Junkyard Batman

Chapter 2

 Apparently I passed out on the side of the road. I had managed to pull over, but I don't remember it. I sat there idling in the Batmobile well after sunrise before Al finally found me in. After checking my vitals, he used the official Wayne tow truck to haul me in.

After I wake, I tell them both about everything that occurred. Every embarrassing detail.

As Uncle Lu stitches me up, he chastises me.

"I told you this was a bad idea," he says. "You promised no one was to die. That includes you."

As worried as Uncle Lu is, Al seems delighted. "Armor worked," he grunts, rapping a knuckle against my faceplate. "Dug three slugs out of the back panel of yer kevlar. Might need a replacement."

"We can't afford a replacement," I reply through my teeth. Uncle Lu isn't being as gentle with the stitches as I'd like. "Just move the front panel to the back."

Al laughs. "Rob Peter to pay Paul, eh?"

"Peter won't mind," I grunt.

"Everyone aims center mass, boy..." now Al is chastising me. "Yeh don't go out again until we have yeh padded front an back."

Honestly, that suits me fine. I'm still rattled from being shot. The same thing that took Mom and Dad almost sent me to join them.

But on reflection, I'm more angry than scared that they shot at me. I'm furious even. With a dark joy, I remember cracking that nut job's body under that propane bomb.

"Anyone die?" Al asks casually.

Uncle Lu sighs. "Police scanner reported the explosion, but no fatalities. We'll wait for more on the local news tonight."

I look to Uncle Lu, firmly eye-to-eye. "Nobody died last tonight," I said. "I made sure of that."

He smiles at me sadly. "If I hadn't made you promise, you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"If you hadn't made me promise, a pregnant woman and the father would be dead. But no more explosives. No more bombs. Too much can go wrong."

Al and Uncle Lu nod in agreement.

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I'm in the recliner, my dad's old one, when the news comes on. I've got a bowl of cereal in my lap; the usual dinner-chaser for me.

If food ever wanted to be safe it wouldn't sit still around me, let me tell you.

So the final story that Gotham 5 keeps hinting at is the explosion south of the city. A pretty news reporter, a blonde bombshell named Vicki Vale, is interviewing a member of the city council. He got elected recently, so I haven't learned his name. And I can't pronounce it despite it being spelled out for me at the bottom of the screen.

"What do you think caused this explosion? Some rumours are that it was a drug production center or a militia camp for domestic terrorists that-"

The councilman, a handsome man with a sharp goatee, raises a gentle palm to stop her. He has kind eyes and his demeanor treads the line between 'aloof' and 'charming.'

"Ms. Vale, I'd like to assure everyone that this was not an act of terrorism of any kind. It appears to be an accident revolving around improper storage of propane. Fortunately, no one was seriously harmed and the fire chief is on the scene to evaluate." Looking at me through the camera, he continues. "I'd like to remind the people of Gotham and in the counties beyond to please be mindful when handling dangerous substances. Follow proper guidelines."