Master Bruce — Roleplayer Guild

Gotham City, Wayne Tower
The Cave
5:27 PM

I feel cold. 

Immediately, my eyes flutter open and a nerve in my neck begins to twitch. Feels like my entire body's covered in sweat, like I'm laying in a pool of it. The minute that I move my arm, however, the silk of a sheet from the upstairs bedroom brushes against my skin in a way that feels like it's burning. My eyes sting, my ears are ringing, and everything feels off balance. I sit up and look around at my surroundings. Seems as though I made it back to The Cave in one piece, as I stare at the poorly parked black and heavily armored motorcycle sitting off in the distance. I look down at myself and realize that half of the suit is still on, below my waist. My side is covered in a thick bandaging from Deadshot's cut. Alfred had to have been down here at some point, because I don't remember tending to the wound myself. Infact, looking down at the sprawled out mess of the rest of the costume strewn about the floor - cape, cowl, torso armor, belt, and gloves - I suddenly realize that I don't remember much of anything about last night. 

"Hhn."

Hurts too much to move. Pulse is pounding. I reach up to massage the headache that's throbbing at the base of my skull, and realize that there's a sharp pain emanating from my left arm. I stretch out my arm to reveal an IV hooked up to a makeshift monitor. Some sort of liquid I don't entirely recognize coming out of the drip. I try and reach up to inspect it, but immediately start shaking. A chill is beginning to overtake me again. Even in this condition, I'm starting to remember fragments. The fight with Deadshot. The poison tipped blade. My encounter with the police. Harvey. 

"Thank heavens you're awake. I had begun to think a funeral procession was in order, lad."

I look up, surprised to see Alfred standing over me. I don't know how much time has passed since I've awoken, or how much I've missed in the interim. But I sure as hell don't remember him entering from the elevator that leads to the upstairs study. Clearly, my senses are still affected by the toxin.

"Alf... red."

"Wh... What... happened."

Can't speak. Mouth feels like cotton. He moves to my side, monitoring the IV to ensure I haven't mistakenly removed it.

"Shh. Try and rest. You're safe here, Bruce, as long as you remain still. You just need to try and allow the anti-toxin to do it's work. Fortunately, Mr. Fox was accommodating enough to synthesize one. Which is a miracle, given neither he or I were able to identify the strain of toxin that's flowing through your bloodstream."

I stare up at the ceiling of the bunker, looking at the vague reflection cast off of the metal tiles. Needless to say, I look like hell. Doesn't even look like I've shaved in days. That's when my eyes widen and I suddenly grab Alfred by the arm.

"How lo...ng?"

He reassuredly places his hand on mine. 

"Three days, I'm afraid. You've been out cold ever since you arrived back on the night Mr. Dent was attacked."

I stare back at the mention of Harvey, and he holds his hand up. 

"And before you ask, he's fine. A bit of intensive surgery, but his condition stabilized by that morning and he's going to make a full recovery. I gave him and Ms. Kyle the excuse that some prospective business dealings had forced you to leave the country before you were able to see either of them."

Laying my head back down, I breathe a sigh of relief. Truthfully, I knew Harvey wasn't likely to die from the injury, but it's still a head wound. He could've bled out and suffered serious trauma before he even made it to Gotham General. I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to square my sudden disappearance away with Selina, given she has a tendency to try and pry her way into every facet of my life that she knows exists, but I'm sure I'll think of something by the time I can get back on my feet. If Lucius' anti-toxin works, of course.

"Tha... Thank you."

Alfred nods.

"Of course, lad. The only thing I'd say to do for me in return is to pick up your own damn mess, once you're able. I may play the part of your butler, but that doesn't mean I am one."

I smirk, then cough, feeling a horrible pain wrack up in my lungs. 

"Ah. That would be the anti-toxin working it's way into your chest. You had better avoid speaking any further. I'll be back to check on you in the hour, once I've placated our guest upstairs."

Looking back over at him, I try and express confusion at the last part of his statement.

"I'm afraid that Ms. Kane and her father had yet another falling out, and she requested to stay the weekend. I wasn't in the position to deny that request, nor were you in a position to object. I gave her the same excuse as I did the others, so rest assured, your alibi has been taken care of."

Kate.

My cousin, and one of the last of the entire lineage of the Wayne and Arkham bloodline. Her father Jacob was my mother's brother, part of the once-great Kane family that had changed their surname after my great-grandfather Amadeus brought scandal to the family name and forced them to sever their ties. Now Arkham Asylum is the only standing testament to their half of the family apart from Jacob's military career. And it's a career that he's unfortunately tried to force onto my sixteen-year-old cousin, who's been rebelling against him ever since.

We haven't developed much of a relationship, given I was out of the country for ten years of her life. But she doesn't mind hiding out in my ivory tower to escape her father's influence, now and again. All that I really know about her is that we share a common past. Kate's mother and sister were murdered infront of her when she was roughly the same age I was when... my life changed. That fact makes me wish I could be there for her more than I've been. 

But with the way things are in Gotham, my interpersonal relationships with friends or family have to remain secondary while I try and figure out a way to maintain a balance in both sides of my life. It's the sacrifice I have to make to give everything I have into this. Gotham won't see a day beyond the crime and violence if I'm too busy trying to give everyone who needs Bruce Wayne to give them the time of day. 

"Good. That's..."

As I start to say it, I notice that the room's beginning to spin. Darkness takes ahold of me and I feel myself begin to pass out. For a brief second... I see my parents standing behind Alfred. Watching over me, despite their faces appearing blurred by the years I've spent without them in my life. My vision fades as their body language seems to indicate either pity - or disappointment.

I feel even colder.

Gotham City, Precinct 27
6:08 PM

"Doctor Crane, you're Gotham City's leading expert in criminal psychology and the one most qualified to speak on the subject of today's panel. What would you suggest is the reasoning behind The Batman's apparent escalation from thrashing purse snatchers to targeting public officials? Was it merely a personal vendetta against District Attorney Dent, or is there something else at play?"

Captain Gordon watches a bespeckled elder man with long and thin black hair adjust his composure as he's signaled to speak by Jack Ryder, host of Gotham's premiere evening talk show and generally obnoxious piece of television garbage, GCN's Creepers. The Captain recognizes Doctor Crane from a number of previous appearances, given that his daughter watches the program with a startling amount of regularity. Were she not about six months away from her eighteenth, Gordon would have a mind to enforce having her never watch it in the first place. But as she explained to him time and time again, between her studies going into college and her current daytime job as a librarian, a little bit of brainless entertainment is needed to balance out the influx of academia. 

Still, she could always find something a little less unbearable than this dreck. Like one of those "Watchmen" cinematic universe movies that Barbara tried to go to every opening weekend, the ones that Gordon never fully got the appeal of. They were the kind of movies that he imagined led to the creation of someone like Batman, who took the messages of those characters and decided to apply it to real life. If he was even the type of person who enjoyed movies.

"I think what we're looking at, Mr. Ryder, is a person afflicted by a growing paranoia of the world around him. Clinically speaking, this Batman is a dangerously unstable individual with a tendency to display characteristics of an aggressive authoritarian. A mentality that dictates his every action. He believes that he alone represents the law in Gotham City. Perhaps, in theory, he seeks to challenge Harvey Dent's position as a member of public office as a means of enforcing that in his own mind, aswell as the minds of the citizens who he relies on to live in fear of him. And as often is the case with these extreme personalities, challenging the District Attorney was never going to happen in any way other than enacting his given pattern of brutality."

Ryder nods, taking in the information that Crane doles out.

"Ah, yes. That's been a running theory of yours. You believe Batman wants the people of this city to fear him, and not just the criminal underworld?"

"Undoubtedly. Fear, as I've often cited in my books on the subject, is a powerful motivator for ninety percent of how our subconscious operates. The fear of losing one's place in society, for example, or the fear of isolation from others. I believe that The Batman, whoever he really is, has felt out of touch with society for some time and seeks to reclaim his place through these theatrics. He wants to project an illusion that he is more terrifying than death itself, not unlike the serial killer David Berkowitz of the 1970's."

Ryder shoots Crane a look of skepticism. 

"Really, Doctor? A comparison between Batman and The Son Of Sam murders? That seems like an ill-advised road to go down, given that our vigilante has yet to offer a single casualty in his one-man war against the scum of the city."

"If I may inject, Mr. Ryder."

Another member of the panel, Professor Hugo Strange, is given the spotlight as Ryder introduces him through an on-screen prompt that details previous his accolades, up to and including acting as the current administrative head of Arkham Asylum. Strange is considered a figure of extreme importance throughout Gotham, and Gordon has even met the man several times. He seems to know what he's talking about, at least in terms of how to run a house dedicated to treatment of the criminally insane. 

"While I will not go as far as to endorse my colleague's assessment of The Batman's reliance on fear, as I find Doctor Crane's insight into the subject to be somewhat biased, I do believe that he is correct is assuming that the provocation by Harvey Dent was seen by The Batman as a direct challenge to his authority as a man who's delivered exceptionally radical results against the escalating tensions between the criminal fraternity of Gotham. This deranged man craves the satisfaction in lording himself over the meek and timid, that much is clear. But he does so fearlessly, and without regard for public safety. I would go as far as to say he is a classical sociopathic narcissist, uncaring of the consequences of his actions. Why else would he shoot a well known figure of the criminal element as Salvatore Maroni and contradictorily allow him to live? It is a primary function of his psychosis. He wants these individuals to be free to carry out their deeds so that they may give him the satisfaction of a repeating cycle of violence."

Crane tries to hide his flustered reaction to Strange's assessment, Gordon notices, but nevertheless seems to back down.

"It's... certainly possible. Professor Strange is a well respected member of his field, and I take his word with a tremendous amount of respect. However, I do believe you're intentionally downplaying the role that fear plays into The Batman's psychosis. Why would, if I may, he present himself as a fearsome creature of the night if he were fearless? More to the point, why hide his identity behind a mask if he does not fear the repercussions of his actions? I would argue that his methods indicate that he believes criminals to be a superstitious, cowardly lot, and he seeks to capitalize on this by appearing as something more than human in the eyes of his victims. That gives him the sense of power that you're describing. Inflicting fear is a power unto itself, after all."

Ryder holds up his hands. 

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, as fascinating as this war of ideologies is to entertain, we're getting a little off subject. Do either of you have a definitive rationale of why Batman attempted to assassinate Harvey Dent? Doesn't this turn of events seem rather out of character to either of you, despite the evidence?"

Strange mulls over the question. 

"Perhaps so, Mr. Ryder. But who am I to argue with the Gotham Police Department, who named Batman explicitly as the primary suspect in the attack on Mr. Dent? Though I understand why such a leap of logic would be confusing to your viewers, it is not entirely out of the realm of possibility for The Batman to see the District Attorney as an extension of a corrupt system that supports the criminals he seeks to torment. Perhaps my theory of seeing Dent as a threat is inaccurate, given the perception of The Batman's actions up until now."

Ryder laughs. 

"I'm sorry, but... are you accusing Dent of being on the take? Did I just hear that right?"

"Absolutely not. I find that Harvey Dent is a respectable man, and I myself was a contributor to his campaign. But that is not to say that The Batman has a delusional fixation on the idea that Dent could be hiding a secret affiliation with the criminal element."

"Right. Just trying to make things clear, on that front. Do you have anything else to offer, Doctor Crane? What about you, Doctor Quinzell?" 

The blonde woman to the right of Professor Strange shrugs. 

"Not ta be glib on the matter at hand, but it's all greek to me. I don't deal with the whackjobs like this in my line of work. And whoever The Bat is, I find him ta be whackjob numero uno. He's half'a the reason I keep my door locked at night, not ta mention the reason I ain't exactly linin' up to use any public transportation at night. So him takin' a potshot at Dreamy Dent ain't exactly news ta me. I just hope the cops get off their asses and take the guy down so's I can sleep at night."

Ryder taps his pen against a pad of paper and chuckles.

"Fair enough. And so the question goes out to you, audience. Reach the show on Facebook and Twitter at the handle GNN underslash Creeper to give me your response: Is The Batman a danger to the public at large? Do you even believe that he's the one responsible for the attack against Harvey Dent? And moreover, what are your theories as to who Gotham's biggest anonymous celebrity really is? I'll warn you right now, if anyone says that I may be The Bat, you can guarantee that those messages will be overlooked. I barely have the endurance to run this show, let alone beat criminals to a pulp. A big thanks to my panelists for the evening, as we draw the program to a close, but before we cut to a word from our sponsor---"

Finally, Gordon catches himself watching for too long and turns the television off, sighing to himself as he stares back at the growing case folder dedicated to Batman sightings. Even though he was the one that was forced to write the report indicating that the vigilante was the prime suspect in Dent's shooting, something about it just didn't add up from the start. As a seasoned cop, Captain Gordon knew when the line between vigilante and murder suspect began to fade. And even if Dent did try and antagonize him by openly calling on his superiors to put together a task force to arrest the man, Gordon didn't think that Batman was capable of taking such an act personally. It just didn't line up with his M.O. 

Hell, the only times he was recorded as utilizing a firearm thus far was to shoot to wound. None of them were ever intended to kill, as Dent's injury was life-threatening. Not that it made Batman any better in his mind, given that the man was still a dangerous vigilante who could inspire imitators, but Gordon was convinced that there was something else at play during all of this and that Batman just managed to find himself at the wrong place at the wrong time. He hadn't even openly attacked the officers attempting to arrest him, despite the open opportunity. 

It just didn't make any damn sense.

Looking ahead at the precinct outside of his office, Gordon raised his voice so that everyone could hear.

"Hey! Anyone seen Montoya around?"

Everyone looked at eachother and shrugged. 

"Last we saw of her was when she went down to archives, Captain. You know, showing the new guy around with The Bat case."

Gordon narrowed his eyes, looking down at his watch. 

Agent Nashton had requested access to Archives three hours ago. Sergeant Montoya had been meant to report back long before then to begin her rounds. Though in all honestly, Gordon wouldn't be surprised if Montoya hadn't been allowed to leave as Nashton expounded about a dozen different, intricate theories about The Batman's methods, his identity, and his reasonings for possibly wanting to kill Harvey Dent to anyone that would listen. He'd become something of a pain in Gordon's ass already, and he'd only arrived in Gotham three days prior. He didn't trust the man, even if Commissioner Loeb said he had jurisdiction over the entire precinct. 

Reaching into his phone, Gordon began to text Montoya to ask if everything was alright - only to realize that he had received a series of messages just moments ago. The number was one that he didn't recognize, but they were addressed specifically to him in the log-line.

"What the hell?"

FOR CAPTAIN GORDON

IN THIS VIDEO YOU'LL FIND EVIDENCE THAT PROVES BATMAN'S INNOCENCE

I TRUST YOU TO USE IT WELL

Gordon skeptically downloaded the attached video and pressed play. He assumed this was nothing more than a hoax, given that there was no video evidence of The Batman's existence on public record. The department had long assumed that whoever he was, Batman had an active EMP device hidden on his person to prevent cell phones from capturing his likeness, as eyewitness testimony to his appearances commonly featured a complaint of their devices malfunctioning as soon as they tried to take a photo or video of him in action. 

But as soon as the video started playing, Gordon's eyes began to widen. EMPs generally only had a minimum field of potency, and this video was captured using a security camera from faraway. It showed two men fighting to near death against eachother, using moves that were only clearly possible with significant training. The first was Batman, and it was the first time Gordon had gotten a decent - abiet faraway and grainy - look at him. The cape was the first detail that he hadn't expected, but it did explain why most of the witness testimony asserted that he had wings. And the mask covered less of the man's face than he expected, given the jawline was exposed.

What caught his attention more was the figure that Batman was fighting off. Armed to the teeth and firing some sort of wrist-mounted canon off as the vigilante sought to gain the advantage, this enemy combatant was wearing a uniform more in line with what an assassin who didn't want to be seen might wear. And the guns were being fired to try and kill, immediately indicating the intent. Gordon wasn't entirely sure, but he thought it was a definite possibility that the other man was the one who'd tried to assassinate Dent. 

"YORK! THOMAS! GET IN HERE! SOMEBODY GET NASHTON AND MONTOYA UP HERE, TOO! WE'VE GOT A LEAD!"

Combing over the messages again, Gordon was surprised to see a third message following the initial one and the video attachment. One that displayed a rather unique emblem that he hadn't seen before. The Captain narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was the first sign of exactly what he'd feared would come about The Batman's appearance in Gotham: imitators similarly looking to take the law into their own hands.

"Damn it..."
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