-Charlie Parker-
What’s happening to Gotham City? When I was a kid you could play in the street without a care and take the alleys home at night. Now, look at what this city’s become. Crazy clown killing innocent people. Corrupt cops looking to some urban legend to do there jobs for ‘em. Where does it end? Where’s the Gotham that I knew as a boy?
I stare out the window as Bernice puts on her coat across the room. Her mother is already waiting for her in the hall. Impatient, old hag. When the hell is she gonna leave anyway? I’ll tell ya, I’m about tired of all the bitchin’. Bernice walks over and starts to rub my shoulders. I shrug her off.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“Everything. That’s what’s wrong. Church has been missing for days.”
“I’m sure he’ll show up.”
“God, I’d hate to even think of what that poor kid’s goin’ through right now. The Joker’s still out there somewhere, probably plotting something else. I hope we can find him too, before Church does.”
“Save the worry for work. You’re off duty, baby.”
“I’m sorry, Bernice, but that freak could kill again and all I can think about is that he’ll get you next. That’s why I hate to see you go to the store tonight.”
“Ah, don’t bother worrying ‘bout me. He’s got no grudge against you or me and he’s got no other reason either. I’ll be fine, baby.”
She pecks me on the cheek and walks away and out the door. She’s wrong though. Joker doesn’t need a reason to kill. There is no reason to what he does. He’s a cold-blooded killer, no more, no less. He has no morals, no remorse and that’s what makes him dangerous. The freak kills on impulse when he so chooses and kills to feed his wickedly dark sense of humor.
I look back out the window. The sun has fallen all the way below the horizon and the lights in the windows of Gotham all seem to flicker on at once. I look to the west, towards the Gotham Central building. Gordon has not yet raised the signal. Good thing too. That damn spotlight’s a waste of taxpayer dollars that serves to no purpose but to, hopefully, scare off some of the criminals.
Needless to say, it hasn’t worked. Things have only gotten worse in Gotham since those damn Batman stories started. I don’t know how Gordon spun that yarn of a story, but it hasn’t served purpose to place false hopes in the people of Gotham. It almost sickens me when I hear people talk about Batman. Don’t get me wrong, I like Gordon, but his methods don’t sit right with me.
I turn away from the widow and sit in my chair across the room. This recliner was a Christmas present from Bernice. I think about her as I sit in the chair. I really don’t like the idea that she’s out walking the streets while the Joker’s doing the same. We don’t have a single clue as to his whereabouts and I don’t think we will until he resurfaces. I’ve never seen the Joker face-to-face, but I know for a fact that he exist because he’s not afraid to show himself. If Batman is real then he should show his face and stop hiding in the shadows like a damn coward.
I turn on the TV and change the channel to the news. They’re talking about Church and his family again. Everywhere I turn, I am bombarded with reminders of that night. It’s be three days of constant news covering the murder of Church’s family and I still can’t stand it. My eyes start to tear as they show the pictures of his family again. I knew those people all of my life and to see this happen is just horrifying.
All of that and, still, I brought myself to do what I did. I shouldn’t have done it, but I thought that it should be me. I thought that it was my responsibility to tell him. Taking evidence from a crime scene is a serious offense, but I had to. At the time, I hadn’t even been thinking about it, but now I realize that I should have left it there. Church won’t come to me. Not after our exchange in the parking lot three days ago. No, I’ll never be able to give it to him.
I shake that thought out of my head and turn my attention back to the news. They’re talking about the weather now. God, I hate the weather. Damn weathermen never get it right anyway. They’ll tell you it’s gonna rain and then it snows, or they’ll tell you that it’s going to be hot as hell and you go outside without a jacket and freeze your ass off. I change the channel to the nature channel and watch that for a while.
I look over to the chest across the room where I hid it. Why can’t I get over it? It won’t be a problem. I’ll just walk by the river tomorrow and toss it in when nobody’s looking. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll just pitch the damn thing and that’ll be the end of it. It’ll all be said and done. If Church shows up, I’ll just tell him about it. I don’t need the damn thing to explain that to him. I’m eating myself up inside, but I still can’t my eyes off of the chest.
God, I wish that Church would come here so that I can just get rid of it.
There is a quiet thumping noise in the other room and I turn around in the chair to look down the hall. I don’t see anything and, despite my better judgment, I turn back around and watch the TV again. I hear a whooshing sound and it sounds like something flies past my ear. Whatever it is, it hits the lamp in the corner and breaks the bulb. I turn off the TV and quickly stand, looking down the hall again. I still don’t see anything, but I reach for my jacket, which lays draped over one of kitchen table’s chairs, and pull my gun out. I hear two more whooshing sounds. Whatever they were, one hits my hand and knocks the gun away and the other knocks the overhead light out.
The apartment is pitch-black and I can’t see a damn thing. I hear footsteps start to come towards me and I reach my hands out to find my attacker. As I do this, I scoot my feet around the floor, trying to find the gun. I don’t know who would be stupid enough to break into a cop’s home, but whoever they are, they’re good.
One of my feet hits the gun and I get on my knees. I grab the gun with my right hand. Almost immediately, a heavy boot stomps down on my hand. I look up into the darkness to try to see this person, but I can see nothing. Whoever it is, they grab me by the collar and toss me back into the back of the chair.
The window breaks and, in the faint outside light, I see the gun fall away from view. I look back in the direction of my attacker, but I can still see nothing. I hear the person’s footsteps and it sounds like they are moving towards me. Before I know it, they have a hold of me and this person has drug over to the window and thrown me against the wall nearest to it.
In the little bit of light that there is being admitted from the window, I can see him. The dark shadow looms over me. A cape flaps in the breeze of the broken window and the insignia on his chest immediately tells me who it is. I don’t want to believe it, but how can I not? There he stands, right in front of me, threatening me with all of his dark glory. Never, in all of my years, had I imagined that he was real or that he would be like this. I guess what made it so hard to believe that he was real was all of the different stories that I had heard. There were some that said he was a giant bat. Others said that he was some sort of living shadow. Hell, I even heard someone say that he was some kinda machine. Damn, were we all wrong! This is a man. A living, breathing man, and, up until this very moment, I had never believed in him or showed any kind of appreciation. I was wrong. Batman does exist.
“You…You’re…real?”
“Save it. I want to hear everything you know about Robert Church.”
Robert Church, the man I had so many times argued with over the existence of the man now standing before me. I truly don’t believe what I’m seeing. The Batman looms over me like the devil himself. I’ll admit that I’ve never been more afraid of anything in my life. Why is he here? Is here to take me to the police? Does he know that I stole evidence?
“Parker!”
He grabs me by the collar.
“Tell me about Church.”
Yes, that’s it. He wanted to know about Church. The fear that courses through my body is upsetting my thoughts. What did he want to know again? Oh, right, he wants me to tell him about Church. My train of thought is so screwed up that I can’t even remember my own first name.
“What…what do you want to know about him?”
“You spoke to him three days ago?”
“I…I did.”
“Tell me.”
How did things go? I can recall me and Church standing there in the Gotham Central parking lot. I remember that he had hurt himself somehow, but everything else is being blurred by the fear. I just can’t think straight with Batman on top of me. Fear consumes my mind.
“Can…can you please let me go? I…I can’t think straight.”
He tosses me aside like a rag doll. I get up and feel my way through the apartment. I reach the kitchen and turn the light on in there. I look back and Batman is right behind me. I grab a chair and ease myself in. I gesture towards the other chair, but Batman continues to stand.
“No, thank you.”
“So, you want to know what happened three days ago in the parking lot.”
“Yes.”
“Well, now that you’re not grasping me with your monstrous fists, I’ll try to tell you. I had just gotten out of my car and I stood there for a moment. I spotted Church across the lot and he spotted me. We both made our ways towards each other and we had a friendly exchange at first.”
“'At first?’”
“Before the conversation escalated, that is. Church started to wobble a bit and I asked what the matter was.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, I’m sure you have your own personal access to people’s medical records. If you checked Church’s from three days ago you’d see that he was rushed to the Gotham Memorial Emergency Room with a severe concussion. Anyway, I told him that he should go home and rest it off; he got upset and walked away.”
“How upset?”
“He seemed almost angry with me. For as long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen Church act that way. Normally he’d grin and bear it, not lash out other people. His behavior was rather abnormal if you ask me.”
I stand from the chair and move over to the counter. I grab a mug and pour some coffee from a nearby pot into it. I offer the mug to Batman, who is now standing at my back, but he puts his hand up. I shrug and take a drink of the coffee. It burns my mouth, but I ignore the fact and gulp it down.
“You didn’t see Church after that?”
“No, I didn’t and I regret that. If I had I probably could have talked some sense into the kid. I’ve known ‘im sense he was no higher than my knee. I only wish that I could be there for him now.”
“I have to go.”
Batman turns and makes for the window. I’m still trying to put the whole situation into perspective. If Church were here now, he’d be laughing in my face. All these years I’ve argued with Church, thinking that I was on the winning side, and turns out that he was right. Batman jumps out onto the window sill and crouches there for a second.
“Batman?”
He turns and faces me.
“When you find Church, will you tell him that I’d like to see him?”
Batman nods and turns back around. He jumps from the window and his cape breaks the silence as it expands and carries him away into the night. Where he’s going, I don’t know. I hope that he can find Church, whatever he has to do to find him. I hope he finds that damn Joker too. I hope he breaks every bone in that damn clown’s body.
I leave the kitchen light on and sit down in my recliner again. I reach for the TV remote. Just as I’m about to push the power button, there is noise behind me. What the hell could that be? Batman again? Why the hell would he come back? He already got what he needed out of me. I put the remote down and get out of the chair again. Once again, I look down the darkened hallway, hoping to see whatever it is that’s making the noise.
“Maybe a bird flew in through the window.”
Yeah, that might’ve been it. Wait a minute…I didn’t say that. I slowly turn around, grabbing a pair of scissors from the end table as I do so. I turn completely and see something even more frightening than Batman. There is standing a man, his mouth stretched into a grin and dried tears are on his face. His eyes are shot blood-red from the crying and his brow lies heavily over those eyes, frowning. I almost don’t believe what I’m seeing, but there, standing before me, is Robert Church.
“Hello, Parker.”
I don’t know what to say. I wanted so badly to speak to him, but this is not what I expected. I thought that Church would be nothing more than a broken man, lost in suffering and pain, but as I look on him now, he looks downright evil. His eyes are those of a madman, a killer. I turn away from him as the tears form in my eyes.
“Come on Parker, you told the Bat that you wanted to talk to me…Talk!”
The grin stays on his face, but he starts to cry. His body shakes with anger and frustration. I just now notice that he’s wearing my trench coat. I don’t worry about it. The evil look fades from his eyes for a second. In that second I wrap my arms around him. He doesn’t do the same, but I don’t let go.
“Let go of me, Parker.”
I take my arms off of him and stare into his eyes. The madness has returned to his face. God, what did the kid do to deserve this? I turn away and go over to the chest at the other side of the room. I’m not entirely sure that he wants to see this, but he needs to. I pull the bag out of the chest and carry it back over to him. I hold it out, suggesting him to take it.
“What the hell is that?”
“You need to see it, Church.”
He aggressively grabs the bag and draws it towards himself. For minutes he just stares down at it. I wish he would just open it already. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. He opens the bag and, without even looking inside, empties its contents onto the carpet. He kneels down and grabs it. He stares at it as he stands.
His eyes fill with tears and he falls back to his knees. He clutches it in his hands and digs his head into the floor. His sobs are loud and evil. He starts to pound on the floor and his sobs grow louder. The tears rush down his face and drip from his face. Out of sadness and anger, he stands and throws it at me.
The pregnancy test hits me and falls back to the floor.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Alfred Pennyworth-
Where is Master Bruce? It’s been nearly three hours since he delivered Dick and he still hasn’t come back. It’s not that I’m worried about Master Bruce; I’m used to Batman’s long nights. However, I’m much more concerned about Master Dick at the moment. Considering the “weak” sedative, as Master Bruce so put it, Dick should have awaked from his slumber long ago. That is, of course, if the sedative is as weak as Master Bruce claims it is.
I stand at the end of the tunnel, continually glancing back and forth between the tunnel and the table where Master Dick lies. Yes, something tells me that the sedative is much stronger than I was previously told. I can’t blame him for wanting to keep Dick out of it. The Joker is an extremely dangerous individual and, from what Master Bruce has told me, Robert Church may be just as dangerous.
I decide that waiting at the tunnel is pointless and walk over to the table. Dick lies there, ever so motionless, his breaths low and deep. I brush a strand of hair out of his face and remove his mask. I think, after three hours, it’s about time that came off. I’d remove the suit too, but that would make Master Dick uncomfortable and making people uncomfortable is not my cup of tea.
I look at Dick Grayson as he sleeps. The calmness of his face reminds me of when he was a boy. After a long night out with Batman, Robin would collapse in the Batmobile, fast asleep. I’d take young Dick up to his bed and tuck him in for the night, costume and all; as I said before, removing it would have made him uncomfortable.
It was time’s like those that took me back to the days when Master Bruce would fall asleep like that, back before Batman. I’m thankful for Dick Grayson. Before he came into our lives, Master Bruce was a brooding grouch with little concern for himself. Before Dick, there was no Bruce Wayne; Batman dominated every aspect of Master Bruce’s life. When Dick’s parents died, Master Bruce found someone he could sympathize with; someone he understood and someone who would understand him. Dick brought Bruce back out and turned Batman from, in my opinion, a vigilante into a real hero.
Then, Dick left. Of course, Master Bruce knew the day would come. Dick left behind the Robin mantle and went off to college. Fortunately, though, there wasn’t much change in Batman. Master Bruce remained Gotham’ hero. Even when Dick returned to crime-fighting as Nightwing, instead of Robin, Bruce still kept his cool.
It wasn’t long, though, until Batman found Jason Todd. Jason was an orphan, like Master Dick and Master Bruce, but, being raised on the streets, he was much more aggressive. Despite that, and the fact that Jason was trying to steal one of the Batmobile’s tires when Master Bruce found him, Batman had found a new Robin. Master Bruce was more overjoyed than ever. In his new joy, Master Bruce chose to ignore Jason’s violent tendencies. Perhaps that’s why Jason was killed by the Joker. Not to blame Master Bruce, but there was no controlling the boy and that led to his death.
It also led to the resurfacing of Batman. Don’t misconstrue that. Master Bruce was Batman the whole time. However, he was also Bruce Wayne. He was a man. When Jason died, the monster inside Master Bruce was released and, since then, I have not seen the real Bruce Wayne; I’ve not seen the boy that I raised after the death of his parents. Since Jason’s death, things between Batman and the Joker have been worse than ever. Looking at Master Bruce now, he’s filled with even more hate and anger than he was when his parents died in that alley so many years ago.
So, I look at Dick Grayson now and I see Master Bruce. After all those years I had thought that Bruce was gone and this boy brought him back. For however short the amount of time that Master Bruce was himself again, I am still thankful for Dick for bringing him back again. Sometimes, though, that boy I knew breaks through Batman’s hard exterior. Those are probably the best moments
I’ll ever have.
I had really hoped that Master Bruce would have lightened up after the acquisition of the new Robin, Tim Drake. Tim came to us just a few years ago. When he was younger, he alone discovered the true identities of Batman and Robin. Impressive as that was, Master Bruce, or should I say Batman, was unwilling to take on another Robin after Jason’s passing. However, Tim did not give up and now, having had the help of Master Dick, he bares the mantle of Robin. Yet, Master Bruce is still just as broody as ever.
Where is Master Bruce? I look back at Dick just as his eyes begin to pry open. Oh thank heavens! My worries are over! Master Dick is awake! He blinks his eyes a few times then looks up at me. He shuts his eyes again, frowning all the while, and slowly sits up. He reaches up a hand and pinches his sinuses. He opens his eyes again and looks back at me, still frowning.
“That wasn’t cool, Alfred.”
“I had nothing to do with it. Well, I carried you back to the cave, but I had nothing to do with the sedative. I wasn’t aware that it was so strong”
“Why doesn’t he trust me, Alfred?”
“What? Of course he trusts you. He just tying to-“
“Protect me? Yeah, I know. I’ve heard that bullshit before. I don’t know why he doesn’t trust me, but I’m just about done with his excuses. He knows he needs my help. The only thing that’s keeping him from letting me help is the fact that he doesn’t trust me.”
“Dick, you know that’s not true. He-“
“Save it, Alfred.”
Master Dick presses his hands against the table and pushes himself off. Without looking back, he reaches behind him and grabs his mask off of the table and walks away. He crosses a short bridge over a deep canyon below and heads for the tunnel. He reaches the mouth of the tunnel and stops there. I don’t know what he’s doing but I decide to follow his path. At the end, I stop and stand next to him.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to talk to him when he gets back.”
“What is it that you plan to say then?”
“You’ll see.”
I doubt that there’s any reasoning with him at this point. He can be as stubborn as Master Bruce sometimes. I don’t often like to nudge my way into the conflicts of others, but this time I feel it’s necessary. I highly doubt that Master Bruce will be in any mood to deal with this when he gets back to the cave. As much as he and the Joker have been through, this recent case has really hit home.
“Do you really think that Master Bruce doesn’t trust you?”
“Why do you keep calling him ‘Master Bruce’? You and I both know that ‘Bruce’ is just a cover for Batman.”
“Well, some of us like to stay optimistic.”
“No, I don’t think that Batman trusts me.”
“You’re not seeing the whole picture. You see, Master Dick, it’s not a matter of trust or mistrust.”
“Really? Then what is it?”
“You know how things are between him and the Joker. You know what Joker’s done to him and the ones he cares about. This is not a battle where Batman and Robin face the Joker this is-“
“I’m not Robin.”
“No, but you’d still like to think that you are.”
I can tell by the look on Dick’s face that that last comment struck a cord.
“This is between Batman and the Joker. You see, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you; this is a personal vendetta for him. The Joker’s hurt too many people and Batman’s sick of it. After the Joker killed Detective Church’s family he pulled the last straw. And vice versa; the Joker’s tired of Master Br-…Batman sending him to Arkham. Those two are going to come to terms and it’s going to happen very soon. So, in my opinion, you’re being rather selfish.”
With that, I walk away. I think that I got my point across the way I intended. I can understand why Master Dick is upset, but this really isn’t the best time to bring all of that up. Not when Gotham City’s greatest hero and its most feared villain are about to face each other in probably the last confrontation they will ever have. In a very short time, something very bad is going to happen to one of those men.
“They’re going to kill each other aren’t they?”
I turn around and Dick is standing there.
“Yes, they may very well.”
“But, Batman can’t kill anybody. I mean, not intentionally.”
“Do you think that Joker would share those feelings for Batman?”
“No.”
“No matter how much he doesn’t want to do it, Batman will have to kill the Joker.”
“How can you say that? You of all people?”
“I don’t like it anymore than you do, but it’s the way that it has to be.”
“What if Joker kills Batman? What do we do then?”
“We’ll worry about that when and if it happens. I would hope that that would not be the outcome.”
“What about that Church guy? What do you think he’s going to do?”
“If he still has his mind about him, he will do nothing.”
There is a roar of an engine in the distance. I look to the tunnel; from where I stand, I can see the headlights of the car. Dick turns around and stares at the tunnel. The car flies into the cave and comes to halt at the edge of a massive drop, the front bumper hanging over. Batman, as Master Dick now has me rightfully calling him, steps out of the car and, without even looking our way, makes for his computer. I pat Dick’s shoulder and cross a bridge, making my way towards the computer myself. I can hear Dick’s footsteps following me.
I stand beside Batman, silently looking his body over. Surprisingly he has no wounds that need my attention. Dick reaches the computer and stands on Batman’s right, opposite of me. Batman pays little attention to Dick’s presence and logs onto the computer, typing in his name and a password that even I don’t know.
“Have you found anything, Master Bruce?”
“No.”
“Would you like something to eat?”
“Later, Alfred. I’m busy. I’m sorry about the sedative, Dick. Hopefully you understand now.”
“Sure.”
“Thank you for talking to him, Alfred.”
“You are most welcome.”
He watched our whole conversation. Any normal person would be extremely offended by that fact, but, after all the years, I’m used to Batman’s constant surveillance. Where the cameras are in the cave I have no idea. Where the monitor is that he watched us on is beyond my knowledge. However, I never doubt that everything that Batman does is for good.
I look over at Dick at the exact time as he looks over at me. He knows. Dick nods to confirm the fact and turns back away. He and I know that when you enter Batman’s world that the phrase ‘invasion of privacy’ means absolutely nothing.
I look to the screen as something appears across its massive length. Almost hundreds of smiley faces, all painted on different walls of different buildings, flash across the screen, appearing and disappearing one after another. What is the Joker trying to do now?
Dick decides to ask.
“Why did the Joker do this?”
“The Joker didn’t do this,” Batman replies.
“What? How do you know? Who else would do something like this?’
“It couldn’t have been Joker. The painting is too simple. It doesn’t convey his behavior.”
“Then who the hell did this?”
“I don’t know.”