Batman: Kill the Justice League

Chapter 8: The Price of Heroism

"Master Bruce, what do you hope for in your mission? You've told me of your plan to save Gotham City. To pry it from the hands of the corrupt and the cruel. You've shown me your weapon of war, the grotesque Batman incarnation that you intend to wear as a mask when you face this city's darkness. You and I, on the cusp of this monumental mission...and yet we don't know what will happen once you pull the trigger on this. What do you want from this?"

The answer was simple. It always had been.

"Vengeance."

The word was powerful, inebriating, like a young man's stimulant. An elixir I'd sought since I was old enough to feel a cruel wanting.

"Your parents' death was a random act of violence by a desperate man. There is nothing to avenge, sir."

How wrong he was.

"You are mistaken Alfred. I am not avenging my parents."

In his eyes I saw that he was afraid of my words...afraid for me.

"I shall pursue vengeance on behalf of every single man, woman and child that has had to bleed with their fate, who has lost a piece of their soul to the demons that gnaw at this city's fading heart. I am not the gladiator for the people of Gotham. I will be its dark knight. The worst nightmare of its enemies. I will make them terrified of the shadows within the sanctity of their own homes. They will finally understand what it's like to never feel safe."

Alfred looked at me silently, allowing me to speak, as I seethed with untethered fury, staring at the suit I had created to deliver unholy terror to Gotham's criminal underworld.

"I understand your rage, Master Bruce. I know what it's like to finally wield power after a lifetime of helplessness. It can be intoxicating. It can feel truly remarkable the first time you summon the strength to break their bones. You may enjoy it, even if you do not wish to admit it. But I caution you, my son...when in the face of monsters, your light need burn brighter than the darkness that surrounds you. The deeper you delve into this demon; the more sinister Gotham shall become. The Batman need not be a monster. At the heart of your mission is hope. Do not seek vengeance on behalf of Gotham's people.... seek to give them hope, for they are starved of it."

I stayed silent.

"There is only one way that your mission shall succeed, Master Bruce. The Batman must be incorruptible. He must be whatever the people of Gotham City needs him to be. He must serve this city, and its people, with absolute conviction; a beacon of resurgence."

"That sounds like someone else's dream."

Alfred put his hand on my shoulder.

"Your father's."

I softened. Alfred saw it.

"The only ones that need to fear the Batman are your enemies. Remember that."

The smoke cleared ever so slowly, like the curtain being raised on a stage. The scorching heatwave made my eyes water, but I made myself look. As if by the grace of an unseen force, a weighted breeze swept enough of the smoke away that it at last began to reveal what hid within.

I heard a muffled, agonised voice, strangled for air.

Still standing, like an immortal nightmare, Superman appeared before me.

I gasped.

A chunk of flesh had been torn from his shoulder and back. Half of his face was a bloodied mangle of flesh. His body trembled as he fought to breathe through the glowing green shards embedded in his skin. His eyes sought the sun, his gaze skyward, searching for its light.