Spoiler warning: Contains spoilers for The New Batman Adventures and Static Shock seasons 3 and 4.

Batman retired to the Batcave as dawn grew on the horizon. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Robin joined him, and they changed out of their costumes into their everyday clothes.

"How'd the special mission go?" Tim asked.

"Fine."

"How's Static?"

"Fine."

"Are you even capable of speaking more than one word at a time?"

Bruce ignored him as he put the suit away. The well-dressed butler with a prim mustache came down the stairs with some calming tea after the excitement of the night.

"Has anyone seen Batgirl?" Tim asked.

"I'm sure she's fine." Bruce took a cup of tea and went upstairs.

"Why do I even bother…" Tim muttered.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened in the day either. How long did it take for Big Bang powers to manifest? He'd heard of especially late bloomers. It could've been weeks. Maybe even months. Did it matter how much he had inhaled? Was the amount he had received a lot or a little? He tried to keep his head clear, but he kept imagining he glimpsed something moving without him touching it, or that he had superhuman strength whenever he lifted something. Maybe he had invisibility or super speed. Maybe his hands could shoot energy beams. Would he turn into a monster like Clayface? What if he turned into a Man-Bat? Or a vampire? He thought twice before speaking, before shaking someone's hand, before even moving. Nothing happened. But the anxiety ate at him. Something horrible could happen at any moment.

He made it home and took to bed for his late-afternoon nap before he had to go out as Batman. Maybe the amount of chemical hadn't been enough to impart any superpowers. Maybe he was clear. Maybe it was going to be okay.

Bruce awoke and bolted upright, energized. He threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, feeling nothing but an uncontrollable urge to go outside. Throwing open the French doors, he raced onto his balcony in his pajamas. He leaned on the railing overlooking the garden. The warm summer breeze caressed his face. The night air was so energizing he felt like he could rise up on the wind and fly. He looked up at the moon. It beamed energy down on him. It opened his mind and his body to the pure energy and overwhelming power of the night. It was too much. He held his head with a scream.

Every window behind him shattered. A wave of glass shards descended toward him. He had to jump. He threw himself over the railing and extended his arms to brace himself, but the ground, instead of coming up to meet him, raced along below him. Potted plants and artistically trimmed hedges rose up in front of him. Somehow he dodged at high speed, barely missing by an inch. A long hedge cut across his path and he smashed into it, coming to a full stop, the twigs pricking and scratching his face and clothes.

He panted heavily, unable to believe what had happened. Falling parallel to the ground was called flying. He had flown without any means of propulsion. The windows had shattered at the sound of his voice. He pulled himself out of the hedge and punched a decorative statue with a shout of fury. The marble statue cracked. At least he didn't have super strength or else it would have shattered, and he didn't have invulnerability or else his knuckles wouldn't have hurt.

Bruce ran to the Batcave. He didn't have super speed either. He hurried into the Batman suit and rushed to the police station in the Batmobile, turning tight corners with a screech. He barged straight into the police station and stomped past confused officers. He kicked open the door to Gordon's office and stalked in, slouched angrily.

Gordon jumped out of his chair. "Batman! You're usually so quiet."

"I know it was you."

"So they've manifested? What can you do? I bet you can fly. Bats fly."

Batman slammed his hands down on the desk. "Admit it!"

"Have you tried it out yet? Just go for a test run, then come back to me."

Gordon backed away fearfully as Batman circled the desk toward him.

"Batman, Batman," Gordon said nervously, "Okay, yes, I put a timer on it, but I- I made sure you were alone so it wouldn't affect anyone else. I've done you a favor. I've done this city a favor. You can catch so many more criminals now!"

Batman slowly chased him in circles around the desk. "You had … no … right!"

"Just try it out for a couple of nights. Do a test run, experiment, and- and then come back to me."

"You had no right! You disregarded me and everything I am!"

Gordon finally stood up to him. "Did you have the right to keep the identity of Batgirl from me?! You disregarded me as a father! I worked with you, trusted you. And you never told me!"

Batman couldn't believe his ears. "That's what this is about?!"

"The children, Batman! You don't need child sidekicks anymore! You won't put children into dangerous situations! With these powers, the children are safer!"

Batman couldn't think clearly anymore, enraged by the triviality that had caused Gordon to upturn his life so severely. Batman leaped over the desk at Gordon, knocking him down. The Dark Knight's fingers latched around the Commissioner's neck, until he realized he was penetrating the skin. He removed his hand and looked in horror at the crimson talons and the matching crimson holes they'd effortlessly poked in Gordon's neck. He took his other hand out of Gordon's shoulder with a shudder and backed away, hiding his claws inside his cape. Miraculously, he hadn't penetrated anything vital. Gordon gasped as he pulled himself to his feet, staring at Batman with the spark of fear in his eyes.

Batman held up a clawed hand, dark blood staining his dark glove. "Are the children safer, Jim?"

Batman jumped out the window and swung away on a grappling hook. He dropped into the Batmobile. He noticed his hands on the wheel. Normal hands. No claws. They were retractable. Veiled. Masked. How convenient. He could pretend. He could hide. But there they were, inside of him. Monstrous. Just like the mask on his head, keeping in check the monster inside of him. But there those claws were, breaking free. What else might break free along with them?

He drove back to the Batcave, where Alfred and Tim met him.

"There you are, Master Bruce!" Alfred said, "The windows shattered! Are you all right? Did you see anything?"

Batman spit out a lie with hardly a thought. "Some kind of misfired sonic weapon."

"Sonic? I suppose an inaudible frequency would do the trick just as well."

Could they not hear it?

"Go on, Tim, it's time to get going."

Tim ran to get changed.

"Why did you run off with such urgency?" Alfred continued.

"Well, I had to catch the scoundrel who did it, didn't I? Can't let some second-rate hired low-life attack Batman's house and get away with it."

Tim hurriedly got dressed and raced back out.

"I have a lot of research to do tonight. You can go out by yourself."

"Can I drive the Batmobile?"

"No."

"When can I drive the Batmobile?"

"Don't get your hopes up."

"But I'm almost sixteen!"

"No you're not."

Robin growled and trudged toward the exit.

"You think you're growing up, but you're still a little kid."

Batman took his cowl down as he sat to work at the enormous supercomputer. But Alfred didn't leave him alone.

"Master Bruce, if I might make an observation, you've been acting … odd lately."

"How so?"

"If I didn't know you better, I might say you're experiencing anxiety."

Batman ignored him.

"A new, subtle form of the Scarecrow's toxin, perhaps?"

"It hasn't been a problem."

"I'm sure Professor Crane wouldn't intend to cause a simple annoyance. More likely, he plans to wear you down over time."

"Just let me handle it," Batman growled, losing his patience.

Alfred paused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Very good, sir. If you insist."

Alfred finally left him alone. Batman took a sample of his blood, watching the small syringe slowly turn red. He dripped a small pool onto a slide and inserted it into the computer to analyze. It matched. He was a Bang Baby. He could almost forget he had superpowers or refuse to believe it, but seeing it in hard facts in front of him made it real. Inescapable. He was trapped. His life was out of control. He was powerless.

He growled and swiped at the chair, leaving five deep gashes. He stared at the damage, breathing hard. His bare hand had done that. He looked at his gloved hand. Each of his fingers came to a sharp point. He had always used weapons, but never to maim or kill. Suddenly his hands themselves were deadly weapons. What other horrible things could he do that he couldn't before? The bats in the cave seemed to chirp and squeak louder than normal. He sank to his knees and pulled his mask down over his face, breathing heavily, trying to hide. A thousand voices clamored in his head.

He realized it wasn't his own thoughts, but the voices of the people of Gotham. He could hear everything: every car, every shout, every casual conversation. Hundreds and thousands of people and cars out at parties, at the bar, or staying up late with friends and family. Boats coming in with cargo, police officers apprehending criminals, sleepless babies crying. Every chirp of every bat was a siren screech, and each flap of a wing was a gale.

He pressed his hands over his ears, but he couldn't block it out. He couldn't think. He had to escape. He ran outside as fast as he could, until he realized he wasn't running. He was flying. He flew into the sky, straight upward, as far away as he could from humanity and its noise.

Jim Gordon found himself surrounded by bright lights and people poking him and asking him questions. He found himself having to explain what had happened, saying the canister hadn't been sealed correctly. Everyone was shocked, some excited but some concerned. One such man was Harvey Bullock, the pig-headed detective who always got results.

"You're telling me the Bat has superpowers?!"

"I … I believe he will use them to become a greater man than he already is."

"A great man? That maniac attacked you! I knew it. As soon as he gets power he goes nuts. He's just as mad as all the other Arkham freaks. But man … the Bat was bad enough, and now he's Batman plus Superman! Some kind of-.…" He waved his hands, trying to come up with the right word. "Freaky Superbat or something. Let me tell ya. You do not cross Batman with Superman." He took a bite of a donut and spoke with his mouth full. "Separately, they may be buddies, but combined, the two do not mix and you'll only get a homicidal maniac trying to kill you."

"He didn't kill me."

"Well he certainly gave it a good try."

"If Batman wanted to kill me, I'd be dead even if he didn't have superpowers. He's just scared. He's suddenly found himself with more power than he ever dreamed. With powers he doesn't even understand yet. He doesn't know his own strength yet, but he will. He'll figure it out."

Jim winced and inhaled sharply when a nurse put something stinging on his shoulder wound.

"He'd better figure it out in Arkham, then," Bullock continued.

"Look at Gotham! It's a cesspool! Look at Metropolis! It's glorious! We need a Superbat. He may not accept his powers now, but he will learn to love them. No one can resist that kind of power. Not even Batman."

Bruce woke up enough to realize he was waking up. The next thing he realized was that he was in pain, and he groaned.

"Master Tim, he's waking up," Alfred said.

Bruce looked up at Alfred, then saw Dick and Tim as the younger boy approached the bed. They were in the guest room due to the windows in Bruce's room having been shattered and covered with tarps.

"Bruce, what happened?" Tim asked.

Bruce groaned again. "It's all a blur."

"We found you outside in the woods," Alfred said, "It appeared almost as if you had had … a crash landing, although there were no means of propulsion we could determine."

"Penguin … had a jet pack.…" Bruce lied again.

He tried to sit up, but growled at the sharp pain in his arm.

Alfred helped him lie back down. "During the fall, you … you broke your arm, sir."

"What?"

"I've already apprised Ms. Thompkins that we will be arriving shortly."

"No, I can't-."

"I'm afraid Batman is absolutely out of the question. Not until your arm is healed."

Bruce took a moment to consider his situation. He had to figure out his superpowers before he could resume Batman's work.

"Maybe it's for the best.…"

The others glanced between themselves, confused by his compliance.

"Don't worry, Bruce." Dick shook Tim's shoulder. "We'll keep Gotham safe until Batman's return."

As they filed out to leave him to rest, Bruce realized he didn't feel like he could fly anymore. Sounds seemed a bit loud, but he couldn't hear everything. Maybe his powers were temporary. It was only a small canister, after all.

Bruce submitted to keeping his arm in a sling even though he insisted he didn't need it. After he was back home from the operation and mostly recovered from anesthesia, he snuck down to the Batcave to test his blood again. There it was in front of him again, proof that he was a Meta-Human. It was almost worse the second time. Upstairs, just a minute or two ago, he had been certain he couldn't hear as much as before, but the bats chirped, scratched, and flapped just as loudly as the first night. Maybe it was just the bats, just their frequency, that dug into his head so hard.

What about the flight? Upstairs, he'd felt like he couldn't fly anymore. He hesitated to try. He didn't want to be able to fly. His feet weren't on the ground.

"No!"

He felt the panic of the first night as more and more sounds of the city made their way into his brain. He forced himself back to the ground.

"Keep it together! Keep it together, Batman."

He looked at his good hand. Without gloves he could see his fingers and nails stretched into horrifying claws.

The bats chirped loudly. He forced a deep breath and controlled his breathing, beginning to calm down. He focused on his hand, blocking out the voices. They were his powers. He could control them. The claws slowly shrunk back into fingers. He found himself pacing. He had to talk to himself just to hear his own thoughts over everyone else's voices.

"It's only superpowers. I know plenty of people with superpowers. I can't touch anyone without putting their life at risk, okay, but Superman can't look at anyone without putting their life at risk. He's fine. I'll be fine." He looked at the Bat Computer. "I just need the antidote."

He sat down and tried to focus on getting Wayne Enterprises involved in the process of creating a cure, but the voices and the chirping and flapping bats grew louder every moment. He couldn't ignore them. He held his good hand to his head and felt the claws. He glared at his hand. He forced a deep breath. The voices were too loud. He couldn't calm down. The claws wouldn't go away. The noise wouldn't stop. Exactly like that first night.

He couldn't run away in a blind madness again. He ran upstairs and into his office through one of the entrances behind a clock. He leaned against the wall and released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The chirping of the bats and the sounds of Gotham faded. He looked at his hand. No claws. Maybe it only happened in the Batcave.

He took a breath and stood up straight. He didn't feel like he could fly. He hesitated to try. His feet remained firmly on the ground. He jumped in place and floated gently to the floor. Maybe he had to want to. He resolved to hit his head on the ceiling and jumped again. He jumped a little higher than natural, but still floated to the ground. He clenched his jaw and tried forcing himself to stay in the air. He still floated gently downward.

It didn't matter how badly he wanted it or didn't want it. In the Batcave, he had floated with barely a thought. Upstairs, he couldn't even stay in the air. All he had to do was avoid the Batcave. That was going to be difficult.

Bruce stayed in his temporary new room most of the day to rest and heal. When he wasn't in bed he was at his computer, letting his broken arm rest gently on the desk, working on emails, meetings, and speeches to get the company involved in the creation of an antidote. With his money, scientists, and technology, the antidote would be along much sooner, hopefully within the year. Then he could get rid of his powers. They were temporary. He could handle that. He just had to keep from using his powers and avoid the Batcave as much as he could for a whole year.

As evening approached, once again he thought he was hearing more. He told himself he was just sensitive to noise due to his experience the previous night. But he was feeling more and more restless, and he was certain he could hear the police car sirens in Gotham.

He had a theory. He went outside to watch the sunset. The fiery orb slowly disappeared from an orange sky, and, as if connected by a pulley, every sound grew louder. He realized he was shaking. He looked at his hand. The claws sneered back at him, trembling at the onslaught of noise. The last rays of light disappeared over the horizon and Bruce's feet effortlessly lifted off the ground.

He fell to the ground, stumbled to the house, and collapsed against the door. It wasn't the Batcave, it was the darkness. His powers worked at night and in isolation from the sun. All the noise of Gotham pounded his brain. He grit his teeth and resisted a scream. He couldn't let himself shatter the rest of the windows.

He reached with his good arm to open the door and ran up to his room. Gloves couldn't hide his claws, and he didn't have his cape to hide inside. He ran into Alfred.

"Master Bruce!"

Alfred reached to take his good arm and help him, but Bruce jerked his arm away, hiding his claws behind his body.

"Don't touch me!"

He ran to his temporary room to hide his claws under the blanket. He covered his head, trying to block out the noise. He gripped the blanket tightly around his fingers, his teeth clenched.

Soon, Alfred came in.

"Master Bruce, is everything all right?"

"The noise, the noise! It won't stop!"

"What noise?"

Bruce couldn't respond, the noise growing so raucous he could barely hear Alfred next to him anymore. He growled and hit his head, trying to hear something else, to feel something, anything.

Alfred stayed with him the whole night through his writhing and crying out for it to stop. As soon as the noise faded away in the morning, he fell asleep, exhausted. When he woke near midday, his arm pulsed with pain. He must not have been careful about not sleeping on it. Alfred must have left him to rest. He carefully got up and went to his computer to continue work on his company's involvement with the antidote. He reminded himself it was temporary. He could work out the hearing problem. As long as he knew what to expect, he'd be ready for it. He could hide his powers for a whole year. Couldn't he?

After a while, Alfred came in to check on him.

"Master Bruce, I'm delighted to see that you're feeling better, but perhaps you should continue to rest."

"Soon. I have to finish something important."

"You were working on 'something important' all day yesterday."

"Very important."

"What are these night terrors?"

"Just something left over from the Scarecrow. I'll be okay."

"Not okay enough to become Batman, I hope."

"I'm Batman," he insisted.

He had to keep being Batman. But if he had superpowers, could he still be Batman, or was he something else entirely?

"It wasn't Scarecrow, was it?" Alfred said.

"What else would it be?"

"Master Bruce … did something happen … on the special mission?"

"Like what," he snapped, his patience rapidly slipping away.

"You've had ample time to antidote yourself to the Scarecrow's toxin. But you're still afraid. You're struggling. You hear voices, you shatter windows, you fall from the sky.… You're a-."

Bruce quickly stood up and shouted in his face. "I'm not a superhero!"

Alfred didn't even meet his gaze, staring wide-eyed at his hand. Bruce looked at his claws and closed his fist to hide them. He turned away and leaned on the desk with his good hand.

"Don't tell.…"

Alfred took the sling off the hat stand and brought it to Bruce. "I think you should be honest, Master Bruce. We're all concerned about you."

Bruce let him strap it on and carefully slip his arm inside. "Please.…"

Alfred paused. "Very good, sir."