Batman: The Remains MA 18+
Chapter One: Eat your Heart out, Bruce Wayne!
The hum of the police radio floats through me. It used to bother me in the early years, but now I can't live without it. It's become a friend. A part of me, literally. Embedded in both ears of my cowl. The nights have gotten longer. I have stopped living as Bruce Wayne long ago. After Jason died, after Alfred died and after Selina left there wasn't any more use for it. It's better now, she only got in the way, blinded me from my mission. Alfred was hurting at the end. I like to think he went quick but in his last moments he was writhing with pain. Again, I'm reminded of what God gets his rocks off to. The radio lets out a screech. A triple homicide in the Narrows. My body lurches toward the Batmobile and then I'm off into the night.
I see my signal, etched into the Gothamites minds after so many years. It never fails to get my blood pumping knowing criminals are seeing it too and are scared, knowing what it means. I go faster. 60..70..80. Cars swerve out of the way, some drivers cussing me out, most say nothing. I'm like a maddog, waiting to catch my prey. The batmobile comes to a screeching halt as I reach my mark. The top slides open and I exit. I see a rookie officer puking. Gordon and Bullock are standing, a cloud of cigarette smoke engulfing Gordon. I stop immediately, seeing it. Whenever I think I've grown numb to it all, that this city can't throw me anymore curveballs, it punches me right in the gut. Organs scattered across the ground. Slabs of skinned legs, arms, torsos. Guts smeared everywhere. Red and brown blood staining the sidewalk. What strikes a chord in me the most, makes me stop and feel the horror are the heads. Kids. Couldn't be any older than 14. "What the fuck is wrong with this world?" Bullock spits. Jim can't even bring himself to speak. Joker would be my first guess but he's at Arkham, constantly being filmed and recorded. I know because I watch it live, each night, hearing him singing and cackling to himself, like he's just biding it's time until his next atrocity. I look at the faces, forcing myself to stare. "There's something lodged in their mouths." I announce right as the thought enters my head. I walk up to the horror show, and placing my fingers into the mouth of the middle head, open it. Sickening mania creeps in. I don't know whether to gag or chuckle. Eat your heart out.
The bodies are identified by a priest from the Narrows. Their names are Trayvon Loyer, Sam Flanders and Mark Damon. They're orphans. The priest, Father Josefs doesn't speak too kindly of them saying they were always disruptive in church, calling out and causing havoc but that it's still a shame they're dead. He looks at me like a kid and to my discomfort, places his hand on my shoulder and tells me "It's never too late to find the path of redemption you know, too few of them realize that." Gordon, Bullock and I drive to the orphanage to tell them. The head of the orphanage is a young man with blonde hair and a long scar across his forehead. His name is Otis Mathis. I see his eyes drop and his body start to shake when I tell him the news. "They were troubled. I can't say it surprises me that it happened to them in particular. I tried to get them to find more productive uses of their time but they never gave any of it a chance, they'd rather sell drugs then try to make an honest living. I couldn't kick them out though it'd only push them farther down if they didn't have a home. It's hard you know, seeing teens so young yet so jaded already, like the world's already taken away their spirits." I say nothing. "I'm not sure you're one for the arts but they made something I think you might appreciate." I'm speechless. Outside there is a mural. Up on the wall I see myself.
Even if you didn't know the history you could tell something was off about Arkham. Between the garish architecture and the labyrinthian structure, it's clear it wasn't made by somebody well. I'm greeted at Arkham by the grandson of the asylum's Founder. Jeremiah never has been fond of me but we've put our differences aside in the name of the greater good. I make sure Joker's still in his cell. He immediately starts howling my name when he sees me, screaming for me to come back and give him a sloppy kiss. Joker's not the criminal mind I want insight from tonight. That would be Edward Nashton. I see him in a see through cell, busy sitting on the floor, using ripped up newspaper pieces to create makeshift puzzles. "Edward, you have a visitor." Jeremiah says. "I can see that, I'm not blind you know." Edward snidely remarks. "Have fun with him." Jeremiah says sarcastically and he walks away. " I have a case, I thought you could be useful." I state. "What makes you think I want to help?" Edward smugly spews. I start to walk away but he stops me. "Wait, let me see it at least before I make up my mind." I push the photos through the slot where food is given. "Who are they?" he asks. "They're orphans. Something you both have in common." I tell him. He responds "Trying to pull at my heartstrings I see, you're not going to get very far with that." "They're criminals like you too, that help at all?" I ask. Riddler admits that it does affect his thoughts "a little bit." "Depends on what type they were, there's a hierarchy you know, there are people like us and then there's your common street bum." "They were young." "Oh so your common street bum, consider my interest no longer piqued." I grind my teeth. "What would Selina think hearing that?" I say, decrying him. He furrows his brow and lets out "Selina's dead, or she might as well be, she hasn't been here in years." I responded, "That's what you believe." He retorts "That's what I know. You know I was her protector before you were. Back when we were kids in the Narrows. She'd tell me everything." I freeze. He smiles at me. What? What does he know how much could she have told him? She wouldn't ever tell him who I am? No, no, no, never! Not in a million years! "I'll give you a riddle since that's what I do best, only one color, but not one size, stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. With you in the morning but not when it's late, I am still with you at this current date? What am I?" This has been pointless. I walk away out of hell, back into the jungle.
