I've been keeping a low profile for the last couple of weeks while trying to sort through B's latest bombshell.
Does the "B" stand for Bruce or Batman? (Or Bastard?) Don't know, don't care. And I'm writing as Dick now because... well, this game with masks and double lives is getting old. Or confusing. Or both. And I'm not sure I want to play along anymore--not when "playing" lands me with a knot on the top of my skull and repeated invitations to die at the hands of one of Bruce's psycho fuckbuddies.
So: Bruce, or Batman, or whatever he calls himself these days, has been doing the Riddler. For years. I guess he kind of said as much a few months ago, but he was so cryptic that I honestly didn't know what the hell he was talking about.
And now I do.
What I don't know is how to feel about all of it. Part of me is relieved that Bruce is finally starting to come out of his goddammed (bat-)closet. Another part of me is pissed that it's not me he's playing with. (I never expected I'd be jealous of one of the bad guys.) And a really big part of me is terrified of what the consequences will be, now that "E. Nygma" is out there hating my guts and resenting Batman as much as I do. (Holy love triangle!)
So I guess I know a thing or two about divided lives after all. And I guess that's why I can't just walk away, no matter how much I may want to.
Oh shit, almost forgot my appointment with Dr. T this afternoon. God, what I wouldn't give to sit on his couch and spill my guts out for a solid hour, or two, or ten. As Bruce knows better than just about anybody else, it hurts to sit on a secret this precious.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
82. Batman
Perhaps, in retrospect, I should have told Robin more about my relationship with Nygma sooner. But I did not believe he would understand, and -- I admit -- I feared the consequences on all fronts.
As it turns out, I was right to be concerned. Despite my best efforts to cover my tracks, Robin found me -- either he's turning into a good detective, or I'm slipping -- and found me in quite a compromising position at that. Bearing in mind the gag over my mouth, I tried to shake my head in such a way that I could discourage him from coming any farther into the room, but it was no use.
Nygma was waiting for him, bat in hand (pun intended, I'm sure). I was afraid for a moment that my captor would simply blungeon him to death before my very eyes, but I know that such an action would not fit Riddler's meticulous m.o.
It is an odd thing: in our earliest days together, Nygma/Riddler was not a "real" criminal, merely a man playing a role. As was I. But all that has changed now. The games we used to play together have taken on a deadly layer of realism, and the man I once knew as my secret accomplice is truly a dangerous villain on the loose.
Nygma dragged Robin's limp body across the floor and left him at my feet. "So, you've got a new playmate, is that it?" he asked, looking me in the eye. The gag prevented me from answering, but it did not supress the grunt I uttered when Riddler punched me in the gut.
"I'll leave you two lovebirds to rescue each other," he said, heading toward the door. "Just know this: I will be back, and next time I won't be so forgiving, Batman. Jealousy makes a man do crazy things, you know."
After he left, it took me two minutes to free myself and another fifteen to wake Robin. Truth be told, I was in no hurry to begin the conversation which followed.
As it turns out, I was right to be concerned. Despite my best efforts to cover my tracks, Robin found me -- either he's turning into a good detective, or I'm slipping -- and found me in quite a compromising position at that. Bearing in mind the gag over my mouth, I tried to shake my head in such a way that I could discourage him from coming any farther into the room, but it was no use.
Nygma was waiting for him, bat in hand (pun intended, I'm sure). I was afraid for a moment that my captor would simply blungeon him to death before my very eyes, but I know that such an action would not fit Riddler's meticulous m.o.
It is an odd thing: in our earliest days together, Nygma/Riddler was not a "real" criminal, merely a man playing a role. As was I. But all that has changed now. The games we used to play together have taken on a deadly layer of realism, and the man I once knew as my secret accomplice is truly a dangerous villain on the loose.
Nygma dragged Robin's limp body across the floor and left him at my feet. "So, you've got a new playmate, is that it?" he asked, looking me in the eye. The gag prevented me from answering, but it did not supress the grunt I uttered when Riddler punched me in the gut.
"I'll leave you two lovebirds to rescue each other," he said, heading toward the door. "Just know this: I will be back, and next time I won't be so forgiving, Batman. Jealousy makes a man do crazy things, you know."
After he left, it took me two minutes to free myself and another fifteen to wake Robin. Truth be told, I was in no hurry to begin the conversation which followed.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
81. Robin
A lot has happened since my last entry here, so much that I doubt I can cover it all in adequate detail. But I'll try, even if it takes me a few days.
Last Thursday, beside myself with worry when neither Alfred nor I had heard from Batman in days, I started going through his notes and deduced that the Riddler was back in action. I even figured out where his hideout was, and decided to go there to investigate.
Through a window in the rear of the building (an abandoned puzzle factory, no surprise) I could see Batman. He was stretched spread-eagle on some kind of painful-looking device, his mouth gagged and his limbs bound with rope. He didn't see me at first, but when I opened the window and crawled inside--a little more noisily than I'd planned--he looked up.
He started shaking his head as if to say "no." His eyes were huge under his mask, and I could tell he was upset about something. At the time, I never guessed it was me he was mad at.
Two other details escaped my notice, too: the enormous boner in his tights, and the baseball bat hovering just above me, heading straight for my skull.
Last Thursday, beside myself with worry when neither Alfred nor I had heard from Batman in days, I started going through his notes and deduced that the Riddler was back in action. I even figured out where his hideout was, and decided to go there to investigate.
Through a window in the rear of the building (an abandoned puzzle factory, no surprise) I could see Batman. He was stretched spread-eagle on some kind of painful-looking device, his mouth gagged and his limbs bound with rope. He didn't see me at first, but when I opened the window and crawled inside--a little more noisily than I'd planned--he looked up.
He started shaking his head as if to say "no." His eyes were huge under his mask, and I could tell he was upset about something. At the time, I never guessed it was me he was mad at.
Two other details escaped my notice, too: the enormous boner in his tights, and the baseball bat hovering just above me, heading straight for my skull.
Friday, September 17, 2004
80. The Riddler
My, my, my. So Batman has a new playmate. One he evidently didn't intend to tell me about.
The little shit!
This changes everything.
The little shit!
This changes everything.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Monday, September 13, 2004
78. H.S.
My plot is proceeding better and faster than I ever could have dreamed, all thanks to the best Research Assistant on the planet. Best of all, he doesn't even know he's got the job. I am tempted to make my presence known right away, but the longer I wait, the greater will be the rewards.
Batman will be mine. ALL mine. Inside and out, head to toe... and everything in between.
Batman will be mine. ALL mine. Inside and out, head to toe... and everything in between.
Friday, September 10, 2004
77. Dick
With the Tempest behind bars and the Riddler seemingly quiet, I've had a little time to think things over.
It's funny how, now that I have no other means of employment, an appointment with my shrink has suddenly become the only stable point of my week. Haven't seen Janice or Peter in I don't know how long... and I'm not sure when that will happen again, either. Do I really want Batman to be the center of my life?
Then there's the political implications of my new line of work: If you'd told me 6 months ago that I'd be getting a paycheck from the guy whose headquarters I've protested half a dozen times, I'd have laughed you out of the room. Now look at me... a humble servant of WayneTech like all the weapons manufacturers, pharmaceutical companies, and other thugs in the corporation's employ.
Bruce and I never talk politics. No time. But he looks like old-money Republican to me, and it's completely against my principles to do anything that will lead to another term for GWB.
I'm gonna have to bring this up, sooner or later.
Meanwhile, it's back to work.
It's funny how, now that I have no other means of employment, an appointment with my shrink has suddenly become the only stable point of my week. Haven't seen Janice or Peter in I don't know how long... and I'm not sure when that will happen again, either. Do I really want Batman to be the center of my life?
Then there's the political implications of my new line of work: If you'd told me 6 months ago that I'd be getting a paycheck from the guy whose headquarters I've protested half a dozen times, I'd have laughed you out of the room. Now look at me... a humble servant of WayneTech like all the weapons manufacturers, pharmaceutical companies, and other thugs in the corporation's employ.
Bruce and I never talk politics. No time. But he looks like old-money Republican to me, and it's completely against my principles to do anything that will lead to another term for GWB.
I'm gonna have to bring this up, sooner or later.
Meanwhile, it's back to work.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
76. Batman
The Tempest is over.
Within the next hour, the police should have followed up on my tip and located Farnish in an alley outside the Channel 8 studio. I left him tied to a fence with my calling card.
Robin's assistance has been invaluable throughout the case. He is new and prone to mistakes, sometimes serious ones, but his instincts are good. Thanks to his rigorous research, I was able to track down Farnish within two hours of our escape, without further casualties. The key to his capture lay in disabling his "Lightning Rod," which I was able to accomplish with the help of the communicator on my belt.
In this most private of journals I must confess the powerful feelings I felt, watching Robin undergoing Farnish's unthinkable treatment when we walked into his latest trap. I held myself responsible once again--and yet I found the entire situation curiously stimulating. When I freed him from the water tank and gazed upon his wet body, I ...
I cannot say how I felt. I only know that I will never forget that sensation as long as I live.
Within the next hour, the police should have followed up on my tip and located Farnish in an alley outside the Channel 8 studio. I left him tied to a fence with my calling card.
Robin's assistance has been invaluable throughout the case. He is new and prone to mistakes, sometimes serious ones, but his instincts are good. Thanks to his rigorous research, I was able to track down Farnish within two hours of our escape, without further casualties. The key to his capture lay in disabling his "Lightning Rod," which I was able to accomplish with the help of the communicator on my belt.
In this most private of journals I must confess the powerful feelings I felt, watching Robin undergoing Farnish's unthinkable treatment when we walked into his latest trap. I held myself responsible once again--and yet I found the entire situation curiously stimulating. When I freed him from the water tank and gazed upon his wet body, I ...
I cannot say how I felt. I only know that I will never forget that sensation as long as I live.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
75. Robin
Batman's right: it's all in the timing.
If he hadn't just taught me how to handle (separately) being suspended upside down for long periods of time and underwater maneuvers, I'd be dead now. Likewise, if the Tempest hadn't previously figured out that Batman's belt is tamper-resistant, he would have removed it, and BM wouldn't have had access to the tools he needed to free himself and then rescue me.
I admit I was fully expecting a reprimand for bungling the mission and putting both our lives in jeopardy, but--surprise, surprise--the first thing BM did when he managed to shatter the glass on the tank that held me and cut me loose was... hug me. He wrapped his great billowing cape around the two of us and held me for a long while. I'm sure he told himself it was strictly for warmth--I was sopping wet, and he was freezing cold--but I know there was something else going on. Believe me, we generated enough heat in that embrace that I could have melted on the spot.
I'm back in the Cave now, drying off while BM tracks down the Tempest. I hope he makes it before our enemy gets his hands on another victim--I'd hate to see anyone else endure what we just went through. Only problem is, we don't know which of two dozen potential candidates is next on the Tempest's list.
I wish I was out there right now, fighting side by side with BM. But he says he needs me here, feeding him information from the computer. And so I sit. And wait. For what, I have no idea.
If he hadn't just taught me how to handle (separately) being suspended upside down for long periods of time and underwater maneuvers, I'd be dead now. Likewise, if the Tempest hadn't previously figured out that Batman's belt is tamper-resistant, he would have removed it, and BM wouldn't have had access to the tools he needed to free himself and then rescue me.
I admit I was fully expecting a reprimand for bungling the mission and putting both our lives in jeopardy, but--surprise, surprise--the first thing BM did when he managed to shatter the glass on the tank that held me and cut me loose was... hug me. He wrapped his great billowing cape around the two of us and held me for a long while. I'm sure he told himself it was strictly for warmth--I was sopping wet, and he was freezing cold--but I know there was something else going on. Believe me, we generated enough heat in that embrace that I could have melted on the spot.
I'm back in the Cave now, drying off while BM tracks down the Tempest. I hope he makes it before our enemy gets his hands on another victim--I'd hate to see anyone else endure what we just went through. Only problem is, we don't know which of two dozen potential candidates is next on the Tempest's list.
I wish I was out there right now, fighting side by side with BM. But he says he needs me here, feeding him information from the computer. And so I sit. And wait. For what, I have no idea.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
74. The Tempest
[transcript from recording device on Batman's utility belt]
GOOD MORNING, BATMAN. SLEEP WELL?
YOU CERTAINLY ARE SQUIRMING A LOT TODAY. REMINDS ME OF LAST NIGHT! GUESS YOU DON'T REMEMBER THAT... ANYWAY, I'D ADVISE YOU NOT TO WASTE YOUR BREATH--YOU'RE TIED RATHER SECURELY AT THE MOMENT. BESIDES, THERE'S NOT A GREAT DEAL OF OXYGEN TO WASTE BY THIS POINT; YOU FOOLISHLY USED UP AN AWFUL LOT WHILE YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE SMALL SIZE OF YOUR NEW DIGS, BUT THEN AGAIN YOU WON'T EXACTLY BE MOVING AROUND ANY TIME SOON. OR EVER AGAIN, FOR THAT MATTER.
STARTING TO NOTICE A SLIGHT CHILL IN THE AIR? THAT'S BECAUSE THE TEMPERATURE IN THERE IS KNOWN TO FLUCTUATE. I CAN MAKE IT VERY COLD... OR VERY, VERY HOT, DEPENDING ON YOUR BEHAVIOR AND MY MOOD. FOR THE LAST HOUR IT'S BEEN DROPPING 1 DEGREE EVERY 5 MINUTES: A NICE, SLOW DESCENT FROM SUMMER TO FALL AND FINALLY INTO THE "DEAD" OF WINTER. BUT DON'T WORRY--IF YOU MANAGE TO MAKE IT THROUGH THE AFTERNOON WITHOUT CONTRACTING HYPOTHERMIA, I JUST MIGHT REWARD YOU BY REVERSING THE DIRECTION OF THE CHANGE... YOU MAY NOT BELIEVE IT NOW, BUT THAT CHAMBER CAN GET MIGHTY WARM.
LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE: YOU WON'T HAVE TO ENDURE THE DISCOMFORT BY YOURSELF. AT LEAST NOT AT FIRST. LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD WHILE I ADJUST THE LIGHTS... THERE, DO YOU SEE HIM? WHO CAN IT BE? WHY, IT'S YOUR YOUNG COMPANION, THE ONE WHO CALLS HIMSELF "ROBIN."
AS YOU'LL NOTICE, I HAVE SOMETHING RATHER DIFFERENT IN MIND FOR HIM. SAME SIZE CHAMBER, DIFFERENT PURPOSE. OBSERVE THE WAY HE DANGLES HELPLESSLY, UPSIDE DOWN. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE PAINFUL ENOUGH, ALL THAT BLOOD RUSHING TO HIS HANDSOME HEAD, BUT IN FACT IT'S ONLY THE BEGINNING OF WHAT I HAVE IN STORE. BY NOW YOU'VE PROBABLY DISCOVERED, AS HE WILL ONCE HE WAKES UP, THAT A GENTLE RAIN IS ENTERING THE CHAMBER AT A FAIRLY ALARMING RATE.
RIGHT NOW THE WATER IS JUST BEGINNING TO FILL THE BOTTOM OF THE TANK. I IMAGINE ONCE IT STARTS GRAZING THE TOP OF HIS HEAD HE'LL START COMING TO-- AND I DO HOPE HE DOES, BECAUSE IT WILL BE MUCH MORE ENTERTAINING FOR YOU TO WATCH HIM STRUGGLE FOR A FEW AGONIZING MOMENTS BEFORE HE DROWNS. THEN AGAIN, HE DOESN'T SEEM TO BE QUITE AS ... SEASONED AS YOU AT THIS HERO BUSINESS, SO I SUPPOSE THERE'S A GOOD CHANCE HE'LL PERISH IN A FLASH.
BY THE WAY, I DEVELOPED BOTH OF THESE DEVICES FOR MY REAL VICTIMS: A BROAD ASSORTMENT OF MY FORMER COLLEAGUES. BUT THE TWO OF YOU SHOULD PROVE WORTHY GUINEA PIGS WHILE I IRON OUT THE KINKS. IF YOU CAN'T BREAK FREE--AND I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT YOU CAN'T--THEN THERE'S NO WAY HAPPY JACK FROST FROM WGOT WILL BE ABLE TO.
BUT DON'T LET ME DISCOURAGE YOU FROM TRYING. I'LL GIVE YOU BOYS A MOMENT OF PRIVACY--I'M OFF TO ROUND UP FROST AND THE NEXT WEATHERMAN ON MY LIST. I'VE DECIDED TO DEAL WITH THEM TWO AT A TIME... RATHER LIKE NOAH IN THE FLOOD, WOULDN'T YOU SAY?
FAREWELL, HERO. OH, AND IF WERE YOU, I'D GRAB A SWEATER--THEY SAY SUDDEN CHANGES IN TEMPERATURE CAN BE BAD FOR YOUR HEALTH.
GOOD MORNING, BATMAN. SLEEP WELL?
YOU CERTAINLY ARE SQUIRMING A LOT TODAY. REMINDS ME OF LAST NIGHT! GUESS YOU DON'T REMEMBER THAT... ANYWAY, I'D ADVISE YOU NOT TO WASTE YOUR BREATH--YOU'RE TIED RATHER SECURELY AT THE MOMENT. BESIDES, THERE'S NOT A GREAT DEAL OF OXYGEN TO WASTE BY THIS POINT; YOU FOOLISHLY USED UP AN AWFUL LOT WHILE YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE SMALL SIZE OF YOUR NEW DIGS, BUT THEN AGAIN YOU WON'T EXACTLY BE MOVING AROUND ANY TIME SOON. OR EVER AGAIN, FOR THAT MATTER.
STARTING TO NOTICE A SLIGHT CHILL IN THE AIR? THAT'S BECAUSE THE TEMPERATURE IN THERE IS KNOWN TO FLUCTUATE. I CAN MAKE IT VERY COLD... OR VERY, VERY HOT, DEPENDING ON YOUR BEHAVIOR AND MY MOOD. FOR THE LAST HOUR IT'S BEEN DROPPING 1 DEGREE EVERY 5 MINUTES: A NICE, SLOW DESCENT FROM SUMMER TO FALL AND FINALLY INTO THE "DEAD" OF WINTER. BUT DON'T WORRY--IF YOU MANAGE TO MAKE IT THROUGH THE AFTERNOON WITHOUT CONTRACTING HYPOTHERMIA, I JUST MIGHT REWARD YOU BY REVERSING THE DIRECTION OF THE CHANGE... YOU MAY NOT BELIEVE IT NOW, BUT THAT CHAMBER CAN GET MIGHTY WARM.
LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE: YOU WON'T HAVE TO ENDURE THE DISCOMFORT BY YOURSELF. AT LEAST NOT AT FIRST. LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD WHILE I ADJUST THE LIGHTS... THERE, DO YOU SEE HIM? WHO CAN IT BE? WHY, IT'S YOUR YOUNG COMPANION, THE ONE WHO CALLS HIMSELF "ROBIN."
AS YOU'LL NOTICE, I HAVE SOMETHING RATHER DIFFERENT IN MIND FOR HIM. SAME SIZE CHAMBER, DIFFERENT PURPOSE. OBSERVE THE WAY HE DANGLES HELPLESSLY, UPSIDE DOWN. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE PAINFUL ENOUGH, ALL THAT BLOOD RUSHING TO HIS HANDSOME HEAD, BUT IN FACT IT'S ONLY THE BEGINNING OF WHAT I HAVE IN STORE. BY NOW YOU'VE PROBABLY DISCOVERED, AS HE WILL ONCE HE WAKES UP, THAT A GENTLE RAIN IS ENTERING THE CHAMBER AT A FAIRLY ALARMING RATE.
RIGHT NOW THE WATER IS JUST BEGINNING TO FILL THE BOTTOM OF THE TANK. I IMAGINE ONCE IT STARTS GRAZING THE TOP OF HIS HEAD HE'LL START COMING TO-- AND I DO HOPE HE DOES, BECAUSE IT WILL BE MUCH MORE ENTERTAINING FOR YOU TO WATCH HIM STRUGGLE FOR A FEW AGONIZING MOMENTS BEFORE HE DROWNS. THEN AGAIN, HE DOESN'T SEEM TO BE QUITE AS ... SEASONED AS YOU AT THIS HERO BUSINESS, SO I SUPPOSE THERE'S A GOOD CHANCE HE'LL PERISH IN A FLASH.
BY THE WAY, I DEVELOPED BOTH OF THESE DEVICES FOR MY REAL VICTIMS: A BROAD ASSORTMENT OF MY FORMER COLLEAGUES. BUT THE TWO OF YOU SHOULD PROVE WORTHY GUINEA PIGS WHILE I IRON OUT THE KINKS. IF YOU CAN'T BREAK FREE--AND I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT YOU CAN'T--THEN THERE'S NO WAY HAPPY JACK FROST FROM WGOT WILL BE ABLE TO.
BUT DON'T LET ME DISCOURAGE YOU FROM TRYING. I'LL GIVE YOU BOYS A MOMENT OF PRIVACY--I'M OFF TO ROUND UP FROST AND THE NEXT WEATHERMAN ON MY LIST. I'VE DECIDED TO DEAL WITH THEM TWO AT A TIME... RATHER LIKE NOAH IN THE FLOOD, WOULDN'T YOU SAY?
FAREWELL, HERO. OH, AND IF WERE YOU, I'D GRAB A SWEATER--THEY SAY SUDDEN CHANGES IN TEMPERATURE CAN BE BAD FOR YOUR HEALTH.
Monday, September 06, 2004
73. Dick
Tonight I witnessed two things I never thought I'd see: one of Gotham City's wealthiest citizens and its most famous mystery crimefighter both getting read the Riot Act by their manservants.
Let's just say Alfred was none too pleased with either Bruce or Batman--or me, for that matter--when he learned that we'd spent the last five nights out in the woods at Bruce's Toth County cabin, in no danger whatsoever.
Well, I guess technically I was in quite a bit of danger at various points, if you count scaling tall trees, being submerged in Lake Kane, trying to break free of various mock torture devices, being buried alive for the better part of an evening, testing out a new flameproof cape the hard way, and so on. It was all part of another intensive training weekend, and I guess B didn't bother to inform Alfred of that fact.
Hell, he didn't even bother to inform me. When we hopped in the "Bat-mobile" last Wednesday night and buckled our safety belts, I was fully expecting that we were racing off to bring the Tempest--a.k.a. Phil Farnish--to justice. If I'd known what Batman actually had in store for me, I would have at least packed a toothbrush.
It wasn't all training exercises for the two of us, by the way. The Wayne "Cabin" puts most of the finest homes in GC to shame--complete gym, wave pool, hot tub, sauna, fully stocked bar and pantry, you name it. And I don't really think I've ever seen a country cottage with such an elaborate master bedroom.
Not that I got to see much of those amenities. Most nights I had to spend outdoors, tied to a tree or chained to spikes on the ground, sometimes in the pouring rain, and obliged to find the one and only way to free myself if I was ever gonna get a decent sleep. I usually did, although Friday evening I never quite figured out how to extricate myself from a twenty-foot hole in the ground (and to think the proper tool was on my belt all along!).
The first night I made my way out of the trap du jour, which involved dangling upside down by one ankle, I walked into the cabin dead tired at 3 a.m. and suddenly realized I had no idea what the etiquette was regarding sleeping arrangements. I wanted more than anything to creep into that master bedroom and join Bruce under the covers, but the door was closed, and something told me not to open it. I picked a spare bed down the hall and was dead to the world until something that sounded like a fire alarm woke me up three hours later--yet another drill, this one requiring me to locate and free three small children (actually dolls) from a simulated burning building.
Enough of this talk. Time to make nice with Al and then--believe it or not--head out to catch the Tempest for real this time. No rest for the weary in this world.
Let's just say Alfred was none too pleased with either Bruce or Batman--or me, for that matter--when he learned that we'd spent the last five nights out in the woods at Bruce's Toth County cabin, in no danger whatsoever.
Well, I guess technically I was in quite a bit of danger at various points, if you count scaling tall trees, being submerged in Lake Kane, trying to break free of various mock torture devices, being buried alive for the better part of an evening, testing out a new flameproof cape the hard way, and so on. It was all part of another intensive training weekend, and I guess B didn't bother to inform Alfred of that fact.
Hell, he didn't even bother to inform me. When we hopped in the "Bat-mobile" last Wednesday night and buckled our safety belts, I was fully expecting that we were racing off to bring the Tempest--a.k.a. Phil Farnish--to justice. If I'd known what Batman actually had in store for me, I would have at least packed a toothbrush.
It wasn't all training exercises for the two of us, by the way. The Wayne "Cabin" puts most of the finest homes in GC to shame--complete gym, wave pool, hot tub, sauna, fully stocked bar and pantry, you name it. And I don't really think I've ever seen a country cottage with such an elaborate master bedroom.
Not that I got to see much of those amenities. Most nights I had to spend outdoors, tied to a tree or chained to spikes on the ground, sometimes in the pouring rain, and obliged to find the one and only way to free myself if I was ever gonna get a decent sleep. I usually did, although Friday evening I never quite figured out how to extricate myself from a twenty-foot hole in the ground (and to think the proper tool was on my belt all along!).
The first night I made my way out of the trap du jour, which involved dangling upside down by one ankle, I walked into the cabin dead tired at 3 a.m. and suddenly realized I had no idea what the etiquette was regarding sleeping arrangements. I wanted more than anything to creep into that master bedroom and join Bruce under the covers, but the door was closed, and something told me not to open it. I picked a spare bed down the hall and was dead to the world until something that sounded like a fire alarm woke me up three hours later--yet another drill, this one requiring me to locate and free three small children (actually dolls) from a simulated burning building.
Enough of this talk. Time to make nice with Al and then--believe it or not--head out to catch the Tempest for real this time. No rest for the weary in this world.
72. Alfred
Still no word from my employer or his new assistant. I am beside myself with worry.
Meanwhile, people continue to call for Master Bruce. Following protocol, I tell them he is away on business. But the inquiries continue, many of them urgent.
In times of crisis, I concentrate on keeping the Manor clean and tidy... It seems to be the one thing under my control.
Meanwhile, people continue to call for Master Bruce. Following protocol, I tell them he is away on business. But the inquiries continue, many of them urgent.
In times of crisis, I concentrate on keeping the Manor clean and tidy... It seems to be the one thing under my control.
Friday, September 03, 2004
71. Alfred
I have not seen or heard from either Master Bruce or Master Dick since Wednesday evening. If it were only Batman who had gone missing, I would not be alarmed--for heaven's sake, it happens all the time. But the two left together, and I do believe they were on the trail of the Tempest at last. Given the unsuccessful outcome of their first encounter with him, I cannot help feeling alarmed.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
70. Robin
Right now, the only person who even knows I exist--other than Batman and Alfred--is the Tempest. And after weeks of research, we've finally figured out who he is: Phillip Farnish, a former meteorologist who lost his job five years ago after exhibiting signs of mental illness. He tried suing his employers, but lost the case when he became violent in court, blaming a lightning storm for his behavior. In the intervening years, he has apparently become obsessed with weather conditions, and he appears to be exacting his revenge on his former coworkers and some well-known TV and radio personalities. We've got a likely location for him, and tonight we're going to bring him in.
That's right, we. To my surprise, Batman has decided I'm ready to help him on a job. I thought it would be months from now before I got the go-ahead, but given that the Tempest and I have already crossed paths once before -- and all I need are defensive skills, which we've been working on virtually nonstop for weeks --it looks like tonight's the night. Granted, I'm primarily the bait for a trap (while Farnish is preoccupied with trying to catch me, Batman will be sneaking up on him from behind), but it's an important job all the same.
And I know, beyond a doubt, that I'm up for the task. World, meet Robin!
That's right, we. To my surprise, Batman has decided I'm ready to help him on a job. I thought it would be months from now before I got the go-ahead, but given that the Tempest and I have already crossed paths once before -- and all I need are defensive skills, which we've been working on virtually nonstop for weeks --it looks like tonight's the night. Granted, I'm primarily the bait for a trap (while Farnish is preoccupied with trying to catch me, Batman will be sneaking up on him from behind), but it's an important job all the same.
And I know, beyond a doubt, that I'm up for the task. World, meet Robin!
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