Beneath the Cowl

I have been at this for almost 2 years now.

I have fought the mob, corrupt cops, crazed clowns, riddled enigmas, seductive cat-burglars, wealthy penguins, and a list of nameless faces who have been outside the reach of the law. And more show up each night.

I am tired.

Perhaps I am lost.

I have been at this fight, alone, since I was 9. I have kept my promise!

But I am tired.

And I am alone.

I know I am not the only one out there. I know I have a standing invitation to be a "full-time" member of the Justice League. I know there are others out there with power rings, lightening speed, and of course the man of steel. I know I am not alone in this fight. But nonetheless I am alone.

Who am I really?

Am I am not allowed to ask this question? Am I not allowed to explore the struggles of being a Batman and being Bruce Wayne? Are the two lives interdependent of one another or am I becoming the Batman and dying to Bruce Wayne? Must I be one or the other?

Beneath the cowl I am just a man. I am Bruce Wayne. A man with a tragic tale of childhood and with a secret. A man who seeks to use his fortunes to eliminate crime from Gotham as giant bat. But is that who that man is? Is Bruce Wayne just Batman pretending to be Bruce Wayne? Or is Bruce Wayne pretending to be Batman?

Maybe if I had the time I would take Dr. Meridian on her offer.

I am not sure if Batman and Bruce Wayne are the same. I am not sure if the two can ever be the same.    I do know Bruce Wayne cannot stay in the shadows. I do know Bruce Wayne needs to find something outside of the cowl. I know Bruce needs to be something more than just the person beneath this cowl.

But what?

Is that not the question, Father? Do you have the answer from beyond? Does Alfred have the answer in the here and now? If I asked him, he'd undoubtedly tell me he does. Alfred always has an answer.

But does he or anyone have the answer I am seeking? Is the charade of Bruce Wayne an extreme version of myself to take away any suspicion that I am the Batman? Is it possible to find a balance between Batman and Bruce Wayne?

Question without an answer. For now.

Through the Eyes of a Robin

I remember him telling me stories why he chose the bat as his symbol. I remember pretending to understand. Truth is, I didn't. I was just a child at the time. I was not his equal. I was not him. I could not understand the pain he hid. I could not understand the pain he used to defeat his villians. I pretended to understand. How could I? How could I have known that is was a promise that drove him all these years. A promise to the deceased to avenge their souls.

I do not think the dead care about vengeance. I never thought my parents needed to be avenged. Or at least I pretended not to. Probably somewhere deep inside I did. Bruce was different. That night in Crime Alley, Bruce Wayne died and Batman was born. Alfred would always say that Bruce was more comfortable in the dark of the cave in his mask and cape than he was in the mansion.

Bruce was not one who would think was born into money. He hated to Wayne persona. He hated playing that role but he did some good things in that role. While to a few, he will always be known as the Dark Knight, to the world he will be known a billionaire who generously gave to the needy, who built housing for the homeless, who provided full scholarships to low income families at Gotham's best schools.

Batman fought against crazed criminals.

Bruce Wayne fought against a broken system.

Bruce may think the world will always need Batman. He may be right. But the world will never have another Bruce Wayne and that is the saddest crime of all.

The Promise of a Bat

You may not be familiar with my story. It is not one you tell to your children at bedtime. It is a story pieced together by headlines: Wayne Family Mugged. Thomas and Martha Wayne Buried. 9 Year Old Bruce Wayne Inherits Empire. The police report a similar story: Family of 3 mugged. Parents shot by suspect. 9 year old witness. Suspect still at large.

Suspect still at large.

That is the story. That is the story that has bore this story, my story.

I have struggle these past 14 years to reconcile their deaths. I have not been able too. That night still haunts me. It awakens me in the dark of night. Sweating, I fear the criminal who took my life is taking the lives of others. In the dead of night I made a promise. I swore on the spirits of my parents that I would avenge their deaths.

This is not about my vengeance. No. This is vengeance for the voiceless; those whose lives have been destroyed by senseless violence. Tonight I began my own war on crime. Tonight I learned a hard truth. Bruce Wayne cannot avenge their deaths.

Bruce Wayne is a man. . Man is corruptible and unfrightening. Man can be defeated. Man can be hurt. Man can die. I know this now. I sit here bloodied. I sit here defeated. I was unprepared tonight. I thought I was ready. I thought my skills would save me. I thought they were all I needed. But I need something more.

I must become something more than a man. I must become greater than a man. I must...

As if on cue I look up to see a bat clinging to the wall. It must have come through the chimney in the study. Or was it sent. Was it sent here to show me what I am to become?

Bats frighten me. When I was a boy, I fell into an old well. As I laid there holding my broken arm, I heard a noise and felt fear for the first time. Suddenly they were on me. The bats hovering over my face, not attacking but letting me know they were there. The intense fear I felt would be a fear that I would never overcome. The intense fear I fell...will become my enemies fear.

Yes. I see it now. I understand now. I understand what it is I must do. I understand who I must become. I understand now the sacrifice. I understand now the promise I made to you. Yes, father, I understand.

I will become vengeance. I will become the night. I will become a bat.

A Letter Left Behind

Alfred brings me a cup of coffee as I sit behind Bruce's desk. On the desktop lies a worn out leather book with a letter I have been instructed to read. I have been avoiding reading it since Alfred first delivered to me in Blüdhaven earlier this month. Now, in Gotham, in a home I left at 17, I look at this book wondering if there is anymore I could learn about Bruce Wayne...Batman.

Dick,

You know my story better than anyone, at least some of my story. The parts I would share. I regret not having shared more with you. You were so young when you came to live me. I never felt like a father nor felt you were like a son. Our partnership...our relationship was on a deeper level. You were my partner, my brother, my family. I should have shared more. I should have done a lot more but such is our lives bound to role of our masks. And if you are reading this note then you know that Bruce Wayne is no more.

You know how the story begins. You've pieced it together by the police reports. A family of three leave a showing of the Mark of Zorro. Man robs them in the alley, suspect named Joe Chill. During robbery, victim Thomas Wayne steps forward and is shot followed by the shooting of Martha Wayne. 9 year old son Bruce witnessed the events.

It is true, one single instant in a person's life can change their entire lives. My life was changed that night. As a boy, my mother and father were murdered before my eyes. I dedicated my life to stopping that criminal, regardless of the forms or faces he wears. I remember the first night I put on my mask. I went out into the streets and received a beating as I tried to stop a mugging. When I returned, Alfred shook his head and began to stitch me up.

As I sat there in my father's chair, a bat flew through the window. It was as if my father had sent it to remind me. Remind me of the fear I felt when the bats from the nearby cave swarmed me as I laid in the bottom of a well. I remember saying, "Yes, father. I shall become a bat." Criminals are not a hard group to understand. They are a superstitious and fearful lot. And Batman is their fear.

Yet, as time marched on I became what all criminals, all humans fear, I became alone. Then you came into my life. In you, I found a chance to change. A chance at redemption. A chance to put right what I could never put right. I knew one day I would be happy. I knew one day, because of you, I would win this fight and not have to fight anymore. Because of you.

I struggled reconciling the need for a partner and that partner being you. I desperately wanted for you a life that did not require a mask. I wanted you to live freely. I did not want you bound to the same promise I was. I swore on the spirits of my parents to avenge their deaths by spending the rest of my life warring against all criminals. You were not sworn to that oath. But you were cut from the same cloth.

I knew the loss of your family would come to haunt you. I knew you would seek vengeance. I knew you would become like me. I knew you would take on a mask. But you're mask was different than mine. I created your mask but you became your own. You kept it light. While you became a man you never left your childhood behind. You were never childish but you remembered the joys of childhood. You kept those joys with you. You helped remind me of what I was so anxious to rid myself of. Yet, I wonder if I robbed you of a normal life. Was it right for me to create a Robin? I still recall the fear I felt when the Joker shot you

I took on a task much larger than myself. My promise to my parents became greater than vengeance, greater than Thomas and Martha Wayne. Greater than Bruce Wayne. My promise became Batman and Batman has become a symbol. Not a bright symbol of hope as Superman is for the people. No. Batman has become the symbol of fear for the criminal because of his promise. Batman is more than Bruce Wayne. I was once vengeance. I was once the night. I was once Batman. But I am Batman no more.

I am hesitant with what I am about to ask. As you read my story. As you recall our history. I hope and pray that you will see what took me 31 years to see. There will always be a need for Batman. The world needs Batman.

With Love and Respect,

Bruce