the pressure off Bruce, and Alfred, as well. No crime, no Batman. But now that it was over. What's gonna happen next? Alfred thought to himself. Crime will explode… Gotham was going through its worst time ever. Even, seemingly, worse, than pre-Batman.
The Arkham Incident was enough. The Joker blasted everything out of control. Anything, afterwards, killed what hope was left for Gotham. It didn't matter how many street-thugs were locked up. It didn't matter how many buildings were blown up. It didn't matter how many people were killed or fell to the arms of insanity.
It was one thing to create anarchy, then, pure and utterly, uncontrollable chaos…
"The Joker won after all…"
To be on the other side of the glass wall, was something new. To be interviewed, then to be the interviewer, was something new. To be mistreated, beaten, and felt-up by those sick perverted guards, was something new.
I'll kill 'em! I'll kill all of them! Fuck 'em! They all deserve to get what's coming to 'em! Whatever… that's… coming… to them…
Was this it? Though? A heavily secured door? A bullet proof glass wall? A tiny bench to sleep on? I thought they were supposed to help me… NOT! Give me back problems!
Glad to be back… Ever so happy to be back… No… Not really… He'll only be there until, he got bored or someone crazy enough busted him out. But he could stay here a while, though. Hell, Gotham hardly needs me anymore! It seemed to cause more problems to itself, than others.
Why did Arkham have to be so filthy? Besides, I thought this was to be a "madhouse." Aren't there suppose to be padded walls? After all, I don't want to hurt myself.
Sooner or later, it'd have to come to that… but for now… Sit back, relax, Gotham, tonight and, maybe, tomorrow, you're free …
Darkness, complete darkness, chains, cold and unbreakable, hungry, starving and impatient, guess, he's supposed to stay down there and die slowly.
No mask. No dignity. No right, straightjackets and padded walls. Is this what I'm reduced to? His hands weren't free, so he couldn't work. His door was closed, so he couldn't walk. His mind was open, so he could think whatever he liked.
Soon… Soon… Soon…
Soon it would begin. The bat will get his…
Timid and shy, the ideal patient! But I'm not insane… Didn't they run out of room in county? Boy, I certainly hope not… When are they gonna see, though? I'll make 'em see… I ain't crazy…
The hell, you're not…
W-who are you?
Stutterin' in yo' thoughts? Ha! Pathetic…
Don't you make fun of me!
Who's gonna stop me? Chunky, four-eyes?
Stop!
Listen! You little shit! This is how it's gonna roll, see… I'm takin' over and there ain't nothin' you can do… Got it?
I don't-
SHUT THE FUCK UP! GOT IT?
…
Good… Gotham is gonna get one helluva surprise when you n' me break out!
If it got Alfred off his back, he'd be all set for the night. Sure, he'd check in on him sooner or later… But he's used to it… isn't he? He should be…
But what if he wasn't?
It wouldn't be the best to leave without so much as saying, "I'll be out…" But what could he do. Chances are he had one of the most difficult jobs in the world. He had to do it. If not who else would…
Who else would…
What irony! What he spent the last hour thinking about had backfired and hit straight in the face! The man who has been sending him "love letters." But what he did was different… instead of stopping the criminal and locking him up.
He killed them…
What he did was wrong and completely uncalled for! What right… did he… again, irony struck… another outlaw just like him? Killing off Joker's entire crew, then killing three more of Gotham's top murders and rapists.
Is it the best to think about this? Probably not.
But from what he had gathered had revealed little about the, other, vigilante. He picked off a note from Gordon and three more the corpses of the other victims. All saying the same thing, They're Wrong… and all addressed to him, they all bore his insignia in the left-hand corner. The only clue he could gather, was, that he at the upper right-hand corner of the note it had a letter, all written in a tribal-ish fashion. So far, in order they said, M-U-E-R. So far, no matter what order, they didn't make any sense.
Right now it doesn't matter…
"Calling all units! Calling all units! Three armed robbers decided to try to rob Gotham Financial. Converge at once! Repeat-" He smiled and blasted away on his Batpod, without bothering to think about anything else. Something's are more important than letters…
A/N: Let's play the naming GAME!
