I am called the Batman, but I am not Bruce Wayne. There is no Bruce Wayne, not anymore. Wayne was weak, pampered, spoiled, pathetic, the Batman has no time for such things. Wayne was a lie, an illusion, a mask that the bat wore to walk amongst the people he protects.
No more.
The mission is too important, too vital, for distractions such as Wayne's petty life. There is no room in the cave for billionaire playboys. This is war, make no mistake, this is a war and men such as Bruce Wayne are useless in war save to finance the construction of the tools of war. So that is what Wayne is now, a name on a check, a faceless bank account.
It shouldn't bother me so much, the loss of one soldier, this is war. War means casualties, war means death… loss.
He disobeyed me. He disobeyed direct orders. I told him, ORDERED HIM, not to go out without me. Not against him; not alone. Why didn't he listen to me? Jason…
A mistake. That's what Jason was, a mistake, a poor choice made at a weak moment. That is why this must be done. I must protect them… the mission I must protect the mission. No more toy soldiers, just me…alone…against the darkness…it has to be.
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It has been a week since the death of young master Jason. Poor master Bruce blames himself, I fear.
Perhaps he should, after all, who sends a child out into the streets to face such horrors? What monster would send a boy against the forces of homicidal madmen every night?! And to call it a crusade! It is not a mistake. It is an abomination! Just a child!
No, not simply a child, Robin. He was a hero, I never doubted it. And he was never truly alone. Master Bruce loved the young master as a son, as I love him as mine and young Jason, perhaps as a grandson. A mischievous grandson, to be certain. I remember many an hour spent brewing new tea after discovering, quite unpleasantly I might add, that the young master had taken the liberty to add Tabasco sauce to the old. Master Bruce gave him quite the talking to for that, as did I. Though I always suspected that Master Bruce was secretly amused by the whole incident.
I will never taste Earl Grey with hot sauce again.
I shall never hear the young master complain about his school work again, never explain to him that a properly balanced diet includes a healthy amount of vegetables, not cookies, again, never see his eyes light up as night falls again, never see his smiling face beam at me from beneath that mask again. Perhaps never see Master Bruce smile again or perhaps never see him remove that accursed cowl again.
I've begun to grow concerned for Master Bruce. He's given up all pretense of a normal life; throwing himself fully into his persona as the Batman. My worry is made greater still by the fact that he has cut himself off from me. Not me alone but also the Justice League, Batgirl and most distressingly young Master Dick. I almost felt their relationship mending but now I fear, when he needs him most, Master Bruce is pushing Master Dick away again. No father should lose both his sons, not this way, never this way.
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It took me a month before I could put aside my anger enough to see how much Bruce was hurting. A month from the funeral, the funeral where we put a fifteen year old boy in the ground. His wounds were so severe that it had to be closed casket. I couldn't even see him when I said goodbye.
Not that we were ever really that close. We weren't, not really, but I guess Jason was sort of the closest thing I ever had to a little brother. He was obnoxious, arrogant, completely tactless and it drove me crazy to spend any length of time with him. But still, if I could, I'd take his place in the ground. If somehow we could trade, if he could live by my death, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Less. I don't know if that's what they mean when they say a brother's love but it's good enough for me.
I've tried to talk to Bruce but he won't answer his phone. And when I go over he's locked himself in the cave. Alfred tells me he's barely left the cave since it happened, he doesn't know if he's been sleeping and he's almost certain that Bruce hasn't taken off the suit in weeks. He's cut off contact with everyone he knows, Babs and I have tried to find him in the city a few times but hell, he's Batman. If he doesn't want to be found he won't be. The only proof we have that he's actually going out are the rumors spread by thugs and the tabloid reports of an increasingly brutal Batman taking the Gotham underworld apart.
All I can do is try to find him and hope for change. But I know change won't come. Not unless I can get through to him, not unless we can get through to him. I'll try again tonight.
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I didn't even like him. I didn't like the way he seemed like he wanted to replace Dick. I didn't like the way he spoke to Bruce and Alfred. And I didn't like the way it constantly felt like he was undressing me with his eyes. I didn't even like him.
So why can't I stop crying?
We weren't friends, not really. And we didn't really work together too much. So why can't I stop crying for him? This isn't me, I'm no girly girl. I'm Batgirl, I'm supposed to be stronger than this, I'm supposed to be tough, I'm not supposed to cry. Especially not for someone that I didn't even really like.
I did kinda understand him though, I guess. I mean, why he was how he was. His dad was a thug and his mom was a junkie, living in a world like that you'd have to put on a tough guy face, act cocky, you'd have to protect yourself. And if that act got on peoples nerves so much the better. After all the less people around you the less chance there is of being hurt. I guess it sorta makes sense, y'know? But it never made him any easier to deal with.
Bruce loved him though, so did Alfred I guess and maybe Dick too. I don't think I did. Did I? I think that Dick saw him as a sort of little brother, I never did. A friend's little brother maybe.
I always knew that he would be there for me though. If I needed anything, I knew he would be there. Just like I would be for him, right? He never asked me to be though, probably never would have.
I don't know if I loved him, but I do know he didn't deserve what happened to him and I know that I would die a thousand times if it would save him. Maybe that's enough.
Dick is going to try to talk to Bruce again tonight, Alfred has asked me to come too, I suppose that it's really the only thing I can do.
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I can hear them up there again. Up those stairs, behind the clock, talking. They used to try to talk to Bruce, to get him to leave, to come up and talk and cry and waste precious, precious time. Unfortunately Bruce Wayne is dead; all that he is, pushed into the grave where it belongs…his grave. Now and forever I am the bat.
I hear a shout from up the stairs, a familiar voice, a woman, startled. Then there is a crash and the tinkling of broken glass. They're trying to get in. No! There is no room for them in my mission, my crusade, my cave. They must not enter the cave.
The sound of a small explosion drifts to me as if from great distance, followed quickly by the loud crash of a metal blast door falling down the long, echoing staircase.
"Bruce?!" a voice shouts down to me, no, not me, Wayne. I am the bat. Now and forever, I am the bat.
"Bruce, I know you're there!" the voice shouts as its owner rushes down the twisting stairs. A young man and woman dressed in casual clothing are hurrying down into the cave staring at me followed only a few steps behind by an older man in a crisply pressed butler's uniform. Dick, Barbara, and Alfred, they've come for Wayne. They won't have him.
They get close and stand surrounding me, trying to keep me from leaving. They couldn't stop me, not if I really wanted to go. They can't stop me.
"Master Bruce," Alfred speaks first, "we are all extremely concerned for y…"
"Move aside," I say to them before Alfred can finish.
"No Bruce," now Dick speaks, "you need to stop this. You don't talk to anyone anymore, Alfred says you never come up to the mansion anymore, you're running yourself ragged out on the streets," Dick pauses for a moment, "we're your friends Bruce. Please, let us help."
"Move," I repeat. They shouldn't be here, this is my mission, mine alone, they're too close. "NOW!" I shout. My chest feels tight. My fist moved faster than I could think. Dick is sitting on the ground. Barbara is at his side glaring at me as he rubs his jaw.
"You bastard! Can't you see we want to help you?!" Barbara is screaming at me, she's up, punching, kicking, she can't hit me, I block every punch, dodge every kick, still she comes. Dick is just sitting there as if in shock. But Alfred, Alfred looks furious…and perhaps…dismayed.
"Stop, the both of you, now!" Alfred's voice is so stern, so angry…I've never heard him so angry, my brief fight with Barbara ends as quickly as it began. "Master Bruce, you will listen to us. You will." Alfred is standing stock still. The look in his eyes tells me that I have no choice in the matter. No, I am the bat, my mission will not wait for this nonsense. I can't be here, they can't be here, toy soldiers in a row, too much of a risk, can't allow it. "Master Bruce, we are all devastated by young Master Jason's death. He was family, and in times such as these it is family which we most need to surround ourselves with." Alfred is speaking again; Dick has returned to his feet and is nodding his head in agreement. Barbara stands beside them, glaring angrily in my direction.
"I don't need family, I need soldiers." Soldiers who obey orders. They're all glaring at me. They can't accept the truth.
"Take off the mask Bruce." NO! The mask stays on. The mask stays on the heart stays cold, now and forever I am the bat. Dick persists, "The mask Bruce, take it off, you don't need it." Liar, the mask is who I am, the bat, always the bat.
"Master Jason w…" Alfred starts, I cut him off before he can finish.
"Jason was a mistake, a failure, a violent loose canon, and possibly a murderer. Jason was the worst decision I ever made." The cave has fallen completely silent. Even the bats seem deathly still in the air around us. I look about to the faces of these people who claim to be my family; they seem as though they have been shocked clean of emotion. Save for Alfred, his appears drawn and thin. His skin has gone pale, and his eyes are wet with the tears forming at their sides. With quick even strides he walks to me and before I can say anything further he slaps me across the face, knocking me to the ground. I stand again swiftly but before I can react Alfred pulls the cowl back over my head like a hood and slaps my newly exposed face so hard that I am knocked off balance. Before I can fall Alfred grabs my head and pulls me back so that my eyes are locked with his. Dick and Barbara are standing behind Alfred staring at us in shock, perhaps disbelief, whichever.
"Don't you dare," Alfred's tears are streaming now from furious eyes. His face is twisted with so many emotions that he is barely recognizable, "don't you dare tear down his memory! Don't treat him like he didn't matter! As if he were some tool to be used and then thrown away! You loved that boy! We all did! He was family! WE are family! Jason Todd adored you! Fairly worshiped you! And this is the thanks you pay his memory?!" Alfred's eyes are burning with emotion, feelings that must have been pent up for months all suddenly released upon me in a single outpouring. He hit me... Alfred hit me... why? It doesn't matter, cover your face! Put the mask back on!
"Bruce, It's okay, we're here for you. You don't need to be alone in this." Dick... he doesn't understand...does he? Maybe I don't need...NO! If you take off the mask...
"Child,"
they'll scratch out your eye's,
"Whether or not you wish it,"
if you open your heart...
"you find yourself at the head of a family,"
they'll tear it from your chest.
"and whether or not you believe it,"
The mask stays on, the heart stays cold...
"there is nothing stronger than a family."
now and forever, I am the bat.