Sometimes when I wake up, it's still hard to believe he's gone. Bruce always seemed beyond death, like he could stay ten steps ahead of it forever. Almost my whole life has been devoted to the cause he believed in, despite us never seeing quite eye to eye on how to believe in it. I never wanted to become Batman, more specifically I never wanted to become Bruce Wayne. I never wanted to believe so coldly in the world the way he did, always suspicious of everyone. But people forget that Bruce never chose to be that way, the world made him that way. The same as it's made me. In the end I suppose I was foolish to think I would never become the Batman. My destiny was chosen for me the night Bruce watched that monster slay my parents. The night I watched my parents die. It was a bond made in tragedy, which lead to the burning desire for justice. But with Bruce that would sometimes become confused for vengeance. I know for myself what that feels like, I fought the pangs of revenge the night I confronted my parents murderer. I think Bruce had a harder time shaking those demons.

As I lay in bed under the protective roof of Wayne Manor, I can't help but feel Bruce's presence still among me. Like his spirit has been etched into the walls, the very fabric of the structure. In a way it gives me strength, but in a way it makes me feel just a little uneasy. I've never questioned my capabilities or my judgment before, and Bruce always valued my views above all others. But with him gone it seems like a confirmation in my mind that I'll never get, he was always there to objectively look at what I wanted to do. He was always there to lend his advice, to confirm my strength for me, but now he can't. I always thought I had a firm grasp on Bruce's world, that I understood it better than anyone else. I can't imagine I'd overlook the fact that with the title of Batman, comes the weight of the world. No wonder Clark was scared of him.

While most of the cave was covered in complete darkness, light pierced through the shadows near the main computer terminal. The bat insignia set as the background of the screen, little noise was being made except the shuffling of microscope slides. Dick Grayson, formerly known to the superhero community as Nightwing, recently claimed the title of Batman. Of course the title came with its share of problems, some from the past, some from the future, and as always the present. Admittedly so taking on that level of commitment and stress was something some would say only Bruce Wayne could handle. Though many forget that Dick had also undergone the same kind of torture and anguish. The previous Boy Wonder was no stranger to the perils of the job, both mentally and physically.

The light that cast shadows aside was located in the immediate area just around Batman. Leaned over peering through the lens of a microscope, he was analyzing a fabric that he believed contained traces of the new toxin Jonathan Crane formulated. When the immediate disappearance of Batman and subsequently Bruce Wayne was released, the aftermath ravaged Gotham in ways never seen before. In just a short period of time rival bosses began bidding over turf, while other criminals plotted, some looted. Some did both, but none were more dangerous than the criminally insane monsters that were let loose from Arkham Asylum. Recent events unfolded in which after the war between Penguin and Two-Face, the Joker has begun drawing criminals together for a plan yet to be revealed. Batman was positive that if you followed Crane's trail, you would cross Joker's.

Still the demons of the past beckon, they are everlasting.

After a small amount of time analying the fabric he found at the condemned chemical plant, Batman sat typing decisively as the different parts of the clue came together on the screen. The new strain required a specific chemical still yet to be identified by any agency, though when following the shipment orders it became evident that there were only three locations in Gotham which the chemical is stored and tested. One of them had already been ransacked, which meant that a more dangrous attack could be looming on the horizon. If the sun ever shined in Gotham. Though one thing was also true, the supply was limited. Cut off the supply, ensure the future. For now.

A short while later...

Batman was packed up and ready to head out of the cave, it was only 9:30pm but the sun was well set, and the criminal element would be swarming already. It was a good time to pick up intelligence, survey any noteworthy criminals on the ladder. After setting everything up in the batmobile, Dick checked over everything else he would need to carry in the suit. A few moments later the engine was fired up, and as the batmobile sped through the tunnels it left a fiery trail behind it. The first objective was to go through the Narrows, the section of Gotham that people and cops feared worst. Tonight Batman flew solo, there was other work to be had for Damian. Tim was also busy tonight in Bludhaven, even in the heat of this war Bludhaven needed protecting. More specifically it needed to be protected from the incoming criminals looking to lay low from Gotham.

There were little clues to be had on the heavy hitters in Gotham, they were obviously well hidden and biding their time. Making sure whatever they were planning came to fruition. Joker, Two-Face, Penguin, the lot of Gotham's rogue gallery was on the loose. Rumors were circulating that the Joker was looking to lay siege to Arkham and claim the territory for himself. Penguin and Two-Face still had an unfinished war. All of them were still active and doing business as usual, paying no mind to the small rumors that the Bat was back. Batman hadn't made any introductions to them yet, he was biding his time too. With the business of Jason Todd aside, it was time to focus on striking decisively at the heart of criminality in Gotham. The best way to do that again, was the same as the first. Fear.

The night air was thick and moist, the clouds in the sky created an all encompassing darkness that the moonlight could not penetrate. Slowly and surely, droplets of rain began to descend upon the, so far quiet, city. Standing high above it all on Wayne Tower, Gotham's Dark Knight casted a curious gaze across the expansive metropolis. He could tell that his city was hurting without its true protector. This thought alone caused Dick Grayson to feel as if the cape and cowl he wore was more of a tomb than a suit. As more and more time passed under the mantle of the Bat, Grayson realized that this world was Bruce's, and the rest of them were just living in it. Then, from his moment of introspection, he was pulled back to reality as that all too familiar sound screeched in the night: woman's scream, her cry for help, and the only one to hear it was Batman.

The shriek stirred a reaction that was now habit, as Batman wasted no time dropping down from the ledge above the assailants, and descended at a speed that would cause most people to have a heart attack in mid air. Dick Grayson was used to these death defying acts. While the suit he wore stifled his natural movements, more specifically the cape, it did create the necessary amount of drag to decrease his momentum. Silently he fell, and then at the precise moment necessary, the cape flared, pulling his descent as he came down feet first into one of the thugs who was about to commit a rape, toppling him over. The victim was in shock, unable to move or even speak during the spectacle. With one of the men incapacitated, the other stood, frozen, with a horrified look upon his face. The reputation of Batman obviously struck fear into the heart of the criminal. Ignorantly, out of survival instinct (Dick could only assume), the man pulled a rusty knife from his pants. Batman stood, stoic, merely waiting--and, as predicted, the man came in for the attack.

Fluidly, Batman countered the forward lunge of the imbecile, disarming him and then incapacitating him--all within a few mere seconds. As the criminal's limp body fell to the ground, a hissing sound could faintly be heard. The pain reached him before he could react to the object: an oddly formed red shuriken struck his left shoulder, cutting through the suit completely and leaving a gash in its wake before it embedded itself into the wall just beyond him. Turning around quickly to see who his new nemesis may be, he was met with nothing but air. The weapon had been thrown, and the owner had left immediately thereafter. The aim obviously was not to kill him. Whoever threw the blade was sending a message. He retrieved the weapon for analysis, then he as well escaped into the shadows, but not before informing the woman to alert the Gotham police.

It seemed there was another mystery player on the table. The game? Gotham's salvation.

(Delete this)