Batman woke up with a start under a bright
cone of light, and in a blur of movement stood from the chair.
His eyes adjusted and felt world slip away into a pit of despair.
Burning tears filled his eyes and he thought, I’ve failed.
I was out too
long! I couldn’t stop Wayne. I’ve lost them
forever.
But before he could castigate himself further, his
eyes fell on a lit circular platform in the corner of the cave where
the exercise equipment used to be. He peered through the shadows,
this time more thoroughly. Except for that platform, everything
appeared to be the same.
He was in the Batcave.
“Who are you?” said a voice from the
shadows, its deep register echoed in the cave.
Batman forced back a smile. He was using his
game.
“Who are you?”
he answered.
The voice remained silent for several seconds.
“Who are you?” he asked again, but with more urgency.
“You’re repeating yourself,”
Batman said flippantly. “Why don’t you come out of
the shadows and we can talk face to face.”
A tall broad shouldered man walked out from behind
the giant monitor. When he came into the light, he was identical
to Batman in his ‘Matches’ Malone guise.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
Batman looked him over. If you removed the
makeup, it was like looking into a mirror. With one exception:
Wayne’s eyes.
They weren’t dark or penetrating. They were wide.
They looked frightened. No,
he thought. Not frightened; he looked like he was tottering on
the brink of madness.
“I take it you didn’t search me,”
he said.
“Will you tell me who you are!?!” he
barked.
Batman’s eyes grew hard. “Do not
use the time portal,” he said.
Wayne’s face fell and went ashen. A
single hand strolled to the edge of the computer table and used it to
accompany his legs.
“You will use the time portal to try to change
the past,” he continued. “Many will die
senselessly. Needlessly.” Batman took a step forward
and Wayne retreated one back. “You will kill my
family,” he said in a voice as dark as a crypt.
“How do you know . . . “
“Do not
use the time portal!”
His hand moved to the computer console and tapped a
button. The strains of a Vivaldi movement filled the cave.
Wayne’s back straightened and his look of dismay turned to one of
curiosity. He smirked. “Don’t mind the
music,” he said. “Vivaldi has always helped me
focus.” He stared at Batman for several seconds.
“Which one are you?” he asked. “You’re
from the past. You’re not from this time. Which
one?” He walked around Batman, looking him over.
“And why don’t you want me to use the portal?”
“I told you,” he said.
“No,” Wayne said sharply. His eyes
drilled into Batman’s. “What’s your real reason?”
Batman stared at Wayne and said nothing.
“You’re one of my ancestors and you
think I am betraying the oh-so
lofty name of Wayne!” he said, his voice rising and echoing in
the cave. “You just want to keep things status quo. I
can save two lives, don’t you understand?”
Batman looked at the ground for a second. He
had no time for paranoid ravings. His burning eyes shot up and
locked with Wayne’s. Wayne flinched, as if he was struck.
“Wayne,” Batman said in a low
voice. “Listen to me very carefully. You killed my
entire family. I saw their bodies. I saw their blood.
I saw what you did. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to
take you apart, piece-by-piece, but I have
to keep remembering that you
haven’t gone back in time yet, so it hasn’t happened
yet. Knowing that doesn’t help, because every time I close
my eyes; every time I blink,
I see them. That is why I came here. To stop
you.” Batman’s face softened slightly.
“But now that I’m here,” he said, “I find
it’s not the only reason.”
He walked closer to Wayne who took another step
back. “Look around you,” he said. “Your
crime rate is almost nonexistent. The homeless are housed.
The people can walk the streets without fear. The city; the world is a safer place because of
you and our family. This is what I fought every day for!
This is what I died for! Do not! Use! The
portal!”
Wayne stared at Batman frowning. “Who
are you?” he asked again.
Batman’s hands tightened and his knuckles
cracked.
“Fine! If this will stop you,” he
said, walked backward into a shadow and vanished from view.
The only sound in the cave was the hum coming from
the computer and a soft sound of material fluttering.
Wayne’s frown went deeper and he began to walk
towards the shadow Batman disappeared into.
“Wayne,” Batman said over his shoulder.
Wayne spun and screamed. He fell backwards on
the floor and rapidly pushed himself away with his hands and the heels
of his shoes. Above him, and coming closer was the Batman.
His cape draped over his shoulders, and lifted slightly at the ends
when he walked. Though physically, both Wayne and Batman were
mirror images of each other, Batman seemed larger.
Monstrous. Menacing. Through the deep shadows Wayne saw two
white eyes staring back. The eyes were as hard as granite and
were angry, and all the rage was directed at him. He looked down
as the shadow of the Bat crawled across him.
“NO!” he screamed. “It
can’t be you! IT CAN’T BE!”
“Yes,” Batman said. “It
is.”
Wayne shook his head to the point where you could
hear his neck vertebrae snap.
“I don’t understand!” he
cried. “Why don’t you
understand? It doesn’t make sense! Why would you want
your parents to die?!?!”
Batman’s jaw snapped shut. He seemed to
deflate slightly. He looked up with tears in his eyes.
“I don’t
want them to die,” he said. “If I had a choice, I
would do everything in my power to help you.” His face
tightened. “But I don’t have a choice. In order
for the world to become . . . this;
in order to save my family, you mustn’t change the past.”
Wayne stared at Batman, the shock, wonder and fear
now gone from his eyes.
“Come with me,” he said and walked
deeper into the shadows. “Lights,” he said.
“Full illumination.”
Batman’s eyes instinctively shut just before
the brilliant flash of light filled the cave. He gradually opened his
eyes, letting them adjust, then gasped.
The changes Wayne made to the cave were hidden by
its shadows. The lights revealed:
The man and woman sitting on the porch of their
house, holding hands and staring dreamily off into space. The
sunset was behind them and cast red/gold glows on the wide lawn and the
thick expanse of trees.
A man who was dressed in tatters, hair long, dirty
and unkempt. He was knee deep in a sand dune, and the broiling
hot sun punished him for whatever sin that brought him there.
Before the man was the desert, large, wide, never-ending and
unforgiving. The man had miles to go before he could rest.
Moses led the masses through the center of the
parted sea. You could almost see the face of every single person,
and see their possessions on the backs of donkeys that looked on their
last legs. The walls of water seemed to undulate, and several
species of sea life looked out and down, like from the inside of a fish
bowl. At their feet, several fish, and other forms of aquatic
life lay dying in their new environment. The throng either walked
around or over them, but nothing could stop them on their road to
freedom. Ahead, the space between the walls of the sea glowed
with a hope of a future so desperately needed.
A red rose in a sea of black marble, lightly
sprinkled with dew. The light reflected off the black surface,
allowing its natural grain to show in places. A single tear of
dew hung from one of the petals, caught between an almost drop.
In the upper right hand corner was the reflection of a man face in the
marble’s surface. You could barely make out his features,
but you could see his glasses had thick lenses. He seemed to be
watching the rose.
Batman stared in amazement. Wayne had
sandblasted the walls to give him a flat surface to do his work
on. At first Batman thought he was projecting photographs on the
walls, then realized that Wayne had painted these photo-realistic
masterpieces. He looked to the ground near the corner of the
porch scene. As confirmation, there were several cans of paint
and several brushes soaking in a tray. He looked at Wayne who was
staring at him.
“These are amazing!” Batman said.
“This is genius!”
“Everyone’s a genius in his or her own
field,” he said. “Mine is this.” He
looked around at his handiwork and frowned. “This is what I
want to do,” he said. “This is who I am. I have
shouldered the responsibility of WayneTech for twenty long years and I
don’t want it anymore!” He smiled sadly.
“I don’t want it,” he said. He looked at
Batman, and stared deeply in his eyes.
“How would you like to wake up every single
day, wanting to grab your brush and do this?” he said, sweeping his
hands at the murals. “Wake up seeing landscapes.
Seeing events in history. Seeing emotions that can’t be put
into words but can be felt if seen? Every day. And know
that you can’t? Every day,” he said in a soft pained
voice. He walked past him and paced in front of the portal.
Batman’s hand slipped under his cape, in case
he needed something.
“I have to use every ounce of my concentration
to function as the head of this company,” he said.
“And that’s all this is; a company. Albeit an
incredibly large company, but a company nonetheless. I
don’t want to remember what the profit margin was three years ago
in comparison to today’s figures. I don’t want to
decide how much to contribute to a certain cause. I don’t
want to go to Washington and speak in front of hundreds of people about
what we should do in order to improve our lives. I want to
paint,” he said in a wistful voice. “I want to create.”
“You are creating,” Batman said flatly.
Wayne stopped and stared at Batman, his eyes angry
and mad.
“For as long as I can remember, I have always
been afraid I am going to make the wrong decision. Not side with
the right party. Veto the wrong bill!” he said shaking his
head. Slowly, an unsteady grin spread across his face.
“And I almost did it once,” he said. “I was
working on a program to increase minimum wage to $32.50 an hour, and .
. . “
“$32.50?”
Batman repeated.
Wayne stared blankly at him.
“Yes,” he said. “And as I began detailing the
measures that should be taken, I suddenly saw an image of the Sistine
Chapel’s ceiling in my head.” Wayne’s eyes
clouded over as his mind recaptured the picture. “I saw the
hand of Man reaching out to touch God,” he said in a
whisper. “I saw the cherubim flying in puffs of
clouds. And I began to think about recreating it in the
cave. When I finally turned my attention back to what I was
working on, I had outlined a plan that would have cost the taxpayers
more money, and possibly bankrupt Gotham. I entered incorrect
figures and put decimal points in the wrong places because I
wasn’t paying attention.
“It was then I realized that I couldn’t
do both,” he said flatly. “Suppose - in the middle of
a project that would affect people’s lives - I suddenly came up
with an image in my head and the urge to paint? I could bring
WayneTech to the ground. I could potentially kill people!
And that’s when I began to think about how I could change my
life.” The muscles in his face tightened. “I
looked at every angle - every possibility. And after three years
of research, you know what I came up with? Nothing!” he
spat. “Nothing!
There was no way out. I was trapped.”
Wayne eyes darkened. “Already my
advisors are asking when I will marry, and that is only because an heir
to the House of Wayne is
required,” he said, his voice a sneer. Then his face
relaxed and a look of someone who had seen the Grail filled his
eyes. “I knew that there was only one way out,” he
said. “And that was to stop what started this.”
Wayne swept back the edges of his suit jacket and
revealed a multi-pocketed belt. He touched a stud on the buckle.
“I’ve always liked this
accouterment,” Wayne said and the portal began to glow and come
to life.
Batman’s hand came out from under his cape and
he held a bat-a-rang aloft.
“Back away now!” he demanded.
Wayne smiled, his eyes glowing. “If
you’d like,” he said and took several steps back.
The portal was a large rectangular metal frame on a
larger circular base. The edges of the base were lit and sent
beams of light that collected in its center. A small spiraling
pool shimmered in the light’s axis and spread out to fill its
frame. An image formed on the face of the portal and began its
reverse history lesson.
What the portal showed was time moving in reverse at
an incredible speed. The landscape changed, the seasons changed,
and scaffoldings that covered buildings began to build itself in
reverse. The fleeting images would only slow when it approached a
member of the Wayne family, and would stop on their image long enough
for the computer to resister which Wayne this was in history.
When that was completed it would move on to the next section of the
past.
The Waynes on the opposite side of the portal would
stare at whatever they saw from their side and either frown in
curiosity or cower in mortal fear. Batman knew that the sight of
their image standing next to a man dressed as a giant bat, suddenly
appearing in a rip in time could not have been easy to comprehend.
“Shut it off!” Batman demanded.
“No,” Wayne said calmly.
“LIGHTS!”
The cave lights turned off and left the flickering
images on the portal as its only illumination. Batman spun and
went into a defensive crouch. He snapped his eyes closed, then
turned on the night-vision lenses and opened them to see the cave
illuminated in a green glow. Wayne had vanished. He turned
slowly and stared into another shadow. There was a brief shimmer
to his left and he turned and blocked a flying kick with his forearm.
Wayne now became visible and was wearing the black
body suit Batman remembered from the cave’s security tapes.
“I have to stop this!” he cried.
“I’m saving your parent’s lives! Maybe
you’ll be an artist like me if you had the chance! Maybe
you’ll be better! I’m giving you your chance!
I’m doing this for you!”
Batman kicked out and landed a foot in Wayne’s
solar plexus, sending him backwards.
“You’re doing this for yourself!”
he snapped. “Saving my parents is just a means to an
end!”
Wayne stood and slapped his hand on his utility belt
and the green glowing image of Anthony Wayne shimmered and
vanished. Batman looked from side to side, but Wayne, using the
suit’s stealth device, could not be seen.
Batman walked slowly through the cave, looking
around the computer and other fixtures Wayne could be hiding
behind. A soft click came from his left and Batman went into a
forward roll just as a thummm sound
went over his shoulder. He turned and saw that the picture of the
couple was now cracked and chipped by Wayne’s sonic-bullet.
Batman dove and rolled behind the giant penny as
Wayne fired. He felt the coin shake and tremble and looked up to
see a hole punched through its center. As the penny toppled
backwards, he quickly reached into his belt and threw several smoke
pellets in the direction of the last shot and darted in the opposite
direction. The coin crashed heavily to the floor.
Batman could hear Wayne go through a coughing fit
and he ran towards the sound through the smoke and the shadows.
In mid-run, Batman pulled out four small bat-darts and flung them in
Wayne’s direction. He heard Wayne cry out, and through his
night vision lenses, Wayne blinked off and on in front of him, one of
the darts protruding from his belt buckle and three across his chest.
Wayne roared in anger, and when Batman was ten feet
in front of him, he fired his weapon. Seeing the man’s
shooting hand rise, he shot his retractable line at the ceiling of the
cave and he shot upward and over him. The audio-projectile passed
harmlessly under his feet, but it was close enough for him to feel its
vibrations in the soles of his boots. Batman kicked out and
struck Wayne in the back of his head, sending him forward.
Wayne spun and fired. Batman dove under the
sonic-bullet and into a shoulder roll. Wayne performed a similar
roll alongside the Caped Crusader, both coming to a halt directly in
front of each other. Wayne lifted the weapon and fired just as
Batman leaned back into a horizontal position. He saw a red beam
go through the air where his head was a split second earlier.
Batman’s foot shot out and caught Wayne on the shoulder, causing
him to fire blindly. As Batman rolled away, Wayne fired again and
a beam of light passed through his cape and through his side.
Batman screamed in pain but still flung another
bat-a-rang at the weapon Wayne pointed towards him. The tip of
the projectile stuck in the weapon’s barrel and exploded, sending
sparks and flames in Wayne’s face. Batman tried to get to
his feet, but the wound in his side had weakened him and he sunk to one
knee. Wayne stepped forward and delivered a flurry of kicks and
punches, most of which Batman deflected. He rolled away and with
his face awash in pain, he got to his feet to continue the
battle.
Wayne went into a slide, locked his legs with
Batman’s, then rolled and sent the Dark Knight to the floor
grunting as he landed on his wounded side. Wayne dove at him, but
a well-placed side kick to his stomach doubled him over. Batman
rolled his lower torso up and wrapped his ankles around Wayne’s
head. This time it was the Batman who rolled, and Wayne was
pulled forward to the floor. Batman tried to drop his leg on the
back of the man’s head, but Wayne had turned when he went
forward, caught the oncoming leg and shot a punch to the muscles of
Batman’s thigh, numbing it.
Wayne got to his feet the same time as Batman and
they traded blows, combinations, and various martial art techniques,
each trying to subdue the other.
Wayne’s hand slipped in and sent an uppercut
to Batman’s jaw, sending the detective’s head back.
While his neck was exposed, Wayne sent a vicious chop to Batman’s
throat. Though the cowl’s neck had a protective lining, the
hard chop still snapped off his airflow. Batman gagged and
coughed. Seeing an opening, Wayne sent a vicious kick to the side
of Batman’s head. Sensing the coming attack, Batman rolled
with the blow and avoided the full impact. There was anger in
that kick, he thought; there was madness. That was not a move to
disable. That was a move to kill.
Batman’s hand grasped another oncoming foot
and twisted it, sending Wayne to the ground. Wayne’s other
foot shot up and caught Batman in the ribs, cracking them.
He stood and pulled one of his own bat-a-rangs from
his belt’s pockets, but unlike the ones Batman used, the curved
edges were razor sharp. He threw it with pinpoint accuracy at
Batman’s head, and would have ended this had not Batman brought
up his own weapon and deflected it away.
A weighted rope circled the Batman’s leg and
pulled him sharply to the floor sending the sharp end of his broken
ribs into his muscles. Batman cried out in pain as he was dragged
several feet and suddenly stomped on. Wayne repeatedly lifted his
foot and sent it to various parts of Batman’s body. His
stomach. His legs. His head. His arms. No area
was spared the punishment. Batman could see Wayne’s insane
eyes glaring down at him, small specks of foam dotting his lips.
And as quickly as it began, Wayne stopped and stared at Batman,
breathing heavily.
He turned back to the portal.
It had stopped on the time of another Wayne; Bruce Wayne.
Through the portal, Batman could be seen swinging
from the edge of a roof into the twilight of the city. Behind him
were Nightwing and Robin, each on their own ropes, smiling at each
other. Bruce Wayne’s name registered on the display and
moved on. His eyes glanced at Wayne, who was grinning in mad
triumph. For a moment, he thought he saw a duplicate of Wayne
standing a few feet away in the shadows. When he blinked, the
image was gone. Focus!
he hissed at himself. Don’t pass out!
“No pain,” Wayne gasped. “No
death. Your parents will live. You will live.”
His eyes glowed in the flickering lights. “And I will be
free,” he whispered.
The scenes flitted by and slowed to a stop.
Batman pulled himself to his feet and inhaled
sharply as the jagged edges of his ribs dug in deeper, while a burst of
pain from the laser wound made his vision swim.
There were Thomas and Martha Wayne about a block
from the mouth of the alley that would change history. Several
feet behind them was the movie theater, THE MASK OF ZORRO emblazoned on
its marquee. Young Bruce Wayne darted to and fro, his arm
extended, an invisible sword in his grasp. He sliced the air and
did pirouettes around his parents. Wayne turned to look at Batman.
“There!” he said. “There
they are! In a few minutes, the hood will come out and kill
them.” He looked sadly at Batman who was trying to keep
upright as he stepped forward. “Please don’t stop
me,” he pleaded. “I can save them!”
Batman’s mouth moved silently and tears
dropped from his eyes.
“No more loneliness, Bruce,” Wayne said
softly. “Think of it! No more anger. No more
pain. You can grow up as a normal child! They can watch you
grow!”
Batman’s hand went to his belt, but Wayne
didn’t seem to notice. He was staring too deeply into
Batman’s pained eyes.
“You know I’m right, don’t
you?” he asked edging closer to the platform.
Batman’s head tilted forward, his tears
sliding down the front of his cape.
“You watched them die once, Bruce,”
Wayne said. “Do you want to watch them die
again?” He smiled kindly at the Masked Crimefighter.
“I’m doing this for you.”
Batman’s head snapped up. They were
coming to the mouth of the alley. He could see a shadow slink
across the wall and become the silhouette of a man with a gun.
Bruce Wayne thrust his imaginary sword and spun on his heel.
Thomas Wayne said something to Martha and she smiled softly, weaved her
arms through his and placed her head on his shoulder. Thomas
rested his head against hers.
The words, THREAT
EMINENT: 30 SECONDS appeared on the display at the bottom of the
portal’s screen.
Every muscle in Batman’s body tensed.
All the sorrow that he had suppressed throughout the years pushed hard
against the barrier he erected to hold it in check. It had
finally reached its breaking point.
“I’M SORRY!!!” he screamed in a
voice filled with anguish, grief and iniquity, his animal-like howl
echoing in the cave. His hand shot out and released the
bat-a-rang.
It flew into the air and imbedded itself in the
glowing frame of the portal, the red light in its head blinking off and
on twice. Wayne reached out for it. It exploded.
Sparks, smoke and little pinwheels of fire flew in all directions,
sending Wayne tottering backwards, protecting his face with his crossed
arms. The portal’s image wavered for a second and struggled
for focus.
“NO!” screamed Wayne.
“NO!” He leaped to the edge of the portal and jumped
through to the other side.
The image flickered once more and the portal
exploded, sending Batman flying backwards across the room and into the
painted wall of the Exodus.
After a few seconds, Batman pulled himself to
unsteady feet and made his way to the fiery remains of the
portal. He knew he did not have the knowledge to fix it. He
wouldn’t know where to start.
He sunk to his knees and coughed up a clot of blood.
When your
forty-eight hours have expired, said the Hourman, You will
automatically return to your present.
Batman smiled darkly. The time may not be the
only thing to expire. He did not think he could make it.
Not without medical attention. He wished Alfred would walk out of
the shadows and help him to his feet and to the table where his
injuries were always treated. Alfred would take care of
him. Batman pulled himself upright and staggered a few feet.
His eyes crossed and he shook his head,
frowning. Only one of his night -vision lenses were
operational. He saw the cave’s interior through a green
glow, but the images were flat and hindered his depth perception.
“Blind as a bat,” he said aloud and coughed up another clot
of blood. He felt his legs give and he slid to the floor, propped
against the edge of the giant penny.
He had no idea how long he was unconscious and in
the cave with Wayne. He was certain that Fitzsimmons would
eventually wonder what happened to his boss when he didn’t check
in. Maybe they were already on their way. Maybe not.
If he had to, he knew he could take over the duties of Anthony Wayne,
but he would never have the chance if he died, or was suddenly returned
to the present. This could send Gotham, if not the world, into
chaos. Batman could hear the report coming from those floating
screens.
Anthony Wayne has
disappeared without a trace. WayneTech Security reports an
altercation of some kind in the bowels of the Citadel, but there is no
trace of the philanthropist anywhere on the premises. Until
Anthony Wayne is found, who will run WayneTech?
But Wayne would never be found. And there
would undoubtedly be a battle for control of the company, made worse by
the global expanse of WayneTech. Would this start a world war?
Batman wondered suddenly feeling cold.
“LIGHTS!” called a voice in the dark and
the bright cave lights went on. Batman shut off the night-vision
lens because the illumination made him totally blind and he was having
a hard enough time seeing already. He tried to focus on the
figure rushing towards him and tried to move his hand to his belt for a
weapon. He cursed silently when his hands would not obey his
mind’s command.
“Dear God!” the man exclaimed.
“Don’t move,” he said quickly. “I’m
a doctor.”
Batman looked up and stared at his own face, without
the Malone mustache and glasses.
The man’s strong hands ran gently along
Batman’s chest, sides and midsection. His eyes stared off
into space, mentally accessing the damage and frowned.
“Several ribs are broken,” he
muttered. “I think you may have punctured a lung.
Maybe both. And . . . oh,
God! That laser wound needs to be sutured now!”
“Who . . . who are you?” Batman asked,
his voice creaking in pain. He was getting tired of that question.
The man ignored him and darted around the cave until
he found a gurney, which he rolled over to the fallen hero. He
helped Batman to his feet and gently laid him down. He rolled the
gurney to an area of the cave that held medical supplies and
instruments. He took a scissors and began to cut away the
uniform. He reached over and grabbed what looked like a tuning
fork and held it aloft.
“The name’s Thomas Wayne,” he
said. “The eighth. Now shut up, lie still and let me
go to work.”
He pointed the fork at Batman’s exposed
chest. Twin lightening bolts shot out and sent the Dark Knight
into unconsciousness.
Batman sat up on the gurney, his tattered tunic
removed, and the cowl pulled back from his head. Both men eyed each
other with curiosity.
“So you just . . . stepped through?” asked
Batman.
Wayne nodded. “Trust me,” he
said. “It’s not everyday you turn around and see
yourself fighting, well, you!
You’re a detective. You tell me seeing something like that
didn’t warrant a closer look!” Thomas Wayne grinned with
far more sincerity than Bruce Wayne ever managed. “I would
have tried to help, but I was fighting this feeling of vertigo.
It felt like I was two places at once; neither here, nor there, and let
me tell you, I do not ever want to go through that again!”
Batman smiled and nodded. His eyes turned
inward for a moment. “History has been changed,” he
said. “You’ll never be able to return to your
time. You’ll be missed.”
Thomas Wayne smiled. He shook his head.
“Not really,” he said. “I was checking the
Wayne history while you were unconscious and found that Thomas Wayne; me,” he added.
“Immediately after setting his son, Jason, in control of
WayneTech, had vanished. There was a search, but they never found
him. They labeled it a mystery, but also knew that I did that
occasionally to regroup. Whenever things got a little
complicated, I always went off by myself to sort things out. Came
back refreshed and with new ideas, too!” he grinned, but it
faltered slightly. “This time I didn’t come
back.” He shrugged. “Maybe this is where I
went,” he said.
“So you’ll stay and take over?”
Batman asked.
Thomas smiled. “It’s not like I
have a choice in the matter, do I?” he asked.
“Besides, I want to see what Jason and his sons did. From
what you tell me, I will be very proud.”
“I know you will be,” Batman said.
Thomas frowned, his eyes darkening. “He
was willing to destroy everything?”
he asked.
“Even to the point of killing my
family,” Batman said.
Wayne thought that over and looked up at
Batman. “So, let me get this right,” Thomas said,
leaning forward on his knees. “Theoretically, you’ve
changed the past, so Pennyworth, Grayson, et al, will now be
alive?”
Batman shrugged and winced. “I
won’t know for sure until I return.”
Wayne stood up suddenly and took a step back.
“What’s wrong?” Batman asked.
“You’re becoming transparent!” he
exclaimed.
“Then, I guess this is goodbye,” Batman
said. “Thank you, Thomas,” he said. “Do
what needs to be done. Help as many as you can. In your
time.”
Thomas Wayne stared at the empty gurney, then turned
his eyes to the cave. He looked at Anthony Wayne’s murals,
at their beauty, at their majesty, and thought of the man who created
these marvels. Thomas shook his head and sighed. He
turned his gaze to the charred portal. He shrugged. Guess I’ll start by cleaning this
mess up, he thought. He gazed upward towards the ceiling,
and looked past it. He grinned. I definitely want a tour of the city! The
corner of his mouth turned up in distaste. And I’ve got to figure out how to
turn off that music.
Hourman stood smiling at Batman when he appeared
before him.
“The timeline has been corrected,” he
said. “You stopped Anthony Wayne.”
Batman touched his chest. He was not only
healed, but his clothes were intact. As a matter of fact, it was
a fresh uniform. He looked up at Hourman.
“I set your return to the day the incident
began,” he explained. “Whatever injuries you
sustained in Anthony Wayne’s time have not occurred yet, so no
injuries will be present in the now. You have just dressed for
the evening and are on your way to apprehend Harvey Dent, also known as
Two-Face.”
“So none of it happened?” he asked.
“Of course not,” the android replied, a
look of annoyance crossing his face. “Wayne cannot enter this century because you destroyed
the portal in his time, thus
preventing his trek to this time, meaning the incident will not
happen. Do you understand?”
Somehow, Batman did. His shoulders dipped
forward and he allowed himself a few moments to cry. He cried
from exhaustion.
He cried for the loss of a talented man’s
soul. Mostly, he cried in relief that this nightmare was all over.
He heard the member of the JSA mention that
something in Wayne’s time portal altered history in Reality
Prime, and though his enemies would not band together to kill him, the
future was not altered. He did not care about that.
Alfred. Dick. Barbara. Tim. Gordon.
Everyone was alive again. That was important. That’s
what mattered. He looked up at Hourman.
“Wayne entered the portal just as it
exploded,” Batman said. “What happened to him?”
Hourman’s eyes turned outward as he scanned the temporal
expanse. The android seemed to be seeing nothing while
simultaneously seeing everything. He looked back to Batman.
“Where ever in the expanse Anthony Wayne
is,” replied the android. “He is invisible to
me. He may very well be in-between time.”
“In-between?”
asked Batman.
Hourman nodded. “Existing between the
seconds.”
Anthony Wayne emerged to see Martha Wayne’s
body fall to the alley floor next to her dying husband. Young
Bruce Wayne stared in horror at the bodies of his parents. Wayne
stared in a psychotic rage at the thug and lunged for him. He
collided silently into an invisible barrier and stared back in shock,
his hands flat against the transparent wall. He pushed with all
his might and found it immovable.
Anthony Wayne stared at Bruce, the boy’s eyes
filled with death, staring at the holdup man. The thug backed
away and ran to the open street, disappearing into the moving crowd.
Tears rolled down Anthony Wayne’s cheeks as
the magnitude of his failure struck home. He was unable to change
the past. He was unable to change his future.
He cried as the first patrol car arrived. He
cried as the crime scene investigators collected the evidence.
And he cried when Bruce Wayne stared at him in the shadows.
Through eyes that burned. Through eyes that
accused. Through eyes that reminded him what he was powerless to
do.
Wayne leaned back against the alley wall for support
and held himself tightly.
Anthony Wayne became a shadow and disappeared.
Anthony Wayne emerged to see Martha Wayne’s
body fall to the alley floor next to her dying husband. Young
Bruce Wayne stared in horror at the bodies of his parents. Wayne
stared in a psychotic rage at the thug and lunged for him. He
collided silently into an invisible barrier and stared back in shock,
his hands flat against the transparent wall. He pushed with all
his might and found it immovable.
Anthony Wayne stared at Bruce, the boy’s eyes
filled with death, staring at the holdup man. The thug backed
away and ran to the open street, disappearing into the moving crowd.
Tears rolled down Anthony Wayne’s cheeks as
the magnitude of his failure struck home. He was unable to change
the past. He was unable to change his future.
He cried as the first patrol car arrived. He
cried as the crime scene investigators collected the evidence.
And he cried when Bruce Wayne stared at him in the shadows.
Through eyes that burned. Through eyes that
accused. Through eyes that reminded him what he was powerless to
do.
Wayne leaned back against the alley wall for support
and held himself tightly.
Anthony Wayne became a shadow and disappeared.
And with each emergence into the past, Anthony Wayne
became aware he was in a temporal loop. Condemned to play witness
to what might have been, if only time was on his side.
Again and again.
With no way out.
“I don’t understand,” he
wailed. “I did this for you! I DID THIS FOR YOU!”
And his voice echoed softly in the alley and trailed
off in the space of time.
Anthony Wayne emerged to see Martha Wayne’s
body fall to the alley floor next to her dying husband. Young
Bruce Wayne stared in horror at the bodies of his parents. Wayne
stared in a psychotic rage at the thug and lunged for him. He
collided silently into an invisible barrier and stared back in shock,
his hands flat against the transparent wall. He pushed with all
his might and found it immovable.
Anthony Wayne stared at Bruce, the boy’s eyes
filled with death, staring at the holdup man. The thug backed
away and ran to the open street, disappearing into the moving crowd.
Tears rolled down Anthony Wayne’s cheeks as
the magnitude of his failure struck home. He was unable to change
the past. He was unable to change his future.
He cried as the first patrol car arrived. He
cried as the crime scene investigators collected the evidence.
And he cried when Bruce Wayne stared at him in the shadows.
Through eyes that burned. Through eyes that
accused. Through eyes that reminded him what he was powerless to
do.
Wayne leaned back against the alley wall for support
and held himself tightly.
