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Caped Crusader
Dream of Immortality

Bruce Wayne had given up finding answers to the questions of life. He didn't know why evil existed. He didn't know if God existed. He didn't know what would happen the day he got ushered off this mortal coil.

The fact of his parents' murders confirmed the basics. Evil did exist whether God existed to tolerate it or not. No matter what afterlife they left Earth for, it did not change the simple truth. Their absence left a vacuum in Bruce Wayne's life. He had never managed to fill it even with Batman.

Imagine his surprise when he saw them again. In the last twenty years, Bruce Wayne had developed the mind of a scientist. He knew that he lied on a hospital bed, enduring a classic near-death experience. He knew that misfiring neurons created their presence. None of that could change the impact of the encounter.

So many questions flooded through his head. One question rose above the crowd. His parents answered. "What parents would not want a superhero for a son? You make us very proud. You have our permission to continue your crusade." They paused a moment. "But you don't have our permission to die. Not yet."

In a flood of celestial light, Bruce returned to Earth. No one had removed his mask. He could hear Waylon Jones. He threatened to gnaw on the bones of anyone who peeked under his mask. No one doubted him, not for a moment.

The doctors though had removed his costume. They had no choice. These people had failed to save his parents. He had always imagined gross incompetence as the culprit. He had thought better of them now. After applying every kind of drug detox known to man, the doctors had literally brought him back from the dead.

As soon as the doctors returned his Batsuit, Batman prepared for a trademark escape. At that moment, James Gordon came into the room. He looked like a man possessed. "Stay put. I have questions for you."

Batman narrowed his eyes. "I have no answers." Batman stopped. He had turned Waylon Jones into an ally and he lived in a sewer for four years. Batman handed Jim a communicator from his utility belt. "We'll keep in touch." Batman smiled. After he left, Jim would try to have that device tracked down to its manufacturer or its homing beacon. Happy hunting.

A moment of distraction allowed Batman his exit. He wanted it this way, to keep people guessing. It kept his enemies on the defensive. Batman made sure that Waylon received shelter from the Wayne Foundation. Rā's al Ghūl had plans from this city. Centuries of solitude had turned the man into cruelty incarnate.

Batman located his Batmobile near the docks. Fortunately, the mafia had not found it. Good thing too. Bruce did not know if a modified sports car could hold up to that kind of punishment. He had only one Batmobile. He would have to consider setting up a spare car in case of emergency.

Bruce Wayne toiled in the Batcave, working on newer and bigger stuff. Alfred Pennyworth attended to the trick-or-treaters upstairs. If he planned to go toe-to-toe with that man and God knew how many others, he needed a plan. His adversary would receive the welcome he deserved.

When he looked up from his work, a six-year-old boy waited at the stairs leading into the Batcave. He looked vaguely familiar. A woman he watched die caressed the strange boy. Talia smiled that warm loving smile. "Say hello to your father, Damian." An invariable death squad surrounded Bruce. "He doesn't have long to live."

Bruce smiled. "Like Hell, I don't." He strapped on a gas mask. Alfred Pennyworth had the Batcave rigged with vents set to go off in the event of unauthorized entry, a contingency Bruce had not adequately prepared for. Knockout gas rose into the air. Bruce walked over and around the bodies. "You underestimated your enemy. I almost made the same mistake."

As a message to Rā's al Ghūl, he left his assassins scattered throughout Gotham. If he wanted a war, he would have one. He looked down at Talia and his alleged son. Bruce Wayne had dismissed the League of Shadows' prayers as cowardly and superstitious based on a dream of immortality no different from the one espoused by countless faiths. It never occurred to him that Lazarus Pits truly possessed the ability to raise the dead.

Rā's al Ghūl must have extended his lifespan through these supernatural means. His inexplicable skills came not from a lifetime of experience but from several lifetimes of experience. A detective of Batman's caliber should have deduced all this. Bruce though knew very well how traumatic memories could interfere with rational thought.

Talia's betrayal as part of an elaborate scheme only twisted the blade in his heart. Too many good people Bruce had known came back from death fully consumed by darkness. He feared the same may have happened to him as well.

Jim called Bruce on his communicator. He had a case that sounded like his area of expertise. A woman dressed as a cat had ripped off many known Carmine Falcone assets across town. "I'll look it into it."