by Marv Wolfman
A gloved fist smashed the Joker’s face, crushing bone. He was bleeding and he was in tears. “You’ll miss me. You know you will. No more dead parent gags, I swear. C’mon, Bats. You really want this to end?”
Another gloved fist knocked him backward. A heavy iron door slammed shut in front of him—he was in a cell. “No, Bruce. Don’t leave me. I need you.”
Batman pressed close to the bars. He was almost smiling.
“Goodbye, Joker,” he said as the cell pulled back and away.
* * *
“Do you understand, Gotham?” Scarecrow said. “You have no savior. No more hope.” He pointed to Bruce, who was thrashing on the cot, two of the cameras trained on him. “And no more Batman.”
He leaned in close to Bruce and whispered in his ear.
“I am your master now. I have won.”
But Bruce Wayne only smiled at him. “No, Crane. No, you haven’t. I’m not afraid. You failed. Again.”
“No. Impossible,” Scarecrow rasped, backing away. “Without fear, life is meaningless.” He saw the cameras still filming and raised his gun, aiming it at Wayne. Then he pressed the gun to Wayne’s head.
“Even if you refuse to feel fear,” he said, staring into the camera lens, “they will feel it when I put a bullet through your head. They’ll see that if you can die, anyone can die.”
“You’re right, Jonathan.” Bruce smiled at him again. “Anyone can die. We’re all human. Even you. Do you see it?”
Scarecrow looked at his hand, the one holding the gun, and he saw a small red laser dot centered on it. An instant later he heard the soft puff of a silencer, and the gun fell from his hand.
Bruce looked up to see someone on the balcony. The figure moved into the light, and he could tell who it was.
But Jason Todd was no longer the Arkham Knight. He wore a bright red hood over armor emblazoned with a large red bat. The Arkham Knight had been a deluded villain, but he’d been shown the lies that had warped him, and he chose to fight them.
Jason Todd was now the Red Hood.
He took aim and fired again. The restraints that held Batman to the gurney were shredded, freeing him. Scarecrow fell back as Bruce Wayne clambered off the gurney, then turned to the cameramen and shouted.
“Keep filming,” Bruce instructed. “I want everyone to see this.” He lunged for Scarecrow and forced him to the floor. Crane tried to crawl free, but Wayne held him firmly. Scarecrow tried to stab with his syringes, but Bruce grabbed his wrists and pushed them back.
With a powerful thrust, Bruce forced the poisoned syringes back into Scarecrow’s chest and neck. He held him still for several moments as the toxin took hold.
“It’s over now, Crane. And fear loses.”
Wayne stood and stepped back as Scarecrow staggered to his feet.
* * *
He reeled back and forth, flailing wildly at the monsters that were suddenly everywhere. He wanted to run, to get away from them, but they surrounded him, then pushed closer until he had nowhere to run.
One by one they took their turn biting his flesh, ripping it from bone. He fell again to the floor as the monsters turned into dark shapes with blazing eyes and long talons that ripped into his armor then cut into his skin.
The bat monster was going to gorge on him and turn him into one of them. He screamed in uncontrolled horror as ten thousand bats clawed their way into him. He could do nothing but succumb to his fears.
* * *
Gordon stared at his old friend, looking confused.
“Who was he? In the red hood? Why did he help us?”
Batman stood but turned his back to Gordon.
He can’t see my face. He should never see what I’m becoming.
“That’s what friends do,” he said.
* * *
It was almost over. Bruce watched Gordon cradle Robin, still bleeding but no longer in shock. He stood near Gordon but kept his back to him.
“Look after him, Jim. Look after them all.”
Gordon stared at Batman, at first surprised but then understanding what Bruce had said.
“What’s going to happen to you now?”
Bruce retrieved his mask and put it back on. Bruce Wayne was just a man, and it didn’t matter now if everyone knew it. But Batman could be anyone who believed in justice. Batman was a symbol.
“You’ve been a good friend. The best I could ask for. You were there at the beginning,” he said as he walked toward the cameras, then past them. “And now you get to see how it ends.”
46
Alfred stared out the window of Wayne Manor, and saw the endless throng of reporters packed behind the front gates. There must have been a thousand of them, sent to Gotham City by every news agency and television network. Camera crews had set up spotlights aimed at nearly every door and window, on the off chance there’d be something, anything, for them to film.
* * *
Vicki Vale stood before the gate, microphone in hand. She dated Bruce Wayne, thought she understood him, but she still couldn’t accept that the supposed playboy was actually Gotham City’s protector. Her cameraman aimed his camcorder at her as she began her report.
“This is Vicki Vale reporting live outside Wayne Manor following the dramatic unmasking of billionaire Bruce Wayne. There have been unconfirmed reports that Wayne would address the world and we are waiting for—”
They heard the roar of the Batwing as it emerged from the thick cloudbank blanketing the sprawling mansion. It circled over the great lawn before landing near the marble fountain Wayne’s great grandfather had found in Italy in the late nineteenth century, and shipped back to the States.
“That’s him,” she shouted. “Are we still rolling?” The cameraman nodded. A figure stepped out of the aircraft.
“It’s him.”
“It’s Wayne.”
“It’s Batman.”
He stood in front of the Batwing as at least a thousand camera flashes illuminated the night. Vicki turned to her cameraman.
“Get a close-up. I want to be sure it’s him.”
It was Batman. He pulled back his cowl and so the reporters all knew he was also Bruce Wayne.
The front door opened, and Alfred Pennyworth walked out to greet him.
* * *
“Are you sure you want to do this, sir?”
Bruce pulled his cowl back over his head and fastened it under his chin.
“I’ve got to, Alfred. It’s the only way to protect them.”
* * *
Alfred looked out toward the reporters. The flashes were so bright they almost blinded him. He saw Vicki Vale speaking to the cameras. He always liked her. She was smart and would have made a good match for Master Wayne, if circumstances had been very different.
“You should go now, Alfred. This isn’t for you.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But my job here isn’t done. Shall we, then?”
* * *
“Batman is Bruce Wayne,” Vicki said. “My God, Gotham, this is huge. What does it mean for the future of the city?”
* * *
For a moment Alfred felt sad, then he straightened his tie and stood tall, proud and maybe a bit defiant. He held the door open for Master Wayne to enter, followed him inside, then closed it behind them.
And the mansion exploded.
The first detonation was off to one side, and allowed the press to pull back. Then there were a hundred separate explosions, beginning with the largest one set by the front door, destroying the long foyer into the living room to the left and the dining room to the right. Explosives had been carefully placed in every room.
In a matter of seconds, the once-proud manor was gone.
* * *
James Gordon sat on the roof of the G.C.P.D. headquarters. He could see the fires licking at the dark skies from more than fourteen miles away and he knew it was over. His journal was opened on his lap, and he finished writing his thoughts.
This is not the story that was leaked to the press
.
This is how it happened.
This is how the Batman died.
EPILOGUE–PART ONE
Gordon was staring at the city. Months had passed, and he was still only beginning to recover from the events that had occurred. He had decided to begin a new journal, starting with strength, not defeat. It was night, and Gordon, dressed all in black, blended into the dark.
He almost preferred it that way.
“A friend once told me that criminals were a cowardly and superstitious lot. That the only way to beat them was to give them something to be scared of.” He paused and lit his pipe and took a puff from it. “I understand now. As his world grew darker, so did ours.”
He paused and looked at the pieces of the dismantled Bat-Signal. They had wanted to cart it to the junkyard, to bury the memory of it, but he asked them to leave it in place. It wasn’t much, but it was something he needed in order to remember.
He returned to his new journal, thought for a few seconds, then started writing again.
* * *
“When his war ended, he believed our lives could begin again. So he set us free. To live… and to love.”
He paused again—his phone was buzzing. An email message appeared on the screen.
From: Tim Drake
To: James Gordon
Don’t forget the ring.
Tim and Barbara. Batman would have loved it, too.
He took the elevator from his office down to the street, where a limousine was waiting to take him to the ceremony. A motorcycle escort surrounded the limo as it hurried through Gotham City’s streets.
He took out his pen and continued to write in his ledger.
There was an inquest, of course. Hundreds of suspects. Who killed Bruce Wayne? I guess we’ll never know for sure.
So what’s next? Criminals are a cowardly and superstitious lot. But what happens when they have nothing to be scared of?
Who will protect Gotham City now that the Batman is dead?
The limo passed the building that had been Gordon’s campaign headquarters. The sign proclaiming “Gotham City’s new mayor” still hung in the window. It passed an alleyway that had, until recently, been called Crime Alley. Two months ago Gordon had officially changed it to Wayne Way.
It was starting to rain and, as he continued to write his thoughts, he didn’t notice three figures—a father, mother, and son—duck into the alley trying to stay dry under its overhang.
EPILOGUE–PART TWO
The limo moved on as two other figures followed the family into the alley. One pulled out a handgun.
The father saw the two, stepped toward the gunman and tried to reason with him. The gunman slammed the pistol across his face, knocking him to the ground. The boy hugged his mother.
“Help me,” she cried. “Help us.”
The thug pushed her to the wall, grabbed her pearl necklace and pulled. The chain broke and the pearls fell to the ground, scattering in all directions.
“No one’s coming to help you, lady. Not in this city. Not anymore.” He turned to the other thug and gestured to the father, still sprawled on the ground. “Take his wallet.”
But then the gunman heard a shriek behind him. It was the woman. He turned and looked up and gasped. The other thug followed his gaze.
He was standing on the roof. A dark silhouette.
“Hey, freak,” the gunman said, laughing, no longer afraid. “Maybe you missed the news, but the Batman’s dead. That costume, it don’t scare us no more.”
The figure on the roof said nothing. But his eyes glowed dark green, two burning fires in the night.
A swarm of bats exploded from his body, forming giant wings, spread wide as their shrieking grew louder and louder. The figure swooped down from the roof, its demonic face snarling with bared fangs and fiery eyes.
The gunman was wrong.
There was something to fear.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To DC Entertainment, and the many people who have made Batman who he is. You gave birth to a legend and in doing so enriched the lives of millions.
A special thanks to Ames Kirshen, Josh Anderson, Elizabeth Seminario, Matthew Mizutani, Craig Mitchell, Ernest Zamora and everyone at WBIE for their help, encouragement and guidance. This book could not have been possible without all of you.
Thanks to everyone at Rocksteady for creating such a powerful and emotional game, and especially to Sefton Hill, Martin Lancaster, Phil Huxley, and Craig Owens for their amazing game script.
Special thanks to my editor, Steve Saffel, and all the good folk at Titan Books including Nick Landau, Vivian Cheung, Laura Price, Paul Gill, and Alice Nightingale and Hayley Shepherd.
Marv Wolfman
January 30, 2015
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARV WOLFMAN has written the adventures of many of the most famous characters in comic books, including Batman, Superman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, and Fantastic Four. He was the co-creator of The New Teen Titans, Deathstroke the Terminator, and Nova, and wrote the universe-changing limited series Crisis on Infinite Earths. In the video-game world he contributed to Green Lantern, the DCU-Online massive multiplayer online game; Superman Returns; Dark Knight Returns; Flash, and more. His novels include Crisis on Infinite Earths, Superman Returns, and The Oz Encounter. His awards include the Will Eisner Hall of Fame Award, the National Jewish Council Book Award, and the Scribe Award for Speculative Fiction (for Superman Returns).
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