Title: One More Chance

Rating: M

Genre: Psychological, noir, suspense, drama, action adventure

Synopsis: Bruce has a talk with himself

A swift punch to the jaw delivered a cracking blow to the mandibles of a blond male as he fell to the ground. His friends surrounded him, ready to pounce on the man they once discarded as an urban myth but was now glaring at them in the flesh. It was one thing to hear about these sorts of things. All the tall tales and mythical notions that were associated with him, it was like their very own signature Robin Hood, except that to these kids, the Batman was not a welcome guest.

The Dark Knight charged at them like a raging bull. The three young men and one woman, about twenty, were nothing but breakfast to his trained martial arts. One by one, they all went down like flies, targets of his never ending thirst and wrath. These were kids who chose the wrong hour, the wrong car to break into for pleasure and the wrong area to do their business.

The Dark Knight was not irritated and he was not angry. An irritation was a mosquito that would not back off from your Sunday picnic sandwhiches. He certainly was not angry. Angry was when someone had done something that was unconscienable and an answer was still achievable, even at a long shot.

The Dark Knight was in full on rage mode and nothing, absolutely nothing, could offer solace to his restless spirit. Mentally and physically, he threw himself into the exchange with the wannabe gangsters. They had deserved it. They were at the wrong place at the wrong time. They were creating mischief and some poor soul was going to have trouble with the insurance company. Even small things like that were anvil sized warnings to the Batman's psyche which was as delicate as a newborn's hand.

He was out of control within while trying to maintain control in his surroundings.

He grabbed one of the young men who looked as though he was old enough to drive but still had some peach fuzz by the shirt. The lad looked at the dark detective in sheer horror. No longer was his face entangled with one of adrenaline. His eyes widened from their narrowed slits into ones of all out fear. He longer had that look of intimidation that demanded acknowledgment but one of loss of control. No longer was he an active member in this discourse. He was now the prey and the Dark Knight did not look like he was interested in helping. He looked as though he was intentionally going to hurt the young man for crossing him.

The young man gazed back at the dark detective. He did not rape anyone, he did not kill anyone, he had not robbed a bank. He and his friends were only looking for a good time that involved smashing cars. Yes, it was still a misdemeanor but here was the Knight treating him like he was a convict in Nuremberg.

The Dark Knight retained his jab. He held it back and stared back at the young man, noting the nuance of change in his countenance. He was no longer attempting to be his poorly trained combative equal. This man was scared for his life. He was no match for the dark Knight's trained skills and combative power. He did not have that advantage. He was about to become a victim of the Batman's wrath.

The Dark Knight lowered his aim and the young man as well.

"Go back home, all of you!" he barked at them. They al scattered like cockroaches.

"Freak!" One of them yelled as he threw a rock and ran away from the scene.

Although the words came from the mouth of a coward, they did have a chord of truth to them. No one dresses up like an animal and goes out at night to deal with wrong doers. No one has a bad case of post traumatic stress disorder and subliminates that into one of pedestrain safety. One could make that case for cops and war veterans but how many of them ever had to deal with killer clowns, dangerous women and people with riddle, coin and hat fetishes?

He was talking with his fists and not his mind.

He was getting messy and it was obvious that it was now extended to his fighting skills.

A warm shower did little to soothe the sorrow that had plagued Bruce's brow. It was like adding gasoline to the fire because warm water is supposed to soothe and calm the nerves. It was like intentionally lying to oneself. It was like saying 'come here and rest your troubles' when they would not go away.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed in deep thought. He went over what had occurred in the last two days. Dick had betrayed and lied to him. Barbara got into business she had no reason to be in. Alfred had also taken part in this. No one was talking to him and Joker was out there without his protection. To add salt to the wound, there was still that trouble with all the other all stars of Arkham Asylum.

For a control freak like himself, Bruce was in a personal hell. He could not trust anyone. Not that he was always a social butterfly but he could not even trust his own adoptive sons and daughters because they had invaded a very delicate part of his life and took that away without consulting him. The very thought of him being cuckolded by his own wards made him want to punch the glass standing across from him. Everything had been slipped through his fingers and disappeared like vapor. There was no solid ground anymore. All the delicate blue prints he had put together had vanished.

When did this start? Where did it begin? It was possible that it began when Dick put his nose where it did not belong. It was also credible that Joker did not help but ultimately Dick should have known better than to LIE to him. Was it possible that it started when he let himself get sidetracked with Joker? All that time he spent bonding with the clown he could have found that viral agent as well as to deal with the other major players without getting Dick and everyone else involved.

"Looks like you are in quite a pickle, Bruce", a dark voice responded out of the blue, snapping Bruce from his sulking self.

"Who's there?" the playboy queried into the dark. That was silly. He was thinking out loud. Yes, that was it. There was no way that someone could be down here in his most private space teasing and taunting him.

"Don't be cute with me, Bruce, you know exactly who I am." The dark voice responded again. He was not talking out loud, for he heard the voice again. Even in nothing but cotton bottom pajama pants, Bruce readied himself for armed combat.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you."

"How do I know that? How do I know that this isn't some sick joke?" Bruce barked back into the darkness.

"Because I know your most private thoughts. I know what you will think ten minutes into the future and I know all the sordid little secrets and reasons behind some of the choices you made…."

"You have no clue about me!" Bruce declared.

"Do you really want to try me, Bruce?" the poisonous voice replied again. It was not going away until it came what it asked for and they had not even gotten to the negotiating stages yet. "I know all your life like a book from cover to cover. I even have the bibliography and outside sources."

"What do you want? Whatever you are…" Bruce said in a voice with all the control he could muster. He did not want to think that some supernatural entity had entered his most private chambers but as of now, anything goes. Worse case scenario, Alfred will find him sleepwalking and talking in the kitchen with nothing on.

"Bruce, you should know me. I have known you since you were wrapped in swaddling clothes in mommy's arms." The voice said sweetly.

"Anybody can lay claim to that," Bruce shot back. How do I know that you are not Dick trying to pull another stupid stunt with a voice projecter?" The philanthropist answered back.

"Because I was there when you and Catwoman shared a tender moment overlooking Wayne Tower a few years back. I was there when you and Talia had that intimate moment above the Tropic of Cancer. I was there when your parents were taken from you in that alley over twenty years back…."

How could it know his secrets? Whoever it was must be some sort of sophisticated stalker or a well trained archivist who had skilled detective talents that rivaled his own. But that sounded crazy, but still, Holmes made the claim that even the most outrageous claim could prove to be the right one.

"Show yourself!" Bruce declared.

Out of the shadows, a dark figure emerged. Horns potruded from its head. It was blacker than tar and its face was a bleak shadow that covered any noticible features. It looked like a black spot except that its figure was very familiar.

It was himself

Or rather, it was his alter ego personified.

"Hello, Bruce. Do you know who I am?" the shadow responded.

"You look like someone who missed the recent convention," Bruce responded angrilly.

"Still don't believe me, eh?" the large bat-looking shadow replied. "Will this help?"

On that note, the figure reached out and produced a boomerang like weapon, except the instrument was very sharp and blunt and its shape resembled that of its carrier. He threw it the darkness surrounding them. Once hitting a solid rock surface, a myriad of bats came screeching out of the dark recesses.

"I'm your ego, Bruce." The figure confirmed.

The was not a result of medicinal hallucination. This was not his synapses going crazy. This was this. This was the real deal. In this crazy train, Bruce had lost control. That was true, but the question that had plagued his mind was when and was this his psyche catching up to him and kicking him?

The two figures, one man and the other a monstrous deformity of a Chiroptera met sizing each other up, though it was obvious now that the human was not in control of the situation.

"We need to talk," Ego responded.

"Do I have a choice?" the playboy responded, trying not to look on the offensive.

"Nice to see that you still have a sense of humor," Ego chuckled.

"Enough games, whatever you are," Bruce responded coolly.

"Ever the impatient one, right, Bruce?" the shadowy figure replied.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Okay, okay, down to business…." The shadow replied. "Surely, you have something you would like to share, don't you?"

Bruce gruffed.

"No, I don't," he decalared. The figure let out a disappointed tsk.

"That won't do, Bruce. You have to try harder than that. You can't fool me."

"I've been doing it for over twenty years to everyone-"

"BUT YOURSELF!" the figure responded darkly.

It was the first sharp jab of many. Deep down, Bruce knew he was right and made no effort to contest the words. He only glared back calmly, waiting for the next words the dodge him.

"You have lied to everyone and that includes you, Bruce. You thought you could handle it all and that you could control everyone like lab rats and look where that has gotten you, in deep hell."

"I can manage just fine," Bruce responded confidently but for some reason he could feel the words slip through Ego's grasp like air. They were weightless and had nothing to offer.

"No you can't. You have demonstrated this time and time again."

"I'm just having a slip up. I can fix this," Bruce responded to Ego but Ego would have none of it.

"The man I know does not allow for any slip ups and do overs. Lives are at stake and now your life fell apart like a house of cards."

"If Ray Palmer can stop a tumor from growing inside a boy and if Superman can stop a comet from hitting Earth I can manage," Bruce spat back.

Ego responded with a booming voice.

"Bruce, come on. You can't fool me. You let the Riddler escape back at Pandora's Box. You barely caught the Mad Hatter when he said 'hello' at the gala a few weeks back. That in turn dropped you into Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy's grasp and you still failed. You could have killed two birds with one stone and you still failed. You even let the Scarecrow escape your grasp a few days ago. Do you see something wrong with that picture, Bruce? Are you sure you are in control?" Ego responded with a booming voice.

All the sins were laid bare. It was if he was stark naked and everyone was looking at him. There was no place to run and no place to hide. His scars were visible and he had to revisit that ugly place again. He had to revisit his failures once more. Worse still, he had to acknowledge them. That bruised his ego and now it was responding, clamoring and complaining. It was no longer caged. It knew that he was something wrong.

"What's going on, Bruce? Care to tell me what is wrong here?"

It was like being a little kid and being forced to admit that they made the doodles on the wall.

"Kinda slow, would you not agree? Harley Quinn of all people actually defeated you. Does that not embarrass you?"

"She had help from her botanical friend and distracted me. I had no upper hands that day."

"What about when the Riddler gave you some clues? Bruce, the idea of getting help from your enemies was once considred unconsienable, even by your standards."

"He had a ruse."

"Don't they all?"

"He never uses gas."

"That does not matter. They will always find ways to utilize themselves to outsmart you! What about the Mad Hatter and the Scarecrow?" The booming voice queried.

"They had help from their friends." Bruce shot back as quickly as he could. It was the truth, they had help.

"That is not a justification, Bruce, that is a rationalization!" Ego responded angrily.

"I see. But you at least admit that you were slow, right?" Ego asked.

"There were some….misteps on my part," Bruce admitted with bated breath. There was no use pussyfooting around anymore.

"Misteps?! Was it a mistep when Cape Canaveral put in the decimal point in the wrong place when they released a rocket that was invested with trillions of tax payer money? No, Bruce, that was a disaster!"

That was like a slash to the stomach. All this time, his Ego was jumping and shaking in its cage and now he was loose and on the hunt but he was not done.

"One more thing before I bid thee farewell, Bruce. My time is running short. What of your associates the ones you call Dick Grayson and Selina Kyle? What of them, for without them. Things could have taken for a worse turn."

Bruce reflected on Dick's words. He mentioned dealing with the Scarecrow but due to immense rage at the moment it was locked away in memory. Selina herself even got her hands on those cassettes. Selina, poor poor Selina. Once again, Ego proved himself correct in all these aspects. Here, he was pushing away the people that were helping him.

"Okay, I admit it. I messed up! What else do you want?!" It was not enough that he admitted it internally. He had to admit it to himself, to concede to his shortcomings these last few days.

Still, what were the accusations and name calling producing? He admitted that he was wrong and that all this happened because of his own doing. It was not divine intervention, it was not because of chance. He slipped up and now what?

"Nothing. The question is Bruce, what do you want?" Ego replied. His voice was lower and slightly more tender.

Everything was laid bare and it was one complete mess. He wanted to repair that. Ego was only here to give him the kick that he needed.

"I want to fix all this. How do I do it?"

It was almost like a call to alms. It was a prayer and Bruce would hardly call himself religious but in this hour of need, who else could he turn to?

"Start low," Ego responded.

"That's too vague. I need specifics." Bruce clamored.

"Start low and work your way up. Rome was not built in a day. You can't run when you have been bedridden for once. You can't throw yourself into the same mindset as you were one month ago because of all this."

What this meant was talking to associates. Start at the street level and work your way up. Start with the vague waters and work your way backwards. This would not yield immediate results but it was better than doing nothing and wasting time.

You cannot build a palace without using some mud first.

At that point, Bruce looked up only to find himself alone in his private quarters once more. Whether or not it was a dream did not matter. There was work to be done.

I had to write this chapter because I had to admit Bruce's shortcomings in the previous chapters. This little bit was inspired by Batman: Ego by Darwyn Cooke which I highly recommend. As always reviews, thoughts or anything of the sort welcome! I just rewrote the outline for the fourth time and it looks like the magic number for the story's chapters will be fifty. Coming up next: Harley Quinn returns!

ETA April 21, 2009: Hey guys, I deleted the last chapter. It wasn't my strongest and I apologize for the inconvenience. I'm also a little turned off by the trolling. Stay tuned. I'll be back when they die down. KISSES.

J