Chapter Three
You have no idea how hard it is to find a crazed man in a trench coat in Gotham City.
But then, I'm not the detective that Bruce is.
About thirty minutes into my search, I found him. It looked like he had just finished a street brawl. Everyone but Bruce was unconscious.
I could barely recognize him. He was a wreck. The man who was once one of the greatest heroes in the world was now about twice his normal size and wearing a trench coat about two sizes too small. I figured now was as good a time as any to confront him.
"Just what is the matter with you?" I asked as I flew down to a hover.
He looked up at me and I heard a voice come from under the fedora hat he was wearing.
"Go away, Clark." he said. "I'm working."
"Really." I said. "I had always assumed that Batman wore a costume."
"I don't need this now," he said. "I have work to do and crime to fight."
"Bruce, you need help." I said as I began the speech I had practiced for the past hour or so. "You can't keep using this Venom drug to— "
I was interrupted by something that I could only describe as some sort of primal howl.
Bruce had screamed as he grabbed a nearby garbage dumpster.
"LEAVE…ME…ALONE" he howled.
That's when he threw the trash bin towards me.
I turned my back to Bruce as the projectile zoomed over my head. I flew up to catch it and set it up on the roof.
I chuckled to myself.
"Well Bruce," I said. "You certainly have the power you wanted."
I turned around to see Bruce collapsed on the ground.
I flew down and approached him.
He was nearly in tears as he spoke.
"I couldn't save her," he mumbled.
"I know." I said. "Its OK, Bruce."
"…wasn't strong enough."
"Let me take you home."