T H E B A T M A N
T H E B A T M A N
Boots make a heavy crunch on debris as Batman hits the ground. Fragments of glass and splintered wood litter the ground from where fire has burst from window frames. Thermal display through the cowl is useless - the entire building lights up in a brilliant orange, one solid block of overwhelming inferno; Batman can feel it already, stood outside while the blaze burns within, an oppressive heat pushing on his skin. The suit’s plating will protect him from burns, but clad in his armour he runs a serious risk of heatstroke. There’s no time to think of that, though - there’s innocent people, a mother and her children, trapped inside, and they will die if he fails.
The Batman cannot fail.The first and second floor have been consumed by the flames - only the third remains relatively unscathed, but every second the fire climbs higher as it feasts on the building. Batman pulls his grapnel from his belt and fires skyward, aiming for a third-floor window that still retains some structural integrity. The grapnel hook crashes through the glass pane and Batman heads a shriek from within - the mother. He reels the hook back and braces himself for when it latches, but the latch never comes; the fire has weakened the wood and the hook tears straight through, whipping back down the building into the launcher. A woman’s head looks through the shattered window pane and scans the street below; Batman can see the desperation in her face, hair matted to her forehead with sweat from both panic and the heat of the fire.
Batman swivels on the spot and launches his grapnel again, this time at the rooftop opposite the window. The grapnel finds purchase quickly, piercing into the brickwork, and the line pulls taut as the launcher rappels Batman upwards; he hits the wall with his legs curled and tight, muscles ready to spring - and spring they do, pushing him off the wall as he twists mid-air and opens his cape, unfurling gnarled black wings that carry him to the window before he pulls them in just as rapid and paths like a missile through what’s left of the glass.
There’s another shriek as Batman lands in the room and stands up, cloak draping around him and making something inhuman of the man beneath the armour. Low sobs ebb behind the roaring of the fire - the children in their mother’s arms, eyes streaking from the smoke and the fear - but then the cloak parts, and Batman kneels, extending a single hand and a kind eye, and suddenly a creature no more but a stalwart, noble man. A rescuer. A guardian.
The mother grabs her children’s hands fiercely as they reach out toward Batman, the younger brother no older than 8 at the most. They’ve both heard of him, stories on the playground, punching bad guys and flying across the city and driving around in his cool car; but the mother’s heard of him too, and her stories are far more violent than Saturday morning cartoons. Living in the Narrows, she has witnessed first hand what the man in front of them is capable of.
There’s little time to think of stories and rumours though, with the fire racing up towards their oh-so-temporary sanctuary, and Batman strides across the room and kicks open the door that had become too hot to touch with a single powerful blow. Looking down the hallway he sees the fire already advancing up the stairs, and knows that getting lower is not an option. So that only leaves one alternative. Batman turns back toward the mother, shrinking in her fear of this dark, violent crusader - but he crouches again, puts a hand on her shoulder, meets her gaze calmly with an open face, and says:
“What’s your name?”
Shakily, she replies: “M-Maria.”
Batman nods. “Maria, I need you to come with me.”
And she does.
They reach the roof quickly, and Maria takes big gulping breaths, drinking the cool night air. Her children are coughing and spluttering and still weeping, but every so often Batman looks at them and smiles or nods, and they smile or nod back, weakly, and quieten a little, partially soothed. Batman scans the rooftop, looking for an exit - and it presents itself quickly. On the south side of the building, across a small alleyway no more than a few feet wide, is a roach motel, and on the back wall of the motel is a fire escape. The metal landings and ladders stretch all the way to the ground, now some 4 storeys below. He points toward it.
“There. Jump the gap. Climb down. You’ll be safe.”
Maria can barely approach the edge.
“I’m afraid of heights.” She says, and Batman nods, putting that calming hand on her shoulder again.
“That’s okay. I’m afraid of bats.”
Maria nearly laughs, but a great cracking and groaning begins to emanate from below them, some eldritch yawning from deep within the building.
“The building’s coming down!” Batman shouts, his voice full of urgent authority. “We need to jump, now! Go! I’ll take the boys!”
Batman scoops up both children, one in each arm, and they cling to his armour tightly as he nods at Maria again before sprinting towards the edge of the rooftop. The boys bury their heads in his cape, screaming as the street opens up beneath them; but then they land, and the fire escape holds, and quickly Batman is ushering them down the ladders, instilling in the elder a sense of duty to lead them both to the ground.
Maria is still on the rooftop.
“I can’t do it!” She yells across the gap, and she is ready to crumple under the weight of her own terror. Her children are safe, and every maternal instinct is screaming that this is fine, this is enough, the important duty is done.
“I’ll catch you!” Batman yells back. Maria has maybe a few seconds to will herself into standing and making the leap before the building implodes in on itself. Slowly, shakily, she pulls herself to her feet, edging closer to the edge. Batman hangs from the metal, one arm extended out to catch her. Below them on the street, the two boys stood huddled together, watching their mother try and summon the bravery to leap. Eyes squeezed shut, Maria ran to the edge of the building and jumped...
...as the building completely collapsed, and the rooftop fell away beneath her. Eyes wide and aghast, a scream bellows from the depths of her throat as she begins to drop.
Batman launches himself from the fire escape immediately, body straight and tight, flying through the air toward Maria like a bullet; he catches up fast, scooping her up into his arms. The ground is coming up quick, quicker than he can do anything about; mid-air, he twists himself, putting himself between Maria and the concrete of the alleyway.
They land, hard, and Batman feels at least one rib crack under the weight of his armour and Maria on top of him, and as she rolls off, saved from the impact, his shoulder screams. But as he scrapes himself off the street, Maria, unharmed, embraces her two children, the family stained a faded grey from the smoke but otherwise...safe. Rescued.
Alive.Batman stands, clutching his ribcage with his free hand while his other arm dangles, shoulder dislocated. As the family embraces, quiet relieved sobs bubbling out from them, he silently walks away. By the time Maria looks back to thank him, he's already gone - but she has a new story to tell about the Batman, and the things he's capable of.
-
Garfield Lynns watched everything from the corner of the block, hidden in plain sight among the crowd that had gathered when the first signs of the blaze began making themselves known to the neighbourhood. He'd attempted to subtly sow seeds on the
why of the fire, but it was mostly posturing; it was inconceivable that Black Mask didn't already have something planned to claim ownership of the arson attack, and it was unlikely that Lynns' failure to secure the deaths of the family would go unpunished. He wondered if it would be wise to run, to flee the city.
Hmmm. No. He wouldn't make it past city limits, and Black Mask hated cowards even more than failure.
Whispers of Batman began spreading through the people, admiration for his heroism, which only caused the singed Lynns to pale more. Positive propoganda for the Bat was
definitely not what Sionis had hoped to achieve here tonight. As paramedics and firefighters finally arrived, Lynns slunk away from the crowd and hurried himself back to his room in a nearby hostel. As he went, he glanced upwards, and what he saw struck a new fear that had been ignited in him as swiftly as the fire he'd set: a spotlight, splashed across the sky, calling for the Bat.
Lynns knew judgement was on its way, inevitably metered out by Batman's or Black Mask's hand. Lynns wasn't sure which he dreaded more.
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