Gotham's Story
Five Minutes.
The Batmobile screams around you and yet you push the throttle further. The Batmobile was designed by you through countless reiterations and over time you have developed the perfect engine that will run nearly in silence. It has never before been pushed this hard.
Four Minutes Fifty Seconds.
You swear beneath your breath. Jason knew better-No, you berate yourself. He should have known better. After Dick left to Bludhaven as Nightwing, you have taken on a new Robin. You Jason Todd once trying to steal the tires from the Batmobile; the same Batmobile with sensors, alarms, anti-burglary defenses, and self sealing chasis. And he almost got away with it. In the coming weeks he proved himself worthy in other ways, if a bit reckless at times. He made a marvelous replacement as Robin, but it was that recklessness that put him in tonights trouble.
Four Minutes.
It was a routine patrol, but Robin caught sight of something amiss. The two of you immediately decended towards the closed pharmacy, as you smiled privately and proudly. He had seen something before you, or perhaps you were becoming less alert in your age. Either way, it was good to have Jason at your side, and his lead proved true. Half a dozen men in clown masks were raiding the store, gathering chemicals and pharmaceutical equipment. It must have been Joker's gang gathering supplies so that that madman could produce more of his murderous gas. Within moments, the two of you had five of the six men subdued and one was running off empty handed. You were happy to let him go to disappoint his boss, but Jason began to run after him. You called for your apprentice to stop, but suddenly an inconspicuously placed clown statue exploded in a shower of foul smelling gas and you passed out.
Two minutes Fifty-Nine Seconds.
You give another glance to the clown statue sitting next to you and you pucnh he necessary buttons to divert more power to the engines. When you had awoken in the pharmacy, you found the clown statue sitting on top of a map and a photograph. The map had a building highlighted on the other end of Gotham, and the photograph was of a beaten and bound Robin. The clown now showed a timer that was counting down second by second. It wasn't a bomb, you knew.
It was how much longer Jason would be alive.
Two Minutes.
You round the last corner sharper than you should have and shave off a chunk of the building. The Batmobile is beginning to shake from the rough turns and speed, but you push it farther. You can't lose Jason. Not now. He's counting on you.
One Minute Thirty Seconds.
You can see the warehouse now. A rusty, abandoned building, nearly indistinguishable from the others around it, but you have memorized the location from the map. When you get as close as the Batmobile can manage, you turn it off and leap out of the vehicle while it is still whining.
One Minute.
You push every ounce of energy you have into your Olympic-class leg muscles, but it seems like slow motion. You abandoned the clown in the care, but the countdown is still running in your mind.
Forty-Five Seconds.
You reach the doors. Locked of course. You pull a laser from your utility belt and wait the agonizing seconds for it to pierce through the lock. Some detached part of your brain makes the note for Wayne Industries to invest more research into stronger lasers.
Thirty Seconds.
The doors swing wide with the force of your arms and you find yourself in a vast, empty room. For a millisecond, you panic, but then you see the large crate in the back corner with the hastily spray-painetd Batsymbol on it.
Fifteen Seconds.
You begin attacking the boards with the blades on your forearms, haphazardly tearing away the weak wood.
"I'm coming Jason!" you yell, not caring who hears.
Ten Seconds.
The wood peels away and you see the dark emptyness inside. You stick your head in, desperately seeking hope.
Five Seconds.
At the bottom of the crate is a dead bird. It wasn't even a robin, it was an Eastern Towhee, but the message was clear. You've been tricked.
Four Seconds.
You sprint towards the door.
Three Seconds.
How could you let this happen? Of course it was a trick! Of course the Joker would lie to you!
Two seconds.
Tears stream down your face, unnoticed.
One second.
You leave the warehouse just as another building two hundred yards away explodes.
***
The funeral is short and small in attendance. Alfred joins you beside the grave and even Dick was able to make it. You told him not to leave Blud haven on your account, but he wanted to be here. Something about his kinship with another Robin. Alfred says a few words in Jason's honor, but you are lost in the words of the tombstone.
JASON TODD
Beloved Family Member
Your family has indeed experienced a death. Alfred tells you that it is not your fault, but Jason's soul weighs on your conscience and the Joker's inhuman laugh haunts your dreams. You found that lunatic immediately after recovering Jason's body and sent him to Arkam Asylum, unconscious and with four broken limbs. But it isn't enough. You werent able to protect him when he needed you and now you cannot get him back. Nothing can.
As Dick and Alfred say their goodbyes, you contemplate your next move. Can you still face the cape? Or is it too heavy a weight to remain on your shoulders?
The Batmobile screams around you and yet you push the throttle further. The Batmobile was designed by you through countless reiterations and over time you have developed the perfect engine that will run nearly in silence. It has never before been pushed this hard.
Four Minutes Fifty Seconds.
You swear beneath your breath. Jason knew better-No, you berate yourself. He should have known better. After Dick left to Bludhaven as Nightwing, you have taken on a new Robin. You Jason Todd once trying to steal the tires from the Batmobile; the same Batmobile with sensors, alarms, anti-burglary defenses, and self sealing chasis. And he almost got away with it. In the coming weeks he proved himself worthy in other ways, if a bit reckless at times. He made a marvelous replacement as Robin, but it was that recklessness that put him in tonights trouble.
Four Minutes.
It was a routine patrol, but Robin caught sight of something amiss. The two of you immediately decended towards the closed pharmacy, as you smiled privately and proudly. He had seen something before you, or perhaps you were becoming less alert in your age. Either way, it was good to have Jason at your side, and his lead proved true. Half a dozen men in clown masks were raiding the store, gathering chemicals and pharmaceutical equipment. It must have been Joker's gang gathering supplies so that that madman could produce more of his murderous gas. Within moments, the two of you had five of the six men subdued and one was running off empty handed. You were happy to let him go to disappoint his boss, but Jason began to run after him. You called for your apprentice to stop, but suddenly an inconspicuously placed clown statue exploded in a shower of foul smelling gas and you passed out.
Two minutes Fifty-Nine Seconds.
You give another glance to the clown statue sitting next to you and you pucnh he necessary buttons to divert more power to the engines. When you had awoken in the pharmacy, you found the clown statue sitting on top of a map and a photograph. The map had a building highlighted on the other end of Gotham, and the photograph was of a beaten and bound Robin. The clown now showed a timer that was counting down second by second. It wasn't a bomb, you knew.
It was how much longer Jason would be alive.
Two Minutes.
You round the last corner sharper than you should have and shave off a chunk of the building. The Batmobile is beginning to shake from the rough turns and speed, but you push it farther. You can't lose Jason. Not now. He's counting on you.
One Minute Thirty Seconds.
You can see the warehouse now. A rusty, abandoned building, nearly indistinguishable from the others around it, but you have memorized the location from the map. When you get as close as the Batmobile can manage, you turn it off and leap out of the vehicle while it is still whining.
One Minute.
You push every ounce of energy you have into your Olympic-class leg muscles, but it seems like slow motion. You abandoned the clown in the care, but the countdown is still running in your mind.
Forty-Five Seconds.
You reach the doors. Locked of course. You pull a laser from your utility belt and wait the agonizing seconds for it to pierce through the lock. Some detached part of your brain makes the note for Wayne Industries to invest more research into stronger lasers.
Thirty Seconds.
The doors swing wide with the force of your arms and you find yourself in a vast, empty room. For a millisecond, you panic, but then you see the large crate in the back corner with the hastily spray-painetd Batsymbol on it.
Fifteen Seconds.
You begin attacking the boards with the blades on your forearms, haphazardly tearing away the weak wood.
"I'm coming Jason!" you yell, not caring who hears.
Ten Seconds.
The wood peels away and you see the dark emptyness inside. You stick your head in, desperately seeking hope.
Five Seconds.
At the bottom of the crate is a dead bird. It wasn't even a robin, it was an Eastern Towhee, but the message was clear. You've been tricked.
Four Seconds.
You sprint towards the door.
Three Seconds.
How could you let this happen? Of course it was a trick! Of course the Joker would lie to you!
Two seconds.
Tears stream down your face, unnoticed.
One second.
You leave the warehouse just as another building two hundred yards away explodes.
***
The funeral is short and small in attendance. Alfred joins you beside the grave and even Dick was able to make it. You told him not to leave Blud haven on your account, but he wanted to be here. Something about his kinship with another Robin. Alfred says a few words in Jason's honor, but you are lost in the words of the tombstone.
JASON TODD
Beloved Family Member
Your family has indeed experienced a death. Alfred tells you that it is not your fault, but Jason's soul weighs on your conscience and the Joker's inhuman laugh haunts your dreams. You found that lunatic immediately after recovering Jason's body and sent him to Arkam Asylum, unconscious and with four broken limbs. But it isn't enough. You werent able to protect him when he needed you and now you cannot get him back. Nothing can.
As Dick and Alfred say their goodbyes, you contemplate your next move. Can you still face the cape? Or is it too heavy a weight to remain on your shoulders?