7 years ago

The clock struck midnight when Master Bruce came in with that hideous bat-suit, blood pouring out of his side.

‘’Alfred,’’ Master Bruce said in barely a whisper, collapsing on the floor.

Alfred ran to him, picking him up as Master Bruce leaned on his shoulder.

‘’Ten years of training and you still can’t avoid a bullet,’’ Alfred sighed, as he patched up the bullets and started stitching.

After stopping the bleeding and successfully removing the bullet, Master Bruce still opted to keep fighting the following night. It wasn’t the first night he’d come with life threatening injuries. There was one night where he had gotten stabbed by a mugger that got in a lucky shot, another where a bullet grazed his shoulder. It was reckless and dangerous and dishonoured everything the Wayne family stood for and on that night, Alfred had had enough.

Master Wayne had his back turned to him. A back lined with bruises and scars from just 6 months of doing whatever Master Bruce thought he was doing. He put on that shirt with that bat like symbol over his bloodied bandages and then put on his mask.

‘’Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’’ Alfred asked.

‘’What was that, Alfred?’’

‘’All those wounds,’’ Alfred said. ‘’All those long nights not knowing whether or not you’ll see tomorrow? Don’t you think you’ve had enough of those?’’

‘’Where’s this coming from?’’

‘’Many years ago, I took an oath, Master Wayne,’’ Alfred said. ‘’An oath to protect the Wayne family if it cost me my life.’’

‘’I don’t need any protection Alfred, I’m…’’

Alfred raised a hand. ‘’Let me finish. I wasn’t there…’’ Alfred looked aside and closed his eyes. ‘’I wasn’t there for your parents but I can be there for you.’’

‘’You can be there by waiting here while I…’’

‘’Why do you do this, Master Wayne?’’ Alfred asked. ‘’Why do you risk your life out there when your talents can be used for the better? Your intelligence rivals that of both your mother and father and with the resources you have at your disposal you can clearly make Gotham a much better place yet you choose to… to squander those resources to make weapons in this pointless crusade. You’ve pushed away any chance at happiness, hurt many women who loved you and for what, Master Wayne?’’

‘’You know why Alfred, my p…’’

‘’Master Thomas and Madame Martha have already been avenged.’’ Master Bruce was taken aback, Alfred had never raised his voice at him. The Pennyworths were never supposed to raise their voices at their masters yet here Alfred was, raising his voice and breaking a code passed down through generations. ‘’You’ve seen Joe Chill. You’ve seen the bastard that killed your parent grovelling at your feet begging for forgiveness. You can’t keep using your parents as an excuse.’’

‘’They loved this city-’’

‘’I know Master Bruce,’’ Alfred said. ‘’But that doesn’t mean that they’d go around dressed up like bats beating up criminals. You’re dishonouring their legacy.”

“I’m dishonouring their legacy by doing nothing,” Bruce snapped. Alfred was taken aback. Bruce leaned over and sighed. “Back when mum and dad were still…” Bruce looked aside like he did when he was about to cry as a little boy. “People like Falcone and the Maronies they hid in the shadows. They were scared of being caught. The people of Gotham were upright. Now they can walk around these streets without being scared, without anyone daring to challenge them. Hell, Carmine Falcone killed a man in a restaurant and the cops didn’t do anything about it. No amount of money can cure the corruption in this city. Hell, it’ll only make it worse. Falcone and Maroni need to know the fear that they prey on. They need to know what it’s like to be helpless.’’

Alfred sighed. It was a sigh of defeat. “Very well, I know I won’t be able to stop you. You’re stubborn just like your father.’’

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“But I’m scared, Master Bruce.”

“Scared of what?”

“That this thing, this crusade of yours will cost you,” Alfred said.

“Cost me what?”

“Something you can’t replace.”

…

The heart rate monitor in the clinic of Leslie Thompkins beat steadily. The oxygen masked fogged up with each of Master Bruce’s heavy breaths. Blood-stained bandages covered the wounds Master Bruce had sustained from his most recent fight from The Joker. Wounds that would easily heal save for the lump that once was his leg.

“Is he alright?” Ms. Thompkins asked as she walked into the room, wearing a lab coat and green doctor overalls.

“Physically, yes,” Alfred said. “His wounds are healing and the bleeding has stopped. Psychologically…”

“I told him,” Leslie said. “All those times I told him that one day there’ll be something even I won’t even be able to patch up and now…”

Leslie placed a hand on her mouth and sobbed. Alfred got up and hugged her.

“Oh, Alfred,” Leslie said. “The poor boy. I-I don’t know he’ll take it.”

“He’ll be fine,” Alfred said. “He’s stubborn, just like his father. He won’t stay down.”

“Is it wrong that I want him to stop?” Leslie asked. “Before he hurts himself even more?”

Alfred was silent and then he said something in barely a whisper. “I want him to stop too.”

…

The first thing Peter saw was a black roof. The first thing Peter tried to do was move but an electric shock ran through his body causing him to keel over.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Robin said. “Try to move or break out and it’ll send 300 Volts coursing through your body.”

Peter looked around and saw he was trapped in a prison cell of some sort. Thick walls of steel surrounded him on three sides and in front of him with lines of huge grey bars was a glass window through which Peter saw Robin.

“Where the hell am I?” Peter said, looking through the glass he saw a murky grey rock surface and stalactites drooping from the roof. He seemed to be in some sort of cave. “Where’s Dick?”

“He’s… not here.”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Robin said. “He…”

“Let me guess your bat daddy scared him into leading me into that trap,” Peter said. “Is everything about Barbara a lie too?”

“No, she’s in the hospital,” Robin said.

“Is she…?” Peter said, his voice softer.

“She’s recovering but…” There was a pause Peter dread. “She might not walk again.”

“Oh god,” Peter said.

There was a silence save for the soft screeching of bats.

“Can I go see her?” Peter asked. “Please I…”

Robin couldn’t meet his eyes. “No, I’m sorry.”

And there was actual remorse in his voice.

“What am I doing here?” Peter asked after a short silence.

“Batman told me if he didn’t make it after a few hours I was supposed to bring you here,” Robin said. “And tell you everything we know about the Joker’s plan.”

“And what’s that?”

Robin sighed. “Well, a few nights ago…”

Ulysses Klaue, one of the mercenaries hired to take care of the weapons sat with his leg across the table. He’d been at this job for a few odd years in what was basically a fortress. First time around, security wasn’t all that tight. His odd little crew was armed with flamethrowers and radios in case the weapons decided to act a little feisty but after that reporter ran off with one of the prime samples, more mercenaries were hired and security was tightened. And after that dumbass in the red hood ran off with the artificial weapon, they basically buried him and his boys underground. Now Klaue was underneath a massive underground vault with a bunch of aliens that could snap at him in a minute’s notice.

Ulysses Klaue was alone, stationed right in front of the massive vault behind which was actual alien life. Things scientists and philosophers have been debating the existence off for decades and here he was drinking coffee in front of it. As head of security Klaue had to call the rest of the mercenaries regularly.

“Section 1.”

“Clear,” said Zack.

“Section 2.”

“Clear boss,” said William.

“Section 3.”

“Clear Mr. Klaue,” said Jack.

“Section 4.”

“Clearrr,” said Sal.

“Section 5.”

“You know it,” said Isaac.

He had to do this every single hour. It got monotonous but at least the job paid well.

He was busy watching some shitty romcom when the hour mark had passed. He called Zack.

“Section 1.”

Silence.

“Hello, Section 1?”

Suddenly the comms buzzed. It was section 2.

“Boss there’s something here you gotta call…”

Static.

Klaue was about to call ACE but the phone line was cut. Whoever had attacked them was smart and very prepared. Klaue took out his machine gun, keeping the barrel steady with his prosthetic hand as he waited for what was about happen.

“Section 3,” he said through the comm.

All he heard was the fuzz of a radio and gunfire. “It’s Bat-”

There was the sound of heavy fists and then static.

“Section 4.”

“Oh, Jesus lord in heaven,” Sal said whimpering. There was a whoosh of air and the last thing Klaue heard was Sal’s screams.

“S-Section 5.”

All Klaue heard was footsteps and the walkie-talkie being crushed under a pair of heavy boots.

Klaue’s hands were shaking as he steadied his gun. The only way to the vault was one doorway so all Klaue had to do was fire away, right.

Klaue had his gun trained on the door. He took a deep breath and focused blocking out the sound of the generator rumbling or the air conditioner blowing cold air. He steadied himself ready to plough whoever it was with a whole lot of lead.

The generator stopped and the lights went off.

The emergency generator didn’t go off. Sirens blared and red light flashed across the vault room in a hypnotic pattern of black and red.

The door opened and Klaue fired madly. Bullets bouncing off the surfaces, gunfire flashing in his face. Standing by the door, seemingly unscathed was the Batman, the red light of the siren looking like bloodstains on his black costume.

Klaue fired again and again but the Batman just walked, coming closer and closer like an evil spirit until he slammed his face against the table, coffee spilling all over the floor.

“What do you know about Ababas Liamsi?”

“Nothing,” Klaue whimpered. “I know nothing.”

“You know nothing about the dummy account used to pay enough money to clear Ababas’s debts in order to smuggle Vibranium weapons?” Batman asked. “Nothing about the funds that can be traced right back to you.”

Klaue shook his head.

Batman grabbed his right hand. “Talk or you’ll lose your other good hand.”

“I refuse.”

Batman slowly tugged at his hand, pain flaring up his arm like a slow river current.

“Okay, okay,” Klaue squealed. “You know Wakanda right? What people don’t know is that the place is a fucking technological paradise. They have weapons and shit you can only dream off. That third world country shit is all a big cover up so that nobody knows about the Vibranium goldmine buried under the capitol.”

“How do you know all this?”

Klaue smirked. “See my left arm.”

“How people like them can build shit like…”

“Get to the point,” Batman said, pulling at his arms.

“Okay, okay,” Klaue said. “I knew Liamsi from some jobs I had over at Africa. Knew he was a dumbass who took lots of risks. After one too many security breaches over here, higherups were getting antsy. They couldn’t risk their big secret getting out. What’s more, we didn’t know shit about these aliens. What if they come back for revenge or something? Those aliens don’t respond well to loud noises and fire and it was my idea that we smuggle some sound based weapons in from Wakanda. It was under wraps of course and it was my money going in but Liamsi and I struck a deal. Bastard managed to get the weapons without the royal guard finding out and managed to smuggle it here. Unfortunately for us that clown found out.”

“Thank you,” Batman said.

“Am I off the hook.”

Batman broke Klaue’s arm. “Yes.”

Klaue screamed in pain, keeling over on the floor as the alarms blared and the Batman’s footsteps receded.

“If the Joker knows about the locations of those aliens, we have reason to believe that he wants to release them into Gotham,” Robin said. “As some kind of revenge against ACE or whatever.”

“Aliens?” Peter said. “You expect me to believe there’s alien life buried underneath a scummy chemical company?”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw what that thing did to Barbara,” Robin said.

“What thing?”

“Intel says the Joker managed to bond with one of those aliens,” Robin said. “An artificial one but it has the same properties as the real deal.”

“So, a maniac like the Joker is still out there bonded with some kind of alien and you’re just sitting around here doing nothing?”

“We have to wait for Batman.”

“FORGET BATMAN,” Peter growled. He got up and moved his hands but an electric shock coursed through his body causing him to fall on one knee. “Barbara is in the hospital because of that clown and you think the best thing to do is to just sit around?”

“There’s a lot we don’t know!”

“Like what?” Peter snapped. “Those things, those aliens are weak to fire and sound! You told me that! I thought you were supposed to do the right thing! Well, is sitting around waiting for Batman the right thing? Is manipulating my best friend to bring me here the right thing? Is tying me up with this…” Peter moved his hand and electricity coursed through him again. “The right thing?”

Robin was silent.

“Tell me.”

Robin looked away.

“TELL ME!”

There was a pause.

“No,” Robin said. “No, it isn’t”

Robin pressed a button on his gauntlet and the gauntlets fell to the floor. Peter moved and electricity didn’t course through his body much to his relief. Robin opened the locks to his cell. The door hissed open. Peter hesitated to step out, expecting some sort of trap but his spider sense didn’t sense any.

Peter stepped out. Peter decided to punch Robin across his face, just for good measure.

“You asshole.”

Robin rubbed his cheek. “I deserved that.”

“How the hell do I get out of here?”

“Wouldn’t advise that,” Robin said. “We’re very far away from the main city.”

Peter found his web shooters on a table. “Dammit I’m out of juice.”

“You asked me about the right thing?”

“Do you have a lab?” Peter asked. “I’ll need some juice, maybe build another one of these.” Peter tapped his web shooters.

“I’ve been Robin for 5 years,” Robin said. “I thought it was fun beating up criminals but when Two-Face beat the shit out of me I realised that this wasn’t all fun and games.”

“Look,” Peter said. “I don’t care about your life story.”

“Look, Pete can a guy have his moment?”

Peter paused. “Wait.” There was only one person who called him Pete.

Robin smirked. “Good, I got your attention. As the job went on, I saw a side to my mentor. He was obsessed with this job. Batman was who he was. Made me realise I don’t want to end up like him. I don’t want to be like him.”

Robin turned to him. “You asked me about the right thing? I’ve been keeping secrets from you Peter.”

Robin took out his mask.

“And I’m tired of that.”

…

19 Years ago

Master Bruce stood still looking at the huge picture of his parents that hung over the fireplace.

“Master Bruce it’s time for the funeral,” Alfred said. “Are you dressed?”

Master Bruce turned to Alfred, tears streaming down his eyes. “It’s my fault, Alfred. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“No, no Master Bruce,” Alfred said kneeling down.

“I was scared of the bats and and…”

Alfred embraced his young master. He could feel him shaking.

“I was the one who took them outside,” Bruce said. “If only I… if only I…”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “There was something your father told me when you were a child. When I was at my lowest. He asked me why we fall? I didn’t know the answer and he told me what it was.”

“What… what was it?” Bruce asked through muffled sobs, his eyes shining with tears.

“So that we can climb right back up.”

Bruce wiped his tears. Alfred carried him up, holding him close.

“Let’s get you ready,” Alfred said. “Your parents wouldn’t want to see you like this. After this I’ll teach you how to fight.”

Alfred held the young Master close.

“So that you never have to be scared again.”

…

Bruce stumbled to the ground, his body racked with sweat, his muscles sore.

“Master Bruce are you alright?” Alfred said, rushing toward him.

The makeshift prosthetic rolled on the floor, bobbing back and forth.

Bruce pushed aside Alfred’s hand. “This is useless, Alfred. I should be out there, not here.”

“You still have to recover Master Bruce, you can’t just…”

“You think the Joker will just sit around waiting for me to recover?” Bruce snapped. “You think I’m stupid, Alfred? The TV has no signal in my room and they aren’t any newspapers or radios around. I know you don’t want me to see what’s happening out there?”

“It will hamper your recovery!”

“To hell with that,” Bruce growled. “This city is dying; these people are dying and you expect me to sit here while it happens. My parents…”

“What do you know about what your parents want?” Alfred snapped. Bruce was taken aback. “For far too long I’ve been hearing you use your parents as an excuse when you and I both know your parents wouldn’t want you to do this. You’re blatantly dishonouring your family legacy. What will it take for you to realise that this job is harming you, harming both yourself and your relationships?”

“Alfred I…”

“Even after you lose a limb you decide to keep putting yourself in harms way,” Alfred said. “Why? Why do you keep doing this?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce snapped, saying it loudly that it echoed across the room. “I don’t know,” Bruce said, softly this time.

“This city has changed,” Bruce said. “Changed so much its barely recognisable. No matter how much I kept beating them the Falcone’s came back. When we finally did beat them, we lost Harvey and Cobblepot took over the streets. And more and more of these freaks keep coming out. Clayface, Mad Hatter, Riddler. This city creates freaks, takes broken people and turns them cruel and no matter what you do, more and more keep coming out of the woodwork. And it keeps happening and it never gets easier. No matter what I do as Batman and Bruce Wayne this city still finds a way to corrupt it. My parents had hope in this city, in what it could become but I can’t see it anymore Alfred. I can’t.”

Master Bruce looked at Alfred with a pleading look in his eyes and for a brief moment Alfred saw an eight-year-old boy crying in his arms.

“I don’t know why I do what I do anymore, Alfred,” Bruce said. “I don’t know why I keep fighting.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “He’s killing them.”

“What?”

“The Joker,” Alfred said. “He’s using those alien things, those symbiotes to kill ACE employees.”

“What does this have to do with…”

“Those ACE employees aren’t saints,” Alfred said. “I’ve read your files. I know who they are and what they did but there was one employee that caught my eye.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Edward Lang. Good scientist, he worked at ACE for a long time. Edward wasn’t paid very well, probably why he lost his divorce case.”

“How do you know about that?”

“That computer of yours possibly violates every privacy right on this planet,” Alfred said. “Anyways, poor Edward Michaels took very long nights off for his daughter. Finally caught his big break when ACE unveiled their secret project. He was compensated well, enough to share the custody of his daughter.” Alfred paused. “Now I don’t condone what he’s done but when the Joker forced one of those things on him, all that was left was a dried husk. I still remember his screams and I bet thousands of Gothamites do too. After all it was broadcasted on live TV. I bet his daughter also saw what had happened to her father or at least heard about it.”

“I remember in your early days I had found files buried in that cave of yours all about the man who had murdered your parents,” Alfred said. “I remember the vengeance in your eyes when you found him. They were the eyes of a killer. You were just about to kill him, weren’t you? Until you saw his son.”

Bruce was quiet. He looked aside, ashamed.

“You handed him to the authorities, he was a shambling mess, wasn’t he?” Alfred said. “He recognised you just by looking at your eyes, didn’t he?”

“What does that…” Bruce interrupted.

Alfred raised a hand. “Unfortunately, the Falcone’s got to him. They killed him right in front of his child. And you saw the boy’s expression. You remember it, don’t you? You remember it very well. After all it was the expression you saw every morning in the mirror after your parents died. Jerry Chill couldn’t avenge his parents but you could. Flash forward two years later. You remember why you took Master Richard in?”

Bruce was quiet. Alfred smiled. “Of course, you do.”

“What does this have to do with Edward Michaels?”

“Poor Amy Michaels can’t avenge her father,” Alfred said. “But the Batman can.”

…

“I should’ve punched you harder,” Peter said. He tried to look confident but no amount of false confidence could hide the pain in his heart. “I… you…”

“Peter I can explain,” Dick said.

“I DON’T NEED YOUR DAMN EXPLANATIONS!” Peter snapped, pointing a finger at Dick. “You were my friend. My only friend in this godforsaken city and all of it was a lie.” Peter paused. His hand fell limply on his side. “Was Barbara… Is she…?”

“Yes,” Dick said. “She’s Batgirl.”

Peter felt his heart tug at its strings. He felt weak in the knees. “So, all of it was a lie?”

“No, Pete,” Dick said. “Barbara, I’ve known her forever. I can tell by the way she looks at you, she loves you.” Dick didn’t want to admit it to himself but it was true, no matter how much it hurt.

“For what its worth,” Dick said. “I still consider you a friend.”

“Then why did you lie?” Peter said. “You’ve seen everything I’ve been through. You could have been there for me!”

“I…” Dick said. “We owe him more than that. We can’t just…”

“Oh wow,” Peter said. “Wow. So, you didn’t trust me with the big man’s name.”

“It’s not that… I…”

“You sound just like him,” Peter said.

“Don’t say that,” Dick snapped. “Don’t you dare say that!”

Dick sighed, leaning over a table. “Sorry. It’s just…”

Dick looked Peter firmly in the eye. “Barbara and I didn’t want this. We tried but he objected. He never listens. He wanted to test you, he wanted to know why you do what you do.” Dick hesitated. “He thought you’re doing it as a joke.”

Peter let out a dry laugh. “Oh wow. Oh wow, he thinks I want this. A joke huh? My uncle dying’s really hilarious.”

“He takes the job seriously,” Dick said. “There was a time where it was just something, he did in his spare time but now he’s… obsessed and he’s dragging everybody down with him. I was the one who told him that we shouldn’t have dragged Barbara with us but he… God they both didn’t listen and now…”

Dick walked over to Peter, a hand on his shoulder. Peter pulled his shoulder back.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, not anymore,” Dick said. “Just don’t blame Barbara, okay. She didn’t want any of this to happen to you. She and I, we both cared about you Pete. For worth it’s worth, I hated keeping this all from you. I hated every damn second of it. I don’t know what happened to Bruce but he’s changed.”

“Bruce?” Peter asked. “Like, Bruce Wayne?”

Dick nodded. “Yeah. I don’t care what he says, I just can’t lie anymore.”

“So that invitation…?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, downtrodden. A shadow over his face. “That was all a lie…”

On Peter’s face there was a smile but his eyes told a different story. “He was right.” Peter scoffed. “Never meet your heroes.”

…

14 years ago

“You’re leaving Master Bruce?”

Master Bruce was dressed in simple clothes. A shirt and cargo pants. He was carrying a simple briefcase which Alfred believed only contained the essentials.

“Yes,” Master Bruce said. “This city is changing. It no longer looks like the city my father raised me in. The people just keep getting poorer, desolate and more vulnerable and what the Wayne Foundation is doing doesn’t seem to be enough. I can’t just sit by and let it happen but I know I can’t change this on my own.”

Alfred nodded. “I understand Master Bruce. I shall tend to the manor awaiting your return.”

“I won’t be returning for a while, Al,” Master Bruce said. “And I… don’t think I’ll be the same man. You’re free to leave.”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “18 years ago, I heard your crying echoing down the halls. Your father placed you in my arms and told me, if it comes down to me and the boy and you have to choose one life to save. You choose his. I watched you grow up these past 18 years and…” Alfred choked. He wiped his eyes with a gloved hand. “See I never had a child. All the women in my life could see my loyalties lay elsewhere.” Alfred chuckled. “And you, Master Bruce is the closest thing I have to a child. I swore on that day to have your back in whatever endeavour you chose and I still stand by that oath. You can leave, Master Bruce but know your home will always be here.”

Master Bruce did something very uncharacteristic. He hugged Alfred.

“Thanks, Al,” Bruce said. They separated. Alfred saw his young master off at the airport. 7 years later Master Bruce would return a changed man. His body stouter and his eyes like stone.

On the night of June 26, Master Bruce wore the cowl and gave Alfred a choice. To serve or to leave.

Alfred chose to serve.

…

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “I can’t just sit by and watch while the Joker does whatever he wants.”

“But Master Bruce, the technology is experimental?” Alfred said. “It could cause paralysis; you may not be able to walk again let alone move.”

“I know that but I can’t waste a second,” Bruce said. “I can’t let the Joker do whatever he pleases.”

“Very well, as long as you’re aware of the risks.”

On the dressing table there was a sleek metal plated leg. It was painted a pitch black with the grooves in between the plates a yellow. To Alfred it looked more like a pair of metal boots rather than a prosthetic. Next to it was a chip with little sharp spikes sticking out from the bottom like the legs of a millipede.

The chip wirelessly connected to the metal boots. The sharp spikes at the bottom of the chip were meant to stimulate certain neural interfaces in the spine and the brain and allow effortless movement of the leg. It was very advanced technology by one of Wayne Enterprises top scientists but still very experimental in nature.

Master Bruce put the prosthetic on his left leg. He got up, stumbling on the floor but still able to move, albeit by limping.

“Pass me the chip,” Master Bruce said.

“Are you sure about this?”

Master Bruce nodded.

Alfred hesitantly handed over the chip to Master Bruce. Master Bruce didn’t flinch as the spikes penetrated the middle of his neck, atop the spinal cord. He pressed the microchip and it burrowed itself in his neck. Master Bruce let out a yelp of pain and knelt on the floor, Alfred holding him up. The prosthetic let out a hum as it too clamped itself around Master Bruce’s thigh, a yellow light flashing on to life.

“NEURAL CONNECTION ESTABLISHED TO LEFT LEG,” droned a robotic voice. “PLEASE TRY TAKING A STEP.”

Master Bruce turned to face Alfred, giving him a confident nod. Alfred was hesitant but he let go as Master Bruce took a step. It was a tentative step with lots of effort put behind it like his leg was wrapped in lead. Master Bruce stumbled as he tried to move his right leg but somehow still managed to take a step.

He moved, again and again each step more confident than the last.

“NEURAL CONNECTION SUCCESSFULLY ESTABLISHED,” droned the voice. “PLEASE TRY JOGGING.”

Master Bruce took a jog, though at first hesitant like a cat around water soon he was jogging and soon after he started running. And soon after he turned around and kicked the wall, causing it to crumble on the floor.

“Interesting,” Bruce said.

“You know we have to pay for that, right?” Alfred said. “Not that money is a problem.”

“CONNECTION COMPLETE.”

…

“I looked up to him, you know,” Peter said. “I was orphaned too, believe it or not. It hurt, losing my parents but seeing a man as successful as him made me hope. Made me believe that it’d be alright. Can’t believe he turned out like this.”

Peter sat on a chair. Dick sat next to him.

“He wasn’t always like this, you know?” Dick said. “He took me in when I was a kid. When I lost my parents. The first thing he told me was ‘I know what it feels like’. It made me feel less alone. Now it seems all he’s doing is isolating himself. Keeping us at a distance.”

There was a silence between them. “I don’t expect this to mend things but I kept things from you because I owe him. I owe him a lot. After my parents died, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. He gave me a home, food and took me in without a single qualm. And he let me deal with the man who killed my parents. To me, that was the world and I owe him for that.”

Dick sighed. “But at the same time, I don’t want to end up like him. Keeping things from you, lying at you. That’s not me. That’ll never be me. That’s who he is and I don’t want to end up like him.”

Dick sighed. “The Joker has ACE holed up. Him and some goons and some guy called the Vulture are armed to the teeth with Vibranium weapons and nobody can go in. Nobody except us.”

“So, what are we waiting for?”

“Your web-shooters,” Dick said. “I checked, one of them is broken and the other is out of juice. And that suit of yours? Won’t last very long. You’re going to need a new one.”

Dick smirked. “And I know just the right person to ask.”

…

Peter woke up the next morning with a terrible headache. His vision was fuzzy and he was seeing the world in twos. Peter shook his head to see that he was tied up on a chair, again. Trapped in the same cage, only this time instead of Dick on the other side of the cage it was the Batman.

…

“You compromised the investigation,” Bruce growled, towering over Dick, his face contorted with rage. “You gave away your identity, my identity. Dick, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Investigation?” Dick snapped. “Investigation? So that was what he was to you, a fucking lab experiment?”

“That doesn’t matter, what matters…”

“Did you even visit Barbara?” Dick interrupted. “Did you? Do you know that she might not even walk again?”

Bruce was silent.

“Remember 2 years ago when I told you that we shouldn’t drag Barbara down into our mess?” Dick asked. “Remember when I said that and you ignored me. You knew how dangerous things were but you still brought her in, didn’t you?”

“Barbara wouldn’t listen to me,” Bruce said. “She wouldn’t listen to you, either.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Dick said. “You could have easily told Commissioner Gordon and he would have made sure she didn’t do anything but you still dragged her into our dangerous mess.” Dick scoffed. “Trained her, even. But when she needs you the most you don’t even visit her. No, the only thing you care about is your damn investigation.”

“Did you visit her?” Bruce asked

“Oh, you don’t get to play that card,” Dick said. “You’re the one who made me lie to my friend to drag him all the way here. You’re the one who chose to face off against that monster, oh, by the way how’s that leg?”

Dick clenched his fist. “Oh, and did you see Gordon’s face? Your best friend’s face? He blamed himself Bruce. It was our fault but he blamed himself.”

Bruce was silent.

“Say something, you asshole,” Dick snapped. “SAY SOMETHING!”

Bruce was silent.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you these past few years,” Dick said. “But I’m tired. I’m tired of you not listening to me, I’m tired of lying and I’m tired of you running away. After this, I’m leaving. I’m done being Robin. I’m done being your little soldier. Don’t you ever, ever contact me again. We’re through. After this, Batman and Robin is through.”

…

“Why do you do what you do?” Batman asked.

“I’m not going to answer that,” Spider-Man said. “Especially not after what you did to my friend.”

“I’ll wait,” Batman said, taking a chair and sitting in front of him. “I have all the time in the world.”

“You’re just going to let those people die?” Spider-Man asked.

“The GCPD has it handled,” Batman said. “I informed them about a possible weakness.”

“That still won’t be enough,” Spider-Man said. “Dick told me about the monster. He also told me about the Vulture’s new upgrades.”

Batman was silent.

“You’re not going to wait, are you?” Spider-Man said. “You can’t. It’d be wrong. No, you can’t wait and let things happen.”

“Neither can you.”

Spider-Man chuckled. Then laughed. Then let out a scream. “Let me the hell out of here.” He tried moving but an electric shock caused him to fall on the floor.

“Not until you tell me why you do it.”

“Dammit,” Spider-Man growled. “You’re an asshole, Bruce. You know that? Using me like that in the ball and know this. God, I can’t believe I looked up to you.”

“Why do you do it?” Batman said calmly, as if nothing had happened.

“Let me out,” Spider-Man said. Moving to the glass wall despite the electric current.

“Why do you do it?”

“LET ME OUT!”

Spider-Man slammed his head against the glass causing a crack but the electricity was too much for him. He curled up against the floor, blood running down his forehead.

There was a silence. A very long silence filled only by the screeching of bats.

“Why do you…”

“MY UNCLE OKAY!” Peter snapped. “It’s because of my uncle. A burglar got to him. He got shot and the bastard ran away while I was busy doing some stupid ass shows, my uncle got shot in the heart.” Peter chuckled. “And I obviously went after the bastard. With the things I could do, who wouldn’t? I was just about ready to… to kill him when I saw the face of the guy.”

Tears started forming in his eyes. “After a gig I was doing, I saw someone robbing one of the workers there and since I didn’t get the gig, I let that guy run free. That same guy who ran off with the money, that was the guy who killed my uncle.”

Tears started falling down Peter’s face as he thought about what happened. “My uncle used to say with great power comes great responsibility. I never knew what that meant. I was fifteen when I got bitten by that spider back in New York and with all those new powers I was stoked. Who wouldn’t be? After being thrown around by people bigger than you who wouldn’t be. I used that money to win wrestling matches which I then used to buy really expensive stuff without my uncle and aunt knowing. And then we moved to Gotham and I thought I could do it all over again but…”

Peter choked, letting out a stifled sob. “I never knew what that saying of my uncle meant when I saw his body. I only knew it when I saw who killed him.”

Peter got up. “After that, when an alarm bell rang or when I heard someone scream, I couldn’t look the other way. Not after what happened to my Uncle, never again. I couldn’t save my uncle, I never can but I can save them. I can save them, right?”

Gun smoke. Pearls clattering on the floor. Knees weak, tears won’t stop.

“Why do you hide this from your Aunt?”

“I don’t want to worry her,” Peter said. “She worries about me a lot. She doesn’t want to lose me too. I wear the mask so that she doesn’t know it’s me. So that she doesn’t know it’s her nephew going around throwing himself into dangerous situations.”

“But what if you die?”

“I don’t want to die,” Peter said. “I don’t want to leave her alone. Lying to her, keeping this away from her hurts more than anything. Seeing her worry about me hurts more than anything but I can’t look the other way. I just can’t. Nobody deserves to go through the pain I did when I lost my uncle. Nobody.”

A boy knelt over the corpses of his parents. He could feel their blood in his hands. He knew what he had to do.

Bruce Wayne walked away.

“Did that not satisfy you, huh?” Peter shouted. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

Peter felt the handcuffs hiss and loosen.

A haunted man knelt before the boy who became a bat. Begging forgiveness. His son witnessing the guilt he locked away inside.

The door swung open. Bruce was standing in front of it. Peter threw a punch but Bruce dodged and held a leg up front causing him to trip.

“You’re sloppy,” Bruce said.

“You lock me up and torture me to get answers and the only thing you can say to me afterwards is that I’m sloppy?” Peter asked. “You have issues.”

“You’re going to have to be more disciplined,” Bruce said, walking away from Peter.

“If we’re going to be working together.”

The man stood in front of the spider and realised why he became a bat.

…

The heart rate monitors beeped a comforting melody. Barbara Gordon’s breath fogged up her oxygen mask, her body against the bed, covered in blankets. Her window opened as Spider-Man crawled inside, the black spider symbol barely visible in the moon light. Peter Parker took out his mask. He webbed up a chair and sat by her side. Peter let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Barbara it’s me, Pete,” Peter said. He scratched his chin and looked away from her pale face. “I… I uh found out. About everything and I know you’re Batgirl and I… I don’t know how to feel about it. I know how much Bruce means to you but that didn’t mean… didn’t mean you had to lie to me. To hide things from me.”

Peter chuckled. “But who am I to talk? I’ve kept this whole Spider-Man thing from my Aunt for months now. Hell, I have so many missed calls from her after the whole Joker thing like you wouldn’t believe. I told her I was at Dick’s but she was positively fuming when I called back but hey, that’s Aunt May for you.”

Peter leaned back on the chair. “God I should just… yeah I should just get to the point.”

Peter felt tears forming in his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry. If I’d stayed the Joker wouldn’t have gotten to you and you would’ve still been able to walk. I… I wish I could’ve been there. I wish I could’ve protected you. It’s all my damn fault and....” Peter placed a hand on hers. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Peter got up, placing the chair aside. He turned back, unable to face her. “I promise, I’ll get the bastard. I’ll mess up the Joker and that little pet of his. For you.”

Peter kissed her on the cheek before he jumped out of the window.

“I love you.”

…

“You ready, Bruce?” Dick asked. They were flying above ACE Chemicals, the Batwing humming as rain poured on it’s sleek black surface.

“Yes.”

“I sure as hell am ready,” Dick said. “What about you Peter?”

Peter landed atop the Batwing. The giant black spider symbol emblazoned across his torso shining in the lightning. His web-shooters filled to the brim with cartridges. His lenses looked like they were squinting as he zoomed into the ACE Chemicals compound making a mental note of the guards doing their patrol.

“Ready as always.”

“Let’s go,” Dick said.

…

The heart rate monitors beeped a comforting melody. Barbara Gordon’s breath fogged up her oxygen mask, her body against the bed, covered in blankets. Batman was by her side.

He looked at her, at her sunken pale face. At the droplets of blood that still caked her hands. He picked up a chair and sat by her side taking out his cowl, her hand in his gloved hand, his head hung down as if he was in mourning.

To be continued…