Chapter X

Batman Returns

Bane and Scarecrow stood back to back, fending off Huntress and Batgirl. The two females were quite good, Bane thought, but he would soon over power them, most likely without Scarecrow's help. The man was utterly useless in battle, instead preferring to use fear as a weapon. This Bane approved of, but not when blows were being exchanged.

He grabbed Batgirl, slamming her to the ground. She gasped, and he knew that he had broken at least two ribs.

"The mask only hides your identity," he said, planting a heavy boot on her chest. She sucked her breath in through her teeth. "It doesn't make you invulnerable to pain."

He pulled out a massive knife. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly.

"I will attempt to make this as painless as possible," he assured her. "You are indeed a valiant foe."

Her eyes behind her domino mask widened, but they weren't looking at him. He sighed, turning.

Scarecrow was downed, but not by Huntress. The blood froze in Bane's veins.

Batman was back. And he seemed extremely annoyed.

Bane dropped his head as Batman swung at it. He came up too soon. The cape, which seemed to be electrified, shocked him on the barest touch. For his enhanced physique, this did nothing more than hurt him temporarily. It didn't incapacitate him.

A heavy boot slammed into his midriff. Batman seemed to fight with unerring accuracy in terms of where to inflict most pain. This was normal... but there was a savagery about Batman that was unfamiliar.

Bane didn't have time to ponder this.

Two clubs fell swiftly on the back of his head, and he blacked out.


Nightwing stared at Batman. Everything was the same, the armor, the jaw that jutted out, the cold stare... but something was off. Out of the many crazy things that Nightwing had gone through, one thing was certain.

This Batman was not Bruce Wayne.

Suddenly, Wadey's words made more sense. He had been contracted to kill Bruce Wayne... not Batman. Now he knew why. Another Batman was waiting to fill in.

As many questions as that begged answering, one thing was abundantly clear. This man was not an ally.

The gangs had all run away at the sight of the imposter Batman. Now he and the Bat Family stood alone, everyone staring at him. Robin had a slight cut on his throat, and Batgirl was looking worse for wear. But everyone was dead silent.

"Nightwing?" said Oracle's voice. She could see through his mask that patched into a video feed. "Am I seeing things? Are you seeing things?"

"It's not him," Nightwing said. He raised his voice. "Who are you?!"

It perhaps wasn't the brightest thing to do. But after all Nightwing had gone through after returning to Gotham, him snapping at this final moment was maybe acceptable.

Except for that this imposter Batman seemed perfectly calm in his accusation. He even seemed to be expecting Nightwing's wild attack.

He side-stepped the wild blow easily, pushing Nightwing off balance. The others grabbed Nightwing, trying to get him to calm down. But he couldn't hear them, his blood was pounding in his ears.

"Who are you?!" he screeched. "Who are you?!"

With an animal effort, he broke free of everyone's hold and attacked the imposter. This time, not-Batman intercepted his lunge, grabbing him and throwing him aside like he was a rag doll.

It was too reminiscent of Slade treating him like a plaything when he was Robin. It only served to fuel his rage.

"Nightwing, calm down!" Robin was yelling. "Batman's just saved us!"

"He's not Batman!" he yelled. Not-Batman shook his head.

"I am, Dick," he said. "I'm Batman."

And then, before anyone could react, not-Batman swung around, shooting a sleeping agent in all of their faces. None of them could respond, none could hold their breath fast enough.

Before Nightwing hit the ground, he caught a full glimpse of the imposter's face. There was something odd about, something familiar... but before his brain could comprehend it, he fell into unconsciousness.


"... details are coming to light that Batman's return has sent many of Gotham's most dangerous criminals into hiding. Time will tell if the city can go back to calling itself 'safe.'"

"Meanwhile, in other news, Gotham's favorite son, Bruce Wayne, has been reported dead. He and his butler, Alfred Pennyworth were unable to escape the second destruction of their home, and their bodies were recovered... sorry, charred beyond recognition. I'm sorry... (sniff)... but this is tragic news for the many businesses and people of Gotham."

Dick stared at the television screen, feeling hollow inside. He had returned to San Francisco after the funeral, and had been living the past few days in a daze.

His longtime mentor and friend... the one he had become estranged with... was dead. Gone. Along with their loyal friend and butler, Alfred. The shock of this twin loss was devastating.

But more than that, his memory, the one the public would never know, was being dishonored. Someone was running around in a Bat suit, masquerading as Batman. But he could never be so, even if he did seem physically capable.

Distantly, Dick became aware of someone turning off the TV. He looked over and saw Peter, whose eyes were cast to the ground.

"So." It was one word, but one that threatened a conversation. That was something Dick just didn't want to have right now. But Peter wasn't so merciful.

"I'm sorry. I never thought things would go down like."

Dick grunted, but then felt obligated to speak.

"Wade Wilson's still alive," he said finally. Peter looked at him, a weary expression in his eyes. "He's calling himself 'Deadlock' now."

"Well, it was bound to happen," Peter said. "He killed Bruce?" Dick nodded. "Right then... we find him, and we make him pay. And we find out who this new Batman is. I have a feeling they're connected somehow."

"That's what I thought," Dick said, perking up. Planning things always made him feel better. "Speaking of new people, I met the new Robin."

"Oh?" Peter said, raising his eyebrows. "And?"

"It's a good replacement," he admitted, scratching his chin. "I'm glad that he is Robin."

"Uh-huh. Speaking of new stuff..." Dick shook his head.

"I don't think I can speak to Starfire again," he said, lowering his head. "I've really screwed things up. I don't even know which way is up some days. When I've pulled myself together somewhat, I'll talk to her."

"Good," Peter said, standing up. "At least you know you're a wreck. That's the first step."

It was. Now he had to continue through with the process.

Tomorrow was a new day. A new day full of new things in store.


Thank you, and good night.