I shouldn't be in this position. I shouldn't be lying on the ground, the Batman's foot on my back, holding me down, the Joker's still growing puddle of blood just inches from my face. I struggle, trying to get away from the blood, but the Batman's foot just presses down harder.
Right now, I should be standing over the Batman's body as he bleeds out. I would be there, if my knife hadn't hit him a few inches too low. If I had just hit his shoulder, where his armour has a gap to allow his arm to move, I would have sliced right through the subclavian vein. The Batman would have gone down in seconds.
Right now, all I can feel is rage. I should be able to admit that it's a little misplaced. Technically the law is on the Batman's side. Most people would probably agree that morality is on his side too. But I won't admit he's right.
For one thing, the Batman may consider himself above killing, but bringing me to the police is nothing less than killing me. Whether I'm imprisoned and tried in Gotham or dragged back to Miami, I'll be executed once I'm found guilty. Harrison will be orphaned. Deb's career will be over; even if no one ever figures out she knew what I am, everyone will question her abilities and she'll quickly be forced to resign from the lack of confidence.
And what's the benefit of stopping me? Saving the Joker's life? I would have stopped him for good, and who would have missed him, besides Harley? Half of Gotham would be partying in the streets if they knew he was gone. And now, instead, it's only a matter of time before yet another news report detailing how many he's killed in his latest bombing or bank heist or whatever happens next.
And despite all that, the Batman's standing on top of me, feeling justified in stopping me. Rage feels like the appropriate reaction.
That and disgust with the blood that keeps spreading towards me. I try again to edge away from it, but I can't move. I'm about to start thrashing to try to get away when the Batman's voice distracts me from the source of my discomfort.
"All this effort for no real reason," he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
The statement turns all my rage into irritation. I always hear a similar sentiment at every crime scene. What it always means is that the person saying it wants to think there's no reason behind it. Then they'd have to understand.
The Batman spends his time tracking down criminals and yet can't even be bothered to make an effort at understanding.
"There's always a reason," I retort.
"I doubt that."
"Then you're an idiot," I tell him, my eyes on the blood still creeping towards me, which at least has mercifully slowed down. The Joker's heart must be slowing a bit. The Batman pushes down harder on me.
"There's no way anything could have happened to you to justify this," he growls.
"I didn't say that, I said there's a reason. Not that you seem interested."
The Batman pauses at my accusation of indifference. "Try me," he says.
I hesitate. I'm not sure I want to tell Batman something that personal. On the other hand, if he drags me to prison everyone, even people I've never met, will know anyways. Besides, with the Joker's blood flow slowing, a few minutes of talking to the Batman might be enough to kill him, and he shouldn't be allowed to walk away from this.
"My mother was murdered in front of me," I confess.
Amazingly, the weight on my back disappears. I scramble to my feet, rushing to get away from the blood, before I turn to face the Batman questioningly. He looks as confused as I am. I'm not sure even he knows why he let me stand.
"What did you say?" he asks.
"I am the way I am because my mother was murdered in front of me," I shrug. "I was three. A chainsaw was involved," I clarify.
The Batman actually gapes at me, momentarily at a loss for words.
"And you think that gives you an excuse?" I hiss once Morgan's answer had sunk in.
"No," Morgan admits, "But it's why I have to do this."
I know that most of the criminals I chase were also deeply affected by past traumas. I know watching my parents die changed me. But I really wasn't expecting Morgan to give me an answer that sounded so familiar.
It's not just his trauma that sounds familiar though. It's also his off-hand explanation that he needs to do this. I can understand that better than I'd like to admit. Night after night I need to go out and make things right, to try and somehow fix my past by stopping more atrocities now.
I even have to admit that sometimes it's incredibly satisfying to cause a little incidental pain to those who deserve it in the pursuit of justice.
I look at the Batman, still puzzled. I was expecting my answer to be surprising, but not so shocking that he'd make a mistake like letting me stand. I guess it's not such a huge mistake though, considering he's standing between me and my knives, and even with the wound just under his shoulder I'm no match for the Batman unarmed.
Still, even if I don't have another chance to take the Batman down, maybe this gives me a chance to talk him out of arresting me. His principles seem pretty absolute, but mentioning my mother's murder seems to have hit close to home. Even now, the Batman has lost his angry edge, instead looking pensive.
"Look," I say gently, not wanting to destroy this opportunity before I've even started, "If you're not willing to stop the Joker for the people he's killed, what about the rest of his victims? What about the ones had to live and deal with what he did to them?"
The Batman shakes his head. "They couldn't have all turned out like you."
"Enough of them would have." I scowl down at the Joker, who has mercifully remained silent this whole time. "Monsters like him create more monsters."
Morgan, like all psychopaths, is good at faking emotions. He's been convincing so far, although that illusion was shattered for a few minutes, along with the microscope slide. Now it's more believable than ever as he glares at the Joker. Considering his story, it's possible his apparent hatred towards the Joker is real.
But what he said about the Joker making more monsters bothers me. Does he realize what he's implying about himself?
"What about you?" I ask, wondering if he's thought about the connotations.
"Me?" he repeats, smiling slightly. "Monsters like me prefer not to be noticed."
At least he doesn't hold any illusions about himself.
"Even if that's all true," I start.
"It is," Morgan interrupts.
"Even if you mean every word," I continue, being more specific, "That still doesn't mean the Joker deserves to die."
"He doesn't deserve to live, either," Morgan replies without hesitation.
The Joker, who has remained quiet although silently shaking with mirth, apparently can't take it anymore and suddenly dissolves into gales of insane laughter.
"That's genius!" he exclaims in between cackles. "I can't say I've ever thought of it that way!"
"What way?" the Batman growls threateningly.
"Like the man said," the Joker tries to indicate me with his chin but fails, "About me 'making monsters'."
"What about it?" I ask in a tone similar to the one the Batman just used.
The Joker stifles his laughter a little so he can speak more fluently. "Like I said," he starts, "I never thought of it like that. All this time, I thought all the mayhem I could cause would have to be directly caused by yours truly." Another little giggle escapes, but the Joker recovers quickly. "But this way, I cause damage indirectly by messing with little kids." He pauses, thinking. "That is, of course, assuming they witness the mayhem I directly cause and survive. I'll have to institute a new policy of bringing some brats along for the ride and releasing them back into the wild later." With this last statement, the Joker starts laughing hysterically again.
I clench my fists. "I'm not letting you do that," I tell him.
"Actually, based on your story, I don't even have to go that far," he continues, ignoring me. "I can just find some random families and murder the parents right in front of-"
The Joker is cut off when I backhand him across the face hard enough to jar his head loose from the plastic wrap holding him down. Blood splashes out from the cut I made to his cheek.
Too late I remember that I'm trying to talk the Batman out of dragging me to the GCPD. A violent impulse like that was the last thing I wanted him to see. I look from the Joker to the Batman apprehensively.
Morgan's point about the damage his trauma has done to him has only given the Joker ideas. The Joker has done inexcusable things, but I've never felt this level of revulsion for him before.
Apparently Morgan feels the same way I do. Before I have a chance to react to the Joker's words, his hand whips out, striking the Joker hard enough for the sound to nearly echo off the walls. His rage is evident in his eyes, but it all melts into dread when he looks at me.
He didn't mean for me to see that side of him right now. That look tells me that his every word, gesture and expression up to this point were carefully chosen, manufactured for my benefit, and now he's sure all that work has crumbled away with one careless slip.
That look also tells me that his rage is genuine. Every other emotion he's shown me is likely to be fake, and I'll never know either way, but his anger at the Joker's suggestion is real and all too understandable.
"You said the Joker doesn't deserve to live," I state. "I'm assuming you'd say the same about anyone else you've killed."
Morgan hesitates. "Yes," he finally says, eying me warily.
"How do you decide that?"
Before, I kept the Batman on the defensive by asking him about his rigid code. Now he's reversed it, and I'm not sure why. What I do know is that keeping this conversation going at least gives me more time to think of an escape plan.
"Same as the Joker," I answer honestly, "I find out if they've killed someone. Someone who didn't deserve to die," I hastily add. I can't have the Batman thinking I'd go after cops who have been involved in a shoot out or something like that.
"What if you get it wrong?" the Batman probes, his eyes narrowing.
"I don't."
"Really?" the Batman asks, although it's said as more of a statement than a question.
"I check."
I'm not sure what to make of Morgan.
He's clearly a psychopath, and has all of the hallmarks of the kind of remorseless killers I've stopped before, like Zsasz, or even the Joker. At the same time, he goes out of his way to not take innocent lives.
When he spoke of why he does this, he phrased it in terms of a personality trait, not a choice. The Joker was no doubt correct when he said Morgan enjoyed this, but his urge to kill seems like more of a compulsion than a selfish desire like the Joker's.
The best conclusion I can draw about Morgan is that, even if he isn't willing to stop himself, he's found a way to indulge his darker impulses in a way that, he believes, ends the suffering of others. He hasn't reined in his homicidal tendencies, but carefully harnessed it as a tool for his own twisted definition of justice.
I weigh my options and finally make my decision. No matter what his intent is, his actions are wrong, and need to be stopped.
For a long moment after my answer, neither of us moves. The Batman stares intensely at me, sizing me up.
There's no way I'm talking him out of arresting me. He has his own code, one he'll follow as strictly as I follow mine. But I can't beat him in a fight, not with all his equipment and body armour. I reach as far into my mind as I can, looking for any answer, but the best I've come up with so far is stall, and it's looking like I've run out of time.
I still refuse to accept that this is it though. I think back over what he said, how he acted and reacted, hoping there's something I missed, some key that will get me out of here. I keep going back to his strong reaction to my bit of honesty regarding my past traumas. Something hit a nerve with him there.
Maybe someone close to him was killed. Maybe he was even there to see it. Maybe he has a similar story.
Or maybe this is all just wishful thinking.
I don't even know how that would help me if he did have a past like mine. A clue to the Batman's past could help me find out who he was if I was anywhere else, and had the time to do some research. As it is, I don't have access to enough information about past crimes in Gotham that could have affected whoever the Batman is when he was young. The only crime I've even heard about that fits the bill is the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne in front of a twelve-year-old Bruce Wayne.
Suddenly I remember Wayne's performance on the news, how he seemed to be hiding something. I also realize that being a billionaire would give the Batman the ability to afford all his bat-themed equipment.
Of course, I still don't know for sure. This is a long shot, my last possible chance.
"I can't let you do this," the Batman says, advancing towards me.
"If you don't," I start, holding my ground despite my desperation, "I'll tell everyone that you're Bruce Wayne."
The Batman doesn't flinch.
I don't react. I can't let Morgan know he has a bargaining chip.
There's no way he has proof. If anyone got that close, they would have been on my radar long ago. Most likely he's realized that I need an enormous budget, and that Bruce Wayne is one of the few people in Gotham both wealthy enough to finance me and young enough to be me. If I don't give any indication he's right, he might be convinced to drop it. All I need to do is act how I would if I weren't Bruce Wayne – I need to act as if the threat is the most ridiculous thing I've heard.
Astonishingly, the Joker is actually helpful for once, as he dissolves into gales of hysterical laughter. "You," he tries to start between burst of mirth, but fails. After a second, he tries again. "You can't possibly really think," the Joker's words are interrupted again by a more giggles, "That spoiled brat Wayne…" At my name, the Joker loses control completely, and his laughter once more fills the room.
"I'm not Bruce Wayne," I state calmly over the Joker.
Morgan still doesn't flinch. I tell myself again that he can't possibly have any proof, but if he doesn't, he's remarkably lucky to have just randomly guessed correctly.
A few minutes ago I would have said that taking the Joker hostage was the most desperate thing I'd ever done. It turns out I beat that record impressively fast.
I'm basing my guess at Batman's identity on what could be a few random coincidences. The odds that I'm right are astronomically bad, but if I show the faintest hint of uncertainty, my chances of getting out of this are zero. Whether I'm right or wrong, my only option is to act like I'm sure.
The Batman hasn't even hesitated, but then again, if someone suddenly accused me of being a serial killer, neither would I.
"If that's true," I answer, as the Batman stops inches from me, "Then you won't have any problem with me telling that to everyone who will listen. Not that I'd have any reason to call attention to myself by talking to the press, unless I was in prison."
The Batman doesn't move, and neither do I. I'm all too aware that stepping back even an inch will let him know I don't actually have any proof. Without that, it's doubtful anyone will believe me under any circumstances, especially when even I'm not sure if I believe me.
I stare at Morgan, looking for anything that will tell me whether he truly knows or is just grasping at straws, when I realize it doesn't matter.
The more sensationalist reporters in Gotham will latch onto even the words of the least reliable source if they think it will give them a story like Batman's identity. It doesn't matter if Morgan has proof, because the more tenacious of the tabloid writers won't stop until they find it. If I thought they wouldn't find it, I'd call Morgan's bluff in a heartbeat, but all it would take is someone who knew what to look for digging into Wayne Enterprise's finances, or finding how Batman's activities lined up with Bruce Wayne's public appearances, or any number of other routes.
Morgan has nothing to lose if he's in prison. Constantly claiming he knows who I am would have no consequences for him, even if he were wrong. But his accusations will not only stop me from protecting Gotham, it will also stop everyone with a personal connection to me. Nightwing, Robin, maybe even Oracle.
I'm not sure if stopping one person is worth being able to stop more in the future. I don't know if my potential future actions should have more importance than my principles, or if I'm just being selfish.
"Geeze, will you two just make out already?" the Joker says, breaking the long silence as well as the stare, as both the Batman and I turn to glare at him.
"If you killed the Joker," the Batman says, still staring at him, "You wouldn't leave a trace."
It takes me a moment to realize this was meant as a question.
"No, I wouldn't," I answer after a moment's hesitation.
The Batman nods once. His cape sweeps around him as he turns and heads for the door. In the doorway, he looks over his shoulder at me.
"Once you're done here, leave Gotham City," he growls menacingly. "If you kill anyone else before you're out, or if you ever come back to my city again, I will hunt you down."
With that, he strides through the door and down the hallway, never looking back.
My jaw drops. My shot in the dark was, despite all odds, right.
"Well, that's disappointing," the Joker complains.
"You weren't still hoping for that rescue, were you?" I taunt him.
"Not that," he responds with a sneer. "I'm talking about the fact that Bats is Bruce Wayne." He sighs, rolling his eyes. "All this time, my nemesis was that simpering rich little prick. How humiliating. I mean, just kill me now, am I right?"
The sardonic look the Joker shoots me tells me he knows he's setting me up for a punch line.
"If you insist," I oblige him.
The side door of the comedy club is almost closed behind me before I hear the whine of a saw starting up inside. At least Morgan had the decency to wait until I'd left.
For a moment outside I pause and nearly go back inside to stop the atrocity I know is happening. I struggle with the impulse to stop the Joker's impending death even as I remind myself of how many more he'll kill if I save him.
I hate myself for not stopping this, but at the same time, I hate myself for every death I've failed to stop over the years. And much as I hate to admit it, Morgan's right about one thing. The Joker won't stop killing until he's dead.
I've made hard choices before, choices where I've had to decide between saving a few and saving hundreds. Come to think of it, most of those choices were given to me by the Joker. I try to think of this as one of those choices.
I shake my head and press a button on my wrist, opening my line to Oracle.
"Bruce," Oracle greets me, surprised I'm calling her so soon after arriving at the Joker's hideout, "Did you find anything?"
I hesitate for a second, my conscience screaming at me to tell her everything.
"Bruce?" she asks when I don't reply, "Are you there?"
"I'm here," I force myself to say. "I didn't find anything."
"I'm not really surprised," Oracle answers, "I doubted the Joker would have activated the phone anywhere meaningful."
"Not unless he didn't think anyone would find it before it was too late," I point out.
"True," Oracle admits. "Not that it matters now. What's your next move?"
I give one more glance at the door behind me before I make myself walk away. "I'm going back to the Bat-cave to go over the evidence. Maybe I'll find a new lead."
Well, that about wraps this up, I guess. I mean, it's not like there's any huge, dangling loose ends left over or anything...
Seriously though, I know there would probably be people who wouldn't be happy no matter how I end this (not that there's anything wrong with that, people are going to have their favourites), but before anyone grabs the torches and pitchforks, I gotta say that this was the only way I could think of to end this. I wasn't about to write Dexter killing Batman, and I like Dexter too much to let Batman drag him off to Blackgate.
Alright, I've said my piece (at least until I finish my wrap up and post it), feel free to tear me a new one in a review ;)