In a Family Way
Summary: Batman and his family muse on their decisions post- 'The Joining'.
Disclaimer: Warner Bros. owns everything. Not me. Don't sue.
Spoilers: The Batman Seasons 1-4, everything up to 'The Joining, Parts 1 & 2'
[Batman's P.O.V.
The green-skinned Martian's words echo in my head as I look around this technological marvel I've suddenly been transported to.
"I've found others. Like me. Like you."
For the longest time, ever since that fateful night in Crime Alley, when two bright, harsh flashes from the barrel of a mugger's gun forever changed me, I've spent every waking moment of my life believing the exact polar opposite of that statement.
There was no one like me.
Of course, children lost their parents more than it should happen. Ever. I've read the statistics. Within a twenty-four hour cycle around the world, at least 10 children lose their parents. Every day, ten naïve, innocent souls will have to suffer the anguish that has haunted me since I was an eight-year old boy…to be introduced to the truth: that this world is a harsh, cruel place, filled with harsh, cruel beings.
I was eight years old when the world showed me its true face. There, in an alley behind a movie theater in Gotham City, I saw the world's face for the first time, and trembled. The world has teeth. And at any given moment, it can unhinge its gaping maw and everything you've ever known about life, anything you believed to be good, or pure, or sacred…will be devoured whole. Swallowed into the abyss of dead earth, wriggling worms and crawling maggots, never to see the light of day again.
The world ate my parents.
Just as it has eaten so many others. But unlike them, unlike anyone, I didn't just sit back and let my grief consume me; make me useless and impotent while the darkness that ripped my world apart roamed free.
I made no time to go through the motions of grief. There was no denial, for the empty mansion I called home, the deafening silence that filled it was all too real. No bargaining with the world to give them back to me, for I knew my cries for mercy would fall on deaf ears. No depression to go through, though my heart longed to surrender to it. And there would never, ever be any acceptance.
There was only rage. And The Promise.
I made a promise on that rainy night in the graveyard when I laid my parents to rest in the damp, cruel earth that I would rid their city, their world, if I had to, of the evil that took their lives. I would do whatever it took, find whatever I needed, learn whatever was necessary, and more. I would stare my darkest fears in the face and tear out their eyes. I would dive head-first into the very mouth of the deepest abysses of this world. And the darkness itself would choke on me.
And it did.
For over a decade, I've traveled the world many times over. I've searched everywhere, high and low, through peaks and valleys, to find what I needed. Russian chemists, Tibetan monks, African tribal hunters, every dojo & training ground ever heard of, and all the ones never mentioned…no knowledge was too obscure, no road too hazardous to travel. I needed to know everything I could. Because I would never again allow what happened to me to happen to anyone else without swift retribution. My parents' killer was never brought to justice; the others who would follow in his footsteps wouldn't get off so easily. No other child would ever have to lose their parents in a dark, rainy alley to a punk with a gun; to witness the death of innocence.
I would turn myself into a living weapon. A spear of justice aimed into the heart of darkness, and an unrelenting shield of courage to protect those whom no one protected. An avatar of justice from which there was no escape. All forged into a symbol to strike terror in the hearts of those who would terrorize the innocent, an emblem that would embody both swift justice and the wrath of righteous vengeance. An ominous mark that criminals, a superstitious and cowardly lot, would gaze upon and tremble, for they knew that Hell itself had come for their souls.
Over the last six years, I've become an urban legend. A creature of fright, awe and terror. A monster that hunts monsters. I've earned many names. The Dark Knight. The Guardian of Gotham. The Masked Manhunter. The World's Greatest Detective. Yet one name, the only name that matters, has become the talk of the town, the bane of the underworld, the thing that makes the predators of the dark start to fear the very dark they ruled unchallenged for so long, for they know when darkness comes, so will I.
I was born Bruce Wayne. Yet…I am The Batman.
And for the longest time, I've been alone.
It wasn't all bad. Lucius Fox, an old friend of the family, lent me his vast technical expertise to construct the Batcave and many of the weapons I employ in my nightly vigils. I had Alfred lending his guiding hands from the comfort of the Cave; a perk having a butler and friend whose previous occupation was a highly respected field agent of MI-6. But he held down the fort, so to speak, while I handled the field work. Even if he could take a more pro-active approach in 'the Mission', I'm not sure that I would ask him to do so. He's already done more than enough, more than anyone else could or would, that I don't think it'd be fair to ask. And there was no way I would allow him to risk getting hurt, or worse.
It was a fine arrangement. A good one. Lonely, sure. But if someone is going to be hurt, or worse, fulfilling my promise to my parents, it damn well wasn't going to be anyone I cared about. I've worked alone, and that's how it was.
Yet life has thrown me another twist in its confusing tale. Little by little, others have been coming into my life. After what happened to Ethan, I swore never to let others get too close to me in this line of work. But it feels like the harder I try to pull away from them, the more of them gravitate towards me, as if I was some bat-shaped flame attracting moths.
I think of Jim Gordon and the answer suddenly becomes transparent. Jim is a good man, and an even better cop, from what his record shows. It's not too many newly appointed Police Commissioners who are willing to stick their neck out for a guy in a bat mask running around fighting crime off the books. And yet, his public support of what I do has done more than just give me validation. He's shown me that there are people who not only believe in what I do, but are willing to go the extra mile, and become a part of the solution.
Ellen Yin was one of the first I tried to actually work with. A vigilante working with a cop. The irony was almost poetic. It was reassuring, and I won't lie that having her around wasn't easy on the eyes. But that fiasco Chief Rojas stirred up made me realize yet again, that having her around was only a liability. A life that would be lost in this war that she, though willing, was not able to play. So I made a go of it alone…again. Which was fine. Sometimes, I believed that loneliness was just my lot in this dangerous, thankless job.
And then along came Barbara.
I really tried to push her away. I made a promise to Jim that I would make the city safe for his daughter. Putting her in the line of fire with maniacs like The Joker and Firefly was definitely not the way to keep up my end of the deal. Besides, the last thing I needed on the job was to worry about some thrill-seeking kid who was in way over her head. But it seemed the harder I pushed her away, the harder 'Batgirl' clung to me. Following me around night after night, all but begging me to let her into my world. She even made her own gear, which was probably hard to do going on a 14-year old's allowance instead of a vast multi-billion dollar international conglomerate. She never let up until I finally relented. If she insisted on following this path, at least I could help to keep her alive. And over time, I've started to see her in a different light. I've looked past the smart-mouth sass and strong-willed personality of a teenage daughter of a policeman and seen that perhaps, this is more than about joy-riding or thrill-seeking for her. I've seen, and understood, her need, her addiction to helping others, to bring Gotham back the sense of justice it so desperately lacked. She understands The Mission.
But Dick…he understands The Reason. My reason.
Dick was not much older than I was when my parents were taken from me. When I opened the doors of Wayne Manor to him, it was with the hope that, like Alfred did, that I could make a difference in his life; to guide him through a pain that no one else could understand. He can understand why it is that I do what I do, can relate to my pain…our pain…like no one else can. Like me, he, too, refused to idly sit back when Tony Zucco personally scripted the Flying Graysons' final performance. So when he wanted to take up The Mission, fly alongside the Batman as Robin, how could I refuse him? In many ways, it would have been like refusing myself. He's seen the world's true face, stared at its hideous jaws, felt its cruelest bite. I would teach him to bite back harder. He's provided a loyal partner and formidable ally…yet he's so much more than that. I suppose I could tell him to cut down on the smirking grins, the endless amount of quips, the smart-aleck attitude of a pre-adolescent kid. And yet I don't. Not just because I find him funny (although I'll never tell him that). Because this path he's taken cannot be dictated by every inch, although sometimes, I'd like to do just that. Dick has to find his own pace, his own personality to mesh his skills into. He doesn't have to be exactly like me to do this job. Jokes or not, diverging styles aside, I know that for us both, the Mission remains the same.
"The world's changing, Batman. You can still go it alone if you want…or you can step into the larger world, and become part of a greater good."
Which is what brought me to this point. The Joining's arrival on Earth was not a matter of circumstance. I don't believe in circumstance. It was an omen. A warning sign. Martians, metal aliens…for all I know, all I've trained for, all I've prepared myself to deal with, there's still so much I'm not prepared to encounter. At least, not by myself. For a moment, I was questioning whether or not having Dick and Barbara around was the right thing to do, or at least the effective thing. Now, I'm starting to think I'll need all the help I can get. My team proved a critical help stopping The Joining. Without them, there's no question in my mind that Gotham would have fallen, and the world soon after.
It only reminded me that they, like me, made a choice to live this life. To serve a calling higher and more important than ourselves. And, as they have trusted in me, I, too, must trust in them.
I take a look at the five heroes in this room. Beings of great courage, immeasurable power. I stand a mere mortal in a cape amongst a pantheon of gods:
I already have seen what J'onn can do. Super-strength, the power of flight, telepathy, telekinesis, the ability to shape his body into anyone, and the power to phase his body through solid steel. An alien among humans, a god among mortal men. He could rule the human race with those gifts, and yet, he used his incredible abilities to help me stop The Joining from dominating the human race. His human counterpart, Detective John Jones, told me he was one of the good guys. I believe him. And for me, that's saying something.
Green Lantern. The media-dubbed 'Emerald Crusader'. Word has it that he's able to create virtually anything out of his magical green ring from giant boxing gloves to green blasts of powerful energy strong enough to buckle pavement. Defender of Coast City.
The Flash. The reports of his speed are astonishing, rumored to be clocked somewhere between Mach 3 or 4, (though I believe that's only a fraction of how fast he can really go) earning him the title of 'The Fastest Man Alive'. Guardian of Central City.
Hawkman. I've seen pictures of him flying through the air as graceful as the bird that is his namesake, then smash armored getaway cars into no more than crushed tin with one blow of that mace of his. I'm still not sure if those wings are the result of advanced technology or some freakish genetic mutation. But I'd bet my Swiss bank accounts that, like J'onn, he's also a visitor from 'out of town'. Sentinel of St. Roch.
Green Arrow. The Emerald Archer, the Battling Bowman. The guy has almost as many nicknames as me. I'm about 95 percent certain that, like me, he doesn't have any super powers; just a reported slew of 'special' customized arrows, ranging from boxing gloves to exploding arrowheads, a sharp right hook, and the desire to do good. I recognized one of the designs in the chemical signature residue of the exploding arrows to come from Queen Industries, owned by Oliver Queen, a multi-billionaire whose party habits are as renowned as mine. I don't believe in coincidence. Protector of Star City.
I fight to repress the smirk tugging threateningly on my lips as the faces of these man-gods drop in surprise when I tell them how I've been hacking their fancy monitoring systems since Day One. Did they honestly expect me to not take notice when a giant satellite station with super-sophisticated cloaking devices takes orbit 22,300 miles above my city? My world? I had them tagged from the start; I could have easily crippled the station with a special computer virus I had designed since I discovered its existence, but something told me to wait until I found out its purpose. Now, I know. This was not meant as a threat hovering over Earth's neck, but rather as a lookout point, a Tower of light and steel, where these beings could keep people safe. To guard. To Watch.
J'onn is right about one thing. The world is changing. For a little while, I thought I could, would have to, protect it, survive it, and endure it by myself. Alone. I was wrong. Like me, there are others out there who would want to step forth and take on The Mission. It doesn't matter whether they wear a badge of the city, or a symbol of their own design.
Whether they're loyal lifelong friends, career cops, rebellious daughters, orphaned sons, green Martians or self-fashioned superheroes. They all have one thing that binds them all to each other, to me, whether they would know it or not.
We are soldiers, all.
The innocent have cried out for help, and we have answered the call. The Mission is a war. The darkness has its soldiers, as justice has ours. But a lone soldier, no matter how skilled, or brave, fighting an endless war is doomed to fail. But what happens when other soldiers, each with the same goals, the same beliefs, organize themselves and converge together on a battlefield? Then it is no longer just one soldier the darkness must face. It is an army. A union.
A League.
A league built for a single, solitary purpose: the pursuit of Justice.
"You've put together quite a League." I inhale deeply and utter four words that, I have a sneaking suspicion, might one day determine the very fate of the world itself:
"Let's get to work."
I was born Bruce Wayne. I've been called many things. Son. Orphan. The Batman. The Dark Knight. The World's Greatest Detective. Partner. Foster Father. And now…League member.
Now as I stare into the razor-toothed jaws of the world that took my parents from me, I still glare back, unflinching, unafraid.
But this time... I know that I no longer have to stand alone.
For we are soldiers.
We are champions.
We are League.