Chapter 9: Can't Escape My Nightmares

Batman staggered through the alleyway near where he secured the car.  His chest felt heavy, air was resistant to filling up his lungs.  He struggled to remember where he was at, the world around him seemed to fade.  He felt a need.  A need to find someone he trusted.  He could see where his vehicle was, but in the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t going to make it.  He pulled a small cellphone from his belt and slumped against a wall.  Pushing a button he autodialed.  A woman answered the line.  “I need your help.  I’m at in the alley between Allahan and Cochran near the old tunnels.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He wasn’t sure how long it took before help arrived, time didn’t seem to matter much as he faded in and out of consciousness.  In one of his last moments of lucidity before he blacked out, he saw a small black cat land at the end of the alley and walk towards him.

                He was a boy again, coming home from school.  His father met him in the foyer as Alfred hung up his coat and hat.  “How was your day?” his father asked, genuinely curious as he knelt down to see his son’s face, a crestfallen look indicating that the day’s lessons had been hard.

It was a day of group projects.  Bruce excelled in all his studies but his social skills were never the best.  Solo assignments had always come easy to him, but coordinating within a team environment proved difficult, as he already knew what to do and how to do it, but others didn’t always see it from his point of view.  “Son…” his father said “You have to learn to work with a team.  Sometimes you aren’t going to be able to handle a problem all on your own, and you need people to rely on, who rely on you to make it work.”

“I know da…father.  I, just…I’m the smartest person there.”

A gunshot rang out, the slug tore through Thomas’ Wayne’s head and he crumpled to the floor, dissolving into a pool of blood.  Bruce looked on in horror, his hands coated in blood.  He looked and there, in his father’s favorite chair, sat Jack Napier.

Bruce ran to Jack, gripped him by the front of his shirt. “What are ya gonna do kid?”  Jack stood up and a shadow passed over him, turning him into the Joker.  Bruce, now a man, drew back and punched him in the face repeatedly.  Soon, Joker’s face was a bloody mask of pain and broken teeth.

“Feel better, Brucie woosie?  Let’s face it, you can’t kill me.  Not really.  Not your dear old dad.”  Joker shoved Bruce back onto the floor, his face instantly healed.  “You never knew about that night, did ya?  How old mommy dearest liked to sleep around.  Liked her some bad boys!” he punctuated with a couple of vulgar hip thrusts.  “You really think such a driven man of business such as your “father”…” he indicated with air-quotes “Could ever please a sexy little kitten like your mom?  If you think about it, you can see it.  In your smile, the way you never could bring yourself to call him dad…you knew.  You probably knew right when you saw me in that alley.  You knew who your real father was.”

“You’re lying!”

“Maybe I AM!” Joker roared.  “Maybe I’m not.  I mean, if we’re really keeping score about who was more influential on your young life…”

Joker walked away, then gave Bruce a side long glance “And they called me crazy.”

“What?” Bruce growled through clenched teeth.  “Well, I have a flair for the theatre, sure, but I got doused with chemicals.  Thanks by the way, that was a refreshing bath.  Anyway, I HAVE and excuse.  What’s yours?  So your parents got whacked.  This is Gotham for crying out loud.  How many kids have watched their parents get whacked?  By your logic, this joint should be filled with super-hero fetishes.  But no, you just couldn’t deal with it.  Parents got plugged, put on a black suit and beat the crap out of perfect strangers.  That sound psychologically healthy to you?”

Bruce struggled, the words whipped around him, making him dizzy.  Joker slid on his knees up to Bruce, grabbing his head.  “You can hear them, can’t you?  The people watching, waiting, listening.  Are you going to crack, go in a full fledge killing spree like me?  Are you going to fight it, and then crack?” Joker looked from side to side, as if expecting someone to be listening in.  “You can’t escape them, you know.  No matter how hard you try, they’ll always be there, expecting perfection and blaming you if things go south or the story doesn’t add up.”  Joker lowered his head and began chuckling “You know what’s really great?  I used to hear them all the time, had to always up the ante to keep them impressed, but you killed me, so they’re your problem now.” He stood up and clapped his hands “Oh this is going to be great!  I get to see you get torn apart from the outside and the inside and I don’t have to do a damn thing cuz I’m dead.  You’re the psychopath now, guano breath!  I mean you’ve always been a psychopath…”

“Get out.”  Bruce growled.  “I’m sorry, what?” Joker said leaning in and cupping his ear.  Batman, in full garb, launched himself at Joker as the world around them shifted into the roof of a building.  He caught Joker in the belly with his shoulder and shoved him off the edge.  Joker laughed as the fell.  “See you on the other side!” Joker cackled before disappearing into the void.

                Bruce woke in his bedroom, his suit nowhere to be found.  He was dressed in his cotton pajamas, his bathrobe draped on the chair by his bed.  Water and his pain medication was waiting on his night stand.  A black cat watched him from the foot of the bed.  “You’re new…” he commented as he took his medication.  Pulling on his bathrobe he left his room, the cat trotting in front of him.  He made his way down to the sitting room.  Fox and Carrie stood in the room.  Seated on one of the long couches was a glamorously beautiful blonde woman with high cheek bones, dressed in a flowing white dress with a shawl.  She smiled as the cat nestled beside her.  “Selena…” he said with a smile.  Carrie eyed Selena with something between caution and outright contempt.  He approached her and kissed her on the cheeks.  “I must admit, Bruce, I was rather taken aback when you called.”  Bruce had to think hard.  He dialed on instinct, not on logic.  Logic said that Carrie and Fox should have been called, but in his instinct he called the legendary Catwoman.  Granted Selena Kyle had put behind her a life of crime, instead taking over Maxwell Shrek’s company and turning it around into a global competitor.  Still though, she looked melted and poured into her dress, leading him to believe that, like himself, she kept herself in fighting condition in the event action was needed.

“Carrie Kelly, I’d like you to meet Selena Kyle, an old friend.”

“I’ve met the maid, Bruce.”  Carrie move to say something but with reflexes that would have made a snake jealous Bruce shot back “Don’t call her ‘the maid’ Selena.”  Without outwardly reacting, Selena shrugged “As you wish.”  She said flatly as she stood up.  As she walked out the door she nodded at Fox.  “Lucius.”

“Ms. Kyle.”

Carrie watched her go and Bruce followed after her.  “She’s a piece of work, ain’t she?”

“She is something else, Carrie.”

“Is she Bruce’s girlfriend or enemy?”

“Yes.”

                Bruce met Selena on the balcony overlooking Gotham.  “Remember that night you tried to break in here?” he said smiling at the memory.

“Which one?” she said with a small chuckle.  “Right after the thing with the Penguin.”

“Before or after Mr. Freeze?”

“Before.  Back when the lunatics in this city didn’t know what directed energy weapons were.”

“Ah, the good old days.  I remember what happened after I broke in…”

Bruce nodded with a smile.  “I should have married you back then.”

“What, make an honest woman out of me?  Then people won’t think I’m some kind of ma’dam.”

He laughed “I remember that.  That time people thought you were a reformed prostitute and then thought you were in charge of a brothel.”

“If they only knew.”

She looked at him, studying his face.  “What’s going on?  It’s not every day the mayor calls me in the middle of the night.”

Carrie arrived with a tray of coffee.  Setting it down between them she turned to Bruce.  “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Is the car safe?”

“Yes.  Mr. Fox brought it home, I serviced it while you were sleeping, everything is in order.  I even checked for security breaches as well.”

“Thank you, Carrie.” She nodded and left.  “What do you really want to talk about, Bruce?”

“Do you still think about him, Max, I mean?  Does he…”

“Haunt me?  He abused me, he tried to kill me.  He abused me some more.  His ghost is never really far behind.”  She looked off in the distance, eyeing the tower that held her company.  “Joker?” she asked.

Bruce stood and went to the railing, rubbing his hands across his face.  “Jack.  Yeah, Jack.”  He leaned on the railing.  “I’ve been dreaming about him.  I always have, I guess, but a lot lately.  Sometimes my dad is there.  Sometimes he’s not.  A lot of the times Jack mocks me, telling me how he’s really my dad…”

Suddenly she was by his side, one hand on his hand, the other across his shoulder.  “The people who love us never really leave us, Bruce.  Neither do the people who hurt us.  Both…made us.  If it hadn’t been for Max, I never would have been there to help you stop the Hatter’s child trafficking scheme.  Just because they did something negative to us…”

“Hatter.” Bruce whispered.

“Bruce, I’m trying to be thoughtful and caring here.  You might want to ride this out and THEN go off on your detective tangent.”

He looked meaningfully into her eyes.  They both busted out laughing.  “Alright, go be mayor or Batman or whatever you do now…but next time I see you…” she leaned in and whispered into his ear.  “Count on it.” He said.

Rushing into the house, he startled Carrie who snapped to her feet from a prone position on the couch.  “Carrie, phone!”  Carrie tossed him his cellphone, which he deftly caught.  “Get a hold of Lucius. Tell him Wayne Enterprises is making a charitable donation to the FBI agents in Gotham.  We need the three remaining reactive armor suits.”

He snapped dialed his phone “Commissioner…get your coffee in a to-go mug, and get the FBI to Wayne Enterprises.”

                As they walked into Wayne Enterprises, Carrie scanned the room, hand resting on her exposed side arm.  “That really necessary, Carrie?”

“Sir, you’re a high profile target.  Yes.”

Bruce nodded.  “Fair enough.”

“Are you sure about this?” Fox seemingly materialized out of nowhere at Bruce’s side, startling even Carrie.  “I mean if they’ve seen the reactive armor in use by Batman, they can probably put two and two together and figure out where he got it, especially since we’re giving them the exact same type of armor.”

“They may be able to figure out where the suit came from, but they won’t believe a man in his late 60’s is Batman.  At least they’d better not.  That’d be kind of insulting; wouldn’t it…that Batman moves like a senior citizen?”

“You’re an idiot, sir.” Carrie muttered.

Bruce had picked up on how Carrie was much more, forward, bordering on hostile since meeting Selena.  Selena had that effect on women.

Crossing into the presentation room, Commissioner Gordon was waiting as three FBI agents examined the suits of armor.  “Sorry I’m late.  It’s been a busy morning.”

He reached out his hand to the lead agent “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Bruce Wayne.”

The agent took his hand “Special Agent Richard Grayson.  These are agents Todd and probationary agent Drake.” He motioned to the other two men with him.  “This is some impressive armor you have here.  I’ve seen something similar to it recently.”

“I heard.  We aren’t the only company working on reactive armor, there are a few others.”

Grayson nodded.  Bruce could tell what the young investigator was thinking.  Wayne Enterprises was the furthest along, and no one had reported any missing.  Mostly because none were missing, the four prototypes they’d developed were standing in this room.  Bruce was smart, but Fox had been clever in not letting him actually have any of the suits themselves.

“Why are you doing this, Mr. Wayne?” Todd asked directly, though not taking his eyes off of Carrie.  “Our city is in crisis.  Wayne Technologies had developed these suits, and they work, they are top of the line, but they are expensive and, frankly the DoD doesn’t want to pay their price tags.”

“But donating them to a law enforcement agency makes them a tax right off…” Agent Drake remarked studying the suit.

“Is it?” Bruce asked, seemingly genuinely confused, as if he had no idea that it would be.

Fox looked at him, as if trying to figure out if Bruce was faking his confusion or actually confused.  He hadn’t seen this side of Bruce in a long time.  Finally Fox spoke “I…suppose it could be, I don’t think that’s where the mayor was going with this…”

“Oh, no, absolutely not.  We’re not Luther Corp here, we don’t subsidize based on tax right offs for military equipment.  If we can sell it, we sell it, if we can’t we don’t.  But given what we’re dealing with, I figured they would be useful to you.”

“How do they work?” Todd asked.  Fox was going to answer but Drake beat him to it.  “The key is in the plating of the armor itself.  It’s a plasma alloy layering effect.  When a projectile strikes, the outer later feeds the kinetic energy into the plasmatic center, which responds by absorbing the shock and directing back towards the projectile making its kinetic energy inert.  When the bullet pushes in, the armor pushes back with just as much force and speed so it, in theory falls to the floor.”

Bruce smiled.  “You know, if the FBI doesn’t work out, you could come work for me.”  Drake gave a meek smile, Todd glared at him.

“Do they work, though?” Todd asked.  Bruce motioned for the junior agent to come towards the crowd “Well, see for yourself.”  Todd pulled his side arm and fired at the suits, and the bullets responded by falling to the floor without damage to the suits.  Todd was frozen in his firing stance, however, as Carrie placed the barrel of her side arm at the base of his neck.

“WHOA whoa whoa…everyone please calm down.” Bruce said with his arms raised.  “Carrie, holster your weapon.  Agent Todd, please holster yours.  You’ll have to forgive Carrie, there’ve been more than a few attempts on my life lately so…”

“Whipping out a gun and just randomly shooting is an incredible breach of safety protocol!” Grayson yelled.  Todd motioned to Bruce “He said I could!”

Lucius leaned to Bruce “The best and brightest of the bureau?”

“I like them.” Bruce whispered.

Commissioner Gordon, who apparently was completely immune to insanity at this point watched quietly until her phone buzzed to life.  “Gordon here.”

There was a long pause and the room felt heavier.  “They’re finding body parts across the city…” she said “They return to a…doctor Davis.  That mean anything to anyone?  They’ve been heavily tattooed.  They’ve sent me pictures.  Like it better when I had pictures of my grandkids on my phone.”  Lucius pushed a key on the desk that dropped down a screen. “Interface with the terminal, it will bring the pictures up on the screen.”  Within a few seconds the screen was filled with the image of severed body parts.  Carrie ran to the door to close off the view from curious eyes.  They had been heavily tattooed with weird cross cut patterns, grid like images.  “What do you think, cult based?  Like Brother Blood?” Todd asked.

“No, it doesn’t match up with anything I’ve seen cult wise.  Could be a circuit board of somekind.”

Drake spoke “Looks like a map.”

Bruce glanced at the young man.  He pulled his phone and discretely used it to interface with the presentation room’s computer, copying the data off of Gordon’s phone.

Bruce knew exactly what it was.  It was a message.