1.
After I finished writing the previous entry, my mind clear, my intentions focused, like a bullet is focused on its goal, I went down to dinner with Alfred and Selina. We were eating caviar and feller bons, which Selina hates but Alfred loves.
"We saw you on the news today, Master," said Alfred.
I crunched on my feller bons.
"We also saw the green robe."
"And the mask with a dove above a tree on it," added Selina.
I swallowed my feller bons.
"So you finally know about the thing," I said to Selina.
"You mean your murder of Jeremy Fox?"
"Yeah."
"Of course I know about that," purred Selina, "I've known about it for weeks now."
"Really? I never heard you mention it."
"Dad said you were... sensitive to the topic."
I sighed.
"You know what this means, right?" I said, "It means I killed the wrong guy."
"Yeah."
"And they called me a hero," I whispered, "They shook my hand, they praised me. I saw hope in their eyes. Hope that someone in this god-damned city was a good person willing to stand up to crime! They've all been lied to. I am not a hero. I am a murderer."
There was the silence of uncertainty. Neither of them knew what to say.
"So I guess I'll have to become a hero."
"What do you mean by that, Master?"
"It's time that I stopped avenging my parents' deaths and instead started to continue what their deaths took away from Gotham. If the police are too lazy or incompetent to deal with the crime rate in this city, then it is my duty, as the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne, and as a billionaire who has the resources and means, to do their job for them."
"So you'll become a vigilante, Master? I would be careful with that. That's a crime within itself."
"I'll be a masked vigilante. They'll never know who I am. I'll find every major criminal in this city, collect evidence against them, then capture them and turn them in to the police. It's time to end the era of crime bosses. You know, when I went on my tour of Gotham City, I learned that almost all of the caves of Gotham City are owned by crime bosses. I think they're a good place to start my quest. It begins tomorrow. I've just got to buy a balaclava mask and carry some weapons with me. In fact, I was hoping you two could help me a bit with that."
"Hmm..." purred Selina, "What an interesting idea. But perhaps the crime bosses aren't the way to start."
"What do you mean?"
"Well..." purred Selina, "What if I told you that there was a way to get rid of one of the major reasons why Gotham City is so filled with crime, and simultaneously complete your vengeance against your parents? I'm sure there's some part of you that still wants to do that."
"That's not as important right now, but it would be nice," I agreed.
"During my time as a connoisseur of crime, I discovered that a high population of Gotham City, the majority of which are in the more crime-filled districts, follow a religion called Miserysm, one that specifically encourages crime and crime-related activities. And guess what? Every member gets handed a green robe and a mask with a dove above a tree on it."
My heart-rate sped up. My eyes widened.
"It can't be," I said, "So... the person I killed, the person who killed my parents, the person who tried to kill that woman today..."
"Were all Miserysts," purred Selina.
My brain tried to wrap itself around this progression of events.
"Miserysm is a very large reason why the power of the crime bosses is so unchecked and why Gotham has such a high crime-rate. Most of the people in the less crime-stricken areas of Gotham City don't know about it, in fact, most of the police don't know about it because it's so well-hidden, but it's a big deal. If you took down that religion, you would not only take down one of the most major factors that contribute to the high rates of crime in Gotham, but you would also avenge the death of your parents."
I chuckled in disbelief.
"So," purred Selina, "Doesn't that sound better than going with the crime bosses first?"
"Yeah, it bloody well does."
I was a bullet, and my target had just become easier to hit.
"Another thing," purred Selina, "You're going to need my help to do this. I know the crime-ridden districts of Gotham way better than your privileged ass does, and if you go in there by yourself tomorrow to stop a major religion without knowing anything about the place, you are going to fail. You need me to help."
"Sure," I said.
"Good. We're going to start off by becoming Miserysts tomorrow."
"What?!" I exclaimed.
"I don't really know much about it, because it's very secretive, due to its nature. It needs to evade police capture, so most of its rules and customs are kept to its members. If we're going to take the Miserysts down, we need to become them ourselves for at least a couple of months in order to truly learn their ways and therefore gather enough evidence to put them to jail."
"That's fair," I agreed, "So the plan for tomorrow is to go to a Miseryst... church?"
"Alcove."
"To a Miseryst alcove and be baptised."
"Yeah, that's pretty much it. I know an alcove that one of my old friends used to visit, and if we go there for the specific reason of wanting to become a Miseryst, we'll probably be let in, although we will have to photoshop some identification."
"I don't know any photoshop."
"Don't worry, I have a friend."
"Ok, so you do that," I said, "And I guess I'll have to buy a balaclava for two people then."
"No, it's fine," purred Selina, "I've got a little costume of my own. I think it might be time to bring back... the Catwoman."
2.
We caught the train to Galalea today, which is one of the most crime-ridden districts of Gotham City. In Gotham, it is not an uncommon sight to see a person wearing a balaclava, and most people know to avoid such people. Therefore, our costumes went uncommented upon during our ride on the train.
In our pockets, we had our IDs, which looked remarkably realistic, and our weapons. Catwoman had a Katnapper gun and I had a Freebullet. Both of us enjoy irony.
We sped by the tall architecture of Gotham City, the sun glinting on the windows, making the very buildings seem alive, growling upon us. Every time I take a look at Gotham, it seems to come alive with its own special, distinctive energy. One that seems threatening, disapproving. The buildings even gave me the sense of asking me to defy them, as if daring me to go against the secrets that lie beneath their walls.
The train clattered against the railway, making its familiar churning noise, and I remembered that my father was a big reason why Gotham had such a modern and efficient railway system. As I looked at the buildings of Gotham City, challenging me to find out their secrets, and as I heard the train churning on to its destination, a product of my father's legacy, my goal was firmly in my head. Today was the first day in a process that I was certain would last a lifetime. Today was the day I began my new life, a life dedicated to completing the highly ambitious goal my parents had. But it is a goal worth completing, and it is a goal worth spending one's entire life completing.
Just like the train, moving determinedly towards its destination, so was I moving determinedly towards the filthy hodge-podge of crime that is Gotham City. And perhaps at the end of my destination I would find my parents, proud that I had continued their brilliant legacy.
"Penny for your thoughts?" purred Selina.
I looked at her. Her costume was, true to its owner's name, the costume of a cat. She was also wearing a balaclava, but it had the pointed ears of a cat on its top, and a pair of three whiskers on either side of the mask. The rest of Selina's body was completely covered in black clothing, down to the very hands, which Selina told me also had built-in retractable claws, useful for fighting or scaling up buildings. Selina told me she also used to have a tail attached to her back, but had removed it when it had proven to be too bothersome for her burglary career.
"I thought cats don't use pennies," I replied.
"Of course we do. Why else would you think cat burglars exist?"
"I'm just thinking how Gotham City feels so alive. It feels like it's daring me to fight against it."
"Yeah, I get that feeling sometimes," purred Selina, "A big city is no place for a cat."
"Why the cat motifs?"
"When you wear an identity for so long, it starts to become a part of you. Plus, I've always been fond of cats. They fit me, you know? Sly little critters, following their own rules, sneaking out into the night and getting up to things no one hears or knows about."
"I'm more of a dog person."
Selina sighed, "Yeah, you've told me a billion times."
We arrived at Galalea and stepped off the train. People stared at us for a few seconds, perhaps with fear in their hearts, perhaps with curiosity, and then looked away, not wanting to cause any trouble. We walked through the streets, and Selina made no noise with her feet. Her hips swayed as she walked.
I looked around warily, catching the eye of figures huddled in bundles on the streets, or figures buried inside their overcoats as they walked away to do their dark deeds, or figures talking to each other, their wary eyes meeting mine and flashing with suspicion. The streets were mainly silent, as if waiting for the outburst of a new crime. No one talked or laughed, just carried on their way, perhaps scheming a new crime, perhaps hoping to not be a victim of a crime, or perhaps even both.
"Bit creepy, isn't it?" I said to Selina.
Selina chuckled slyly, "You get used to it."
It felt like I was in a ghost-town and seeing all the ghosts. It was so quiet that even the blowing of leaves could be heard. But that's not to say that there was no noise at all. As I passed a few people huddled up in tattered rags, I heard them mutter to themselves, some in prayer, some with random mumblings. I passed a stray dog pissing on a building, its skin showing scars from perhaps fights with other dogs, or even with people. It barked at me with a warning.
"This is why I don't like dogs," purred Selina.
Some people whistled at Selina as we passed them by.
"Catcalling," purred Selina, and chuckled drily.
The buildings in this district were no less intimidating then the buildings of the more metropolitan areas of Gotham. They too felt like they were alive, but this time, their appearance of seclusion, of dimly lit windows, of narrow doors, and the consistent graffiti on their walls, gave me the impression that they had seen terrible things happen inside their walls. I caught a couple of bloodstains on some of them, and I again felt a surge of determination rise in me.
We turned onto another street, very similar to the previous ones, with the traumatised appearance of the buildings, the people huddling on the ground, the noise of rats fighting and crunching cascading from the bins, except this street also had a broken-down theme park, which had clearly once seen better days. Perhaps it had once offered the children from the lower socio-economic classes a chance to experience an affordable theme park. Perhaps this is exactly what had caused it to have been closed down. One can only speculate.
As we walked past the theme park, which cast a large shadow over our faces, its entrance seemed to be an entrance into a world that had once been great, but was now a twisted machine of nightmares. Out of this entrance came a haunting laugh, the laugh of a madman.
"Who's that?" I said.
Out of the unknowable entrance came a figure that was completely hidden in the shadows, except for a top of bright green hair.
"What do you call a theme park that has lost its rollercoaster?" hissed the voice of the figure.
The hairs on my back prickled up and I shivered.
"Any answers?"
"Come on, Bruce, let's go," urged Selina.
"A no-llercoaster!" finished the figure, and started that horrible laugh again, a laugh that swept into the air and echoed throughout the streets.
Something clicked in my brain, and I started walking away from that terrifying place, from that green-haired figure that could entrance you with his horrifying laugh that joined the shadows of the streets, but suddenly, the figure leapt out from said shadows, and swiftly pointed at my neck with a knife. Selina turned around.
"Uh-uh-uh," hissed the figure, and his breath stank of make-up, "Where do you think you're going? I haven't even finished yet!"
The blood pumped into my head and sweat appeared on my forehead. I was suddenly faced with a clear image of the source of that otherworldly laugh. He was a clown, with bright green hair, a bright purple jacket, and a red ball for a nose. He even had a flower on his jacket, presumably one that squirted water. But it's his smile that I remember most, that wide, gleaming smile, showing clean white teeth, pronounced by heavy lip-stick, and finished up with the appearance of a grin that carried way too much earnesty, to the point of being sarcastic.
"Oh, and as for you... Catwoman... don't you dare try any funny moves until I'm done with your friend here, or it's bye-bye to HELL for him!" added the figure.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"People call me the Joker," grinned the figure, "I suppose it's because of how funny I am."
I could all too well feel the edge of the knife on my neck. My Adam's apple bobbed up and down as I swallowed some saliva.
"What do you want from him, Joker?" asked Selina.
"Ooh, a demanding bitch today, aren't we?" asked the Joker, "Only, I guess you're not really a bitch, huh? More of a cat, I would say."
He laughed again, his teeth, white as paper, flashing in my eyes.
"I just want to finish my jokes," he chuckled, "Here's a good one. What's the difference between a clown and a cat?"
I stared at him.
"Well?" growled the Joker, suddenly turning angry.
"I-I don't know," I stammered.
"Idiot!" he shouted, and slapped me across my head, "The answer is... One of them has a sense of humour!"
And then he laughed again. He laughed and laughed and laughed, and as he laughed, Selina attacked him with a Gordon Kick to the back, which sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Run, Bruce!" shouted Selina.
I didn't need any encouragement. My feet were thumping on the street immediately. The people on the street who had stopped to watch the show turned away disappointedly.
"Wait!" shouted the Joker, "I haven't told you my last joke yet! I can feel your heart-rate, you know! It's going one-hundred and eighty... SMILES per hour!"
And then he laughed his loudest laugh, but it became quieter and quieter as we ran away from that terrible street with that horrifying man.