Honest Discussion
Working out early in the morning was more difficult than expected, and it went a long way in communicating that he was older. What had started as a supposition based on his general dialogue became a certainty, and he felt like he had little to no experience exercising. It's not just the memory loss. I was never the kind of guy who hit the gym every morning, but if I want to keep up with these bad guys, I'm going to have to.
He really did feel like he used to go toe-to-toe with literal monsters; it felt familiar, but how could he have kept up with them if he never went through physical training? Could his enemies all have been much weaker? Could he have simply trained by fighting? I might have had some technological advantage. I'm sure there's some equipment around here that would give me an advantage, but there's also probably a reason why Bruce wouldn't use it all the time.
After working out, he had gone down to the cave to work on his changes to the costume, which he hoped would function as intended, but there was no way to know until he went out and tested it, and he would need to go after some criminals to have an excuse to try out the new-ish suit. I should really be trying to get ahead of my problems. It seems like Batman had a good practice going of working against the long-term problems rather than flying off the handle whenever something happened.
"Young Master?" Alfred asked about midday, when he was finished with his projects. "Is your project quite finished?"
"Yeah. I need to figure out what Nightwing- he's Grayson, right?" The butler nodded. "I need to figure out what he said was on the horizon, but because he's coming over, we'll take care of that then. I was working on other open mysteries that we're trying to solve."
"My, my. I must say, taking the initiative on something you could just as easily leave to Master Wayne when he returns is rather responsible."
"Well, I'd want him to take care of things on my end. It's hard to solve these mysteries, though. I want to put out more feelers to see if new evidence comes up, but I don't know what to do about that, so I'm taking an interest in this case about Dr. Kirkland Langstrom. He reminds me of someone."
"You implied you knew something about cross-species genetics. He sought to cure deafness at some point, and perhaps advance the rest of mankind with even sharper hearing than before, but his repeated transformations have warped his ambitions into a single-minded determination, and it seems he no longer cares about the moral implications of anything he has to do to advance his research. While transformed, he has no choice but to kill people and consume blood to survive."
"Unfortunately, that's also pretty familiar, but I get the feeling it's not the same guy. I think it's reasonable to say that I was doing the whole hero thing in my old life, but I can't imagine what my role was. Maybe I was some kind of sidekick myself."
"Are you interested in developing another serum for Dr. Langstrom?"
"Yeah, actually, we just need some of his DNA. It should be the same as Poison Ivy's, even though their behaviors are different. In his case, his transformations cause him to lose control over himself, but I guess it might be different in the sense that a bat has a mind of its own. Can plants be said to have instincts? I know they don't have learned behavior; the whole turning to the sun thing is a chemical reaction; it's been proven over and over."
"I see. In any event, the rest of the family will be coming over soon."
"Thanks, Alfred."
He left without saying anything. Perhaps it would take a while to get used to being audibly, regularly, thanked, or perhaps getting used to it was precisely what he did not want. That's right. I'm supposed to be working on something that can get us both back to our original lives. There are people out there that I know I miss even though I don't remember their names.
The solution to revert Langstrom, or Man-Bat, to his human form would not take time to create, but apparently there were not many clues that would help in locating him. Batman must have been focusing on what's coming instead of what he might be able to track down. I have to assume that's a wise decision; he would know more than I would about how to deal with problems in this city. I don't remember much of my life, but I know I've never heard of Gotham.
"Ah, that's the door. Shall I welcome Miss Gordon? She has always been the most prompt."
"Please," he said. "I'm just going to put on some regular clothes. I don't know if that's what any Wayne would do, but that's what I'm doing."
As he went to get changed, he thought about the other villains, as they were called, who were likely the products of cross-species genetics. There was one called Orca... and someone else called Killer Croc. For them, it's a constant state. They don't fluctuate between being mostly human and complete monsters, they're monsters all the time. The recombinant DNA, most likely, allows for cellular reproduction at a constant rate. It's not a different concept, but it could be a different mutation in terms of its origin. The base of the solution that I used on Ivy might work on some other villains, but even though I was talking confidently, treating Dr. Langstrom might be more complicated.
In the middle of getting his clothes on, he remembered having many different scientific role models who had completed postgraduate certification. It was always particularly disappointing when something happened to them, or when they did... something, something that he did not think was good, exactly... Why is it so hard to remember? Why is it that all I have are these vague impressions? He wanted to punch a wall, but they were way too expensive for venting his frustration; they probably cost a whole third world country just to resurface.
When he came downstairs, there was a young woman with red hair staring at him. It was clear enough from the way that she was walking that she was fast and agile; she had enough strength and virtually no bulk to hinder her movements. Her disguise was almost perfect in normal clothes, but he could see through it. I've seen her type before. She wants to prove herself. I can even sympathize.
"So who are you, really, then?" she asked.
"I'm Batman," he said. She rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe I was wrong. Well, she at least doesn't want to prove herself to me. "Alfred, remind me to be sure and get the DNA samples for the other cross-species criminals from our wanted list." There was no response. Maybe he doesn't want me to thank him. Sneaky old-
"You're Batman?" she asked. "You know it's not a job, right?" She shook her head. "It's not like being a Green Lantern."
"Well, that doesn't help, because I don't know what that is."
"Alfred, why did we even let him out of the cave?" she called out. "If your memory is shot, what makes you think you're qualified for this?" she asked. "Do you know what I went through just to be allowed to put on the costume? He still never really accepted me, not like he accepted Dick-"
"Dick..."
"Nightwing; he was the first Robin. If you ask me one more question about- never mind. Look, even if you were the real Bruce and you just lacked a lot of memory, you would still be in time out until you were back up to speed. It would be the same as an injury; it happens; there's no shame in taking a break to catch up on things. What I'm hearing, or really what I'm putting together based on what I've heard, is that you're not the real Bruce, you're just some guy wearing his skin and you have a suicidal sense of responsibility that's driving you to-"
"I mean, yeah, basically. Let me ask you something, though, would the regular Bruce allow you to put him in time out?" There was no immediate response other than an intense glare. "I don't know how to convince you of this, but I really do know the risks. I might seem like some random guy because I'm not what you're expecting, but I really am cut out for this; I just need to be filled in on a few things." He sighed. "It must be hard for you to see someone you know suddenly become a completely different person."
It looked like Miss Gordon, as she had been introduced, reached a boiling point.
"And now you're empathizing with me?"
"Bruce doesn't normally do that? Okay, there's something going on here." He turned around to the direction of the kitchen. "Hey, Alfred, were these two ever involved?" There was no response. "Okay, now I'm certain he's pretending not to hear me."
Right as the young woman was about to launch into something else, the door opened again and someone else joined them. It was not easy to tell when not in costume, but it was Nightwing, whose other names were Dick and Grayson. Okay, I know Alfred generally refers to Bruce as 'Master Bruce', but that could be because he was the butler for all of the Waynes at one point, and it wouldn't have worked if he referred to a boy and his father with the same name. I really doubt that the girl's first name is Gordon. Wowee, this job is going to make a detective out of me yet.
"Hey, Dick, glad you were able to make it."
"I'm glad you haven't gotten yourself killed since we last ran into each other."
"Wait, so you know about this?" Miss Gordon asked.
"Barbara-" Aha. That's her first name. "- the whole reason we're having this little get-together is to keep everyone abreast of what's happening. We agreed that if something happened to Bruce, we'd decide what to do as a group, and so here we are, assembling."
"Why did you let it get this far, then? When did this even start?"
"Look, in the time that he's been Batman, we've threatened to cure Poison Ivy and basically forced her into locking down Arkham for us. With everything that's going on, we don't want to have that added as a problem, and you know it would. Every time we're run off our feet dealing with something huge, the small-time criminals use it as a chance to escape. They cause problems for us, maybe before we even get a handle on the main issue, and then while we're dealing with them, something else comes up. Even when we're being proactive and solving the long-term problems first-"
"Okay. Okay, what exactly did you mean when you threatened to cure Ivy?"
They ran through the story while a new arrival came in. He was a bit younger than either Barbara or Dick, but he looked old enough to take care of himself. For an adult, I'm oddly sympathetic to kids who get involved with this sort of thing. Did I start when I was in high school or something? I know I've been at it a while... I just don't know how old I actually am. Well, not exactly. I know I'm younger than Bruce.
"I'm more interested in the story of how you got here," Master Drake, as he had been introduced, said. "Does it have anything to do with that Zalmoxis?"
"We're working on that," he said. "Alfred got the book that he was reading, but it's not a real history; it's basically a fictional biography or something; maybe if you wanted to be really generous you could call it speculative. I don't think it's entirely false, though; I think it just couldn't get published as a historical resource, not in the thirties when it came out, so the author decided to pass it off as a fictional story."
"Do you remember much about history?" Drake asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I actually remember a good bit about that. Wasn't my best subject in school, but-"
"And yet, you don't remember Gotham existing."
"Is that covered outside of here?" he asked. "I thought it was pretty normal for states to teach their own histories-"
"Yes, Gotham would have come up in any class on American history, because it was the site of a rather famous battle in the Revolution," Barbara said. "There were actually members of the Wayne family who made names for themselves in the battle, and after the war they continued to be major players in industry and finance, though they rarely left the city."
"Huh. I guess they would've been like Ford or Carnegie or someone. Yeah, it's really weird that I haven't heard of the Wayne family. I'm sure your friend is asking people if they've ever... wait, no, he probably wouldn't remember his name. I keep hoping mine is going to come to me at some point."
"Have you ever heard any theories to the effect that there are multiple universes?" Drake asked right as the first plate came out and was set in front of him. It seemed their first course was smoked salmon, deviled eggs, a salad fresh from the garden, and dill spears. I get the idea that someone asked for this specifically.
"Yeah, that seems familiar. Why, are you thinking that I'm actually from a different universe?"
The idea was not the absolutely most radical suggestion he could conceptualize, even if it did rely on something of which he had only the most theoretical understanding. On a related note, it seemed that Alfred was communicating with the three young people who had joined them for supper. They probably heard about those song lyrics that he didn't know. If I really try, at least over the next few days, I can probably come up with a few more things that must have been beaten into me, and I'm willing to bet they wouldn't have heard of those either, since they've probably already checked the internet for the song lyrics.
"It's crossed my mind. Our first thought, because we know people like you, was that you were simply from somewhere else within our own universe."
"What do you mean, people like me?" he asked.
It was a question that seemed to come up at the perfect time. As long as he had been interacting with the other costumed vigilantes, it seemed they regarded him as different. Barbara sighed.
"Dick and Bruce are birds of a feather, or, I suppose, bats of a leather, and then Tim and I are different. We know we're different. It's not something that can be easily put into words, basically there are hero types and then there are vigilantes who border on being antiheroes in the sense that we find ourselves at odds with our occasional allies, the Justice League, when it comes to how we manage Gotham's problems. Because Bruce understood that he took a unique approach, I suppose, he never once insisted on having his way outside of his own city, but that never really stopped other hero types from insisting on a more... idealistic approach for us to take here."
"It's not that we're not idealistic," Dick said. I guess the other guy is Tim. Alfred had joined them with his own plate and was taking the opportunity to eat quietly. "I know I am; it's just that my ideals aren't the same as theirs, and to them it looks like I don't have any."
Batman got the sense that he had disagreed with other heroes before. He also got the sense that they were calling him a hero type. I don't know what to make of that. Do they think that I'm naïve or something?
"Maybe you should ask me what my ideals are," he said. "There's something I know that I'll never forget, and it's that if I can do something, it doesn't have to be much, but if there's anything I can do to help, then I have a moral responsibility to do just that. I know there was a time I thought that only applied to battles I picked, battles I thought I could win, but at some point I started to see myself as one part of a greater fight against evil. I had to take on enemies without knowing whether or not I had any chance of winning, and if I needed help, I had trust that the backup would be there when I called. At some point, that was what everyone was doing. If you guys really were antiheroes, I guess that'd be fine, but..."
"I get it," Dick said. "We're not antiheroes, by the way; we have to deal with them and we know why you don't like it. They're barely even helpful." He took a breath. "Bruce always said that crime would always exist. What he thinks is naïve is when people think there's some kind of permanent solution to it, when, if you look at the history, there are plenty of examples of crime being arguably good. The Underground Railway comes to mind."
"I mean, yeah, I feel like I've said that before. I get the idea that I didn't work with the police like you guys do. I thought it was weird how they allow Batman to interrogate suspects."
"It isn't always like that," Barbara said. "Sometimes the police get orders to arrest us, and at that point they don't have any choice-"
"What do you mean they don't have any choice?" he asked.
"There's no such thing as a police department that doesn't follow orders," she said, continuing. "You can't have a band of self-righteous vigilantes-"
"We are a band of self-righteous vigilantes."
"Well, sure, but you can't have them enforcing the law."
"I know that. I don't even try to enforce the law, I just deal with bad guys whenever they show up."
"Yes, and that's fine if you don't work on the public payroll." She sighed. "It takes a special type to do this kind of work, but there are very good arguments why we shouldn't exist at all. The police will work with us as long as we toe the line by keeping the evidence in order and arresting suspects without untying them. For the most part, the public recognizes that we are not a terrorist organization, and for the most part, we have their support. Do you have the support-"
"Who cares? Since when did the public ever support someone who was doing the right thing? All it takes is a little distorting of the facts and no one has any idea. You're telling me you've never been in the right and still had people calling you a menace?"
There was a pause. He knew he had interrupted, and he knew it was not the first time. At the same time, he had a point.
"Allow me to rephrase," Dick said after a moment. "It's a good thing that the average person supports us. We wouldn't want their opprobrium. At the same time, we will continue in spite of it. How do you know when you're in the right?"
That was a more interesting question, and one that gave him pause. Were the moral decisions I made always clear cut? Was it always easy to know what to do? I know I sometimes had trouble throwing myself at the problem when it was almost certainly going to kill me. How did I know, though, that when I fought, I was on the right side? It was starting to rely on specific memories and as he hung his head somewhat, the second course came out and it seemed the others were ready to retract the question.
"It wasn't easy sometimes," he said. "Yeah, a lot of the time, I knew I was fighting bad guys and they made it easy for me, but it was more about... it was more about what I would have to do while still being a mostly normal person on the inside." He shook his head. "I knew there were people who never struggled with that part of the job and a lot of them were doing it because they had all these ideas about how the world was supposed to work. I know this might sound weird, but I wasn't that opinionated like that; I could work with people who disagreed with me as long as what I was doing was okay, and as long as I was trying to help, as long as I was doing the right thing, then I didn't really have to worry about it. I didn't have villains like Poison Ivy who have some arguably justifiable basis for destroying the city; I was dealing with monsters."
It was strange that he could remember so much, and yet, so little. He knew that who he was at the present was not something that he decided one day, nor had he been born like that; his personality had been effectively forged with every fight and every painful memory, and even traveling to a different dimension could never take that away from him. It looked like Tim had something else to say.
"Well, at least you weren't doing it for fun or something. We get vigilantes like that."
"I know I wasn't ever doing it because -" Did I not want to save people? Did it not feel good when people thanked me? He abandoned the line of thought. They already knew that he had not been acting on purely self-serving reasons, even if it seemed hard to imagine himself doing anything else, even if it seemed like he had no purpose outside of the job. Maybe they feel the same way.
The supper continued and it seemed everyone had taken to silent communication after some point that he could not exactly distinguish. It's probably hard for secretive types to come and meet someone new while not wearing their costumes. Was I keeping myself a secret? I feel like I was.
"I just have one other question," he said after a while. "I've kind of been putting it off until now."
"Yeah?" Dick asked.
"You said there was something on the horizon, but you didn't tell me that much about it, only that you don't like the looks of things. Were you testing me? Were you trying to see if I could handle this kind of work?" He left off asking if he passed or not.
There was a pause.
"Well, maybe you're more perceptive than I thought," Barbara said. She looked around. Tim nodded without even looking at her. "Very well. It's time to tell you about the Red Lanterns."