Batman: Fear Of Loss

Pearls and Blood

     Thirty years ago, blood splashed onto the cracked pavement of Crime Alley. That night, the now orphan Bruce Wayne felt fear in all of its crippling power for the first time as an eight year old child, and now, as the Batman, he was back.
     Bruce sat overlooking the dark alley. Clouds began to billow over the city, blocking out what little light the moon wrought and bringing with them rain.
     Barbara said nothing - only looked off at the alley, waiting, and in thought. Gotham and Dick's lives rested in their hands. So the two sat in the rain, and occasionally the lightning overhead would flash bringing thunder with it.
     Batgirl stared at the man that sat stationary before her. He wasn't Bruce. He wasn't the man she had fought side by side with once before. He was so cold that he could feel it. There was such hatred boiling inside him. Perhaps there always was, and the Scarecrow had merely stripped what mask he had to hide it away.
     He stood. "It's time to finish this," he said, leaping off of the building.
     Barbara followed, and the two landed in front of a dark building. The structure lit, nearly blinding Bruce. As the his eyes adjusted, the letters became visible.
     The Monarch Theatre.
     Batman walked into the building, breaking the blockade on the door. Stepping inside, the lights slowly turned on,  illuminating the lobby. The wall paper was tearing, unkept and subject to the elements. He maneuvered his way throughout the building, running his fingers across the wall, until he came to a large, dark room, with a faint red sign in the distance.
     Bruce opened the door, rain trickling  onto the stone walkway. Barbara stayed close behind, observing the alley. Trash was scattered everywhere. Vines had taken over most of the walls.
     "My God..." Barbara said, looking down. Beneath their feet lay the outlines of two bodies, tragically slain thirty years ago. 
     "I'm sorry," Batman said.
     "Wh-"
     Barbara toppled on the ground, losing the use of her body from the waste down.
     "What the hell are you doing?!" She said, supporting herself with her arms.
     "I don't want anyone else getting hurt," he said, turning away.
     Tears began to stream down her face. "Bruce, please! ...don't do this to me!"
     What's the use? She's good as dead. Come on, Brucey. No more fear. Let me take charge.
     "....I'm sorry, Barbara," he said, shaking his head and turning back to the theatre.
     "Don't leave me here... please..."
     Don't leave me... Don't go....
     Batman took a deep breath, and he kept walking. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled, too faint for her to here. But I have to face fear... alone.
    
     Batman opened the theatre door, greeted by bright lights on the stage and several cameras.
     Scarecrow stood in the center of the stage, surrounded by television monitors. His face was hidden by shadow cast from his hood.
     "Welcome, Bruce," he uttered, showing his teeth.
     "It's over, Crane," Batman said, balling his hand into a firm fist.
     "Is that you talking or my toxin?" Scarecrow asked. "Yes. You've put on quite the show, tonight. I wonder how many bones you've shattered while under it's affects..."
     "Stop stalling, Crane," Batman called out to him from the dark.
     "Tsk tsk," he replied, shaking his head in disdain. "It's my understanding that you were here on that fateful night your parents died. Your career started here because you were afraid. You left because you were afraid. It's your fault they're dead."
     Batman clenched his hands, gritting his teeth.
     Scarecrow paced across the stage, slowly lifting his hands in joy. "It was because you were scared, but that fear is gone now, and the world has seen the monster they hides beneath them - what you're really capable of. That is my mission tonight because tonight... your fear will bring even more death."
     Scarecrow turned to one of his men. "Bring him out," he commanded, turning back to face Batman. "Tell me, Batman..." he started, taking the hood off of his head, "do you think she'll scream as she crawls away?"
     Bruce yelled in rage, throwing a batarang for Scarecrow's throat. It fell to the floor, but Crane remained standing. 
     "What?" Batman said in astonishment.
     Leaping from the shadows was a man dressed in black, sporting a red bird across his chest.
     "Tonight," Scarecrow said, "hope dies, and with it: the Batman."