Batman Meets Gepeto
In any city of over five million souls one expects there to be crime, and Gotham is no exception. A city of teeming masses huddled in condensed and near ancient buildings, whose residents are constantly forced to interact in ways both good and bad. Such situations can plague the mind and depress it, and this city in particular appears to have a dark storm cloud continuously hanging overhead to addle the population. The citizens are survivors, of this there is no doubt. When the cloud above begins its shower they know to head indoors, to bunker down, for when it rains in Gotham, it pours. Even with a police force 40,000 strong, a veritable army, and its own dark protectors, the crime rate leads the country again and again. A losing battle to many, a battle already lost to most, still its citizens strive on.
It's impossible for a single man to patrol the vast city streets and expect to consistently encounter a criminal element, even at night. The Batman is no fool as he plans each night meticulously. There is always something to do in Gotham, to shake down a pusher, to scare a mob boss, to stalk a stalker, and so much more. Tonight he is in the west end, within a square block where two boys have been reported missing in the same week. The police have no leads and neither does he, but when children are involved the Batman is relentless. Childhood innocence…
From the roof of the apartment building a faint sound catches Batman's ears, almost lost on the breeze. He strains to make it out and recognizes the unmistakable sobbing of another human being below. On rare occasions, he muses, he doesn't have to search the city for trouble, it finds him. With a nimble leap he falls to the earth below, grasping his fluttering cape in both hands and using it as a makeshift parachute the Batman lands with all the grace of a cat, mere feet from his target.
"Gaah!" The teary eyed individual jumps back from the Batman's dynamic entrance. His face is creased with the lines of a life well lived, and his eyes glisten in the lamp light, eyes that have seen many sights, but nothing like this! He prepares to run…
"Don't be afraid," the Batman calmly speaks out to the old man, his voice is gruff with a hint of compassion. The old man, realizing he is in no danger then sits on the alley floor, despondent. The Batman, ever the detective, glances at his companion and draws several conclusions. Coat and clothes are near new, so he is likely self reliant. Thinning silver hair matted down suggests he had a hat on mere moments ago. And something else, his hands are scratched and bleeding. Was there something he didn't want to let go of? Was it a mugging, or was he assaulted?
"Sir," Batman continues in his soothing tone, "Why are you crying?"
"You are not police," the old man whispers in a slight accent.
"No, I'm not, but I would like to help you, if you'll let me."
The old man turns and squints at the dark figure looming above him. His face then begins to light up, "Of course! How foolish of me, Batman. Mine eyes are not the same."
The dark knight begins his questioning, "How many of them were there?"
"Three boys Batman, on their toys," the old man replies.
"Toys?"
"Skateboards. Infernal contraptions," the old man curses. "I know the boys who did this vell enough. I see them each night when I take my walk to keep fit. Oh I know I should go during the day, but my work doesn't allow me. We are all slaves to something, eh? I was, und still am, a master woodcarver. Now I make little companions and give them to charity for the equally little boys and girls. Yes, I know the boys who did this…" his voice wavers.
"Do you know their names, or where they live?"
"No, I do not. They stay in this alley each night and call at me as I pass by. My name is Hans Friedmann, Batman, but they always call me Gepeto. They like movies, no? I don't know why they do this tonight. Always I walk by without trouble, except tonight."
The Batman removes his flashlight and begins peering into the darker corners of the alley - a necessary move that he hates. It always brings him back to the one night, and alley, he can never forget.
Gepeto continues his narrative as he staggers up off the ground, "Tonight they run out and each one takes something. My hat is gone," he spews as he flicks the hair on the side of his head, "my package," he slaps his sore hands together in disgust, "and my cane!"
The Batman pauses for a second before continuing his search for clues. "The cane," Batman thinks, "I missed that."
"I try to hold onto the package. In it is my companion, you understand? I make him just for me. He is the first, and the best. I take him with me on walks, to work, and he keeps me company. He is my friend."
Gepeto's final comments don't sit well with Batman. "Maybe you should seek some real friends?" Batman answers softly, "It's not healthy to call an object your friend."
"I have neighbours, and others," Gepeto snaps back, "But when I'm at home, alone, or I'm at work, alone, he makes me feel better…please find him."
The Batman spots something on the ground and lifts it. After a quick analysis he places it into a compartment on his utility belt.
"They just boys, Batman," Gepeto mumbles, "So there is no need for police if you get my friend back, okay? I don't care about other things, just my little wooden friend."
"I'll get your friend back," the Batman gruffly answers. "I'll bring him back to your apartment in an hour."
"My apartment? No offence, Batman, but if you come and scare me at home I cannot sleep in that place ever again! No, please to meet me here again?"
"Fine," the Batman gently replies as he fires his grapple at a nearby building and is pulled by its winch into the air.
…
The moonlight is so pale, so haunting. There, standing among the trees and tall grass! A sinister shadow! No, you don't believe me? But you must! It was there only moments ago! Our lives, our very souls are at stake here! We've got to leave this place! We've got to get out before it's too late! Why won't anyone believe me? Oh God, why won't you believe me?
Claw like fingers stab at their helpless victim as a garish scene is played out. At this moment a bat-like silhouette appears before the startled audience and they scream in unison. Three young boys could be heard screaming above the crowd at what they've just witnessed on the silver screen. They quickly gather their goods and run for the exit. Once in the hall they hop onto their skateboards and roar by startled theatregoers and red hot staff. Nothing will stop them for the boys have seen the angel of death! Out they pour into the street, skating as fast as possible, legs pumping, heart racing. A final glance behind them and they see nothing. However, the next glance forward reveals the same sinister shadow directly in their path, its arms folded across its chest with eyes blazing. The boys stop as one…for there is no escaping death, is there?
The Batman sneers and outstretches his left arm; his hand is wide open and flat as if waiting for something. Boy number one hands Batman the cane cautiously. The Batman grips it firmly as the young man steps back. Boy number two places the hat on the head of the cane with equal caution. Boy number three pauses.
"Mr. Batman, we're sorry, really," he whimpers sincerely, "It was just a joke. We didn't want to hurt anyone. We were going to give them back tomorrow." The boy then places the package before Batman's feet. Batman looks at the three young men before him and can only wonder. A few years ago it would have been optimism that filled his thoughts, for if they could be moulded properly these boys might become honest and hardworking men who could build a better community with this encounter setting them on that path. Now he wonders how soon it will be before he has to add them to his nightly patrols. Next time they may not be dumb enough to leave a movie ticket stub behind. Next time they may actually be dangerous.
In an effort to save his night he asks them a question, "Do you boys know John Hayward and Mendel Moore?"
"Sure. They were always trying to hang out with us, you know, geeks trying to be with it. No one bought it, though, and we just ignored them."
Batman kneels down and opens the package to inspect the contents. Maybe these boys damaged the doll. He looks at it and its round wooden head, long log shaped torso and nailed on arms and legs. Two painted blue eyes stare back at him with an almost human like quality, while thinly painted lips smile contently. A wooden nub for a nose completes the face. There's something about the wood…
"Go home, boys," Batman whispers. The boys turn and skate off, dumbfounded.
…
Hans Friedmann is pacing anxiously across the front of the alley. Batman is ten minutes late, Gepeto worries silently. What if he didn't find my friend? What will I do without him? I can't possibly make another like him, not at my age. And he is so delicate now, so fragile…Oh no, I mustn't think like that! He'll be here, just be patient. Just be patient. Calm…
"Mr. Friedmann," a gruff voice whispers from behind.
"Gaah!" Gepeto turns towards the dark alley and can make out two sinister eyes looking back at him. "Who?"
"It's me," the Batman murmurs as he steps closer to the light. Two powerful gloved hands hold out the tiny wooden figure before the old man. Gepeto's eyes radiate joy as a tear of happiness trickles down his left cheek. Moving with speed a man half his age would be envious of, the woodcarver snatches the doll from Batman's extended hands and gives it a warm hug.
"Oh thank-you," the old man whispers, "Thank-you so much…"
"Mr. Friedmann," Batman replies softly, gently, "What you're doing isn't right. I think you need some help."
"No!" Gepeto spouts back, "They'll take away my friend! My boy!"
Sirens then fill the air and are soon met with flashing lights as several Gotham police cruisers pull up to the alley, their headlights lighting it like it was day. Batman places his hand on Gepeto's shoulder as the old man drops to his knees clutching his doll, crying.
"I promise they won't take him away from you," Batman whispers softly. A hollow promise, but he had to say something.
…
A trench coated figure looks solemnly at the sedated senior lying on a nearby stretcher about to be carted away. In the figure's hand is a plastic bag containing the wooden doll which moments ago Gepeto insanely fought to keep in his hands as police arms tried to pry it loose. The white haired and moustached figure takes several breaths through his pipe before turning away. Commissioner Gordon knows better than anyone the Batman's skill and prowess, but even he doubts Gotham's dark angel's reasoning sometimes. He turns towards a darkened corner of the alley to put a few questions to Batman.
"Are you sure about this?" Gordon asks.
"Check his apartment. You'll find what you need," the Batman answers in his stern monotone voice.
"Why use his real name?"
"He needed help," Batman begins, "If he lied and I caught it he might not have received the aid he wanted."
"But his age…"
"The two boys wanted to be a part of something, to gain notoriety. They probably overheard the plan the other older kids had to steal the crazy neighbour's things and show them off. It's an easy hit, so John and Mendel decide to beat them to the punch and win their own respect. To go one better they likely tried to break into Mr. Friedmann's workshop apartment, only they got more than they bargained for."
"So he killed them? Why not just scare them off? This guy Friedmann has no record, nothing. I'd have called him the perfect citizen," Gordon remarks tersely.
"Looks can be deceiving, Jim. He may have thought he had to defend his only friend from the intruders at any cost, or he may have purposely killed them. With a madman it isn't the how that really matters, but what they do after," Batman finishes.
"I suppose you would know," Gordon casually remarks. A glaring look by the Batman and Gordon realizes just what he said. He shakes his head and finishes, "What tipped you off?"
"The doll, Jim," Batman answers as he fires his grapple into the night sky, "He hoped I wouldn't notice." Gordon looks down at the plastic covered figure in his hand as Batman prepares to return to the roof tops.
"The wood's finish looks a little off, I guess. What about it?" Gordon poses.
"It's covered in human skin!" and he's gone.
…
In any city of over five million souls one expects there to be crime, and Gotham is no exception. A city of teeming masses huddled in condensed and near ancient buildings, whose residents are constantly forced to interact in ways both good and bad. Such situations can plague the mind and depress it, and this city in particular appears to have a dark storm cloud continuously hanging overhead to addle the population. The citizens are survivors, of this there is no doubt. When the cloud above begins its shower they know to head indoors, to bunker down, for when it rains in Gotham, it pours. Even with a police force 40,000 strong, a veritable army, and its own dark protectors, the crime rate leads the country again and again. A losing battle to many, a battle already lost to most, still its citizens strive on.
It's impossible for a single man to patrol the vast city streets and expect to consistently encounter a criminal element, even at night. The Batman is no fool as he plans each night meticulously. There is always something to do in Gotham, to shake down a pusher, to scare a mob boss, to stalk a stalker, and so much more. Tonight he is in the west end, within a square block where two boys have been reported missing in the same week. The police have no leads and neither does he, but when children are involved the Batman is relentless. Childhood innocence…
From the roof of the apartment building a faint sound catches Batman's ears, almost lost on the breeze. He strains to make it out and recognizes the unmistakable sobbing of another human being below. On rare occasions, he muses, he doesn't have to search the city for trouble, it finds him. With a nimble leap he falls to the earth below, grasping his fluttering cape in both hands and using it as a makeshift parachute the Batman lands with all the grace of a cat, mere feet from his target.
"Gaah!" The teary eyed individual jumps back from the Batman's dynamic entrance. His face is creased with the lines of a life well lived, and his eyes glisten in the lamp light, eyes that have seen many sights, but nothing like this! He prepares to run…
"Don't be afraid," the Batman calmly speaks out to the old man, his voice is gruff with a hint of compassion. The old man, realizing he is in no danger then sits on the alley floor, despondent. The Batman, ever the detective, glances at his companion and draws several conclusions. Coat and clothes are near new, so he is likely self reliant. Thinning silver hair matted down suggests he had a hat on mere moments ago. And something else, his hands are scratched and bleeding. Was there something he didn't want to let go of? Was it a mugging, or was he assaulted?
"Sir," Batman continues in his soothing tone, "Why are you crying?"
"You are not police," the old man whispers in a slight accent.
"No, I'm not, but I would like to help you, if you'll let me."
The old man turns and squints at the dark figure looming above him. His face then begins to light up, "Of course! How foolish of me, Batman. Mine eyes are not the same."
The dark knight begins his questioning, "How many of them were there?"
"Three boys Batman, on their toys," the old man replies.
"Toys?"
"Skateboards. Infernal contraptions," the old man curses. "I know the boys who did this vell enough. I see them each night when I take my walk to keep fit. Oh I know I should go during the day, but my work doesn't allow me. We are all slaves to something, eh? I was, und still am, a master woodcarver. Now I make little companions and give them to charity for the equally little boys and girls. Yes, I know the boys who did this…" his voice wavers.
"Do you know their names, or where they live?"
"No, I do not. They stay in this alley each night and call at me as I pass by. My name is Hans Friedmann, Batman, but they always call me Gepeto. They like movies, no? I don't know why they do this tonight. Always I walk by without trouble, except tonight."
The Batman removes his flashlight and begins peering into the darker corners of the alley - a necessary move that he hates. It always brings him back to the one night, and alley, he can never forget.
Gepeto continues his narrative as he staggers up off the ground, "Tonight they run out and each one takes something. My hat is gone," he spews as he flicks the hair on the side of his head, "my package," he slaps his sore hands together in disgust, "and my cane!"
The Batman pauses for a second before continuing his search for clues. "The cane," Batman thinks, "I missed that."
"I try to hold onto the package. In it is my companion, you understand? I make him just for me. He is the first, and the best. I take him with me on walks, to work, and he keeps me company. He is my friend."
Gepeto's final comments don't sit well with Batman. "Maybe you should seek some real friends?" Batman answers softly, "It's not healthy to call an object your friend."
"I have neighbours, and others," Gepeto snaps back, "But when I'm at home, alone, or I'm at work, alone, he makes me feel better…please find him."
The Batman spots something on the ground and lifts it. After a quick analysis he places it into a compartment on his utility belt.
"They just boys, Batman," Gepeto mumbles, "So there is no need for police if you get my friend back, okay? I don't care about other things, just my little wooden friend."
"I'll get your friend back," the Batman gruffly answers. "I'll bring him back to your apartment in an hour."
"My apartment? No offence, Batman, but if you come and scare me at home I cannot sleep in that place ever again! No, please to meet me here again?"
"Fine," the Batman gently replies as he fires his grapple at a nearby building and is pulled by its winch into the air.
…
The moonlight is so pale, so haunting. There, standing among the trees and tall grass! A sinister shadow! No, you don't believe me? But you must! It was there only moments ago! Our lives, our very souls are at stake here! We've got to leave this place! We've got to get out before it's too late! Why won't anyone believe me? Oh God, why won't you believe me?
Claw like fingers stab at their helpless victim as a garish scene is played out. At this moment a bat-like silhouette appears before the startled audience and they scream in unison. Three young boys could be heard screaming above the crowd at what they've just witnessed on the silver screen. They quickly gather their goods and run for the exit. Once in the hall they hop onto their skateboards and roar by startled theatregoers and red hot staff. Nothing will stop them for the boys have seen the angel of death! Out they pour into the street, skating as fast as possible, legs pumping, heart racing. A final glance behind them and they see nothing. However, the next glance forward reveals the same sinister shadow directly in their path, its arms folded across its chest with eyes blazing. The boys stop as one…for there is no escaping death, is there?
The Batman sneers and outstretches his left arm; his hand is wide open and flat as if waiting for something. Boy number one hands Batman the cane cautiously. The Batman grips it firmly as the young man steps back. Boy number two places the hat on the head of the cane with equal caution. Boy number three pauses.
"Mr. Batman, we're sorry, really," he whimpers sincerely, "It was just a joke. We didn't want to hurt anyone. We were going to give them back tomorrow." The boy then places the package before Batman's feet. Batman looks at the three young men before him and can only wonder. A few years ago it would have been optimism that filled his thoughts, for if they could be moulded properly these boys might become honest and hardworking men who could build a better community with this encounter setting them on that path. Now he wonders how soon it will be before he has to add them to his nightly patrols. Next time they may not be dumb enough to leave a movie ticket stub behind. Next time they may actually be dangerous.
In an effort to save his night he asks them a question, "Do you boys know John Hayward and Mendel Moore?"
"Sure. They were always trying to hang out with us, you know, geeks trying to be with it. No one bought it, though, and we just ignored them."
Batman kneels down and opens the package to inspect the contents. Maybe these boys damaged the doll. He looks at it and its round wooden head, long log shaped torso and nailed on arms and legs. Two painted blue eyes stare back at him with an almost human like quality, while thinly painted lips smile contently. A wooden nub for a nose completes the face. There's something about the wood…
"Go home, boys," Batman whispers. The boys turn and skate off, dumbfounded.
…
Hans Friedmann is pacing anxiously across the front of the alley. Batman is ten minutes late, Gepeto worries silently. What if he didn't find my friend? What will I do without him? I can't possibly make another like him, not at my age. And he is so delicate now, so fragile…Oh no, I mustn't think like that! He'll be here, just be patient. Just be patient. Calm…
"Mr. Friedmann," a gruff voice whispers from behind.
"Gaah!" Gepeto turns towards the dark alley and can make out two sinister eyes looking back at him. "Who?"
"It's me," the Batman murmurs as he steps closer to the light. Two powerful gloved hands hold out the tiny wooden figure before the old man. Gepeto's eyes radiate joy as a tear of happiness trickles down his left cheek. Moving with speed a man half his age would be envious of, the woodcarver snatches the doll from Batman's extended hands and gives it a warm hug.
"Oh thank-you," the old man whispers, "Thank-you so much…"
"Mr. Friedmann," Batman replies softly, gently, "What you're doing isn't right. I think you need some help."
"No!" Gepeto spouts back, "They'll take away my friend! My boy!"
Sirens then fill the air and are soon met with flashing lights as several Gotham police cruisers pull up to the alley, their headlights lighting it like it was day. Batman places his hand on Gepeto's shoulder as the old man drops to his knees clutching his doll, crying.
"I promise they won't take him away from you," Batman whispers softly. A hollow promise, but he had to say something.
…
A trench coated figure looks solemnly at the sedated senior lying on a nearby stretcher about to be carted away. In the figure's hand is a plastic bag containing the wooden doll which moments ago Gepeto insanely fought to keep in his hands as police arms tried to pry it loose. The white haired and moustached figure takes several breaths through his pipe before turning away. Commissioner Gordon knows better than anyone the Batman's skill and prowess, but even he doubts Gotham's dark angel's reasoning sometimes. He turns towards a darkened corner of the alley to put a few questions to Batman.
"Are you sure about this?" Gordon asks.
"Check his apartment. You'll find what you need," the Batman answers in his stern monotone voice.
"Why use his real name?"
"He needed help," Batman begins, "If he lied and I caught it he might not have received the aid he wanted."
"But his age…"
"The two boys wanted to be a part of something, to gain notoriety. They probably overheard the plan the other older kids had to steal the crazy neighbour's things and show them off. It's an easy hit, so John and Mendel decide to beat them to the punch and win their own respect. To go one better they likely tried to break into Mr. Friedmann's workshop apartment, only they got more than they bargained for."
"So he killed them? Why not just scare them off? This guy Friedmann has no record, nothing. I'd have called him the perfect citizen," Gordon remarks tersely.
"Looks can be deceiving, Jim. He may have thought he had to defend his only friend from the intruders at any cost, or he may have purposely killed them. With a madman it isn't the how that really matters, but what they do after," Batman finishes.
"I suppose you would know," Gordon casually remarks. A glaring look by the Batman and Gordon realizes just what he said. He shakes his head and finishes, "What tipped you off?"
"The doll, Jim," Batman answers as he fires his grapple into the night sky, "He hoped I wouldn't notice." Gordon looks down at the plastic covered figure in his hand as Batman prepares to return to the roof tops.
"The wood's finish looks a little off, I guess. What about it?" Gordon poses.
"It's covered in human skin!" and he's gone.
…