Bubblegum Crisis
Batman: The Animated Series
S M I L E
A tale of knights, past and present.
--------------------------------
Part 7: Memories
--------------------------------
(-|-)
Barbara
(-|-)
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
Till Eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"
(-|-)
The Waynes were considered royalty in Gotham, their
ancestors being part of the founding fathers of the city.
While there were no surviving members of that family today,
their majesty passed to the children of Richard 'Dick'
Grayson, inheritor of Bruce Wayne's legacy.
Theirs was the royal house of Gotham now, and tonight theirs
was a house in mourning.
The assembled Graysons sat in the waiting room of the
hospital, tired, saddened, and helpless. It was a scene
that broke Barbara's heart.
'Mary? Jim?' she said hesitantly.
The two siblings looked up suddenly, then rushed to their
mother's side.
'Mom!'
'Thank God! Where've you been?!'
The matriarch of the family held her two children tightly,
then took a deep breath and asked, 'Your father... how is
he?'
Jim's expression darkened, and a few more tears flowed from
Mary's already red eyes. It was Jim that finally broke the
silence.
'Mom, he's... he's hurt pretty bad, mom.'
Mary wiped the tears away from her eyes. 'They don't know
if he'll make it through the night.'
Barbara was too calm, and she knew it. Probably shock, she
reasoned out. Tomorrow morning she knew she'd be a wreck,
but for now she had to stay calm and strong.
'Where is he?' she asked.
'Room 412,' answered Mary.
(-|-)
This is what she saw, and this is what she would remember as
Dick Grayson's final moments.
The door to the room was watched by two policemen, nodding
their somber respects as she walked past.
Inside, the room was bright, white, clinical, sterile.
Sitting by the bedside was Carrie, their granddaughter, her
body trembling and eyes red as she wept. Her small hands
held on to Richard's, seeming so small and fragile in
comparason.
'Carrie?'
The young girl suddenly sat up. 'Gramma!' Without another
word, she rushed to Barbara and held her in a tight embrace,
crying even more.
Barbara held her gently, trying to soothe the girl's
sadness. 'There now, it's okay...'
'It's not okay! Because of me, they shot Grampa! It... it
should've been me!'
'Don't talk that way!' scolded Barbara. 'It's not your
fault, so don't you dare think like that.' She gave the
girl a kiss on the forehead and looked her straight in the
eye. 'Nobody blames you, sweetheart. Listen, Carrie, can
you give me some time...'
Carrie nodded. 'Time alone with grampa? Yeah, okay, but
can I come back later?'
'Of course,' said Barbara soothingly. 'Now go to your
parents, they're worried about you.'
Carrie sniffled, wiped away a few stray tears, then left
Barbara alone.
Barbara stood there for a while, looking at her husband in
silence, at a loss for words. She reached out and took his
hand in hers, then kissed his forehead.
'Dick, come back to me.'
And finally the tears began to fall.
(-1998-)
'Will you marry me?'
Barbara was at a loss for words.
Behind them, the ocean waves crashed against the cliffs by
Wayne Manor, roaring as they did. The skies above were a
perfect blue, and the breeze was warm and gentle. A picture
perfect day.
A perfect day, yes.
Kneeling at her feet, Dick Grayson held out a small box,
opened, containing an engagement ring. Her heart soared at
the sight.
'Dick... I... I don't know what to say.'
'Say ye-'
Suddenly, Tim Drake entered the scene. 'Hey guys! Bruce is
looking for ya and WHOA am I interrupting something okay
I'll tell'em you're busy seeya later!'
And as suddenly as he appeared, Tim left.
They tried not to laugh.
Really.
But they did anyway, Barbara doubling over with giggles
while Dick covered his face with a hand and snickered.
'Stop laughing, you!' said Dick, though he still had a hard
time keeping a straight face on. 'So much for a romantic
moment.'
'Yeah, the look on his face,' giggled Barbara.
After a few more moments of snickering and giggling, Dick
managed to regain a serious face. 'Well, Babs? Whadaya
say?'
'Yes! I'll marry you!' She tackled him to the ground and
smothered him with kisses. 'You've made me the happiest
girl in the world!'
(-2000-)
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. The rain poured
down on the warehouse roof in rattling taps, like a constant
drumming of fingernails. The smell of humid, stuffy air
mixed with the smell of blood and death.
Batman, his face twisted into a demonic rage, held the
Joker by the neck, his arms trembling. Behind him, in the
empty warehouse, Robin's beaten and lifeless body laid on
the floor. Batgirl knelt by his side, weeping, while
Nightwing stood behind her in shocked silence.
'Can't *ack* take a *wheeze* joke, Batsy?' gasped the Joker.
'You KILLED him!'
'Ye- *ACK* yes, that was the *ARG* punchline!' The Joker's
wild eyes locked onto his 'What'cha gonna do, Batsy, kill
me? HahahahahaACK!'
'STOP LAUGHING!' roared Batman, lifting the Joker off the
ground by his neck.
And then he began to squeeze.
Batgirl put a hand on Batman's shoulder. 'Batman, don't.'
The Dark Knight ignored him, his arms trembling as they held
the madman high.
'Maybe he deserves it, but let the courts decide,' said
Batgirl.
'He killed Robin,' growled Batman. 'He's a cold blooded
killer.'
'But you're not.'
Batman narrowed his eyes, then slammed a fist into the
Joker's jaw, knocking him out. With disgust, he threw him
to the ground.
'No, I'm not.'
(-2002-)
The House of Wayne was now an empty, desolate place. Her
halls grew dusty and were left in darkness, sinking towards
a morbid sort of coldness.
Alfred would have never let things turn this way, but then
Alfred was no longer there. Unlike so many in their lives,
he passed away peacefully in his sleep.
With Dick having moved into his own house with Barbara,
Bruce was now alone in the giant manor.
They found him in the study, staring grimly out of the
window. He'd been doing that a lot olately.
With cities and nations cracking down hard on 'super
criminals' as well as the vigilantes that fought them, his
mood became even grimmer.
The world had moved on, for better or worse.
And despite it all, he still haunted the night.
Though these days, it had been a very lonely war indeed.
The news they were about to give him would only worsen the
situation.
'Bruce?' asked Dick hesitantly.
Bruce nodded to acknowledge their presence, but otherwise
remained staring at the dark skies outside.
'How are the twins?' he asked.
'They're doing great,' said Barbara. 'You know, they took
their first steps last week, both of them. You... you
really oughta visit some time, they could use a
grandfather.'
Bruce smiled at that, though it was tainted by his
perenially grim nature.
'Bruce,' said Dick, 'with the twins growing up and all...
well...'
'We're... we're hanging up the masks,' said Barbara. 'The
kids need us.'
Bruce nodded. 'I understand.'
Dick fidgeted, until Barbara threw a swift elbow his way.
'Um, Bruce? There's something else.'
'Go on,' replied Bruce.
'We're... we're kinda worried about you, Bruce,' said Dick.
'Last week a street punk got you with a knife in the side.
The week before that, you were shot three times.'
'What we do isn't safe,' replied Bruce firmly. 'You know
that.'
'Yes I do, Bruce, but you never got hit this much before,
and those guys were just street trash,' said Dick. 'Look,
ever since Tim died, you've been reckless. If you keep this
up, you're gonna get yourself killed!'
There was a tense moment of silence.
'Bruce?' asked Barbara.
The overcast skies swirled turbulently. In the distance,
thunder rumbled and lightning flickered.
High over Gotham's heart, the Batsignal beckoned.
'I'll be visiting the twins next week.'
And then he left.
(-2012-)
Deep underneath the Batcave, the constant whirring of
machines, electrodes to the heart, tubes filled with blood
pumping through his veins. It was always cold in the
Batcave, but on this night it seemed even colder to Barbara.
'Oh God,' whispered Dick. Barbara was by his side, her arms
around him and holding him tight. It didn't help much.
A team of doctors monitored the equipment, strangers to the
Batcave. Their very presence made Dick feel violated and
exposed, but they'd assured him that they all owed a debt to
Bruce Wayne, and that they would not betray his trust.
'How... how is he?' asked Dick.
The doctor narrowed his lips a moment, thinking of the words
to say.
'The man got caught in the heart of an explosion, then fell
800 feet into the ocean without a parachute,' said the
doctor. 'It's a miracle he's alive at all, or even in one
piece.'
The doctor thumbed through a nearby folder. 'Most of the
bones in his body are broken, there's internal bleeding, but
miraculously the damage to his head isn't as bad as we
feared it'd be.'
'So he's gonna make it?' asked Barbara hopefully.
'If it was anyone else, I'd say no,' said the doctor. 'But
I've seen Bruce come back from grave injuries before.
There's reason to hope.'
(-2014-)
Mary stared at the security camera display, wondering just
who had rung the doorbell. Whoever he was, he was old, and
in a tangle of servos that served as an exoskeleton of some
sort.
And as she stared at the old man's face, she suddenly
recognized who he was.
'Mom! Mom!'
'What is it, honey?' asked Barbara.
'It's grampa! He's back!'
Barbara dropped her laundry basket in shock, and could
barely get a word out before Mary raced towards the front
door and opened it. Barbara was barely able to keep up with
her.
'Grampa!'
Bruce smirked. 'Hm, you still remember me. That's nice.
Nice to see you too, Barbara,' he said to the still-gaping
woman. 'Where's Dick?'
'H-he's at work right now. Why don't you come in and wait
for him?'
'I'd be delighted to,' he replied.
Barbara asked her daughter, 'Honey, go make a cup of coffee
for your grandfather, okay?' She waited until Mary left,
then whispered to Bruce, 'You've been in a coma two years
and suddenly you show up at our front door. What's going
on? And what the hell are you wearing?'
'To answer your questions, I woke up last week, and this
thing is an exoskeleton rigged up by Dr. Rossum. You do
remember Rossum, right?'
Barbara narrowed her eyes. 'Yeah, his creations nearly took
over the city.'
'Well, he works for me now,' said Bruce with a dismissive
air about him, as if that fact alone settled any concerns.
'Rossum, and a few trusted associates of his.'
'Bruce, what are you up to?'
Bruce slowly eased himself down on the living room sofa,
sighing as he did. Metallic joints and motors groaned
and clicked. 'The war,' said Bruce, his voice and
expression somber. 'Always the war.'
'Bruce-'
'Here's your coffee, grampa,' said Mary. 'You always liked
it black, no sugar, right?'
'Thank you, dear.'
Mary sat down on the sofa across from Bruce, smiling. 'So
grampa Bruce, where've ya been? Mom said you went on a long
vacation, but she didn't know where.'
'Me?' asked Bruce. 'You don't want to hear where I've been.
Boring stuff.'
'Why are you wearing that... that thing?'
'Had a skiiing accident.'
(-|-)
'Curran project?' asked Dick, his words echoing in the
darkness of the long neglected batcave.
'Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty,' said Bruce.
'I know who said it,' snapped Dick. 'What I want to know is
what you're up to.'
Bruce took a seat at the command chair of the computer,
turning the chair towards the screen and away from Dick and
Barbara. 'The world is changing,' said Bruce. 'Governments
are becoming more totalitarian, criminals are entwining
themselves within governments, and the good people are fewer
and fewer. This is a concern of mine.'
The monitors came to life, showing real-time displays of
major cities around the world. Metropolis, Gotham, Mexico
City, London, Berlin, Bangladesh, Moscow, Hong Kong, Tokyo,
and a dozen others.
'There are no heroes left. There is no hope left,' said
Bruce solemnly. 'Look at the world we live in. Do you want
your children living in it?'
(-2019-)
Barbara held the newborn in her arms delicately, swaying
gently back and forth. Mary smiled at her from the hospital
bed, still feeling tired from the miracle of birth.
'She's so beautiful,' said Barbara. 'Have you given her a
name yet?'
'Carrie,' said Mary. 'Terry & I agreed on Carrie.'
Barbara held a tiny hand in hers. So fragile, so tiny, so
soft, so precious.
'A beautiful name,' said Barbara softly. 'A beautiful
child.'
'Where's dad?' asked Mary.
'He's stuck in a meeting,' said Barbara, accenting the word
'meeting' in a very negative way. 'Your father's caught up
in his work these days, running Wayne enterprises now that
Bruce has passed away.'
Just as she spoke the words, Dick zoomed into the room,
surprisingly fast for a man his age. He smoothened his
silver hair and grinned rogueishly.
'I heard something about a granddaughter?' he asked
innocently.
(-2030-)
'Happy anniversary, honey.'
They stood where they had been thirty years before, with
Dick once again kneeling before his lady love on the cliff's
edge as the waves crashed against the cliffs below them and
the sun began its decent into the horizon. In one hand he
held a bottle of champagne, and in the other arm two dozen
roses and a pair of glasses.
'Wanna walk on the beach?' he asked her.
'Why Mr. Grayson, I'd love to.'
He filled both glasses, presented the roses to her, then
handed her the glass. He wrapped an arm around her, then
they slowly walked along the cliff's edge.
'What's this?' asked Barbara teasingly. 'Just some flowers,
champagne, and a walk on the beach? Surely Gotham's leading
philanthropist has something more in mind.'
'Actually, a big family get-together on the yacht later
tonight, but I just wanted to spend a moment alone with my
woman,' he said with a roguish wink.
Barbara laughed. 'You sly devil.'
They walked in comfortable silence, admiring the beauty of
the sunset and the waves of the ocean. Down below, they saw
the Grayson yacht sailing by. Their children and
grandchildren waved from its deck, and they waved back.
Barbara finally took a sip of her champagne. It was light,
with a hint of fruitiness. Not too overwhelming, but not to
strong either, with just enough of a sharpness to it.
'Mm, good stuff. Where'd you find it?'
'Bruce's stash,' said Dick. 'Shame to let it go to waste.'
The mention of their old mentor brought a somber mood down
on the two, and they walked in silence for a while.
'Hey, Dick,' asked Barbara hesitantly. 'Lemme ask you...'
'Ask and I shall obey.'
'Do you... do you have any regrets?' she asked.
'Nope,' he said quickly.
'None at all?' asked Barbara.
'Well, there is one.' Dick looked solemnly at Wayne Manor, a
house that now stood empty and mostly unused. 'there's some
times... there's just some times when I feel the urge to go
back to it.'
'I feel the same way too,' said Barbara.
They stayed there, staring at the manor, contemplating what
might have been.
'Heh, imagine us in spandex now,' laughed Dick.
'Oh, we'd look awful!' said Barbara, smirking.
'Thank goodness we're not in it anymore, hm?'
'Yeah, thank goodness.'
Slowly, they made their way down a gentle slope next to the
cliff's wall. She would always remember the smell of the
ocean, its humid and salty tint, the feel of the cool
breeze on her face, and the warmth of her husband's arm
around her.
Later that night, there would be singing and dancing and
remembering thirty years of a very good life.
She wished it would last forever.
(-2034-)
'B... Barbara...'
'Dick!' Jolted out of her reverie, Barbara wiped the tears
from her eyes and held his hand even tighter.
He could barely open his eyes, shuddering slightly and
gasping for air in long, ragged breaths. The life support
machinery around them began working harder, and the ECG
meter's constant beeping slowed further and further...
'No... Dick... NURSE! DOCTOR! SOMEONE! HELP!'
...and then the beep became a drone, a cry became a scream,
and Ricard Grayson passed into that good night.
(-|-)
Interlude: Damage Control
(-|-)
She looked in her rear view mirror at the city she left
behind, hoping that Barbara's husband would be okay.
The poor woman, she found out about her husband in the worst
way: the monitors of the Batcave computer tuned in on it
automatically, without warning, filling the towering
displays with news of her husband's possible demise.
Linna drove her to the hospital immediately, no questions
asked. No questions needed to be asked.
She didn't know Barbara's family, didn't really feel the
right to worry, but she did.
One worry to add to the large pile already ahead of her.
What would Priss' mental state be when she woke up? Would
she remember all the things she'd done as Harlequin? The
mind-control implant was bad enough, but how badly would she
take the news that she was now part machine?
Priss' hatred of all things cybernetic was well known. It
ran far, deep, and wide in her soul, and Linna feared she'd
be swallowed whole by it.
Good thing Nene and Mackie were there to watch over her.
She was confident they'd be able to handle it.
Somewhat confident.
And then there was the problem with Batman.
And Sylia.
That... that was complicated.
(: ;)
Priss
(: ;)
tried to save a place from the cuts and the scratches
tried to overcome the complications and the catches
nothing ever grows and the sun doesn't shine all day
tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away
tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away
- Nine Inch Nails, "Into the Void"
(: ;)
Flickers of memory.
Moments in time.
Priss Asigiri's mind spun helplessly through memories, not
wanting to see, not wanting to look.
But you can't close your eyes in your dreams.
(: ;)
"Haaar-ley! Harley-girl! Rise and shine!"
Harley? Who was Harley?
Slowly, she opened her eyes, and that face, that stupid
grinning face was inches away from hers. She wanted to
punch it.
"Howya doing, slugger?" he asked.
"Hey, Mister J," she said weakly.
Hey, who's voice was that? Who the fuck said that? She
sure as hell didn't, but that sounded like her voice, but it
couldn't be her voice because that sure as hell wasn't her.
"You ready to go have some fun, Harley?" asked the Joker.
"Any time yer ready!" chirped Harley.
WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON?! Priss strugged to do
something, anything, but she was reduced to a pair of eyes,
a passenger in someone else's life.
The Joker clapped his hands, then rubbed them together and
giggled. "Well then, Harley, let's start you off with
something small, just to make sure you're totally in the
right mindset for it. They walked through an abandoned
warehouse, through alleyways, and then stopped.
"Ah," said the Joker, peeping around the corner. "Our first
contestant now." He pulled a gun from his jacket and tossed
it to her. "Harley-girl, there's an absolutely wretched
fellow around the corner. Go make him smile."
Harley caught the gun easily, twirled it a few times, then
nodded happily. "Okay, Mister J!"
And then she strolled into the alley, where a homeless
vagrant crouched. He stared straight ahead, his eyes
glazed, covered with filth and a ragged blanket.
"Hey mister!"
He looked up at her, his eyes still empty and unfocused.
Priss knew what came next, her mind rebelling desperately.
But she was just a passenger.
And she watched, helplessly, as Harley shot him six times in
the mouth, leaving the man with a bloody, ragged, bleeding
grin, his brains slowly dripping down from the gaping hole
in back of his head.
And Priss screamed in rage, agony, and terror, heard by
none.
Spin that wheel, Vanna.
Next memory.
(: ;)
"I know, I know, these things usually end with a big,
dramatic fight and lots of explosions," the Joker said in a
mock-sympathetic tone. "Well, I must admit I've killed the
mood for a big knock-down drag-out fight. I am, after all,
not usually this _chatty_."
No oh god no stop please stop no don't no please
The Joker sighed and put a hand to his forehead, all his
motions exaggerated in a bizzare, comical way. "But I've
got places to go and people to see at the moment. I simply
MUST run back to Gotham now, and I've no time to play this
game to its proper end. Well... tell you what, since you've
been such good sports, I'll still give you the big bangs.
HAR-LEEEEY!!!"
NO STOP STOP STOP DON'T
Harley lifted the massive energy cannon-
PLEASE GOD NO
-took aim-
-and fired.
NENE!
There was a flash of white, a loud boom, then she saw the
red of Nene's armor shatter like glass. The red saber
was slammed through the ship's wall and flew out to the sea
far below.
And then she took aim at Linna, and she saw the stunned look
in Linna's eyes as she realized who they'd been betrayed by.
LINNA! HELP ME!
No help.
Just death.
Who's our next contestant, Bob?
(: ;)
"I'm going to go get some peanuts," said the Joker. "Go get
us that plane, hm?"
"Right away, Mister J!"
Harley strolled into the plane. A security guard took two
steps up towards her.
She shot him.
NO!
Another security guard heard the gunshot and raised his head
to see what was going on.
She shot him before he could blink.
STOP!
And then she hopped aboard the plane. One of the crew
looked at her, puzzled. He was gunned down before he could
say a word.
please someone stop me
And then she shot the pilot.
please
And then she shot the co-pilot.
i don't want to see anymore stop stop make it stop
Whistling merrily, she tossed their bodies out of the plane.
i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry oh god forgive me
"Haaaaar-leeey! Got the plane ready?"
"Ready'n waiting, Mister J!"
"Good! Let's go home!"
Round and round she goes, where she'll land, nobody knows...
Are we having fun yet?
(: ;)
An elderly woman opened the door. As her eyes met the
Joker's, she turned pale and her eyes widened.
'Y-you...'
'Knock knock!' chirped the Joker.
He lunged forward, electric buzzer in hand, and grabbed her
arm. She screamed, then fell unconscious in his arms.
'Well, Harl, I guess she still remembers me,' muttered the
Joker.
'Let go of her!'
The two looked up, and saw a little girl charge at them.
Behind her, an elderly man reached out for the girl.
The Joker shot her a 'take care of this' look.
oh god not the girl not the girl no no no
Harley nodded and raised the gun.
NO!!!!
Harley's arm trembled, if only for a split second.
The old man overtook the girl, pulling her down to the
ground. As they fell, Harley scowled and squeezed off five
shots. Priss could see the bullets tear into the old man's
back, sending blood flying in small sprays.
And inside, Priss screamed once more at yet another dead
life on her hands.
'An ordinary gun,' said the Joker, in mock disgust. 'How
mundane, and messy too. Look at all that blood. No boxing
glove gun?'
'Sorry Mista J. Didn't have time ta get one.'
'C'mon Harley girl, let's go.'
The Joker stalked away into the night, carrying the woman on
his shoulder. Harley followed, then hesitated at the sound
of the little girl screaming.
She turned around, just for a moment.
She saw the little girl, covered in the blood of her
grandfather, kneeling over the old man's body.
'Grampa! Get up, Grampa! Grampaaaaa!'
Harley giggled.
it's not funny it's not GODDAMN FUNNY! STOP LAUGHING!
And then the girl stared right into her eyes with a burning
gaze, wiping away the tears. Helplessness, anger, rage, and
tragedy burned in those eyes.
oh god i'm sorry i'm so sorry
Hey, what's the matter? Don't get the joke yet?
(: ;)
SHUT UP, GODDAMN YOU!
"Aw, c'mon, admit it! You liked it!"
Who are you?!
The darkness resolved itself into bright glaring light,
and that blinding light eventually faded, revealing an empty
street and a streetlamp. A gentle rain was beginning to
fall, and darkness swallowed the entire world beyond that
one streetlamp and its oasis of light.
Priss Asigiri stepped into the light, looking around wildly.
her whole boddy shuddered in a nervous wreck, and her eyes
were bloodshot and filled with tears.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!"
A pale faced woman in a jester's outfit skipped into the
light, giggling as she did. "Heya, Priss!" she said.
"You!" yelled Priss in outrage. "Gimmie a reason why I
shouldn't kill you RIGHT NOW?!"
"'Cause you're me, an' I'm you," said Harlequin smugly.
"C'mon, admit it, you always wanted ta go out there and run
WILD! Screw authority! To hell with anyone that got in yer
way! And if they don't like it? BLAM!"
"No! Not like this! I never wanted it like this!" She
dropped to her knees, tears forming on the edges of her
eyes.
"Awww," cooed Harley. "Not takin' it too well, are ya?
You've just gotta learn to loosen up!"
"No... no..."
"Well, you'll have lotsa time ta feel better about it,
'cause you'n me, we're gonna be together for a looong
while."
"NO!"
Priss sprang up and tackled Harley, strangling her with both
hands.
"DIE! DIE! DIE!" she roared, slamming Harley's head into
the pavement again and again, her anger fueled even more
when Harley began laughing. "IT'S NOT FUNNY, DAMN YOU!
IT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY!"
When Harley at last went limp in her hands, Priss dropped
her to the ground, sat down next to her, then covered her
hands with her face and sobbed.
The rain began to pour in earnest now, chilling her to the
bone. Priss wiped the tears and rain from her eyes and
looked one more time at Harley. The rain slowly washed the
white makeup away.
Priss stared... at her own face.
With a trembling hand, she reached out to the face, then
realized there was something wrong with her hand. There was
a shiny bit of chrome on her skin. With her other hand,
she rubbed at the spot.
A large chunk of flesh fell off, revealing a metal framework
and a bundle of wires.
"No... NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
:)
Interlude: Damage Control II
:)
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
Nene wrapped her arms around Priss, fearing she'd fall off
the bed. "Priss! Wake up! Priss!"
Priss continued screaming, thrashing violently around, then
finally opened her eyes. She sat still, rigid, eyes wide, a
look of utter confusion on her face.
"Priss?" said Nene softly.
She turned slowly to Nene, then blinked. Her eyes widened
in shock.
"Ne... Nene?"
"Priss?"
Suddenly, Priss grabbed Nene in a tight embrace and began
sobbing uncontrollably on her shoulder.
"Shh, everything's okay," said Nene, trying to sound as
soothing as she could despite the fact that Priss' hug was
really killing her broken arm and cracked ribs. She'd never
seen Priss so miserable in her life, and for her friend's
sake, she wasn't going to complain about the pain.
"Oh God... Nene... I thought you were dead... I thought you
were dead... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
"I'm okay," said Nene, gritting her teeth. The ribs and arm
were _really_ beginning to hurt. "Now j-just lie down and
rest, okay? You've been through a lot."
Reluctantly, Priss let go of Nene and laid back down on the
bed. She covered herself entirely with the blanket, and
began crying again.
Nene sighed. "Oh Priss..."
:)
Mackie stared at the chair, and the computers assembled
around it curiously. It was almost a duplicate of the one
Sylia used at home, except with some older parts to it.
He'd explained it to the others with great reluctance. It
was, on one hand, a device that Sylia was always very
secretive with. But on the other hand, with the situation
as it was, he couldn't afford to keep it a secret.
The one back home always fascinated him, but Sylia had made
it extremely clear that messing with it in any way
whatsoever would lead to grave consequences for him. It was
off limits.
But this one wasn't.
He examined the machinery carefully, then found what he was
looking for. With a little effort, he opened the panel that
he knew would store the data storage unit.
As it fell off, he stared inside and blinked.
"Oh... oh boy."
This would explain a few things, he thought to himself.
This would definitely explain a few things.
There wasn't one data storage unit inside.
There were over a dozen.
Enough to store a lifetime.
(-|-)
Sylia/Bruce
(-|-)
What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
- Shakespeare, "The Tempest"
(-|-)
He stared out of the study window, a man out of place and
time, looking upon the forest of towers that Gotham had
become.
Sleek metal towers replaced grey brick, but the heart of
Gotham was still as crime-ridden as ever. It made his soul
ill to see that all his hard work had changed nothing.
Perhaps Gotham was damned after all.
A rustle of movement behind him gave away the presence of
someone else in the room.
"Hello, Stingray," he said casually,
"Hello, Wayne," replied Sylia cooly.
She joined him, staring out of the study's large window.
"You know, I remember where I've seen you before now."
"Oh?" asked Bruce.
Sylia nodded. "The last time I saw you, it was at Dr.
Raven's garage. I remember the words you said." She looked
far into the distance, her voice with a faraway quality to
it. "The hurt gets better, but it never goes away."
Bruce nodded. "No, it never really does."
"The first time I saw you," said Sylia, "it was at my
father's funeral. You were in a wheelchair, far in the
back, and stayed there a bit longer than the others."
"Your father was a good man," said Bruce. "I warned him
that Genom might turn against him, but he didn't listen."
Sylia nodded. "He always was too wrapped up in his work to
notice the things going on around him."
In silence, they stood together and looked upon the city
that was once his.
"It's been a long road," said Bruce.
"Yes," said Sylia. "It has."
(-|-)
The gun.
I remember the man.
Smiling.
Grinning.
Taking aim with his
GUN
The roar of gunpowder.
The bullet
flying
through
the
air
And my life was changed forever.
(-|-)
Childhood?
I had no childhood.
Mine was a life spent in training for the day I would avenge
the crime done that night. No friends, no family, I was all
alone.
But then again, would any of them have understood? Would
they have helped?
No.
A lifetime I spent in preperation, seeking experts of
various skills around the world.
I learned Judo, Jujitsu, Tai Kwan Do, Muy Thai, Wu Shu,
Shaolin, Ninjitsu, endless other martial arts.
I studied the latest in technology, learned deductive
reasoning, gained social skills, found contacts in the
underworld, studying under great men and shady criminals.
And then I returned home.
(-|-)
Sylia smirked. "It all sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
"It certainly does," agreed Bruce.
(-|-)
That first night I was nervous with anticipation.
My skills were perfect. The enemy fell at my hands, the
night's victory was mine to claim, but there was something
missing.
(-|-)
"How did you come up with the Batman identity?" asked Sylia.
"Actually, you experienced it yourself," said Bruce.
"Do you remember the bats and the cave they came from?"
Sylia nodded.
"I stood on that same spot," said Bruce. "And the same
thing happened. The bats swarmed out, all around me, and
gave me my inspiration."
"Let me guess," said Sylia. "because criminals are a
cowardly and susperstitious lot."
"You read the same book," said Bruce.
"Mm-hm."
(-|-)
It was a lonely war at first, but soon I had a team around
me. I trained them personally, drilled them hard, and felt
pride in their growth.
And for a while, I actually believed that we could win this
war.
(-|-)
"It hurt, the day I realized that it couldn't be won," said
Bruce.
"I eventually came to terms with it though," said Sylia.
"I did my best, and that would have to be enough."
"And I gave my best," said Bruce. "So long, I gave my best.
Night after night, I fought the war with everything I had.
It took decades, but it finally caught up with me, leaving
me a broken man."
"Broken in body, but not in spirit," said Sylia.
"Yes, true," agreed Bruce.
"Your war, though, it's not the same as mine," said Sylia.
"You think so?" asked Bruce.
"Your war was doomed to be endless, waged against an enemy
with no name, no leader, and an endless force of soldiers.
You fought the endless war."
"And what exactly are you fighting?" asked Bruce.
Sylia's fist clenched and her eyes narrowed. "The company
that took my father away from me, stole his legacy, and
twisted his vision into an urban nightmare."
"Is that a war you thought you could win?" asked Bruce.
"Once upon a time I did," said Sylia. "Now... I have my
doubts. Genom's so large, and their grip touches the entire
world. Even if I won this war, I might shatter the world in
the process."
Bruce nodded. "Different wars, if you view things that way.
But it can also be said that we're both fighting to avenge
our fathers."
"Yes, I suppose we are," said Sylia. "Though in our wars, I
think, we diverge from each other."
"Yes, I guess we do," said Bruce. "You never aspired to do
anything more than halt the damage done by Genom. I'm
disappointed."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Sylia.
"And you have blood on your hands," said Bruce.
(-|-)
His hand on my neck.
Can't breathe.
Fading... everything turning black...
It can't end this way.
With the last of my strength, I extended the blade on my arm
and stabbed forward. Mason's face froze in shock, his
grip on my neck went slack, and finally he fell to the
floor.
I stood above him, watching the blood flow into a puddle
around his body.
I saw my reflection in crimson.
Blood on my hands.
I had no choice. It was either me or him, and the choice
I'd make every time was obvious.
No turning back now.
And no regrets.
(-|-)
"You didn't have to kill him," said Bruce.
"It was a matter of survival," replied Sylia. "If you had
the man who shot your parents in your reach, would you
really let him live?"
Bruce turned away, his expression darkening.
"Well?" asked Sylia.
"Yes," he said at last. "I would."
"That's you, not me. Don't hold me up to your standards.
It's a different world out there, and my enemies don't play
games. They're out to kill."
Bruce remined silent, his face grim.
"You were always this hard to please," grumbled Sylia. "I'm
sorry if I don't meet your standards, but I'm doing this my
way."
Bruce declined to comment.
Sylia's expression softened. "I'm sorry, but times change."
Bruce nodded and walked away, sinking into the chair by the
fireplace. It seemed to Sylia as if suddenly all of the 74
years of his life caught up to him once more, reducing a
proud, strong man, to a tired, weary shell.
"Times change," agreed Bruce. "I tried to prepare for it,
though. Maybe it was in desperation, or maybe it was
vanity, but I tried."
"The Curran Project," said Sylia.
Bruce nodded. "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty."
"As said by Thomas Curran," replied Sylia. "I should have
known."
"The fight with the Joker left me crippled," said Bruce.
"At first, I was hoping to take up the mantle once again.
The technology, in theory, was out there. I recruited Dr.
Carl Rossum."
"One of the founding fathers of robotics," said Sylia.
"Yes, a man with good intentions, though his creations often
went amuck."
"Not unlike boomers these days," said Sylia.
"Yes, I guess it is," agreed Bruce. "Still, Rossum was a
good man, and we really did try."
"A metal framework," said Sylia. "Like the one I saw you
wear before."
"Yes, that and the new Batman armor. Rossum didn't design
the armor alone, though. He had the help of two of his
colleagues, one of whom was a trusted friend of his, the
other a promising assistant he'd met during his days
teaching classes in Gotham University."
"Dr. Raven and my father," said Sylia.
"Yes, Katsuhito Stingray. Where Rossum's ideas ended, his
began. And his advances in hardsuit design gave me hope
that I'd be able... once more." He closed his eyes, and his
fist clenched.
"Your injuries were too severe," said Sylia.
"I could come back, yes," said Bruce. "But I'd be reduced
to an armored juggernaut, and Batman was supposed to be more
than that. And, I'm loathe to admit, the pain was sometimes
unbearable."
"Every man has their limits," said Sylia. "Even you."
"And for the first time, I really had to admit it was over.
At least... for me it was over. But I also realized that
the world was becoming a more ruthless place, persecuting
their heroes as badly as their villians. The so-called
super hero was becoming an endangered species."
"I thought you didn't like most of them."
"Heh, the spandex brigade, I found most of their methods
silly and unnecessary. And as the world was proving, a more
subtle way was going to be needed. My way."
"So you began looking for heirs, not just in Gotham, but
around the world."
"Yes. The large cities on earth are always magnets for the
most powerful of criminal elements, so I began my search in
the more important cities in the world. Moscow, London,
New York, Tokyo..."
Sylia nodded. "But there was no guarantee your successors
would learn all that you'd want them to learn, to be what
you wanted them to be."
"And once again, your father came to my aid. He was
developing a revolutionary new method of data storage, one
that could actually record knowledge from the human brain.
It was perfect. The knowledge I'd learned came from
masters who had very few disciples, or sometimes none at
all. If Stingray's device worked as I hoped, their
knowledge would be preserved."
"Good intentions," said Sylia.
"The road to hell," quipped Bruce. "Perhaps that's a bit
strong." He shook his head, pausing a moment, then
continued. "I stored my lifetime on the data units,
everything I've experienced, all my 73 years." His gaze
fell upon the portrait of his parents hanging over the
fireplace and he frowned. "Was it out of vanity? Sometimes
I question myself on that, though I'd like to think that I
was capturing the wisdom of all those years. Wisdom is
something that usually can't be taught."
"My father's system had a few side effects, though," said
Sylia. "The day I downloaded the data unit of his
memories, I actually thought I was him for a few hours."
"Yes, Dr. Raven told me about it. I feared what would
happen when someone would try to download an entire lifetime
of memories." Bruce closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of
his nose as he did. "What your father left you was only a
fraction of his life. If there was more, serious mental
damage was a possibility. I was not willing to accept that
risk. So the plan was once more tossed in disarray. I'd
just have to lend my support to whoever was worthy and
pray."
"So why did Dick hand me the key to the vault?" asked Sylia.
"If anyone would know how to properly use the data units, we
thought it'd be you," said Bruce, slight sarcasm creeping
into his voice. "Apparently, I was mistaken, otherwise we
wouldn't be in this dilema."
"Foolish mistake on my part," admitted Sylia. "The design
of the chair at home only allows for one data unit at a
time. I didn't even bother to check yours. Very
uncharacteristic of me."
Bruce sighed. "Well, it's too late now."
"You didn't want to choose me," said Sylia.
"No, I didn't," said Bruce. "I hadn't gotten around to
selecting anyone yet, but your father's dying wishes forced
the issue. Call me chauvenistic, but I didn't want to put
the burdon on a little girl."
"You didn't get around to selecting any heirs? Not even for
Gotham?" asked Sylia. "You had an ideal set of candidates
within reach already."
"No!" said Bruce, surprising Sylia with his anger. "Dick
and Barbara... they had a family now. I wasn't willing to
put that at risk. Dick, Barbara, their children, they
deserve better."
"So I'm the only heir?" asked Sylia.
"No, there were a few others," said Bruce. "I arranged
financial support for you all, as well as laying down some
connections. But... I'm afraid I've lost track of my heirs.
You... you're the only one here."
The skies over Gotham rumbled, the clouds dark and
threatening to deliver a torrent of rain.
"It's almost time again," said Sylia.
"I'm not ready to give up," said Bruce.
Sylia shook her head. "I can handle the Joker."
"You've never faced anyone like him before," countered
Bruce. "And you don't know Gotham, not like I do. I have
the experience and the knowledge."
"Your time is over," said Sylia. "You have to realize
this."
"No, it's not," said Bruce. "The Joker is MINE!"
Sylia softened, putting a hand on Bruce's shoulder.
"Bruce," she said sadly, "you're dead."
(-|-)
The Batman
(-|-)
Who are you?
who am I?
Wind in wings
two angels falling
- Siouxie & The Banshees, "Face to Face"
(-|-)
At last Linna returned to Wayne Manor, driving slowly since
the pouring rain nearly blinded her even with the wipers
going as fast as they could.
From the second floor of the manor she could see a lit
window, and within it the silhouette of a solitary figure
staring out into the night.
Creepy, she thought.
Quickly, Linna ran into the house and headed straight for
the Batcave.
She saw Nene first, staying by Priss' bedside and looking
worried.
"How is she?" asked Linna.
"Priss remembers what she did as Harley," said Nene. She
looked down at Priss' sleeping form and shook her head. "She
remembers the people she killed. This is gonna be worse
than when Sylvie died, a lot worse."
"We'll just have to be there for her," said Linna. "Where's
Mackie?"
"He's... er... somewhere out there, exploring around the
caves," said Nene.
"And Sylia?"
Nene frowned. "Sylia... she went upstairs."
"How is she?"
"Still... still weird," said Nene.
"Guess I'd better go talk to her."
"Good luck," said Nene.
Linna nodded, then hesitated when the Batcomputer screens
suddenly came to life. A sole figure sat in the control
chair, staring at the dozens of screens. Slowly, Linna
walked to the figure, hesitation marking every step she
took.
The screens all were tuned to different channels, but slowly
they all changed to one, a news report.
//'-Grayson has passed away at the age of 60, after being
shot five times by a criminal duo impersonating Harlequin
and the Joker. Grayson was shot at his home three hours
ago, and passed away in Gotham Central Hospital.'//
Linna shook her head sadly. Poor Barabara...
The silhouetted figure slammed its fist on the control
panel. Linna flinched, and all of the Batcomputer and all
the screens went dark
"Dick... no..."
"S-Sylia?" asked Linna. "What..."
From the darkness and shadows, the figure of Sylia Stingray
emerged, her expression grim.
"Sylia?"
"I've hooked up your hardsuit to some power cables in the
chamber with the rest of the batsuits. It should be fully
charged now. Go suit up."
"But Sylia-"
She locked eyes with Linna, and her eyes burned with a
fury and anger.
"I told you to suit up. The Joker's out there, and we're
going to stop him."
"Syl-"
"STOP CALLING ME SYLIA! I'M NOT SYLIA!" she snapped. Her
yell echoed loudly across the many chambers of the cave.
Somewhere in the cave, Mackie cocked his head at the sound
of it. From her vantage point a few feet away, Nene's eyes
widened in shock.
What was once Sylia Stingray melted back into the shadows,
but her last words and their echoes stayed behind.
"I... am... Batman."
(-|-)
(- End Part 7-)
(-|-)