Stay out of my city

[moonshadows]

When he started flying around Gotham in broad daylight, looking for something, I started listening. He never landed, never talked to anyone. It made the creeps and slimebags nervous enough that the nights were quiet. I used the time to do some research.

Eleven at night, on top of the tallest building in the city. I’ve swept it for bugs, planted a few of my own. Too early for my beat to start, not late enough to be past his bedtime, and the moon rising silhouettes me nicely. He doesn’t keep me waiting long.

“You’re a hard man to get a hold of,” Superman says lightly as he lands.

I don’t do him the courtesy of facing him. “Get out of my city.”

Two steps towards me. His shadow says he almost puts a hand on my shoulder, but thinks better of it. “Is that how you say hello?”

“It is to you.”

He thinks about that for a few seconds. “What have I done to you, Batman? I want to help the city of Gotham.”

“You can help by leaving, and not coming back.”

I can almost see him frown. “I don’t understand.”

“No,” I agree coldly. “You don’t. You walk among us, live as one of us, but you have no idea what it’s like to actually be human. So you try to enforce an ideal of what you think humanity should be.” I gesture to the city spread out below us. “Gotham isn’t Metropolis. It’s darker. Dirtier. Your ideal is unobtainable here.”

“For now,” he counters.

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

“Batman, I can help you!”

I turn on him, not bothering to go for the collar of his costume. The cloak will have to be intimidating enough, because brute strength isn’t going to make a dent in his ego. “Help me? By providing a shining example that no one can live up to? By swooping in and using your superpowers to save the day? That won’t help, not here. All you’ll do is teach people to expect someone else to solve their problems for them, and attract the kind of insane criminal who wants to take you out and isn’t afraid to level whole city blocks to do it.”

His expression hardens into grim determination. “Then if they come, I’ll stop them.”

“At what cost?” I snarl. “Bullets don’t hurt you. Fire doesn’t hurt you. What does – rockets? Bombs? Bullets miss. Fires can be put out. The sort of things that might scratch you will take out dozens of innocents who just happened to be nearby. I won’t have that in my city.”

“I don’t see how that’s so different from your reputation,” he says stubbornly. “A phantom of the night that can’t be killed.”

“I work with the shadows. I use misdirection and deception to make the scum wonder if they missed, or if they even hurt me at all. But they know I can be hurt – that I bleed, that I can be knocked out. That keeps it from escalating, even when I pull off miraculous recoveries and escapes. Some of them may believe that I’m some sort of supernatural thing, but others know can kill me if they just try hard enough.”

He frowns. “Why are you doing this? Why risk your life this way instead of letting me handle it?”

“Because you’re not human,” I tell him. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it!”

“The couple who raised you. Do you love them?”

Confusion and wariness. “Of course.”

“And if they were murdered, taken from you right before your eyes, how would you feel?”

“Crushed,” he says slowly. “Emotionally shattered. Enraged.”

“And you’d use your powers to make the one who did it pay.”

Quietly, he says, “Yes.”

“What if you couldn’t?” He blinks in utter incomprehension. “What if you were held powerless while they died? What if the one who did it escaped, never to be found?”

“I have resources. I could find them.”

I smile. It’s not a happy expression. “Imagine this happened when you were still a child. You’re not disciplined enough yet to use your powers to save them, you don’t have any resources. All you have is helplessness and shock as the bullets take your parents from you.”

There’s a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, but also something else. Pity. “Is that why you’re doing this?” he asks. “You can’t let childhood loss, even something so horrible as that, devour your entire life.”

“I don’t know why I bothered trying to make you see,” I spit. “You’ve had everything handed to you. You’ll never know what it’s like to be human, to struggle for something. If you weren’t so noble and altruistic, you’d be a bully. If you were stripped of your superhuman abilities, you’d be just another person I’ve made it my life’s work to protect.”

“Is that so? Because I wouldn’t call a rural upbringing ‘having everything handed to me’. I’ve worked for everything I have.”

A dismissive gesture. “You’ve worked for everything you think the average person has, handicapping yourself to fit in, but you know that all you’d have to do is say the word and Metropolis would throw itself at your feet. You’re a godling, a prince pretending to be a pauper on the side while you flaunt your abilities in search of praise. Both of your identities are a sham. You’re a hero because you think that’s what you ought to be, and that’s fine for Metropolis. But not for Gotham. Get. Out. Of. My. City.”

He crosses his arms; I’ve pricked his pride. “Why can’t we work together? I provide hope and inspiration by day, you terrorize the criminal element by night.”

“Because I said so.” Time for the big guns. “Because if Superman doesn’t keep his cape out of Gotham unless specifically invited, I’ll see to it that every news station in the country runs a story on how Clark Kent, farmboy from Kansas, is really the Man of Steel.”

“And if you do, what will stop me from exposing Batman as the spoiled playboy Bruce Wayne? Nice try, telling me I’d had everything handed to me when you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

My smile is dark and predatory. “You don’t understand what it is to be human; what it’s like to fight for something. Say you do run your story: Bruce Wayne is exposed as Batman’s secret identity. You paint a target on my chest. Eventually, someone will kill me.”

His determination wavers in confusion. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

I spread my hands smugly. “It’s going to happen eventually anyway. I made the choice devote my life to helping others, both as Bruce Wayne the philanthropist whose company provides jobs to thousands, and as Batman who cleans up the streets one criminal at a time so that, ideally, no child will have to know the pain of having their parents murdered. I don’t have relatives to be held hostage. I don’t have any loved ones to be threatened. I don’t even have servants living in my mansion. I have a butler who has seen more danger before my birth than I’ve seen on the streets and who would rather die than betray my secret. There’s no emotional chinks in Batman’s armor. But while Superman can’t be harmed by normal weapons…”

The Man of Steel flinches, thinking of Lois. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t. But others would. Go back to Metropolis, Kent. Go back to your happy, mundane life and leave Gotham to me.”

He tries one last time. “You don’t have to do this, Bruce. You’re just a man who’s been hurt. You can put this aside and enjoy the life you have.”

“And you still don’t understand,” I growl. “You underestimate humans, Clark. I’ve seen my parents die right in front of me. I’ve been crushed, emotionally shattered, and enraged. And now I’m doing something about it. This is my choice; what I’ve decided to do with my life. I won’t wallow in my wealth and live a life of luxury when there are people out there suffering. If I die protecting them, then so be it because the only way I’ll stop being Batman is if I’m no longer physically able to do the job. If you want to stop me, Kent, you’ll have to kill me and I know you don’t do that. So leave. Get the hell out of my city and don’t come back.”

Superman looks at me for a long moment, weighing my strength of will. “You’re very brave for a man without any superhuman abilities.”

“I have nothing to lose,” I say with a grim smile. “And you may have superhuman strength, but of the two of us? I’m the one with the power, Clark. And I’m not afraid to use it.”

Finally, he seems resigned if not defeated. “Fine. You win, Bruce. I’ll stay out of Gotham unless specifically invited.”

“And I’ll stay out of Metropolis.” I can’t resist one last dig. “I’m glad we had this little chat.”

He looks disgruntled as I leap off the building, but I don’t care. He’s a man of his word.