Batman: Destruction

Chapter I: 3 AM

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. He sat in his plushy black office chair, with his cowl in his hands, watching the big monitor of his supercomputer. He couldn't believe how much time he'd spent chasing after the Joker. He had already put the clown behind bars twice that night, and both times, the agent of chaos escaped the GCPD. Bruce had been receiving messages from the Joker, who had somehow found out a way to hack his comms system, which would render it useless to any lesser of a man. Constant communication with the Joker; he was making it way too easy, Bruce thought.

The blue light started flashing on his desk, signifying that Watchtower, Justice League headquarters, was trying to reach him. The light had been blinking for hours, but Bruce had no interest in what they had to say. He was already furious with them. Why didn't Clark or John respond to him, when he tried to contact them about last week's incident, he thought. If they'd responded, not only would Alfred still have use of his right leg, but Ivy would still be alive.

Bruce slid the cowl down over his face, becoming Batman. It was sweaty and musty on the inside; he'd been wearing it for six hours, and his first time taking it off, was when he went to the Batcave to check on Alfred and the whereabouts of Bane, who had continuously slipped through his fingers for months. He could always find Bane, but the venom injected masked ninja always managed to escape, at the last second. He was full of tricks, but Batman was well aware that the only reason Bane escaped, was because he was strong enough to punch man-sized holes in walls, while Batman was busy fighting Bane's goons; ghouls are what Alfred called them. Bruce chuckled at that thought.
"Is that a smile I see, sir?" Alfred called from his sickbed, located no further than fifteen feet away from the computer.
"Ghouls," Batman responded, followed by another chuckle.
"Well," Alfred said, struggling to sit up, "are they not like ghouls? They come in the night and disappear in a pinch, like they were never there."
"Are you saying that all ninjas are ghouls? Choose your words wisely, Alfred. I am the one taking care of you," he said with a smile.
"Well, sir, as long as you have the pain medication, you're as far from a ghoul as I am from Ra's Al Ghul. The moment you run out... I may need the Lazarus Pit, and yes, yes indeed, you'll be a ghoul...or rather...I will."
They chuckled for a second, then sat in silence for a few minutes. The fact that Alfred was in such high spirits gave Batman a little bit more hope on the night. Three in the morning. It was three in the morning, and Batman was getting ready to go back out. He took a glance over at the glass case that held the old Robin suit.
It had a black line sprayed down the middle of it. On one side, there was the Robin logo, a simple R. On the other side was several rips and cuts in the armor. Two-Face had made a mockery of the Boy Wonder, before he handed him off to the Joker. Most people thought that the Joker killed Robin, but Robin was dead before he reached the clown.
The night of Robin's murder was one to remember. Sure, Batman remembered Robin, as a friend, but he was more concerned with how the night came to be. As Batman, he had to learn from the mistakes of that night and move on. As Bruce, he had to prepare to be Batman. No time to mourn, no time to dwell on what could have been. It was there, though. It was lodged in his mind, like a snake's fangs in a rabbit.
Robin had left the mansion that night, unbeknownst to Bruce, and even though Bruce had every intention of going out that night, like every other night, he had no idea that Robin broke protocol and left two hours early. Robin was gone by nine; Bruce doesn't become Batman until eleven. Well, after that night, he started suiting up at nine, as he figured it would be better to be out as soon as the sun completely fell. He changed the ending to his nights to four, whereas it used to be two. Crime in Gotham was slowing, and by two in the morning, no one was out, except for petty criminals. Batman didn't have time to deal with petty criminals.
He changed it to four, because he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the silence of the early morning, or late night. He loved seeing what he had done for his city. He would usually meet Selina atop of the Iceberg Lounge, and they would talk for a couple of hours, before turning in. Sometimes Selina would come to the mansion with him, but most nights, they went their separate ways. Their time together was brief, but the love was there. They knew it, and though Alfred was one to point it out, they would never admit it was love.
On this night, there was no Selina. Batman was not going to have his time to enjoy his city either. Riddler' game was not going to end, until Batman ended it. Four people, all violent drug pushers, had already been murdered by Riddler that night, and Batman wasn't sure how long it would be before innocent people started getting snatched out of their homes by Riddler's thugs. He never got his hands dirty, that much Batman knew. He climbed into his jet-propelled tank, publicly known as the Batmobile, privately known as the Beast, and punched in an address, into the gps screen.
"Autopilot," Batman said. Everything fired up inside the car, sounding like a chorus of beeps and clicks. "Ignition." The car cranked up, surprisingly quieter than most regular vehicles. "Platform." The floor rotated and aimed the car at the wall, that was really an exit. "Exit open." The door lifted, like a garage door. "Jets...Now." The car's jet propulsion system fired up with a loud roar, as a blaze of fire burst from the jetliner-like engine, in the back. "Gps. Proceed to location...Now." The car sped off, with a thunderous roar.
Alfred sat and watched as Batman left. He hated not being able to help, and no shattered knee was going to stop him. He pulled himself into the electric wheelchair and rolled over to the computer. He put on his headset, flipped the switch, and said, "you didn't say goodbye, sir."
"You know I don't like goodbyes."
"Then maybe a see you later?"
"Sure, let's go with that."
"Funny, your friend hasn't said anything. Amazingly enough, even crazy clowns have to sleep. That should tell you something," Alfred said, smiling to himself.