A Solitary Man

Summary: Bruce is a loner, a solitary man; so why can't he beat this game? AKA: Dick and Barbara screw with his brain.

"#$%!" Bruce slammed his hand down on the console, causing his chamomile tea to spill. With another muffled curse he used his sleeve to clean up the mess. This was the hundred twenty-third time! Not the third, not the thirteenth, but the one hundred and twenty-third time he had been defeated. Bruce glared his strongest bat-glare at the offending opponent. He knew he had done it right. He had counted every possibility, calculated every outcome, yet every time the results were the same; he lost. He'd been at this for days, do to his current… predicament. With or without his shattered femur and itchy cast, the situation was turning truly maddening.

"This is impossible," his usual growl had taken on a very uncharacteristic whine, almost like a child who wished to avoid his chores. Perhaps he was missing some clue; perhaps there was a trick that he had not yet conceived. Bruce quickly reopened the instructions, digesting every word as if it were his last meal on Death Row. He read them, rethought them, rearranged them, and memorized them, word by word. But he could find nothing; no hint, no loophole, nothing.

"Why can't I do this?" Bruce's shoulders slumped, a sign of defeat that had never graced the warrior's figure. He had caught Dick doing this a million times, and always chastised the boy for using the computer for such a mundane purpose. Dick had always shrugged him off, saying that it could be considered a serious part of his intellectual training for the day he took over the office at Wayne Enterprises. He had watched Barbara achieve what he desired as well, only she was victorious in half the time Dick did. It didn't look that hard, honest! I mean here there were only fifty-two known variables to take down; he had been trained to engage six hundred. He needed to call in assistance, but Dick was out of the question. As knowledgeable as he may be on the subject, he would never let Bruce hear the end of this. He couldn't ask Barbara because she would tell Dick, and he couldn't ask Alfred for the man had no patience for such things. There was only one other choice…

Batman disabled the alarm, and dropped silently through the window. Moving soundlessly through the shadows (which was quite an accomplishment with a twenty pound, full-length cast on his right leg), he made his way down the twisted halls of Arkham Asylum. It felt good to be back in the shadows, and as he melted into the darkness, he felt the terrible frustrations of Bruce Wayne slowly fade away. Passing by cell after cell, listening to moans and wails of every kind, Batman stopped beside the cell of Harvey Dent. Perhaps he could stop in and question him on that double homicide over on the East Side. Sure he had been locked up at the time, but maybe he had commissioned one of his men to… No! He had come here for answers and he would leave here with answers! This was not the priority. It could wait. Without a word, the Dark Knight moved on past the Two-Faced felon.

It only took a minute longer to reach his destination. Keeping to the shadows, he studied his prey; only when he was sure his quarry was unaware of his presence did he speak.

"Sleeping well Eddie?" The startled figure of Edward Nigma sat up straight as a board. Wary eyes searched the shadows with uncertainty. After a moment Batman revealed himself, being careful not to let his right leg show (not that it was too important, he had asked Alfred for black medical tape. However Dick and Babs had drawn on it with white-out while he had been snoozing.). Upon seeing The Bat, Edward visibly relaxed.

"Oh, it's you. I thought Croc was trying to get me to help him raid the fridge again." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. This comment peaked Batman's curiosity about the inner dealings with madness, yet he set it aside for the answers he had come in search of. He knew Eddie would help, as he was always looking for ways to improve his reputation.

After explaining the situation, they both sat in a thoughtful silence (stood on one leg in Bruce's case).

"Sabotage, you are being set up." Yes it was so obvious! Why hadn't he seen it before? All that wasted time, the frustration; it was all just someone's idea of a sick joke! And it made his blood boil. Edward recoiled to the corner of his cell, a look of fear taking over at the change in The Bat's demeanor. Batman turned and stomped away, an action he would later regret due to his leg… actually he was regretting it now. The Joker tried not to (hard) to smirk as he caught a glance of the Brooding Bat's right leg. The dark tape was covered in small little white swirly flowers and a little birdie flying above them. Down near the ankle there was a cluster of stick people all standing beneath the crude image of the Bat-signal. The Joker was trying to only laugh through his nose, practically choking on his snot in the process.

"What are you laughing at?!" Batman thundered. What possessed him to ask a question? Was he going insane??? At this point the clown was doubled over and rolling on the ground.

"YOUR CAST!!! AHAHA!!! IT'S SO CUTE, AND NOT YOU!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!" Tears were streaming down the deranged pasty face.

"JUST WAIT TILL YOU HAVE KIDS A-HOLE!" Batman threw his best Bat-glare at his worst Bat-enemy, but it quickly turned into a look of discomfort as he imagined the Joker with kids.

"OH I'VE JUST BEEN DIEING FOR SOME NEW MATERIAL. AHAHAHE. THIS WILL SET ME FOR LIFE!!!" Batman gave him one last growl then spun on his cast and hobbled away quickly. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH..HEHE. HOHAHAHA!!! BATMAN HAS LEFT THE BUILDING! HAHAHAHAHA!"

He never thought he'd say it, but he was glad to be home. The frustration that had been eased by his prowl had come back ten times worse with his argument with the Joker. He couldn't believe he had let him see the cast! It was truly humiliating. But that was in the past, he now had a new plan based on the information provided by The Riddle. Yes, soon victory would be his. He sat a bit straighter at the console now that he had a plan, every muscle strong, every nerve poised. He began again. The first time he failed, but that was expected, after all when Edison invented the light bulb… #$%! He failed again! Right, rethink this; one must get inside of the mind of their saboteur. He started over, this time he would try counting, after all this was no poker game, he could count if he wanted. Red filled his eyes, and he was cornered again. What was he missing?

One Month Later:

Weary eyes, the ice blue mixed with red. He, he couldn't think, couldn't draw breath without the painful reminder of his defeat. No! He was not defeated, he was Batman! Bruce righted himself and sat a little straighter. Half way through the battle the itching under his cast took over. He thrashed all over the place trying to quell the torture. No concentrate! Focus! Bruce swung back around in his chair, once again knocking over his tea. This time however, he simply slopped it back into the cup and took a swig. He had to stay focused! #$%! Bruce swore again, this time almost on the verge of tears.

"No! I'm Batman I can't lose! Not like this!" Alfred stepped up behind his troubled charge.

"Perhaps Sir, it is time to call in some of the reserves. I'm sure Master Dick would be happy to…"

"No! He left, wanting to prove his independence! I will admit to no one that I need help… errr, because I DON'T need help! I'm a solitary man Alfred. I CAN beat Solitaire!"

The ClockTower:

Dick walked in the door holding two shakes and a bag from Burt's Burger Box.

"What's he doing now?" Dick strolled up behind his red-haired beauty setting the food on the desk.

"Crying…"

"WHAT???" Dick gaped over her shoulder at the disheveled state of his mentor. "Are you sure we're not taking this too far Barbara? I mean I've never seen him like this…"

"It's funny isn't it? One practical joke and the Dark Knight fall's to pieces. I mean all I did was reprogram the deck of cards without the Ace of Hearts." Barbara smirked at the screen, smiling just enough to show her pride for her plan. "I'm actually surprised he didn't notice the extra Two of Spades in there yet." Barbara leaned back in her chair, jumping slightly at another load curse followed by the banging of Bruce's head on the giant computer monitor. She had to admit even through the fuzzy security feed it had become quite painful to watch.

"Well in his defense, Alfred has been slipping pain-killers into his tea, so yeah, he's a little off his game." Dick said through a mouthful of Burt's Best. Even with the pain-killers it seemed extreme for Bruce to lose it over a computer card game.

"True… Anyway, I think you're right; it's time to tell him"

*Khaff, khaff, hack, SPLURK*

"YIKES Boy Wonder! Smaller bites!!!" Barbara recoiled trying to avoid burger projectiles.

"When I said we were taking this too far, I thought an anonymous note on his next sandwich, or secretly reprogramming the game, but you want to waltz right in there like you're giving you're confession to a Catholic Priest???" Dick began moving around the room in a frenzied panic, gathering his belongings, along with most of the fridge. On the monitor Bruce could be seen attempting to meditate, the silence filled with intermittent swearings, and sniffles.

"Dick give me a break, it was just a practical joke with a computer card game!"

"A joke that made HIM cry! Not even the Joker has done that!"

"You're overreacting… where are you going, Baby Bird?"

"Mexico."

"Dick he's practically in a body cast!"

"But he's Batman! And we made him cry! We're gonna die!"