CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1:

TO AWAKEN A BAT

The bat-mobile was throttling madly through a man-made tunnel bored into granite when Batman suddenly became aware. Though the tunnel appeared pitch black, the sensation of speed was quite enough to make the now-aware Batman terrified, and as soon as his eyes adjusted to the dashboard lights he began to panic. He gasped in great mouthfuls of air, as the shock of consciousness seemed to have knocked the wind out of him, and he fumbled with his limbs, thrashing around the passenger compartment of the strange vehicle, as if he was learning to control his extremities for the first time. He searched desperately for the steering wheel, but in the darkness of the cab the back of his clumsy and be-gloved hands found only strange angular shapes and sharp jutting spires of metal. He managed to scream something like, "Holy shit! Where am I? What is this!?", as he craned his upper body around the darkness and stomped his foot furiously at the ground, feeling around fruitlessly for a brake pedal which had already folded itself away into some hidden compartment, in one of the many pointless feats of over-engineering which would soon come to haunt every aspect his life. He found that he lacked peripheral vision and something seemed to be bracing his neck, so he was constantly turning his entire torso to look around or out either side window of the vehicle. He looked like a complete jackass doing this, and eventually he gave up and returned to staring straight ahead into the blackness. He could not recall any of the events which led up to this moment speeding towards hell on a pitch-black highway, nor could he recall much of anything whatsoever, other than a great white light and unending feelings of infinite terror and panic, which had intensified a few short seconds ago, immediately after he came to. "Am I dead?" He wondered aloud, and now slightly more lucid, he found the sound of his own voice jarring. It was certainly not the sound he expected to come out when he spoke. "Oh god, I'm dead, aren't I?" Batman slammed his skull back against the headrest, clenching his eyes closed just as tightly as he was clenching his teeth. Yet aside from the strange out-of-body feeling that resulted from hearing a stranger's voice come out of his mouth, this was far too visceral an experience for it to be death. Onward he went, strapped in and plunging into the darkness like a chump. It was impossible for him to gauge how long this horrible ride continued, and it may well have been only a matter of seconds — for just as the lack of a visual reference left him unsure of his speed, his inability to recall prior experiences left him just as clueless to the passage of time — but all things do come to an end, and eventually the car did come to a stop — laterally, at least. Then it began to rotate and travel upwards. Batman slowly opened his eyes, wiping away the tears which had flowed at some point during the journey. He wondered if the the tears were also responsible for his wet pants, but they weren't — that was all pee. He didn't mind it, for some reason.A dim yet growing light from above finally provided some context to his surroundings, revealing the strange and impractical aircraft-like steering wheel and array of switches and buttons which he had previously been slamming his hands against. There was no roof above his head, merely a glass dome which also made up the walls of the car, if it could even be called a car... it looked more like some kind of large cyborg penis, Batman noted to himself. He'd have to think more about that later. The platform elevated Batman and the cyborg dick car onto a massive concrete dais, which stretched out across the middle of a cathedral-like cave, in which millions of bats swooped and screeched through the air far above."Ew, bats," Batman whined as he shivered, "Well, thank god I'm safe in this thing."With comedic timing that surprised absolutely no-one, just then the bubble enclosing Batman in the vehicle suddenly retracted, raising the volume of the screeching bats to an almost deafening roar and exposing Batman to the moist cavern air, which felt thick in his nostrils and left the taste of guano on the back of his tongue."What the fuck, man..." Batman sighed and shook his head, but remained seated. He once again craned his entire body around to get a better look at his surroundings.Scattered around the massive circular platform were all sorts of computer equipment and laboratory gear, with even more industrial computing equipment sitting on steel walkways and platforms stretching up to at least three stories, all with accompanying corrugated steel staircases and firehouse poles for swift movement between levels. There seemed to be a heck of a lot of poles, though... in fact, the absurd amount of poles was just factually and objectively completely overboard.As the shrieking of the bats overhead subsided and they returned to their holes, Batman was able to hear his thoughts once again, and he felt safe enough to emerge from the vehicle finally. But he didn't, for some reason. Instead he just looked down at the seatbelt which was buckled across his lap, and made no effort to release it."Oh no," Batman said to himself flatly, "I guess I'm trapped in this car."With no means of escape, the world's supposedly-greatest detective began to piece together his predicament. "This must be some kind of new autonomous-vehicle Uber," he once again said aloud to nobody, tapping on the dashboard and hoping it hadn't been a very expensive ride."And all those computers and machines," he glanced around, "Clearly those are all DJ equipment..."And the poles...?"Batman grinned and blushed embarrassingly."Oh, we know what the poles are for, tee-hee-hee. We must be in some sort of gentleman's club-slash-cave!" Batman started giggling with delight. He sometimes referred to himself as "we" as he spoke to himself, and it was always incredibly off-putting and introduced a distinct feeling of disgust and pity into anyone who overheard... then he giggled even louder as he shouted to himself, "...and 'gentlemen's' is just a fancy word for 'strip'!"Batman quit his giggling when he realized there were no girls to be found on any of the poles, and he returned to frowning and detective-ing."Clearly I got wasted, then tried to take this Uber to this underground cave strip club, but we didn't arrive until after they closed, dangnabbit!" And just like that, Batman had solved the mystery of what the hell was going on, except he was completely wrong. A voice from a steel platform above, having heard his talking to himself, immediately began to question his detective work via his sanity:"Master Bruce, is everything—""WHO THE FUCK IS THAT!?" Batman screamed at the top of his lungs, interrupting the speaker, as he grabbed at his seatbelt and desperately tried to find a way out of the Batmobile. From a platform two stories above, a clearly startled and frail-looking old white man peered over the railing down at the Batman, who was barely able to crane his body upwards to make eye contact. When their eyes met, both men felt a shiver down their spine."I-it's Alfred, sir..." the old man said, "Is everything alright?" Alfred was quite caught off guard by Batman's outburst... it had been quite a while since one of those."Does it look like everything is alright, you jackass?" Batman screamed, "Obviously my seatbelt is stuck, and that means I'm stuck!"Alfred was surprised by this statement, as the Batmobile's seatbelts were fairly standard and comparable to any car's seatbelts, but nevertheless he dutifully turned and began walking down the stairs as fast as his old legs could carry him, which was not very fast at all. It must have been a particularly rough night out batmanning about, Alfred assumed, for his lifelong employer and friend to be lashing out at him so harshly.The bat man remained seated, his heart pounding still, and the adrenaline in his system conspired with his acute paranoia to very quickly make him quite impatient with the time it was taking Alfred to come rescue him."Seriously," Batman groaned as the old man finally hobbled into view on the staircase, "you couldn't slide down one of the stripper poles?" "Stripper poles? Is that what we're calling the Bat-poles these days...?" Alfred wondered, as he neared the Batmobile."Those poles are for the fucking bats? Bats can just fly down, you moron!" Batman shrieked. They better not fly down on him, though — Batman didn't want anything to do with those things, and he certainly did not want rabies. Alfred forced a nervous chuckle at Batman's joke, not realizing that it was not a joke at all. Batman really was just that stupid.Arriving at the vehicle finally, Alfred reached over Batman and quickly undid the seatbelt with absolutely no trouble whatsoever, because the seatbelt was not stuck — Batman just hadn't thought of doing that, mostly because he was incredibly lazy. "Well then," Alfred teased as he released the seatbelt, "seeing as how you are BATman, after all — why didn't you just fly out of your seat, then?"Batman didn't respond, and stared straight ahead, his mind clearly processing some realization or new revelation. He also remained seated, despite being released from his personal bat-lap-restraint — although his thoughts were briefly sidetracked, as Alfred's wrist had ever-so-slightly brushed against his still-wet crotch during the unbuckling, and he found himself startled by how incredibly arousing that old and pasty skin had felt against his genitals. Alfred sure was lucky that Batman knew how to properly demonstrate personalbat-lap restraint, or else Batman would have thrust and ground his pelvis deeper into that old man's flesh in search of further pleasure. As he envisioned this fantasy, a slight grin crossed Batman's lips. When this momentary distraction of arousal had passed, however, Batman returned to his initial realization... "That's right..." he said, "I'm Batman." Batman wasn't sure why he added "that's right", because this was certainly news to him. "Ah, erm—", Alfred said, still unsure of how to respond because it was difficult to tell if Batman was joking, or furious, or both, "Yes, that would be correct, Master Bruce...""Wayne," Batman finished for Alfred, as if Alfred had actually intended to say the last name as well, which he had not — thank god. Because if Alfred were prone to wasting that much time and energy saying his full name every single time, Batman would have fired him ages ago."Bruce Wayne," Batman repeated, pointing at his own head, "I'm Bruce Wayne." This clarifying statement was made with full confidence, despite it most likely having secretly been a question. "Yes," Alfred chuckled, "though sometimes I do wish you'd say that a bit more quietly, sir."Batman's brow furrowed as he looked at Alfred with a sudden unmistakable disgust."You seriously talk to your fucking boss with that tone, old man? That's how you talk to your master??" Batman snarled at his butler, "You better get the hell out of my sight!"With that, Batman clumsily attempted to climb his way out of the Batmobile. He knew there was no way Alfred could move fast enough — he was gonna smack the shit out of that smart-ass old man. However, because it had been designed to be entered and exited with a graceful leap, the batmobile lacked any sort of door, let alone handles or structural pillars or anything which could provide a solid grip for Batman to use to drag himself out of his seat. As a result, he found himself repeatedly attempting to stand up only to be immediately thrown back down into his seat as his knees would hit the underside of the dashboard, and so he appeared to almost bounce in place for a moment — up, down, up, down, up, down... — as his hands flailed around fruitlessly searching for a grip, and every time he stood up the sound of a spring went *BOING!* and when he fell back down there sounded a comical *ker-THUMP!*.He eventually managed a graceless half-stand by awkwardly hooking his elbows around the backside of the steering controls, before basically throwing his torso over the side of the car (if it could be called that) and then floundering there for a moment as he snaked his legs up and onto the seat, accompanied by a slippery cartoon *WHOOP-WHOOP-WHOOOP* sound. From there he outstretched his arms and heaved himself forward, tumbling over the side of the batmobile, and with a loud *HONK!* sound he landed on the cold concrete floor of the strange underground strip club in which he was parked (it was not until twenty minutes later that Batman would use his detective skills to deduce that this was not a strip club, but actually was the batcave). Alfred had seen the terrifying fury in Batman's eyes, and was simply too shocked by this unbridled aggression to do anything besides slowly ease backwards and away from his boss all throughout this entire clumsy and slapstick display. For a moment, he couldn't even consider possibly offering assistance... but the pitiful sight of the bat man crumpled in a ball on the floor triggered his years of prior conditioning, snapping him out of his shock and sending him hobbling towards Batman's bulbous carcass to offer his assistance."Oh dear, oh dear... Master Bruce... are you sure everything is okay?" Alfred felt a twinge of guilt as he realized exactly how bad of a night Batman must have had, and he cursed himself for not being more sensitive earlier as he crouched next to the sobbing heap crumpled on the ground.Batman didn't respond at first. He just sobbed, but with just enough forced severity that it was incredibly apparent that he was being purposely dramatic to make Alfred feel bad. He sniffled loudly, moaned, wailed and coughed, all of which created great echoes throughout the cavern. It was due to these echoes that there was no mistaking the fact that Batman had accidentally farted while forcing one of these dramatic sobs, and now he found himself faced with either awkwardly pretending as if it hadn't happened, or addressing it casually with a laugh. The latter would completely ruin his dramatic ploy for sympathy... so he chose the former. The next few seconds during which neither man acknowledged the fart was excruciating for both of them, especially because it had been a particularly funny-sounding one. However, Batman was thankful for the small miracle that it hadn't been odorous to the point where it would have to have been acknowledged.While the moment and fart passed, in lieu of talking, Alfred gently placed a hand into the sobbing mass' bat-shoulder. Immediately, Batman was reminded of the earlier lap-restraint incident, and he quickly tried his best to devise some ploy where he could distract Alfred and position his crotch where his shoulder was currently. But then Batman sighed, as he realized that even despite the added cover of his cape, such a plot would require far too much agility."Master Bruce, are you hurt?" Alfred asked, unsure of what else to say. He knew the truthful answer to his question was very obviously "absolutely not", but what else is there for an old guy to say to a grown man who is crying?"OMG," Batman whined in response, actually saying 'omg' under the pretense of saving time, "are you OLD, or retarded AND old!? Of course I'm hurt! And I never even said that ANYthing was okay, so how could EVERYthing be okay you stupid cunt jerk!?"Immediately following the absolute mic drop that was "cunt jerk", Batman broke into another round of even-more-unbelievable wailing. Even he found himself barely able to contain the fact that everything was, in fact, okay. There was a beat where Batman thought he had just secured himself even more sympathy."...you've got to be fucking kidding me..." Alfred said soberly, completely unsure of how to even begin to rationalize what the fuck had just come out of Batman's mouth, before shaking his head and repeating himself, "You've just got to be fucking kidding me. But I know you. You're not fucking kidding." Batman had never heard Alfred swear before, not even once in the two dozen or so words they had exchanged which he could recall."That's it. I'm done." Alfred said. The resignation and exhaustion in his voice was absolutely heartbreaking to anyone who would have heard it who was not Batman. Alfred withdrew his hand from Batman's shoulder, unaware that doing so ignited a terrible fire deep within Batman's icy soul. Alfred then quietly stood up, looked down once more upon the whimpering batman at his feet, then steadily turned and began walking away. Batman was furious. He was even more furious than the time when he had taken an Uber all the way to a strip club that was underground, only to find out it was closed. Not only had Alfred not fixed everything like Batman had requested, but now he was leaving before Batman even had the chance to make up an excuse to have the old man's wrist brush against his bat-crotch once again. What's worse is he was super close to coming up with something about having a splinter in his hip, too!Alfred simply continued to walk away. He wasn't sure where he was walking, nor did he care, as long as he was walking away from whatever the hell was going on with that bat man over there. He knew he was walking away from his one-time hero, from his boss, his master, his surrogate son, his best friend... and he knew he was walking away from his entire life's work. But this wasn't so much tragic as it was due to the fact that Alfred not only lacked drive, he also completely lacked any goals or aspirations of his own, and so he had spent his entire miserable life dedicated to the miserable service of this miserable excuse for a man. But no more.Alfred still had a few good years left in his old bones — he was fairly secure in this fact. He would try and find forgiveness in the eyes of God by spending those years in service to positive causes, and helping his community, and maybe even finding happiness himself in the process. For so long, he had been baffled by this inability to find happiness, blind to the fact that he was dedicated to a mad bat man who was wealthy beyond belief yet spent his time and his fortune on waging war against the less-fortunate citizens of his hometown, using a high-tech arsenal large enough to rival even those of most developed nations. Alfred had never even really questioned the effectiveness of spending millions of dollars on custom bat-shaped boomerangs and other comparable bat-bullshit instead of addiction programs and low-income housing and other social services which might actually start turning things around in the city, however slowly and lacking in explosions it may be. He wondered how he, a supposedly good man, could have been so blind for so long.Then, as if he could sense his need to stop Alfred's thoughts of a bright future, Batman shouted from across the cave:"Hey Alfred!"Old Alfred froze at the sound of that anxiety-triggering, yet somehow strangely unfamiliar voice, and straightening his posture in preparation of announcing his resignation, he turned around to face Batman.But it was Batman who spoke before Alfred had a chance to open his mouth even from the shock of seeing Batman standing there pointing a gun directly at him. "You're fired." Batman said, as he pulled the trigger. All Alfred could do was close his eyes and wonder what kind of jackass had seen fit to have given Batman a gun. I mean — jesus, what a terrible idea!

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