Author's Note:

This is the second to last chapter of Batman 1939: Three's Company.

This novel has been fun, and not only as a way to disappoint the four people who want a Batman/Three's Company crossover. It was started in the early days of the Covid pandemic in the hopes of offering a little distraction. If your life has been tough, I hope it succeeded.

I've made a post on my website, fredwattswrites -dot- com, soliciting comments on making a blog. If you are interested in seeing more of my writing, subscribe and let me know.

I will post the last chapter on Sunday the 27th. Afterward, I will be sharing details on my next novel, and might make some final comments on this series, so stay tuned.


Batman 1939: Three's Company

Chapter 22: Feeling Like a New Man

The taxi stopped to the gates of the Boyle Auxiliary Coal Plant. It was a sprawling industrial site crowded with sheds, furnaces, conveyor belts, chimneys, and piles and piles of coal. The Boyle Power Company only operated the plant to satisfy peak demand from local businesses. On a weekend night, it was as dark and quiet as a tomb.

The land around the dark plant was abandoned or undeveloped, a field of trash and ruins. The nearest lit property was a quarter mile away. The taxi headlights were the only illumination here besides the moon. There were no other cars in sight.

The driver looked uneasily as Batman stepped out of the taxi. "You sure this is where you want dropped off, bud?"

"Yes."

"I don't think you'll find many cabs in this neighborhood. Especially at this hour."

Batman said nothing. The driver shrugged. He put the taxi into gear and drove off, leaving Batman standing in a cloud of exhaust.

Batman knew the Boyle Power Company no longer hired security to watch inactive properties. They found it cheaper to pay off the gangs who ran the looting rackets. Batman also knew the plant blew soot and coal dust high in the air, so high that the particles snowed down long after the machines stopped and the workers went home. He knew this soot was excellent at capturing footprints and tire tracks. Any impressions in the pristine black "snow" meant someone had trespassed after Friday's last shift.

Batman had recovered enough dexterity to pull out his flashlight. He couldn't push the switch, so he smacked it against his chin. This worked perfectly. The beam illuminated the thick dust at his feet, and he found tracks showing one car had pulled up to the gate and stopped. Then a cluster of footprints appeared near the gate handle. He recognized the tire marks and the footprints. He also knew that the lock was broken, and indeed the gate swung open when he shouldered it. He entered and found the car had entered but quickly stopped again, with more footsteps appearing to close the gate. Batman left the gate open.

He stumbled through the plant, following the tire tracks. They led to an open shed hidden in the shadow of several furnaces. An old Buick coupe was parked inside. Alfred Pennyworth ahead of it. Beyond his regular suit and coat, he wore a flat cap and driving gloves.

He nodded at Batman. "Sir."

Batman nodded in return. "Alfred." He smacked his flashlight off against his chin. "Any problems?"

Alfred opened the passenger door. "I circled the lot not ten minutes ago. Unless any would-be observers can fly, we're quite alone."

"I'm afraid that's possible, but we'll risk it."

"Sir?"

"Long story."

With Alfred's help, Batman fell into the passenger seat. Alfred shut the door behind him and entered the driver seat. He started the ignition.

Alfred drove the Buick out of the shed. "Well?" he asked

Batman answered in well-drilled staccato, "Bruising across the head. Moderate blood loss."

Alfred waited. When he realized Batman had finished talking, he glanced across the car. "Was there anything else?"

Batman nearly chuckled. "Not anymore."

"I confess I'm not sure what you mean."

Batman didn't answer. He watched the sky as they passed the gate and turned onto the road. Finally, he said, "I encountered magic again tonight."

"Oh my."

"It was difficult. It's been a difficult night, Alfred. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to rest."

Alfred glanced over again. "Go right ahead, sir. I'll see us home."

"Thank you, Alfred."

Batman closed his eyes and was asleep in an instant.

Since arriving at Shadowcrest, Batman had been shaken for hours by rage, doubt, dismay, and dread. His mind was stressed. His body was strained. His ethics were tested. His affections were abused. His loyalties were challenged. His most fundamental beliefs were undone. He had suffered terrible wounds. Perhaps he had died. He had briefly been a tree.

Batman was human, and a human cannot suffer forever. The cost must be paid. He was not yet home, but riding next to Alfred made him feel safe enough to finally relax. The sudden lack of tension forced his body to acknowledge just how tired he was. He slept better than he had in months.

Meanwhile, in one of the oceans.

When Lord Felix of Faust cast his wicked magic on the two Gotham City police officers patrolling the Lisbon Building, they were sent on a surreal journey through time and space. They experienced lifetimes of adventures, knowing love and loss, glory and humility, and all the many-splendored secrets of the self and the cosmos, until they realized these rival ideas were never in opposition. All was one, and the two men were enlightened.

Then they returned to our time and planet and promptly forgot all of that.

The cop with the mustache was named Earl. The balding cop was named Eugene. They woke up somewhere they didn't recognize and couldn't remember the past evening. This was not a new experience for either man. They could tell this place was dim and clammy, and the floor against their faces was a rough sandstone.

Earl tried to stand, but he lost his balance and hit a wall. "Ow. What happened?"

Eugene remained on his back and gently moaned. "My skull feels like it's been rolled into a pie crust."

Earl laid down. "I've passed kidney stones that hurt less than that."

"My divorces hurt less than that."

"Even Jenny?"

"One of my divorces hurt less than that."

"At least we're alive."

"Got to appreciate the little things."

"I want you to know that I love you, man."

"I tolerate you."

After some additional grumbling, Eugene managed to stand. He found himself face to face with an orca. The orca wagged its dorsal fin then swam away. Eugene reached out and discovered that what he thought was a wall was instead a bubble, as clear as glass but as pliant as rubber. Beyond it was an endless blue-green ocean. Far below was a rocky seabed with coral forests. A school of tuna passed overhead.

"Get up, Earl. You'll want to take a gander at this."

Earl was peering at the floor, which was embedded with thousands of tiny shells. He eventually stood and whistled when he saw the ocean. "Don't that beat all?"

The two officers were so engrossed by the marvelous sight, they didn't notice the footsteps behind them, or the end of the heavy trident planted on the floor.

A booming voice caught their attention. "Who trespasses in my domain?"

Earl and Eugene looked at each other.

"Uh-oh!"

At stately Wayne Manor.

Batman woke up alone in his main garage. Batman looked around. Seeing familiar walls and some of his favorite cars put him at ease. Being here gave him a sense of distance from his many anxieties. He would reflect on his problems at his own pace. He had made it through; that was a victory.

Batman tried to open his car door, but he lacked the strength.

Soon Alfred appeared pushing a wheelchair. He opened the Buick and held out a hand.

Batman grabbed it. "I can walk, Alfred. The chair is unnecessary."

"Humor me, sir." Alfred helped him into the wheelchair. "Don't want your boots tracking soot into the house."

"Very well. Please take me to the nearest guest suite with a stocked wardrobe. I won't be visiting the Cave."

"Too many stairs, one supposes."

"Not only that. I'm afraid I'm going to need you to shut down the Cave tonight."

"Pardon?"

"I'd like you to fill a box with all refrigerated chemicals and samples from the laboratory, then bring them up and store them in the kitchen refrigerator."

"Whatever for?"

"I was threatened tonight by a giant magical bat. It knows where we live."

"Indeed?"

"The bat doesn't like the noise we make down there. Once the refrigerated items are secured, shut off all power in the Cave."

Alfred's voice wavered. "Does that mean that your, I mean, that you've given up the-"

Batman coldly shook his head. "I'm giving up nothing. I'll soundproof the Cave when I'm able. Until then, I'll work in the manor. Please handle the Cave and return when you're finished."

"Very well, sir."

Alfred walked off at a brisk pace, leaving Batman alone to watch a dark window.

When Alfred returned ten minutes later, Batman was still in the wheelchair. His gloves were on the floor, and his hands were shaking.

Alfred rushed over. "Are you feeling poorly, Master Bruce?"

Batman looked at his shaking hands. "Right as rain, Alfred. I just remembered something funny."

"What did you remember?" Alfred checked Batman's pulse.

Batman flinched. Alfred noticed the flesh of Batman's hand was soft and unscarred. Batman let out a hitching breath while his hand continued to shake. Alfred was mystified.

When Batman caught his breath, he said, "I performed surgery tonight. The patient made it. You would've been proud of me." His hands shook harder as he spoke. "I was so nervous, Alfred. It's easier operating on myself. The stakes are lower." Batman chuckled. "The funny thing is that I forget. Until just now, I forgot that I performed surgery tonight."

"You must have had quite the eventful night to forget that."

Batman nodded. "Please help me remove my suit."

Alfred wheeled Batman into the suite bathroom so any soot would fall on the tiles. He unlaced and removed Batman's boots, then applied the solvent to unglue the cowl from his scalp. Batman stood, and together they removed the rest of the outfit until he only wore briefs.

Alfred noticed from the start that the suit was oddly loose, and he watched with mounting horror as they stripped it off, revealing a healthy, unremarkable body. Bruce stared down at himself, his face unreadable. Alfred treated a few cuts and bruises along Bruce's head, then he fetched slippers and a red dressing gown from the wardrobe. Once Bruce was clad, Alfred pushed him back into the bedroom.

Bruce's hands had stopped shaking. He patted the silk of the dressing gown, enjoying the texture. "Alfred, please find a pen and paper. I'd like you to take some dictation, as I can't hold a pen at the moment."

Alfred went to a side table. "Found one, sir."

"Then take note: in the morning, please schedule me a full medical examination."

"How urgent is this appointment, sir?"

Bruce understood what Alfred meant by 'urgent'. When he needed outside medical care, he sought help as far away as possible: ideally out of the country, preferably out of state, and only in Gotham in emergencies.

Bruce looked at his hands. "Not urgent, but I want a complete checkup, including all x-rays and appointments with skeletal and muscular specialists."

"Understood."

"Please get in touch with some produce wholesalers. Find their bulk rates and where they deliver. We're going to be purchasing a lot of fruit."

Alfred finished writing. "Noted."

"Then look into doing the same with insects."

"Pardon?"

"I'm not sure where one acquires bulk packaged insects. Maybe try zoos or fishing suppliers. We're looking for thousands per week. Find me some options."

"May I ask why?"

"The giant bat said so."

"Ah."

"Cancel all appointments tomorrow. Let's meet after breakfast and review my schedule for the next week. I suspect I'll need you to cancel most of it, but we'll decide that on a case by case basis. I suppose it will depend on how much coordination I've recovered."

"Will do, sir."

"Please invite over a tailor as soon as possible. Find one who has never seen me. I'll need half a dozen new outfits in my new size as an emergency measure. We'll go shopping to fill the rest of my wardrobe as my recovery permits."

"I already have a man in mind."

"Move my current wardrobe into storage. I'll develop into my old size again if at all possible."

"Will do."

"In the next few days, submit an order to the landscaper. I'd like trees planted in the corner of the west lawn between the sundial and the forest."

"Any details you'd like to include?"

"Yes. Plant one hundred saplings and young trees in irregular rows. Aim for a natural-looking distribution. Local species are fine. Here is the critical detail: the first fifty plants should have a trunk diameter under three inches. The next thirty plants should be three to five inches in diameter. The remaining twenty should be six to eight inches in diameter."

"I'll ensure he knows."

"Also, please rent us a wood chipper. And try to think of productive uses for wood chips around the house."

"Master Bruce, if there's loose timber in the yard, the landscaper can remove it."

"There isn't, but there will be."

Alfred politely shrugged. "Very well."

"I'm going to dictate a note. I'd like it sent to Sergeant Gordon's desk in the morning. When you send it, please use our standard encryption and invisible ink."

"Proceed."

"Sergeant Gordon, the Lisbon fire was arson. The culprits have fled to a … foreign jurisdiction, but they have been caught for other crimes and punished with an indefinite prison sentence, possibly for life. In the unlikely event they are paroled, I don't believe they will return. I have made contacts who should warn me if they do.

"The tools used in their arson were highly unusual, and I have no material evidence to prove the crime. I'm afraid that if the full story were reported through official channels, it would be met with skepticism and only ruin the credibility of the messenger.

"Unfortunately, I have discovered that other criminals possess these strange tools. This small group seems preoccupied with harassing each other and ignores strangers, so they are unlikely to target the public. However, bystanders may be caught in the crossfire of their private conflicts. This was the case for the Lisbon.

"I have been hurt, and will need an uncertain amount of time to recover. I will contact you when I'm fit to resume active investigations. Then I will seek to learn how their strange tools operate and determine whether members of this group remain in Gotham. As stated above, I fear the GCPD and other public bodies are unprepared to acknowledge their existence, let alone confront them. If I find more, we must be ready to subdue the next one without institutional support.

"Again, I stress I am unaware of any at large, but we should be prepared. If you know of officers you trust to be loyal, discreet, open-minded, and comfortable with extrajudicial punishment, I encourage you to make a list. We may need all the help we can get."

As Alfred finished writing, Bruce coughed. "Could I get some water, Alfred?"

"Of course, sir."

Alfred returned to find Bruce had pulled himself onto the bed. Bruce took the water and sipped.

"Turning in for the night, Master Bruce?" asked Alfred.

"I think so."

"Need a hand with the sheets?"

"I'll manage."

Alfred nodded and headed for the door. "Kind dreams, then."

"Wait, Alfred," said Bruce.

Alfred turned. "Sir?"

"I'll tell you the story tomorrow. Everything I can describe, at least." Bruce lowered his head to the pillow and covered his eyes with his arm. "God help me, I don't understand any of it."

"I'll lend an ear whenever you're ready."

"Well, there's something I need to tell you now."

"Please do."

"Tonight I met Giovanni Zatara."

"Your old magic tutor? We discussed him just yesterday."

"That's right. Hard to believe that was only yesterday." Bruce sighed. "It's been longer for me than you, though."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll explain tomorrow."

"Well, how is Mr. Zatara?"

"Mr. Zatara is a mystery. I know he's better than he was yesterday."

"What brings him to mind?"

"I feel this shouldn't wait. Alfred, he knows I'm Batman."

"Oh." Alfred clasped his hands uncomfortably. "You don't seem distressed."

"I haven't had time to reflect on it," said Bruce. "I'm not happy, but my gut reaction is we're safe."

"So you trust him as a confidant?"

"In a manner of speaking. He let it slip just as I was leaving. I'm not sure why. I don't think he was threatening me. He didn't hint that he expected anything, and he didn't expose me to our companions. In fact, he claimed earlier in the same conversation that he respected my secrets."

"That's comforting."

"It's confusing. But I do think he holds me in high regard. Tonight I was partly responsible for saving his life, saving his daughter's life, and saving his house."

"That's excellent!"

Bruce shrugged, unimpressed with himself. "I also played a role in rescuing his wife, which I believe he supports, but their relationship is ambiguous."

"Can you fathom how Mr. Zatara learned your identity?"

"Yes. I suspect he discovered me when I studied with him as a teenager. Giovanni is supernaturally resourceful, and he had good reason to scrutinize a stranger who wanted to enter his life. My false identities were less robust then, and I was a rank amateur at avoiding surveillance. I wouldn't be surprised if he discovered he was teaching Bruce Wayne."

"And he never mentioned this?" asked Alfred.

"Not once," said Bruce. "He used my false name every day."

"I suppose you can trust a magician to keep a secret. But how did he discover Batman?"

"Tonight his daughter recognized me by my old false identity. Just a stroke of bad luck. She told Giovanni I was his old student, and he must have remembered who his old student really was."

"I see." Alfred was glad Bruce wasn't agonizing over this twist of fate. "Thank you for letting me know, sir. Surprise or not, I believe I'll sleep easy tonight."

"Goodnight then, Alfred."

"Goodnight, Master Bruce."

Alfred walked out and shut the door behind him.

Bruce stared at the door. He hadn't mentioned Giovanni's twenty years of killing. He would tell Alfred, but tonight he didn't know what to say.