“Batman?” Dr. Jonathan Crane asked, glancing up from a stack of documents, “What do you want?”
Batman stepped forward, out of the shadowy corner. He was in Dr. Crane’s office at Arkham Asylum. It was nothing fancy. Concrete floors, walls, and ceiling. Dr. Crane’s desk was bolted to the floor, and on it was the stack of documents. Dr. Crane sat in a steel chair behind the desk, signing the documents. He was a think individual, with stick-like limbs. His face seemed hollow, and his unkempt black hair fell down over his eyes. A single shaky light hung from the ceiling.
“I need you to help me. There is a certain criminal who knows more than they should,” Batman said.
“And you want me to pass them off as insane?” Dr. Crane assumed.
“That’s right.”
“Let me guess, it’s Chloe Sullivan, isn’t it? She’s been shooting off about how Oliver Queen is the Green Arrow,” Dr. Crane said.
“Yes. Oliver Queen can’t be exposed,” Batman said.
“Consider it done,” Dr. Crane smiled, standing up. He shook Batman’s hand.
“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” Batman said.
“For you? Anytime.”
Bruce Wayne stepped into the living room to find Alfred asleep in a chair.
“Al?” Bruce whispered. The butler was dead asleep.
Bruce meandered into the kitchen, and began to fix himself one of the few meals he knew how to make. Grilled cheese.
Suddenly, he heard a scream from the living room.
“Bruce! Bruce!” Alfred cried out.
Bruce rushed out into the living room, and saw Alfred on the floor, clutching his chest. He was shaking, and his left arm was limp. Heart attack.
Bruce tossed Alfred over his shoulder, and rushed to the Batcave. He laid Alfred down on the operating table usually reserved for Batman.
“Alfred, you’re going to be okay,” Bruce said. Inside he was nervous. Alfred tapped his neck a few times. Bruce understood. He pressed three fingers under Alfred’s jaw. Alfred went unconscious immediately.
Bruce placed his hands in the middle of Alfred’s chest, and began pumping up and down as fast as he could. After one hundred compressions, Bruce pinched Alfred’s nose, opened his mouth, and tilted his head back. Bruce placed his mouth on Alfred’s, and blew as hard as he could. Alfred’s chest began to rise. Bruce placed his head on Alfred’s chest, and heard a faint heartbeat. Bruce sighed in relief, than went back down on Alfred for another one hundred compressions, followed by breathing into his mouth. He then sprinted over to a wall filled with medical supplies, and grabbed a defibrillator. He returned to Alfred’s body, and tore the shirt off of the old man. He placed AED pads on Alfred’s bare chest, and listened for verbal instructions.
“STAND CLEAR.”
The defibrillator began to charge. Once it finished, the shock button began to blink. Bruce jabbed his thumb into the button, and Alfred jolted up.
“Alfred!” Bruce cried out in relief. Alfred said nothing. He just sat on the table, shaking. Bruce hugged the butler. Sensing no response, worry crept back into Bruce’s mind.
“Alfred? Alfred, are you okay?”
Alfred blinked a few times, got up, and said, “I’m quite alright, Master Bruce.”
“Alfred, what happened?” Bruce asked, “Do you know why you got the heart attack?”
“Old age, I suppose.”
Alfred wandered upstairs. Bruce was left in the medical wing of the Batcave. He didn’t believe Alfred’s bluff. That heart attack wasn’t old age. It was stress. Bruce started after Alfred.
“Alfred, what are you nervous about?” Bruce inquired.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Alfred said, walking away from Bruce.
“I don’t believe your bullshit story, Al. That heart attack was not because of old age. You’re stressed. Why?”
“Bruce, you’ve always been like a son to me. Even more so after your parents died. Then last week, you battled a small army. And even that is nothing compared to the mob that Black Mask mustered.”
“But I beat them. I beat them all. I can take anything,” Bruce said, “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I don’t know, Bruce. It’s just a feeling I’ve got. Like something is about to happen. Something sinister,” Alfred shuddered.
“Whatever this sinister premonition is, I’ll beat it too,” Bruce said, humoring the old man.
“This- This will be worse,” Alfred whimpered.
“Alfred, you’re not a psychic. But if something evil is coming, believe me, I’ll take it down,” Bruce smiled.
“Bruce, you need to stop,” Alfred warned.
“Stop what? Being Batman?”
Alfred nodded, tears clouding his vision.
“Alfred, you have to trust me,” Bruce said.
“You can’t stop what’s coming,” Alfred cried.
Alfred fell to his knees, crying. Bruce knelt down beside him, and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Batman can’t just disappear. Gotham needs him. To stop now- it’d be selfish,” Bruce sighed.
“Be selfish, Bruce. Before you became Batman, it was one of your greatest strengths.”
Batman entered Dr. Crane’s office, and saw him putting something away in one of his desk drawers.
“What’s that?” Batman asked.
“Shit! You scared me!” Dr. Crane yelped, bouncing out of his seat. He quickly stuffed whatever he was holding into the drawer.
“Something secret?” Batman wondered.
“Yes, actually,” Dr. Crane admitted, “I’m afraid even you aren’t allowed to see it.”
“I’m intrigued. But that’s not what I’m here about. Did you interview Chloe Sullivan?” Batman asked.
“I did. It turns out that she is legitimately insane,” Dr. Crane mused.
“Interesting,” Batman said, “She never struck me for the insane type.”
“The true loons never do,” Dr. Crane sighed.
“Dr. Crane, I need something else,” Batman said.
“Oh really? Have I become Batman’s new sidekick? I’m honored.”
“If you insist, then yes. Fine. You can be my ‘sidekick’. Your name fits perfectly with my bird-themed partners. Look, Dr. Crane, a friend of mine is dealing with high levels of stress. They want me to stop being Batman,” Batman said.
“Well that can’t happen. Gotham needs you. Maybe you need to try to explain how much Batman means to Gotham. If your friend can’t accept this, maybe it’s time to cut ties with them,” Dr. Crane suggested.
“Cut ties with them?” Batman gulped.
“That’s right. If your friends can’t accept who you are, then they aren’t truly your friends. You are the Batman. If this friend of yours can’t deal with that, they don’t deserve your companionship,” Dr. Crane said.
“I suppose you’re right. But this friend of mine has been around ever since I was a child. I can’t just sever ties with them,” Batman explained.
“People change over time. This person isn’t the same person you became friends with,” Dr. Crane said.
“I- I’ll take that into consideration. Now, seeing as you’re my sidekick, would you mind showing me what you’re hiding?” Batman asked.
“As Dr. Jonathan Crane, director of Arkham Asylum, I decline your request. As your sidekick, I wish I could. It applies to the inmates here. Very classified.”
Batman vanished.
Back in the Batcave, Bruce Wayne approached Alfred.
“Alfred, you need to accept that I am the Batman. It isn’t my mask. My mask is Bruce Wayne. If you can’t realize that I am Batman, and Gotham needs me, then maybe we need to rethink our partnership,” Bruce stated.
“Excuse me, Bruce?” Alfred said, appalled.
“You heard me.”
“Rethink our partnership?” Alfred asked, “Bruce, I am Batman as well. Without me, there is no Batman.”
“That’s not true,” Bruce shot back, “I would be just fine without you.”
“Then good luck, sir.”
With that, Alfred stormed out of the Batcave.
“Alfred?” Bruce called after his butler, guardian, friend, mentor, partner.
There was no response.
“So I’m really doing this,” Bruce sighed.
Batman grabbed the man’s ankles, and flipped him upside down. The second crook rushed at Batman, armed with a mere knife. Batman grabbed the blade, and yanked it away from the crook. He then delivered a quick blow to the crook’s rib cage. Both criminals were down.
“Alfred, where to next?” Batman asked. There was radio silence. Then he remembered. He was solo now. He adjusted his comms system so that it picked up on police chatter.
“Suspect is moving west on Plum,” a police officer said on the radio system.
Batman hit a button on his utility belt, and in a few moments, his Batmobile arrived. He climbed into the Batmobile, and mapped out a route to Plum Street. He sped through Gotham, eventually arriving at the lonesome stretch of asphalt that was Plum Street. A ways down the road, he spotted a few police cruisers pursuing a beige sedan. Batman turned off the Batmobile’s lights, and reversed into the shadows. When the beige car zipped in front of Batman, he flicked a switch, launching nail-like needles that punctured the wheels on the car. The car skidded to a stop. Batman shot out of the Batmobile, and glided over to the beige car. He tore off one of the doors, and hoisted the driver into the air.
It was a woman with stringy black hair and a bleeding scalp. Her face was scratched up, and her eyes were bloodshot.
“It’s coming. It’s coming,” the woman muttered.
“Who are you?” Batman demanded.
“It’s coming. It’s coming,” the woman repeated.
Batman began to get nervous. Alfred had warned about something sinister coming. Now this woman.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“What? What’s coming?” Batman roared.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“What is it?” Batman boomed.
The woman went silent. Batman shook her. She was limp.
Two police officers rushed over, with their guns drawn.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“What’d you do to her?” one officer demanded. Batman saw his name plate. Officer Mayer. The other cop was Officer Timai. Officer Timai reached around behind her, and snagged a pair of handcuffs.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“Batman, you’re under arrest,” Officer Timai stated.
Batman sighed. He had made up with Commissioner Gordon just last year, but after his phase where he burned his victims, the police were back after him.
“You know you can’t arrest me,” Batman said.
Officer Timai let bullets fly from her pistol. Batman twirled away, crouching over the woman in order to protect her. He drew two Batarangs, and whipped around, flinging the Batarangs at the pistols. Both cops dropped their pistols, which now had Batarangs clogging the barrels.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“You can have the woman. I just need to get something out of her,” Batman stated.
“You won’t be getting anything out of anyone,” Officer Timai warned.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
Batman started to shake. He wanted, no he needed, to know what was coming.
“TELL ME!” Batman shrieked.
“Batman, put down the woman!” Officer Timai ordered.
“TELL ME WHAT IS COMING!”
“Batman!” Officer Timai yelled, charging.
“WHAT IS IT?” Batman demanded.
“Scarecrow.”
Batman stepped forward, out of the shadowy corner. He was in Dr. Crane’s office at Arkham Asylum. It was nothing fancy. Concrete floors, walls, and ceiling. Dr. Crane’s desk was bolted to the floor, and on it was the stack of documents. Dr. Crane sat in a steel chair behind the desk, signing the documents. He was a think individual, with stick-like limbs. His face seemed hollow, and his unkempt black hair fell down over his eyes. A single shaky light hung from the ceiling.
“I need you to help me. There is a certain criminal who knows more than they should,” Batman said.
“And you want me to pass them off as insane?” Dr. Crane assumed.
“That’s right.”
“Let me guess, it’s Chloe Sullivan, isn’t it? She’s been shooting off about how Oliver Queen is the Green Arrow,” Dr. Crane said.
“Yes. Oliver Queen can’t be exposed,” Batman said.
“Consider it done,” Dr. Crane smiled, standing up. He shook Batman’s hand.
“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” Batman said.
“For you? Anytime.”
Bruce Wayne stepped into the living room to find Alfred asleep in a chair.
“Al?” Bruce whispered. The butler was dead asleep.
Bruce meandered into the kitchen, and began to fix himself one of the few meals he knew how to make. Grilled cheese.
Suddenly, he heard a scream from the living room.
“Bruce! Bruce!” Alfred cried out.
Bruce rushed out into the living room, and saw Alfred on the floor, clutching his chest. He was shaking, and his left arm was limp. Heart attack.
Bruce tossed Alfred over his shoulder, and rushed to the Batcave. He laid Alfred down on the operating table usually reserved for Batman.
“Alfred, you’re going to be okay,” Bruce said. Inside he was nervous. Alfred tapped his neck a few times. Bruce understood. He pressed three fingers under Alfred’s jaw. Alfred went unconscious immediately.
Bruce placed his hands in the middle of Alfred’s chest, and began pumping up and down as fast as he could. After one hundred compressions, Bruce pinched Alfred’s nose, opened his mouth, and tilted his head back. Bruce placed his mouth on Alfred’s, and blew as hard as he could. Alfred’s chest began to rise. Bruce placed his head on Alfred’s chest, and heard a faint heartbeat. Bruce sighed in relief, than went back down on Alfred for another one hundred compressions, followed by breathing into his mouth. He then sprinted over to a wall filled with medical supplies, and grabbed a defibrillator. He returned to Alfred’s body, and tore the shirt off of the old man. He placed AED pads on Alfred’s bare chest, and listened for verbal instructions.
“STAND CLEAR.”
The defibrillator began to charge. Once it finished, the shock button began to blink. Bruce jabbed his thumb into the button, and Alfred jolted up.
“Alfred!” Bruce cried out in relief. Alfred said nothing. He just sat on the table, shaking. Bruce hugged the butler. Sensing no response, worry crept back into Bruce’s mind.
“Alfred? Alfred, are you okay?”
Alfred blinked a few times, got up, and said, “I’m quite alright, Master Bruce.”
“Alfred, what happened?” Bruce asked, “Do you know why you got the heart attack?”
“Old age, I suppose.”
Alfred wandered upstairs. Bruce was left in the medical wing of the Batcave. He didn’t believe Alfred’s bluff. That heart attack wasn’t old age. It was stress. Bruce started after Alfred.
“Alfred, what are you nervous about?” Bruce inquired.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Alfred said, walking away from Bruce.
“I don’t believe your bullshit story, Al. That heart attack was not because of old age. You’re stressed. Why?”
“Bruce, you’ve always been like a son to me. Even more so after your parents died. Then last week, you battled a small army. And even that is nothing compared to the mob that Black Mask mustered.”
“But I beat them. I beat them all. I can take anything,” Bruce said, “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I don’t know, Bruce. It’s just a feeling I’ve got. Like something is about to happen. Something sinister,” Alfred shuddered.
“Whatever this sinister premonition is, I’ll beat it too,” Bruce said, humoring the old man.
“This- This will be worse,” Alfred whimpered.
“Alfred, you’re not a psychic. But if something evil is coming, believe me, I’ll take it down,” Bruce smiled.
“Bruce, you need to stop,” Alfred warned.
“Stop what? Being Batman?”
Alfred nodded, tears clouding his vision.
“Alfred, you have to trust me,” Bruce said.
“You can’t stop what’s coming,” Alfred cried.
Alfred fell to his knees, crying. Bruce knelt down beside him, and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Batman can’t just disappear. Gotham needs him. To stop now- it’d be selfish,” Bruce sighed.
“Be selfish, Bruce. Before you became Batman, it was one of your greatest strengths.”
Batman entered Dr. Crane’s office, and saw him putting something away in one of his desk drawers.
“What’s that?” Batman asked.
“Shit! You scared me!” Dr. Crane yelped, bouncing out of his seat. He quickly stuffed whatever he was holding into the drawer.
“Something secret?” Batman wondered.
“Yes, actually,” Dr. Crane admitted, “I’m afraid even you aren’t allowed to see it.”
“I’m intrigued. But that’s not what I’m here about. Did you interview Chloe Sullivan?” Batman asked.
“I did. It turns out that she is legitimately insane,” Dr. Crane mused.
“Interesting,” Batman said, “She never struck me for the insane type.”
“The true loons never do,” Dr. Crane sighed.
“Dr. Crane, I need something else,” Batman said.
“Oh really? Have I become Batman’s new sidekick? I’m honored.”
“If you insist, then yes. Fine. You can be my ‘sidekick’. Your name fits perfectly with my bird-themed partners. Look, Dr. Crane, a friend of mine is dealing with high levels of stress. They want me to stop being Batman,” Batman said.
“Well that can’t happen. Gotham needs you. Maybe you need to try to explain how much Batman means to Gotham. If your friend can’t accept this, maybe it’s time to cut ties with them,” Dr. Crane suggested.
“Cut ties with them?” Batman gulped.
“That’s right. If your friends can’t accept who you are, then they aren’t truly your friends. You are the Batman. If this friend of yours can’t deal with that, they don’t deserve your companionship,” Dr. Crane said.
“I suppose you’re right. But this friend of mine has been around ever since I was a child. I can’t just sever ties with them,” Batman explained.
“People change over time. This person isn’t the same person you became friends with,” Dr. Crane said.
“I- I’ll take that into consideration. Now, seeing as you’re my sidekick, would you mind showing me what you’re hiding?” Batman asked.
“As Dr. Jonathan Crane, director of Arkham Asylum, I decline your request. As your sidekick, I wish I could. It applies to the inmates here. Very classified.”
Batman vanished.
Back in the Batcave, Bruce Wayne approached Alfred.
“Alfred, you need to accept that I am the Batman. It isn’t my mask. My mask is Bruce Wayne. If you can’t realize that I am Batman, and Gotham needs me, then maybe we need to rethink our partnership,” Bruce stated.
“Excuse me, Bruce?” Alfred said, appalled.
“You heard me.”
“Rethink our partnership?” Alfred asked, “Bruce, I am Batman as well. Without me, there is no Batman.”
“That’s not true,” Bruce shot back, “I would be just fine without you.”
“Then good luck, sir.”
With that, Alfred stormed out of the Batcave.
“Alfred?” Bruce called after his butler, guardian, friend, mentor, partner.
There was no response.
“So I’m really doing this,” Bruce sighed.
Batman grabbed the man’s ankles, and flipped him upside down. The second crook rushed at Batman, armed with a mere knife. Batman grabbed the blade, and yanked it away from the crook. He then delivered a quick blow to the crook’s rib cage. Both criminals were down.
“Alfred, where to next?” Batman asked. There was radio silence. Then he remembered. He was solo now. He adjusted his comms system so that it picked up on police chatter.
“Suspect is moving west on Plum,” a police officer said on the radio system.
Batman hit a button on his utility belt, and in a few moments, his Batmobile arrived. He climbed into the Batmobile, and mapped out a route to Plum Street. He sped through Gotham, eventually arriving at the lonesome stretch of asphalt that was Plum Street. A ways down the road, he spotted a few police cruisers pursuing a beige sedan. Batman turned off the Batmobile’s lights, and reversed into the shadows. When the beige car zipped in front of Batman, he flicked a switch, launching nail-like needles that punctured the wheels on the car. The car skidded to a stop. Batman shot out of the Batmobile, and glided over to the beige car. He tore off one of the doors, and hoisted the driver into the air.
It was a woman with stringy black hair and a bleeding scalp. Her face was scratched up, and her eyes were bloodshot.
“It’s coming. It’s coming,” the woman muttered.
“Who are you?” Batman demanded.
“It’s coming. It’s coming,” the woman repeated.
Batman began to get nervous. Alfred had warned about something sinister coming. Now this woman.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“What? What’s coming?” Batman roared.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“What is it?” Batman boomed.
The woman went silent. Batman shook her. She was limp.
Two police officers rushed over, with their guns drawn.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“What’d you do to her?” one officer demanded. Batman saw his name plate. Officer Mayer. The other cop was Officer Timai. Officer Timai reached around behind her, and snagged a pair of handcuffs.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“Batman, you’re under arrest,” Officer Timai stated.
Batman sighed. He had made up with Commissioner Gordon just last year, but after his phase where he burned his victims, the police were back after him.
“You know you can’t arrest me,” Batman said.
Officer Timai let bullets fly from her pistol. Batman twirled away, crouching over the woman in order to protect her. He drew two Batarangs, and whipped around, flinging the Batarangs at the pistols. Both cops dropped their pistols, which now had Batarangs clogging the barrels.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“You can have the woman. I just need to get something out of her,” Batman stated.
“You won’t be getting anything out of anyone,” Officer Timai warned.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
Batman started to shake. He wanted, no he needed, to know what was coming.
“TELL ME!” Batman shrieked.
“Batman, put down the woman!” Officer Timai ordered.
“TELL ME WHAT IS COMING!”
“Batman!” Officer Timai yelled, charging.
“WHAT IS IT?” Batman demanded.
“Scarecrow.”