Disclaimer: All characters contained herein are the trademarked 
property of DC Comics Inc and are copyright (c) 2000 by DC Comics Inc. 
All characters are used without permission for fan-fiction 
entertainment only. This original piece of fiction is copyright (c) 
2000 by C.W. Blaine. Questions or comments concerning this original 
piece of fiction may be submitted at the following e-mail address: 
darth_yoshi@yahoo.com

***

ELSEWORLDS: New Gotham Knights
By C.W. Blain (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

***

Elseworlds: Theoretical worlds wherein familiar characters are placed 
in unfamiliar situations; or worlds whereas situations develop 
differently than they should have, placing familiar characters in 
unfamiliar circumstances.

***

Timothy Drake sat on his expensive BMW motorcycle on what used to be 
the first exit ramp going into downtown Gotham City. The interstate 
used to deposit vehicles into the urban jungle by the hundreds per 
hour; now Tim had only seen maybe ten vehicles in the past 30 minutes, 
mostly trucks using the old Gotham Bypass to make up for lost time.

Before him lay miles of flat green plain. It was a depressing flatness, 
not the kind you see while driving through Texas with the sporadic 
cactus or ranch, but a hellish horizontal plane intersected by nothing 
but air. The reports were that the area before him was the flattest on 
earth. Tim was unimpressed.

Once, not two years before, there had been a great and mighty city 
here, a marvel of modern architecture. It was a city that had existed 
for over two hundred years and had survived the British and the 
Confederacy. A city that had helped herald the so-called Golden Age of 
super-heroes with its own additions to the famed Justice Society of 
America, Green Lantern and the Black Canary. It had been a hub of 
trade, a place where money would be made to support the rest of the 
state. 

Gotham City had a personality of its own, just as other great cities 
did. There was something about being a Gothamite that made you proud. 
It gave you an attitude, one that was a cross between New York Cabbie 
and San Francisco Activist. A Gothamite was always ready to serve the 
cause, but they wouldn't do so silently. Hell, Time thought to himself, 
most people would kill to just visit Gotham, much less live there.

True, it wasn't New York or Hollywood, but it was still a magnet for 
the enchanted, the disillusioned, and the greedy. Gotham City was the 
true melting pot, where the American Dream was not measured in black or 
white, but in green. There was money everywhere in Gotham. Five of the 
world's top 10 billionaires had homes in or around the city, and not 
cheesy little apartments either.  Mansions, grand homes in the classic 
Victorian style, had dotted the landscape around the city, providing a 
barrier of wealth and power.

Now, it was all gone.

The madness of it all was still sinking in to the 17-year-old mind of 
Timothy Drake. He could still remember the sights and the sounds, the 
smell that was only described as being Gotham. Had it only been two 
years? It seemed like only yesterday when the alien warlord Mogul had 
built his Engine. That Engine had consumed the city in seconds, 
leveling it and wiping it away, killing all of the unlucky souls that 
had been there that fateful day.

In a way, Timothy was glad that it had been Gotham, and not some other 
more populated city like Washington DC or Los Angeles, where the death 
toll would have been undoubtedly higher. It was a sick and twisted 
comfort, he knew.

He had been away that day, in New York, with Dick Grayson, watching the 
events unfold on television. Dick had invited him there, mostly out of 
concern for his safety. He covered his concern with a contrived story 
about reuniting former members of the Titans to provide support to the 
Justice League. Timothy knew that there was already a Titans team on 
standby, one which neither he nor Dick belonged to. No, Dick was just 
being protective, and now, when it was all over, Timothy was very happy 
he had listened.

The loss of his friends and associates had devastated him. Spoiler. 
Anarky. Jim Gordon. Alfred. All of them, for their own reasons, had 
refused to listen to him. His father had been smart enough to start a 
vacation in Mexico as soon as the trouble had started and had been 
relieved that his son had accepted the invitation of "rich boy" Grayson 
to holiday in New York.

Barbara had been in Washington DC, using her status as a former member 
of congress to try and lobby a stronger military reaction to Mongul's 
appearance. Helena had been whisked away by distant family relatives to 
Italy. 

Bruce...well, Bruce was a different story.

He had been away, out of town, when Mongul had arrived, working a case 
for an old friend in the CIA. They had needed the Batman's help, and 
undoubtedly, the payment, in the form of favors and information, was 
vital to Bruce's one-man war against crime. As soon as the news hit the 
airwaves, he started making his way home, but had to travel as Bruce 
Wayne. His own personal transportation was back in the states, and the 
CIA did not have a plan for pulling the Batman out of his mission 
early. By the time he had made it back to Gotham, it was too late.

Mongul, and his partner the Cyborg-Superman, had been stopped, by the 
timely resurrection of Superman. The criminals, however, would not face 
justice here on Earth. The Cyborg seemingly died, and Mongul was taken 
into custody by forces from other worlds he had devastated. That, 
however, was not enough to appease the Batman.

For days, he wandered the carnage that had once been his home, the 
place he had sworn to protect with his life. Timothy had no idea what 
thoughts had traveled through the mind of the Batman, but he shivered 
at what sort of rage they probably contained. Bruce Wayne began pouring 
money into a fruitless effort to rebuild the city, drawing the 
attention of the government. Because the destruction had been so 
absolute, the area had been officially designated a federal No-Man's 
Land, and was to be walled off from the rest of the world. The fear was 
that the looting which would begin when the fires died down would cause 
families of the deceased to start bring lawsuits against the state, 
possibly bankrupting it and forcing the federal government to step in. 

The president asked Superman to step in and talk to Wayne, figuring 
that the hero could convince Satan himself to move out of Hell.

Nobody knew how it happened exactly, but days later, a Waynetech 
executive, from out of the San Francisco offices, announced that Bruce 
Wayne's body had been found along with the corpse of the Man of Steel. 
Superman had taken a single kryptonite bullet to the head. Bruce's body 
had been cremated, so the press release said later, as per his will and 
final testament.

Even as Dick inherited Bruce's sizable fortune, he made no bones about 
expressing his disbelief that Bruce was actually dead. He was 
convinced, however, that Bruce had killed Superman.

That meant he was insane, or as Dick would say when he and Timothy were 
all alone, he had lost control of his insanity.

Though no word had been received to indicate to the contrary, and 
despite all of Dick's best efforts, no trace of Bruce was found 
anywhere. Dick was sure that his former mentor was planning 
something, but he had no idea of what. 

Bruce had been obsessed with the notion that all of the aliens living 
among us were a danger to normal humans. Going even beyond that, Bruce 
had held a great distrust of metahumans in general. Timothy believed 
that Bruce was planning on doing something about it, something about 
the hyper-powered individuals on Earth that he felt contributed to the 
destruction of his home. 

Bruce was going to change the world.

Zero hour was fast approaching.

***

He held her down, his hands pinning her arms, his weight firmly on her 
torso. He was sweating behind his mask and she could see the muscles in 
his neck start to bulge with the effort of holding her down. It was 
interesting to see him struggle to keep her from moving, but it was 
also a futile gesture. She realized that there were reasons for this 
exercise, that hand-to-hand combat was an essential part of being a 
fighting team. It was logical, yet illogical and she shrugged in an 
attempt to mimic her human characteristics.

The shrug was enough to pull him off her chest, and she brought her 
knee back and struck him in the buttocks. He cried, but she knew it was 
more from shock than pain. She had calculated the exact amount of force 
that would be necessary to drive him into an unstable position.

As he turned his head to curse, she assumed, her fingers elongated like 
liquid metal and wrapped around his wrists. She pulled him forward 
quickly, and he fell, his pelvis landing hard on her golden face.

"Oh my God! What are you doing to that poor girl?" came a voice from 
the doorway.

Cyborg released Nightwing and pushed him off of her and then stood up 
with no effort. "I do not understand the question. What does financial 
status have to do with a simple wrestling exercise?"

Roy Harper pulled off his little yellow Robin Hood hat and scratched 
his short hair. "You didn't get the joke, Barbara."

Cyborg cocked her head slightly and shrugged. She moved over to her 
wheelchair, which was set in a corner of the room and sat down. 
Immediately, the golden metal skin peeled away, almost melting, 
revealing a sweating, red haired young woman beneath. "Roy Harper! That 
was not funny in the least!" she cried.

Roy walked over and helped Nightwing up. The dark-haired hero brushed 
off his blue and gold uniform, and then looked at his friend. "What's 
with the Speedy costume?"

Roy shrugged, mimicking Cyborg. "Thought it would be a nice change. Too 
many costumes in too short of time gets confusing."

"I suppose you expect me to go put on my old Robin costume, complete 
with little green short pants and boots?"

Barbara answered before Roy could. "I always liked those shorts, made 
your butt look like a well formed green pepper."

Nightwing shot her a "will you shut up" look and returned his attention 
to his friend. "So, do you think you'll be staying here with the 
Titans?"

Roy shook his head and put his hat back on. "No, this is becoming more 
like the Gotham Social Club; you are all connected to Gotham in some 
way, and I'm not. I understand you mission, man, but that's not what 
the Titans are about. We're a family." Then he added, "At least we were 
once."

Dick Grayson, the man behind the Nightwing mask, hung his head down. He 
didn't want to believe it was true, but in his heart, he knew Roy was 
right. The destruction of Gotham had changed him, made him feel 
vulnerable in way he couldn't describe. In the days following the 
destruction of his home city, he had gathered those who had meant the 
most to him. Tim. Barbara. Wally. Donna. 

When Superman had been reported dead, along with Bruce, he knew 
immediately something was wrong. He had spoken to the members of the 
Titans and the Justice League International, explaining his 
theory that Bruce was alive and most likely had killed Superman. They 
had scoffed at the notion. Batman didn't kill people, as Guy Gardner 
had pointed out. Dick told them about the Kryptonite bullet 
Superman had given Bruce, to use if Superman ever lost control, but 
they hadn't believed him. Slowly, the members of the Titans had moved 
on, only to be replaced by those heroes that had personally known 
Batman and Gotham City. Huntress. Catwoman. Black Canary. Sentinel. All 
of them had escaped though their own means the destruction of Gotham 
City.

Dick had actively sought help in curing Barbara of her condition, and a 
top-secret project at S.T.A.R. labs had been the answer. He had poured 
millions of his own money into the procedure that would give her back 
the use and feeling of her legs. The Cyborg suit, named after a fallen 
Titan, allowed Barbara to operate, but its cold, mechanical logic would 
overwhelm her emotions and she became like a robot when she wore it.

Wally had been the first to leave, returning to the JLI, convinced that 
his best friend had lost it. The two had not spoken for months. The 
Flash had tried to be supportive, even suggesting that Dick take on the 
mantle of Batman, just as he had taken on his uncle's role after the 
Crisis. Dick had refused, saying that there was only one Batman, and he 
was still alive.

Donna had left next, perhaps feeling spurned when Barbara Gordon made 
it very clear that Dick was her man. The relationship between Dick and 
Donna had always been on the edge of something else, but never enturing 
any farther than friendship. The other members were gone now, with Roy 
being the last to leave.

"You still don't believe me, even after all we've seen in the past two 
years?" Dick said, holding his hands spread out before him. "Hal 
Jordan, dead. Martian Manhunter, dead. Aquaman, dead. Hawkman, dead. 
Who do you think is doing this?"

"My God, Dick, listen to yourself...you're talking about the man who 
raised you."

"I'm talking about a man who lost everything because he was only human. 
In his mind, that's how he sees it!"

Barbara wheeled herself over. "Roy, you didn't know Bruce like we did. 
He was always holding back, always really wanting to go that extra step 
to eliminate the threats to humanity he perceived."

"You guys sound like you're describing a bad comic book plot, you know 
that? Like some cosmic writer decided that Batman was getting lame, so 
they have him go insane and kill super-heroes!" Roy shouted, his face 
turning red. "There is no Bogey-Man and there is no Batman! All of 
those guys were killed under circumstances we will probably never know. 
That happens in this line of work, Dick! Put on the costume, you might 
die!"

Nightwing shook his head slowly. "No, Roy, you're wrong; put on that 
costume and you will die."

***

Alan Scott sat in his room, alone, looking through the old photo albums 
he had previously stored at the Justice Society headquarters. He was 
thankful he had thought to do that, so many years ago. The intent had 
been to have something to look at during those long nights of meetings 
when he would be too tired to go home and would sleep in his private 
room.

He saw the pictures of his children, the heroes Jade and Obsidian, both 
now living in California. There were the pictures of him in his youth, 
back in the 1940's, and it still amazed him how he had been magically 
made young again. Technically, he was fast approaching 80, but he 
didn't look a day over 25.

He got to the pictures of his wife, who had aged normally, and had died 
only a year before in their New York flat. He missed her very much. You 
didn't spend 50 years with someone and not grow attached in a way that 
could only be described as spiritual. He regretted that they had never 
had children; his own two were from his first wife, a villain that had 
also long since passed on.

In his time with the Titans, the pain had eased somewhat. Being young 
again had its advantages. He could start over, just as he had when his 
first wife had fled. There were certainly enough eligible women on the 
team. Barbara Gordon, Cyborg, was out of the question he knew. She 
looked at their team leader, Nightwing, with the same eyes he had 
looked at his deceased wife with. He would never want to come between 
the happiness the two of them would share if Grayson ever pulled his 
head out of his ass!

There was the Black Canary, but as with the rest of the Justice 
Society, he had practically raised her along with her mother, the 
original Black Canary. He had always liked her mother, but she 
would have none of him. No, he smiled; she had wanted Ted Knight, the 
original Starman.

He had considered asking out the Catwoman, Selina Kyle, but, to his 
chagrin, his old teammate Ted Grant, the Wildcat, was courting her day 
and night. There was a history between the two of them, Alan was sure, 
and he wouldn't be surprised to see them playing in the kitty litter 
soon.

That left Huntress, which was favorite choice. She reminded him of his 
wife; the fire in her eyes and determination in her voice. If she had 
blonde hair, he would have sworn it was his wife, reborn. He had 
competition for her in the form of Robin, Timothy Drake. At first, he 
thought it was just puppy love, but then he realized that one did not 
apprentice to the Batman if one did not know how to be serious. True, 
he was still a boy, but he was fast becoming a man. And a good man at 
that. Though he knew that he and Tim would come to blows over the woman 
(that's what made being on these teams so much fun!), he still 
respected the hell out of him.

It was hard to be alone, trying to figure out a cure for that disease. 
He wasn't sure if pursuing women was a way to forget the past, or avoid 
the inevitable future. During the War, before his marriages, he had 
hidden his fear through sexual conquests. He knew he was a good-looking 
man, and with his power ring, he might well be the most powerful man in 
the universe, but inside he was a child. He understood what Dick was 
trying to tell everyone, and he thanked God every night that Bruce 
Wayne had not had a power ring at his disposal when Gotham was 
destroyed.

He looked down at the pictures again, these taken during the war years 
when he was a member of the All-Star Squadron. He remembered fondly the 
summer nights off 1942 with Dannette, the Firebrand. Then there had 
been Phantom Lady. Then Phantom Lady again, he laughed to himself.

He closed the book and stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his 
cape. He needed to be strong. He was the most experienced member of the 
team, as well as the field team leader. Dick was the brains, and Alan 
respected the young man's intelligence. "Put some wings on him, and 
he'd be just like you, Carter," he whispered silently, remembering the 
dead Hawkman.

***

In a tent, somewhere in Afghanistan, Bruce Wayne sat at a workbench, 
tinkering away at the weapons arrayed before him. Outside the tent, two 
rough looking guards, wearing the glyphs of Ra's Al Ghul, kept silent 
vigil. The woman approached them and they made no move to stop her from 
entering.  

She stepped in, the light from the single lantern casting her 
impressive silhouette on the tent fabric, and stood in the doorway. "I 
have come to check on you, beloved," Talia said, a slight middle-
eastern accent to her words.

"I'm busy."

She approached slowly, with direct calculation for each step. The 
Detective did not like to be rushed upon. "I can see that, but that 
does not matter. Come away from that bench and let us walk on 
the sands of my people."

"I'm busy."

She eyed him, trying to mentally put a hole in the back of his sweaty 
and tussled black hair. "I do not like this change in you."

He stopped and turned. There was an angry fire to his eyes, in the way 
his brow seemed to be knit in a permanent scowl. He lean, tanned 
features glistened with sweat and odd pieces of solder. 
"There has been no change. I have grown."

She put her hands on her hips and thrust them out slightly. "Where is 
my beloved who used to take me like the storm takes a town? Why is it 
you no longer share my tent or the warmth of my hearth?"

"Until I rid this planet of the parasites that feed upon us, I have no 
time for such things!" he barked.

"For two years, my father has sheltered you, provided hospitality as is 
our custom! Never, not once, has he asked your reasons or for anything 
in return. He does this for me! You are my beloved. We have the rest of 
our lives, which shall be very long, I assure you, to be together, and 
still you go about your mad quest! Perhaps I should speak to my father, 
tell him how you would rather sleep with the camels than his own 
daughter?"

Bruce turned around and reached down for a bag at his feet. He opened 
it and reached in. "Go ahead, tell your father," he said, tossing an 
object at her.

Instinctively, she reached out for it, believing it to be a ball. When 
she caught it, it felt clammy and cold. It took less than a second for 
the image of her father's severed head to burn itself into her brain. 
She screamed and dropped the head, which hit the sandy floor with a 
thud. Her screams immediately brought the two guards running in, guns 
pointing out ahead of them. 

Bruce was up and pulling on his uniform gloves, though he was shirtless 
and clad only in gym shorts. His muscles rippled as he moved his hands 
forward and two batarangs shot out ahead of him. Each one met their 
mark with time-honed precision. Both guards went down, hands clutching 
the fountains of blood spurting from their necks.

Talia charged Bruce, but the contest was over before it had begun. He 
had approximately 10 seconds before the remaining camp guards reached 
his tent. She punched at his throat, but he grabbed her wrist and 
twisted until her arm cracked. "I'm sorry, but my mission is too 
important," he said as he slammed a palm into her chest, smashing her 
left breast. The heart punch had been timed and aimed correctly. Her 
heart stopped.

Not even looking back as his former love fell, Bruce burst out of the 
tent and jumped to the side as bullets flew his way. Men, speaking 
Arabic, shouted orders to pursue him. Bruce moved around the next tent 
and came up behind a man. The man whirled around, a pistol in his hand. 
Bruce smacked the gun up, spun, and struck the man hard in the Adam's 
apple. The man staggered and dropped his weapon. Bruce reached down and 
picked it up. He held the gun steady and aimed for the man's chest.

Bruce, you've got to stop this. They're gone.

"Shut up, Clark!" he cried, pulling the trigger. The man fell as Bruce 
took aim on another man running at him, a scimitar aimed high.

You need help, Bruce. Let me help you. I'm you're friend.

"Bastard! Where were you?" Bruce called as he took the swordsman down 
with a single shot to the head. He heard a sound behind him and 
immediately squatted down and kicked out behind him. He caught 
another gunman in the abdomen. Bruce brought the gun up and aimed for 
the man's head.

Put the gun down, Bruce. You know you won't shoot me.

"Yes I will, you alien freak! You're kind destroyed my city! My home, 
damn you!" 

Bruce killed the man and got back up. There was one more guard, and 
Bruce saw him trying to get away, running into the desert.

You don't have it in you. Give me the gun."

"Go to Hell," Bruce said, pulling the trigger. The running man fell and 
there was only silence and the smell of gunpowder in the air. Bruce 
surveyed the scene and knew he would have to leave. That was okay. Ra's 
Al Ghul had secured for him the equipment he needed for his most 
important mission yet. 

Bruce threw the gun down. He hated the damn things, but the ends 
justified the means. Besides, it would make it look more like bandits 
to the locals when they would eventually find the encampment.

He had work to do and very little time to do it in.

***

Tim walked into his private room in Titans Tower and slumped on the 
bed. He was tired, and he had exams to study for. Even with Barbara 
tutoring him, one of his best friends, he couldn't catch a 
break. The exams were important, though, because it would mean he would 
get to go to a good school based on his ability, not his father's 
money. 

He had another tutor as well, Helena. He flipped over on his back, 
remembering how happy he was when his former high school teacher showed 
up at the Titan's door. Dick had found her in Italy and had convinced 
her to return to the United States to help him. When she had learned 
all of their identities, she was a little shocked.

He saw her in a different light now. True, she was at least 7 or 8 
years older than him, but he imagined (constantly) what it would be 
like to be alone with her. He sighed. He couldn't imagine because he 
didn't know the first thing about being with a woman. His father's 
attempts at talking to him about sex were so horrible, he didn't want 
to think about it. He had tried the Internet, but we saw on there 
frightened him. 

He had once tried to ask Bruce.

And then, for the smallest moment, Tim remembered Bruce Wayne, the way 
he had been. To those outside his circle, he had been cold and aloof, 
but to his closest friends, he was a father figure. He taught you not 
only how to look for clues or disarm someone without hurting them, but 
he also was there to provide advice about life. When he had approached 
Bruce about his relationship with the Spoiler, a teenage "criminal", 
Bruce had been sympathetic. His tone had changed from that of Batman 
to that of a man who wanted to try and help a friend. He had spoke of 
his trysts with the "bad girl" sect: Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Talia. 
They had laughed together, not like father and son, but more like two 
brothers, two individuals sailing on the same ship through life.

He missed his friend and mentor.

Dick had tried, and still was. He had been the one who insisted that 
Tim continue his schooling, despite his grueling schedule as a Titan. 
Dick's reply had been: Hey, I did it.

He, like Dick, was convinced that poor Bruce, driven insane by the 
destruction of Gotham City, was the one going around killing both 
super-heroes and super-villains. The media was less concerned 
with the death of the criminals, but each one of their names was etched 
on the walls of Tim's mind: Mirror Master, Evil Star, Parasite, Time 
Commando, Hector Hammond, Count Vertigo and the list went on and on. 
The death of Superman went by largely unnoticed, since most of the 
public believed that the revived hero was just another fake. Yet, the 
public was slowly becoming aware that the heroes that had been big news 
items for years were slowly disappearing.

Several "American" heroes had been killed within the last few months, 
but before that the Justice League Europe and the Global Guardians had 
been decimated. It was as if someone knew all of their weaknesses. No 
clues could be found, despite the efforts of Interpol and Nightwing. 
That had cinched it for Dick. "If you don't find any clues, then it has 
to be Bruce," he had said.

He found himself slowly drifting off when he sensed a presence in his 
doorway. Helena stood there, clad in her sport bra and shorts, 
sweating. "Hey, kiddo, care to spar a little? I just whipped the 
crap out of Dinah."

Tim didn't understand why, but the desire to wrestle with a sweaty 
woman seemed so appealing that he leapt off of his bed and moved to his 
dresser. "Let me get changed, and I'll show you a thing or two, old 
woman."

She smiled seductively. She liked teasing him because he fell for 
everything so easily. "I'm hoping you do...show me a thing or two."

Tim doubled his efforts to change as soon as his door shut.

***

Alan, Selina, Barbara and Dick, all in costume sat at the meeting 
table. On the monitors behind Dick, Alan could see Dinah and an older 
man, whom he assumed to be Oliver Queen, arguing outside. In 
the gymnasium, he could see Helena tossing poor Timothy around like a 
rag doll. He needs to watch her hands, not her other...things.

"With Roy gone, we're at the lowest membership yet," Dick began. 
"Cyborg, have you determined any more possible candidates for the team 
that we could pursue?"

Barbara, clad in the golden Cyborg suit, sat perfectly still. There was 
a pause and Alan could swear he heard little wheels spinning. 
"Observation: Dinah's former lover and partner, Oliver Queen, is also 
the hero known as Green Arrow. He would be more than an adequate 
replacement for Arsenal."

Alan shook his head. "As I understand it, and I got this information 
from Hal Jordan before...." His voice trailed off for a moment. "Before 
he died that Mr. Queen flat out refuses to ever join a team ever again. 
In fact, I'd say he's here to try and harass Dinah into quitting as 
well."

Selina snorted. "Good luck! No way he's going to tell Dinah what to 
do."

As if in response, Alan saw in the monitor a very enraged Dinah punch 
Oliver Queen in the stomach and then turn around. He heard the door 
slam shut down the hallway and then seconds later another slam as Dinah 
entered her room.

"Go ahead, Cyborg," Nightwing said.

"Determination: no more members of the so-called super-hero community 
are available that may be sympathetic to our cause. The Justice League 
International is already filled with many of our former members. 
Infinity, Inc. has disbanded, as has the Suicide Squad, Sovereign 7, 
and the Justice Society. No members of any of those teams, with the 
exception of Alan, are currently active."

Dick nodded. "It's funny, all of the powerhouses that are left are all 
part of the JLI."

Selina pulled off her gloves and examined her nails. "Well, you could 
try the Amazons."

Dick wiped his face with his hand. "Wonder Woman's all-female team? The 
one that promotes peace and love? Ever since Aquaman died, she's been 
really flaky."

"You know they're going to be at the memorial ceremony, don't you?" 
Alan said. "We could go there and ask around. I've met Power Girl 
before, she's headstrong, but she might join up."

The golden Cyborg suit melted away and Barbara sucked in a deep breath. 
"God, I love non-filtered air!" She took another breath and then put 
her glasses on. Gone was the sweating super-hero; in her place was the 
sweating librarian. "The JLI is going to be there as well. Why haven't 
we been invited?"

"Because JLI chairman Guy Gardner said he doesn't want a bunch of Bat-
Groupies attending," Dick said, an edge to his voice.

"So, we're going, right?" Selina asked.

Dick thought for a moment. His accusations that the Batman had become a 
killer, a killer of his former comrades, had definitely lowered his 
status in the super-hero community. In fact, the Titans 
were considered nothing more than ghost chasers now, following the 
trail of a man long since dead. None of his fellow heroes could account 
for the deaths of so many prominent metahumans, but they had their 
theories. Several thought it might be the Cyborg Superman, which had 
prompted Guy Gardner to send out members of the Green Lantern Corps to 
pursue any leads. Hal Jordan's death had prompted the Guardians of the 
Universe to offer Guy his green power ring back. He had accepted it, 
but refused to turn over his yellow one and now wore both.

Wally West, the Flash and Dick's former best friend, suggested an 
alliance of the more powerful super-villains such as Gorilla Grodd, 
Ocean Master, Black Adam and others. He, like so many others, 
just could not accept the idea, despite his considerable abilities, 
that the Batman could take out such powerhouses such as Superman or the 
Martian Manhunter on his own.

Dick knew better.

He had seen the files, just as Barbara and Tim had, in the Batcave's 
computers. Batman had spent years observing the metahumans of the 
world, learning their abilities and limits, and then he devised plans 
to exploit each and every single one. Dick believed that Superman was a 
fluke, an act of rage, because the Kryptonite bullet meant that Bruce 
had used a gun.

Bruce despised guns. If he was using them, then he was deadly serious 
about protecting humanity from what he saw as its greatest threat.

Something kept nagging him as he remembered those files in the Batcave.

***

Dinah wiped the tears of anger from her eyes and then had to grab a 
tissue as more seemed to pour forth as if she were leaking her life 
away. "Damn him!" she screamed, cursing her former love.

They had been so happy once, or so she thought. There was a time, just 
before Gotham, that she thought her and Oliver Queen would be together 
forever. She had dreamed of being Mrs. Dinah Queen for so long that it 
just seemed inevitable that it would happen. Then came the realization 
that the man she had pledged her love to was nothing more than a 
womanizer.

He had been caught with one of their friends, a woman younger than 
Dinah, and that had ended their relationship. Since then, he had 
pleaded and begged her to come back to him, all the while she 
knew he hadn't given up his ways. He simply wanted something to come 
home to after his conquests. She had refused him every time.

Then he had come to her again today, and she had prepared herself for 
another tale of woe and redemption. Instead, she was informed that an 
unnamed female super-hero was suing him for child support. 

He came to ask for money.

He received a punch in the stomach and a warning to stay away from her. 
She did not cry in front of him, but instead waited until she was alone 
in her room. She cursed herself for ever loving that man, instead of 
pursuing other avenues that had been laid open before her.

At one time, she had formed the Justice League of America with four 
other heroes. For a recently divorced 19 year old, the prospect of 
working so close to so many gorgeous men had been appealing. 
She remembered Hal Jordan, then as old as she was now, trying to 
impress her with his skintight outfit, which highlighted his trim 
figure. She had paid him no mind, instead opting to pursue the 
quiet, yet noble, Flash. Barry Allen had proven to be too loyal to his 
one true love and they had become nothing more than friends. It was 
very soon after that she had met Ollie.

But, there had been one man that had made her insides shake, that made 
her skin tingle whenever she was in his presence. True, he only 
associated with the Justice League here and there, but when he did show 
up for the occasional mission, she always managed to find a way to be 
partnered up with him.

After the Crisis, where Barry had sacrificed his life to save them, the 
Batman had helped form a new Justice League, the current one, and Dinah 
had been one of the first people he had asked to join. The fact that he 
had asked her in the throes of passion was never discussed at any 
meetings.

For a brief time, she had fallen head over heels for Bruce Wayne. She 
never understood what it was that drew them together; maybe it was all 
of the death associated with the Crisis. So many innocent people, plus 
Barry, had died that it was inconceivable. For a time, they grieved in 
each other's arms, but they soon parted as he began to feel too close 
to her. Oliver Queen was his friend.

She reasoned that he justified their affair by the fact he knew all 
about Ollie's extracurricular activities, but preferred to keep that 
information to himself. She would often wonder, especially now, what 
would have happened if she had pressed the issue? What if she had not 
simply agreed to let it die, but instead pursued the man? 

Then he might not be the one they were hunting now.

Was it as simple as that? Did he lose so many things that he loved when 
Gotham was destroyed his mind simply left to go join them? Were they 
fighting Bruce Wayne?

Or the Batman?

***

Helena was enjoying herself.

Tim spun around with his staff, moving lightning quick, bringing it 
close to her skull. She blocked it with the counter-move that Nightwing 
had showed her. The boy...no, that wasn't right, she thought as she 
examined her sparring partner. Gone was the fresh-faced boy who had 
been in her class when she had taught high school. Standing before her, 
a smile a mile wide on his face, was a very handsome young man.

He wasn't quite ready yet, still had some time to age, but Helena could 
be patient. Physically, he was in his prime, his young body seeming to 
be nothing but muscle, but not in a hulking, body-builder sense. Tim 
was built more like a dancer, long and lean, but hiding power. Yes, she 
decided, ducking a kick while performing a foot sweep, he was 
physically ready.

As Tim fell onto his rear, she backed up and pulled out the battle 
staves from her belt. Nightwing had spent hours showing her how to use 
them, insisting that they would be much better in close-quarters than 
her crossbow. He got up, and she noticed his eyes dropping to her chest 
again. He had the desire, but that came with youth and inexperience. He 
needed to channel all of that pent up frustration into his technique. 
She tossed a stave at his knee.

Tim went down again.

It was fun sparring with him; he was the only one who could keep up 
with her. Nightwing tried, but his mind was always somewhere else, and 
he would end the match quickly with some move the great Batman had 
taught him.

Batman...

She remembered him, being all high and mighty, keeping her at an arm's 
length. He never trusted her completely, yet he always used her to suit 
his needs. Always criticizing her methods, never once offering to show 
her how to do it. No, he wanted her to stop all together.

She laughed at first when she had heard he was a killer now, and then 
realized how much that thought actually scared her. If he were going 
after super-heroes, would he come after her?

Safety in numbers is what she had figured, so she had joined the 
Titans. At first, she thought that maybe Dick had invited her to join 
for selfish reasons. She had no doubt he was attracted to her, most men 
were. She was the ultimate "bad girl", a mobster's daughter that wore 
tight leather and killed big, bad men.

Or so the rumors had gone in Gotham.

It was one thing to kill in self-defense. It was another to do it for 
revenge. Her Italian blood burned for that revenge from the night her 
family had been killed. Batman could never understand because he was 
not Italian. He had no passion, only determination.

In Helena's mind, she had never murdered. She never killed the 
innocent, nor did she ever try to harm those who tried to help others. 
But now, Batman was murdering super-heroes, if you believed what Dick 
had been saying. Helena wasn't sure if she did, but she finally did 
understand why Dick had needed her.

She was the only one that was willing to kill him.

Tim got up and rubbed his knee. Helena bent over and put her hands on 
her legs, giving him a chance to look down her shirt. He didn't. 

The boy was learning.

She figured another few weeks, and he'd be ready to meet her 16-year-
old cousin. They would make a perfect couple. Good babies from that 
marriage, she thought. Healthy children with enough Italian in them to 
make them respectable.

***

The rest had gone to bed, and Barbara sat in her wheelchair in front of 
the monitors. She didn't really understand why Dick insisted on monitor 
duty since nobody ever called for assistance from the Titans, but it 
did help set up a regular routine for them to follow. She wished she 
were in bed with Dick instead.

Her life had completely changed since the awful destruction of Gotham 
City. She had lost her father and then had lost a good friend when 
Bruce had gone insane. She remembered Dick storming into her hotel room 
in Washington DC, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out. She 
had not protested, instead overwhelmed with joy that he was still 
alive.

In the weeks that followed, despite their elation over the wonders of 
the Cyborg suit, the body count of metahumans began to rise and Dick 
had begun to change. She started to see a lot of Bruce in him; 
especially in the way he would sit and ponder over events, trying to 
see past the clutter of useless information to get to the heart of the 
problem. 

She understood his dilemma, as Bruce had once explained his. For Bruce, 
it had always been a constant battle with himself not to just simply 
kill the Joker. The deranged madman had killed his ward, Jason Todd, 
paralyzed her and done so many other horrible things that many felt he 
didn't deserve to live. But the Joker had been insane, incapable of 
rational thought, not responsible for his actions under the law.

It was more than the law to the Batman; it was about respect for the 
innocent. In a way, she envied Bruce for being able to see past all of 
the horror that the Joker had caused, to see that somewhere deep inside 
that mind was probably just a normal guy who had been exposed to 
extreme circumstances.

Unfortunately now, her boyfriend, her lover, her life, now had to 
ponder the very same thing every day. Dick did not see things the same 
way Bruce did, try as he might. To Dick, the Joker should have been 
executed a long time ago, instead of by chance when Gotham City was 
destroyed. Where Dick saw things in black and white, right and wrong, 
Bruce had lived in that gray area, always willing to give others a 
chance. No one could doubt the Batman's willingness to take down the 
unjust, but very few saw his desire to truly make the world a better 
place. 

Through Barbara, Bruce Wayne had donated millions of dollars to 
charities throughout Gotham City, and even more money in anonymous 
tithes to the Arkham Asylum to ensure that the criminally insane 
were given the best psychological treatment there was. Bruce wanted so 
much to believe that people could be made well again, whether it was 
the homeless man down on his luck, or the homicidal maniac unable to 
control the vicious urges that plagued them.

Soon, she knew, there would be a reckoning. Dick was getting closer to 
solving the mystery of the Batman, but in doing so, he was becoming 
more and more distant. She had hoped by now that they would be at least 
engaged.

She quietly pondered these thoughts and became lost in her own world, 
so she did not hear the soft steps of Selina as she walked barefoot 
into the room. Barbara gave a small yelp as the older woman 
touched her shoulder and immediately, the Cyborg suit covered her. 
"Observation: it may not be wise to sneak up on this unit," came the 
cold, metallic voice.

As the suit melted away, Selina sat down on the edge of the meeting 
table. "Penny for your thoughts," she said to Barbara.

"I was thinking about Gotham."

Selina nodded. "You know, I thought that by moving to New York, I'd be 
able to put it all behind me. Ted Grant put me up in his apartment and 
offered me the chance to start over. I didn't want to think about it."

"Then why did you come to us?" The question had bugged Barbara for the 
past year. Selina Kyle had just shown up one day, volunteering to join 
Dick's new team of Titans. 

"I had heard about Superman, and then read the papers about all of the 
others...I realized, just as all of you did, that only the Batman could 
do such things. He was so...intense." She paused and brushed her dark 
hair out of her face. Sitting there in her pink pajama's, with an iron-
on kitten on the chest, she did not strike Barbara as being the most 
notorious jewel thief in the world. Then again, Selina Kyle was not a 
criminal anymore. "He always believed in me, no matter what I did. 
He would offer words of advice, stern words for sure, but he always 
seemed to trust me. At first, I thought he was in love with me. Maybe 
in another time and place...but not here and now, nor then. I wish I 
could have known him better."

"That still doesn't explain why you decided to join the Titans."

Selina smiled, flashing he pearly white teeth. "The truth is that I 
kind of felt that if the Batman was out there doing these things, like 
Nightwing was proclaiming, then it was up to us to bring him in. Just 
like he made it his responsibility to watch over us, it our 
responsibility as the new...Gotham Knights to bring in our problem. 
This is a Gotham problem."

"'Gotham Knights'?" Barbara asked.

"Sounds better than 'Titans'. Besides, the Titans are a bunch of kids, 
and if you haven't noticed. Most of us are adults."

Barbara was silent for a moment. "Could you kill him?"

"No. I want to bring him to justice, get him the help he needs. I don't 
want him dead, but I think that Dick is afraid it will come to that. 
That's why Helena is here."

"I know. I thought," she blushed slightly, "at first he had lost 
interest in me."

"That's silly. Hell, I remember back when you were Batgirl, working 
with him and Batman. He couldn't keep his eyes off of you. I was really 
surprised when he started hanging out with that Starfire wench."

"I didn't realize my feelings for him then, so we sort of grew apart." 
She leaned a little closer. "I can't tell you how happy I was when that 
little tart left Earth!"

Both women laughed for a moment, but stopped when Dick came in. He was 
clad only in a pair of boxer shorts and his hair was mussed about. He 
had a serious look on his face. "I know what Bruce is going to do."

***

The Batman looked down from the hill at the expanse of nothingness 
before him. There, once, had been everything he had cared about in the 
world. There, a single man, a normal human, could make all of the 
difference in the world. That was true until the alien had arrived.

When Superman first appeared on the scene, roughly a decade before, the 
whole world had become enamored by the Last Son of Krypton. Not the 
Batman, though. He looked human, acted human and even tried to be 
human, but he wasn't. Then after him came more and more aliens, 
populating his Earth, using their powers to make his people depend on 
them. They were awestruck and became complacent. 

If the aliens had never come, then Gotham City would still be there and 
the Batman would be up on the rooftops, perhaps working with Robin or 
Nightwing. If the aliens had never come, then maybe 
Bruce Wayne might have gotten married and had children. 

But the aliens had come and they had taken his world away.

Then Superman, the alien that wanted to be human, tried to tell him he 
couldn't stay in his city any more. It wasn't bad enough that aliens 
had blasted the city into atoms, but now they wanted to take away a 
man's right to mourn.

It was time to take the world back, and only the Batman could do it.

He reached inside the black gym bag he had brought with him and pulled 
out the rifle case. Though he loathed guns, the only way he could 
accomplish his task was to use once yet again. Soon, he thought, he 
would never have to touch one again, once he made the world right.

The idea had come to him a few years back, after Superman had given him 
the Kryptonite bullet. He had devised several ways to take down the 
most powerful of the metahumans, but the Green Lanterns had always 
poised a special problem. Had it been a relatively inexperienced and 
foolish bearer of the power ring, he would have no problem. But, when 
you considered the experience of persons like Hal Jordan, Guy Gardner 
or John Stewart, the Batman wasn't sure of he could get the necessary 
drop on them.

His confrontation with Hal Jordan, the lackey of the alien Guardians of 
the Universe, had provided him with what he needed. He knew that a 
bullet, forged from a Green Lantern power battery would break through 
the defensive aura Green Lanterns kept around themselves. Batman had 
reasoned that, years before, after speaking with Alan Scott, the 
original Green Lantern, who had forged his power ring from his power 
battery. 

Batman opened the rifle case and pulled out a small black ammo clip. In 
it were several glowing, green bullets, forged from the remains of Hal 
Jordan's power battery. Leaving the rest of the battery for Guy Gardner 
to find, in a ruin state, was sufficient to hide his crime. Killing Hal 
Jordan had been even easier. 

Batman simply painted a sharpened batarang yellow and impaled Jordan 
with it.

With Jordan dead, Batman knew he would never get close enough to 
Gardner or Stewart to take them out the same way. That was where the 
sniper rifle came in.

In a few hours, nearly every member of the super-hero community would 
be gathering here in a memorial service for the fallen city. Batman 
sneered at the thought. Had it not been for their kind, Gotham would 
still be there.

He knew he had to take out the key players immediately: Guy Gardner, 
John Stewart, Obsidian, Jade, Power Girl and Wonder Woman. Then, he 
would disappear for a few weeks as the heroes tried to regroup and then 
he would begin to strike at them one at a time. It was part of his 
master strategy that he had worked out years before in the Batcave.

"You take out the leadership first. Then you go after the troops," he 
said coldly, remembering the words of some unnamed patriot of the 
Revolutionary War. It was fitting, he thought, because this was a 
revolution; a rebellion against the forces of alien tyranny.

Then there was that nagging thought. He had killed humans. Friends. 
Lovers. Was that necessary in this revolution?

He dismissed the thought and set about assembling his rifle.

***

As the sun was reaching its zenith, the flatland that had once been 
Gotham City was alive with men and women garbed in colorful costumes. 
Guy Gardner led his Justice League over to where several members of the 
Justice Society stood. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged and then Jay 
Garrick took Guy to the side. "Have you heard from the Titans?"

Gardner gave him a roguish smile. "Just signed on one of their members. 
Roy Harper. Took that liberal wimp Ollie Queen's place, lousy jerk. 
Left us hanging like that. Maybe they did things like that in the old 
League, but this is the One True Justice League now and we follow my 
rules."

Jay ignored the posturing. "I thought they would at least make an 
appearance."

John Stewart, leader of the European wing of the JLI walked up. "I've 
got Donna Troy and Wally West on my team, and they haven't had any 
contact with the Titans as far as I know."

Wonder Woman and her second in command, Power Girl, soon joined them. 
They were members of the Amazons, an all female team. None of the men 
made mention that the women were walking arm in arm. Since Aquaman had 
been found dead, after being exposed to a red tide of unknown origin, 
Princess Diana had made it no secret she had forsworn the touch of men. 
"John, is Donna here now?"

The muscular black man in the Green Lantern uniform nodded and pointed 
over to where a young woman with dark hair was chatting with Black 
Lighting of the Outsiders. "She's been a great addition to the team, 
Princess; I can't thank you enough for convincing her to join up."

Wonder Woman smiled, but Power Girl spoke. "Donna doesn't quite see 
things as we do in the Amazons, but she is loved and respected by all 
of us. It was her decision to remain in the Man's World."

"Ah, Hell, Kara," Guy Gardner began. "I seem to remember you pretty 
much liked it here in the 'Man's World'. Your problem is you haven't 
experienced the right...Guy."

"Oh, there was the right man. His name was Aquaman," Power Girl said, 
unaffected by Gardner's 
jibe.

"Aquaman? What is it with you chicks? You like the smell of fish or 
something?" Guy asked, infuriated.

"Guy..." John Stewart began.

Wonder Woman laid a hand on Stewart's forearm. "It's okay, John; Guy's 
problem is that he has never experienced our kind of peace and 
serenity."

Guy turned and stomped off. "Yeah, you definitely got the 'peace' I 
want to experience."

***

Batman peered through the scope of his rifle and activated the laser 
range finder. Guy Gardner, his first target, clad in his gaudy Green 
Lantern uniform had turned away. The laser set right on the back of his 
skull. Batman released his breath and slowly pulled the trigger.

***

The back of Guy Gardner's head exploded in a cloud of gore and blood, 
spraying brain matter on the nearby Blue Beetle. Several of the more 
experienced heroes were immediately in action, notably Jay Garrick and 
Wally West. Before Guy's body hit the ground, they were there to catch 
him. It was too late to save him, though.

Wally detected another sonic boom and through his Speed Force enhanced 
senses; he saw the green projectile heading for John Stewart. He raced 
after it and reached out to grab it, but found he couldn't move it. He 
then moved to get John out of the way, but when he tried to grab the 
hero, the green defensive aura kicked in and knocked Wally back. Before 
his eyes he saw the bullet enter Stewart's skull. Though it lasted for 
only a split millisecond, it seemed like hours to Wally.

Heroes spread out as team leaders shouted orders. Wally started to get 
up when he was shot in the knee. Jay Garrick went down as well, a 
bullet in the heart.

Chaos reigned as the Batman methodically picked off the most powerful 
of the groups.

***

Dick gunned the Night Rider onto the exit ramp and burst through the 
barricade. As the customized sports car left the ramp and entered the 
air, special air jets on the underside of the vehicle ensured a smooth 
drop to the ground below. He knew they were too late, that the carnage 
had started. He looked over at Robin, who was scanning the area with 
the forward-looking radar.

Behind them, in the Titan's modified hovercraft, Cyborg guided the 
vehicle so that they remained perfectly aligned with the vehicle in 
front of them. The analog thoughts of Barbara Gordon analyzed 
the situation, based in part on the known plans the Batman had devised 
and shared with them, and determined the three most likely places the 
Batman would be hiding.

There was no doubt he would be incorporating his stealth costume, a 
special armored suit he had built for him just prior to the destruction 
of the city. It rendered him invisible even to the enhanced vision of 
Superman. However, her cybernetic ally enhanced eyes picked up on the 
laser range finder as it was fired.

"Night Rider, this is Titans 1, bear to the right approximately 7 
degrees. I believe the Batman is on the top of that hill."

"Got it. Dinah, Selina: flank him on the right. Alan, you take to the 
air," Nightwing said into his dashboard microphone.

***

Alan Scott energized his ring and opened a portal through the top of 
the hovercraft. When he was in the open air, he felt much better. Here 
was where he belonged, free and full of energy. He summoned his will 
and his ring projected a field of green light before him. It washed 
over the hill and Alan detected not the Batman, but the energy from the 
bullets he was using.

Dick wasn't sure exactly what the plan would be, but he did know that 
one of the ones the Batman had explained to him involved getting all of 
the most powerful heroes together in one spot and then eliminating them 
in a very simple fashion. Most villains would go to elaborate ends to 
devise complex traps. That was the secret of the Batman's success at 
getting free of such things; the more parts in the machine, the more 
parts that could break.

Alan had been the one to suggest that Batman would use a gun with some 
type of special bullets. It had worked on Superman and in his insanity, 
the Batman would probably fall back on an old staple rather than put 
forth a great effort. It had been two years, and Alan had guessed the 
man was getting impatient.

He hadn't expected to detect the familiar energy of a green lantern 
power battery and he wondered where the Batman had come across one at. 
Then a chilling thought occurred to him: what if the Batman had a power 
ring? What would a weapon that was fueled by willpower be like in his 
hands?

***

Batman pulled the trigger one last time and had to concede defeat for 
the moment. He had gotten Power Girl, but Wonder Woman was able to 
deflect the bullets away with her bracelets. As he laid the 
rifle down and prepared to watch the chaos, safe in his stealth cloak, 
he caught site of a black sports car racing towards him. Behind it, he 
saw the familiar hovercraft of the Titans. "Dick," was all he said, 
realizing that he had been discovered.

He then saw the green glow of Sentinel's power ring. Instantly, his 
file on the hero raced through his mind. Scott was one of his idols, 
but he was a Green Lantern, no matter what he decided to call himself 
these days, and that made him a whipping boy for the Guardians of the 
Universe. That made him the enemy.

The batarang flew in one deft motion, emerging from the cloaking field 
of the Batman's armor, totally surprising Sentinel. The momentary loss 
of concentration allowed the Batman to pull out his nylon cord. With 
skill that would make someone wonder if he was from Texas, the Batman 
managed to lasso Scott's ring hand. 

However, Alan Scott was by far no novice at combat and he immediately 
used his ring to from energy scissors that cut the cord. The green 
field coming from his ring outlined the Batman, allowing Alan to see 
the man fall. "Give it up, Bruce; you don't have what it takes to 
defeat me."

Behind his mask, the Batman smiled. He reached down onto his right 
gauntlet and pressed one of the semi-hidden buttons. Instantly, the 
stealth field was gone and the Batman stood there in a costume 
of light blue and white. The costume was actually a layer of micro-
armor, covering a full body suit, interlaced with padding. "You're 
right, Sentinel, I can't beat you right now, but I can keep 
you busy."

The Batman whirled and shot his right arm out, pointing it at the crowd 
of heroes in the plain below. A twist of his forearm and a small 
launcher pooped up from what Sentinel had thought was only some 
ornamental design on the gauntlet. Instantly, a small rocket fired at 
the crowd. "Multiple Projectile Warhead," he said grimly.

The man who called himself Sentinel realized that the heroes were too 
busy attending the dead and wounded and had not even noticed them yet, 
much less the rocket speeding towards them. In less time than it took 
to think about it, he was after it, leaving the Batman behind.


The Batman, satisfied he could make it to his hidden plane before the 
Sentinel could return, turned and started heading down the opposite 
side of the hill. As he dropped over the side, he found two women 
waiting for him. "End of the line, Bruce," Dinah said, taking a 
standard defensive pose.

Selina moved slightly to the side, a whip in her hand. "We don't want 
to hurt you, Batman."

"Taking up with the enemy, ladies?" the Batman asked, measuring up the 
two women. While Selina was trim and athletic, she was no match for him 
and she knew it. Dinah was there to take him down.

"They aren't the enemy, you are," Dinah said, launching into the 
attack. "I loved you once, you know that?"

The Batman easily blocked the kick to his face, grabbed her ankle, and 
pushed her back. Selina's whip came down, sparks flying from where it 
contacted his mesh armor. His hand went for his utility belt and he 
tossed a flash-bang grenade at her. It exploded in her face.

Selina screamed as shrapnel from the grenade dug into her flesh, 
tearing it and her mask. She fell to her knees, covering her wounds 
with her hands. Dinah was back up and got a punch into his abdomen. He 
was satisfied when he heard her bones crack from the blow. 

Dinah screamed and went for a throat punch with her other hand, but the 
Batman simply sidestepped and her momentum carried her past. With no 
sound at all, he kicked back into her spine. She made an odd choking 
sound and then fell forward onto her face. "I could have broken your 
spine, Dinah. Do yourself a favor and stay down."

Dinah rolled over, facing him. Her face was a mass of anger and 
frustration. She was outclassed and wounded, but she had to keep him 
here until Sentinel got back. "Got to Hell!"

"I probably will, but not before I make this world a safe place for 
humans."

As if in reply, the golden form of Cyborg came down from seemingly 
nowhere. Her fingers had become sharpened talons and they dug into the 
mesh costume as she landed on his back. The Batman went 
down on one knee, and grunted as some of her fingers dug into his 
flesh. "Observation: this unit will soon override the controls of your 
armor. Surrender is the only option."

A hot wave of anger ripped through the mind of the Batman. Here was 
another human, corrupted by alien ideas. It infuriated him to hear the 
voice of the daughter of his closest friend coming out in 
cold, mechanical tones. Had it not been for the destruction of Gotham 
City, who knew what Barbara Gordon could have become, instead of this 
half robot freak?

Half robot...just like the Cyborg Superman.

The Cyborg Superman had helped Mongul destroy his city.

Batman roared with a primal rage and reached behind to grab Cyborg by 
the neck. "You want play control? Try this!" he cried as his eye-mouse, 
mounted in his cowl, clicked on the armor's internal defensive grid. 
The power from the small chemical battery used to power the stealth 
field was junctioned through several step-up transformers located 
throughout the armor. The transformers, originally developed by 
S.T.A.R. Labs for use in spacecraft shielding systems, up the power 
step by step until several thousand volts were racing through the armor 
into Cyborg.

The two remained there, motionless as the power surged through the 
armor. Cyborg knew that the suit could not generate enough power to 
harm her in this form and she briefly tried to catalog all of 
the reasons why the Batman would attempt something so foolish. When she 
had gotten to the 1,978th reason, she realized that a virus, uploaded 
through the electrical charge into her internal mainframe, was invading 
her system. Suddenly, her own systems were fighting against her and she 
became a ware of fear.

Barbara Gordon emerged as the suit shut down. The electrical charge 
singed her flesh and the air was filled with the sickening smell of 
burnt meat. She would have surely died then if Sentinel had 
not returned. Seeing three of his teammates in danger, he used his ring 
to pick them up. So much of him wanted to go down and pound the Batman 
into paste for what he had done, and he realized that it had been 
decades since he had felt so much testosterone surge through him.

It took all of his supreme will to leave the field of battle to care 
for the wounded.

His armor was useless now, simply weighing him down, and the Batman 
considered removing it. He knew that Sentinel would probably ask for 
assistance from the other heroes and he would be hopelessly 
outnumbered. He turned to make good his escape and then stopped.

Nightwing, Robin and the Huntress stood there, determination set in 
their faces. "Bruce," Dick said.

He understood the challenge. "Dick," he said, bowing slightly.

The Huntress took a step back and both Nightwing and Robin moved to 
either side of the Batman. "You can surrender now," Robin began, 
shifting his quarterstaff from one hand to the other.

"Surrender to their justice? Don't make me laugh. Don't you see what 
they have done? They've poisoned the gene pool," the Batman said, 
pulling back his cowl to reveal his face.

Nightwing looked into his blue eyes and saw something he had never 
thought possible. There were those who said the Batman was cold-
hearted, a bloodless creature of the night who felt nothing like 
compassion or love. Dick Grayson knew better; he had seen the love the 
man had for his friends, his family, and his deceased parents, for him. 
The eyes he saw now were devoid of any emotion except rage. Truly the 
Batman had taken control of Bruce Wayne. "They haven't done anything, 
Bruce. You need help."

Batman tossed the cowl and cape away. He heard a commotion behind him 
and dared to steal a glance. Several super-heroes, led by Wonder Woman, 
were coming over the hill. As he turned back to face Robin and 
Nightwing, he heard gasps and whispers as the heroes stopped in their 
tracks. It's him! He's really alive. Oh my God, Wally, Dick was right 
the whole time!

Batman observed how Robin was moving, noting the style and found it to 
be very similar to Nightwing's. "So, it ends here, does it? What, you 
think that by killing me you change anything?" He pointed behind him 
without turning around. "Look at them, Dick. They aren't human! Aliens. 
Mutants. Genetic freaks. Evolutionary diversions. If we don't stop 
them, then what happened to Gotham will happen somewhere else! They 
don't care about human lives! If they did, why didn't they stop it?"

"They were needed in other places, Bruce. They can't be everywhere at 
once." Then Nightwing narrowed his eyes. "Where the Hell were you?"

There was a slight twitch in the Batman's face, as if a nerve had been 
severed. "This wasn't my fault."

The Batman reached down to his utility belt and narrowly avoided 
Robin's quarterstaff. The youth was quick on the return swing and 
caught the Batman in the thigh. Nightwing charged, going for the 
device Batman held in his hand. 

A backhand slap forced the Teen Wonder back a step, and a kick made 
Nightwing pause. "See this?" he asked, indicating the device.

Nightwing didn't reply, but only pressed his attack. Robin, however, 
was full of comments. "You're crazy, Bruce, you know that?"

Batman jumped high in the air, avoiding the quarterstaff and flipped 
out of the way of Nightwing's fists. "It's the remote detonator for the 
Batcave's nuclear core. Bet you didn't know it survived."

A flurry of blows contacted the Batman's chest as Nightwing pressed the 
attack. "Doesn't matter, Bruce, reactors work on fission, not fusion."

Batman head butted Nightwing and then punched Robin in the shoulder, 
spinning him. "True, but I've got enough explosives down there to 
radiate this whole area. I'll win no matter what!"

Nightwing paused and looked at the Batman.

He wasn't the Batman. He was a madman.

The destruction of Gotham City had killed the Batman and Bruce Wayne. 
The loss, perhaps coaxed by irrational fears of alien supermen and 
intergalactic police forces, had caused his mind to revert 
to a state of insanity. All of the darkness he had kept inside of him 
since that night when his parents had been gunned down, all of the rage 
he had felt, the deep inadequacy that must have consumed him as he 
watched them bleed to death in front of him, had finally taken hold.

In front of him was not what he had feared for so long, it was not the 
face of what Dick Grayson was to eventually become. That was what had 
driven him so hard, his desire to look in the face of madness to see if 
he saw his own reflection. Was being a member of the "family" of 
Batman, the so-called Gotham Knights, just a road to madness? Was Dick, 
who had suffered severe tragedy in his life, going to one day be like 
the shivering and babbling...thing in front of him now?

No, he decided, I won't end up like that. For too long, he had always 
thought that maybe if he had been more like Bruce, perhaps he would 
have been a better hero. Batman was the icon that so many 
non-powered heroes looked to. He was the model they tried to emulate.

Some people said that he saw things differently than Bruce, and that 
was true. Bruce did not see right and wring, but a constant mixing of 
the two, with innocents caught up in the middle. Through it all, he had 
to deny the rage inside of him and lock it away. Even when he shared 
things with someone, he would only go so far. He would not indulge his 
pain; he would not let it breathe. He refused to look for that shoulder 
to cry on.

And he had snapped.

Dick was just the opposite. Maybe it was because he had spent more time 
with his family than Bruce; maybe it was because he refused to deny the 
feelings in his heart for Donna, Kory and Barbara. Maybe it was because 
growing up, he had a friend like Wally he could turn to for support.

Batman simply kept it all internalized until the city, his fixation, 
was gone and that rage had nowhere left to go except out in all 
directions.

Nightwing turned to the Huntress and nodded. She would shoot the device 
out of his hand and then he and Robin would take him down. He was tired 
and they weren't. 

The Huntress brought up her crossbow and fired.

A bolt from her weapon went straight through his throat and out the 
back of his neck, splitting his spinal cord. The Batman would be long 
dead before his mind actually registered it.

"No! God damn it!" Nightwing cried. Both he and Robin grabbed the 
falling form.

The Huntress never said a word.


It had been two weeks since they had buried the real Bruce Wayne. Out 
of respect for Nightwing, and because he had been right, the members of 
the super-hero community decided not to publicize the resurrection of 
the Batman. Because there would be no official witnesses, Helena could 
not be charged. When she refused to leave the Titans, stating that the 
reason Dick had wanted her on the team was to kill the Batman; it 
caused a division in the ranks.

Dick did not want to admit it, but he knew that Helena was right. Just 
as Superman had given Batman a Kryptonite bullet, so had Batman 
extracted a promise from a young Dick Grayson. "There may come a time," 
he had said as they sat atop a warehouse, "when one of my enemies might 
gain control of me and cause me to harm others. If that happens, then 
you must take action to ensure that I can't harm anyone else."

I can't do that, Batman; you're my best friend....

"Then find someone who can. That's all I ask of you, Robin; don't let 
me become that which I hate."

He wiped the tear away as he finished packing his bag. Barbara was 
healing just fine, thanks to the millions of dollars of funding his 
company was providing to S.T.A.R. labs, but it would be a few 
weeks before she would be ready for active duty. The end result of her 
injuries had been that the Cyborg suit had been absorbed directly into 
her body, covering her bones and restoring her to what she was before 
the Joker's bullet. She was going to be Batgirl again.

And he was going to be Batman.

It wasn't Gotham City, but he was sure that New York and the JLI could 
use a Batman here and there. With several key members dead or wounded, 
the call had been made by Wonder Woman herself to ask him if he would 
take the reigns of the team. The Amazons were being dissolved in favor 
of a new, stronger JLI.

Dinah was staying, but Selina, her face damaged severely, had retired 
to seclusion, under the watchful eye of Ted Grant. Dick offered to pay 
for her surgery, but she had only commented that she had her own ways 
of obtaining money. The good news was that Dinah's doctor turned out to 
the new Dr. Mid-Nite, the senior one retiring permanently to south 
Florida.

Alan was going to be the new team leader, and he had already recruited 
the Blue Beetle to take Nightwing's spot, which bothered him a little. 
He didn't see how the Blue Beetle was going to be an adequate 
replacement, but that was Sentinel's....Green Lantern's problem now. 
Alan had gone back to his old name, since he truly was the last one 
left. The Guardians of the Universe had requested he join the Corps, 
but Alan had refused.

One of the more interesting developments had been when Dick had caught 
Alan sneaking out of Helena's room a few nights before. It was obvious 
what was going on, and though he still held some resentment, justified 
or not, against Helena, he hoped the two of them would be happy.

"So, I guess this is good-bye," Tim said, walking into the room.

Dick nodded. "I'm moving into the penthouse on Park Avenue. You got 
your key?"

Tim reached into his pocket and pulled it out. "Don't leave the Tower 
without it."

Dick reached out and grabbed Tim's shoulder. "He would be very proud of 
you."

Tim blushed slightly and Dick released him. They started walking out. 
"Do you think he even realized what he was doing in the end?"

"No. He was completely gone. The man we knew wasn't there."

Tim nodded and scratched at his head. "Um, would you have a problem if 
I..."

"Tried out the Nightwing costume? Finish high school first, get into a 
good college, and we'll talk. Till then, you're Robin. Don't like it 
and I'll make you wear my old Robin costume."

They exited out the front door and saw Helena walking up the walkway 
with a young girl with her. The girl was probably about 16, Dick 
guessed, and looked like a younger version of the Huntress. 

"Timothy, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Rosalie."

Tim looked at Dick who shrugged and then pushed him towards the girl, 
who giggled as Tim introduced himself. She then said something to 
Helena in Italian. Helena smiled and pointed at Tim, and then she 
responded to her cousin in Italian.

As the two younger people began a conversation, Helena walked up to 
Dick. "Good-bye, Richard."

Dick sighed and set his bag down. "You were right. I knew all along you 
would kill him. Does that make me a monster?"

"Was it what he would have wanted?"

He pursed his lip. "Yes."

"Then you were his savior," she answered, kissing him lightly on the 
cheek.

"I sure as Hell hope he saw it that way," he said, picking up his bag. 
"I sure don't want to be haunted by him."

He started down the walkway, to the waiting boat to take him to the 
dock on the other side of the lake, and never looked back.

Fin