"You need help with the Morrone case," he offered.

The commissioner tried to get a good look at the cape-and-cowled vigilante who stood before him, but the nearby desk lamp only provided him with a vague silhouette of the mysterious man. To the people of Gotham, he was a myth. Those who did see him were either jailed, or too scared to talk about the encounter with anyone.

But James Gordon believed the masked man was a hero. The chief of the Gotham City Police Department got up from the clutter-filled desk in his office to face the recent arrival at a more appropriate level. "Not this time, my friend."

"Jim," said the darkness, "you know your people can't handle this alone."

"That's why I called in the F.B.I." The police commissioner leaned on his desk and folded his arms.

The usually emotionless figure just about fell out of his costume. "The feds are in on it! They're working in the same racket as the Morrones."

"Don't be silly. A friend of mine from the bureau is on the case. The feds work for America, remember?" The day and a half he spent in the precinct was getting to him. He took a sip of six hour-old coffee and cursed its horrible taste.

The shaded character's tone turned aggressive. "I'm going to be there whether you want me to or not."

"That's where you're wrong. I've told all my officers to take down anyone that interferes. I've worked on this case for the past four months, and I can't afford having you screw it up."

"How do you expect me not to get involved?"

"How do you expect me to trust you? After the stunt you pulled last year, how does Gotham know it's safe anymore?"

That last remark visibly hit a nerve in the caped crusader. Batman dove out of the window he came in, only this time, he was consumed in a storm of rage.

And Jim Gordon watched him leave.

The Dark Knight went home - that is, to the home of his alter ego, billionaire Bruce Wayne - to the Batcave which lay hidden secretly underneath the illustrious Wayne Manor. Therein, he found two people anxiously awaiting his return: Alfred, the butler of the mansion, and Robin, who goes by the name of Tim Drake, when he does not help Batman clean up the mean streets of Gotham.

The Batmobile's autopilot system directed the enhanced combat vehicle only a few metres away from where Alfred and Robin stood. The canopy of the car slid open, allowing its occupant to jump out. He walked away from his two colleagues without saying a word, toward a nearby chasm where he was often lost in thought.

"Bruce, is something wrong?" asked Tim.

"Leave me alone."

Alfred, ever loyal and understanding, grew concerned. "Master Bruce," he said, in his distinct British accent, "are you --"

"I said, LEAVE ME ALONE!" Batman's voice thundered toward the two shocked individuals, echoing throughout the cave as if twenty people screamed in haphazard unison.

Alfred and Tim half-scurried up the long flight of stairs which would return them to the main level of Wayne Manor. "I wonder what would make him so agitated," Alfred thought to himself.

Batman looked down into the welcoming abyss. How many times had he let someone down? The dark figure began to recount all of the mistakes he made in the past year alone.

After being paralyzed by a maniac, he appointed another to assume his role as the Dark Knight, who killed criminals instead of letting the law decide what to do with them.

He later reclaimed his position and allowed a viral outbreak to infect the city, as well as his sidekick, Robin. Hundreds of thousands of people died.

Just last month, he let a psychotic dictator named Ra's al Ghul (whose name means "The Demon's Head") poison the planet's major urban centres, killing a number of people in the process. The Demon said that it was for the greater good of the world, so that those who survived the plague would harbour a new utopia for humanity.

Some protector Batman turned out to be.

He tore off his mask and threw it into the chasm, watching it fall. As far as Bruce Wayne was concerned, there would be no more Batman. He was lost in the darkness.

"F.B.I.! Nobody move!"

Before the federal agent finished his sentence, his words bounced off the empty walls, up the naked staircase, and off into the vacant bathroom, complete with a leaky faucet and a stained toilet.

Soon after the feds and the tactics department swept in, the abominable Sergeant Harvey Bullock careened into the building. "Nobody's here, Commish," said Harvey. "They flew the coop. Guess somebody told 'em we was comin'."

Not wanting to believe what he'd heard, Jim Gordon scuffled by the feds who blocked the entrance, just to confirm the worst. "Dammit!"

Sitting at his desk, Bruce tried to recall the last time he'd gotten more than eight hours of sleep. He couldn't remember.

But this morning, he was refreshed. He got up, walked over to the high window, and looked out upon the vast cityscape. For the first time in years, he felt relieved of all his burdens.

Well, most of them, actually.

Here in his office, he was the president of an international company called Wayne Enterprises, after his family name. Such a position put a great responsibility on the billionaire, and he would be foolish to manage it alone.

"Mr. Wayne."

A middle-aged man strode into the room. It was Lucius Fox, Chief Executive Officer, who was in charge of the corporation while Bruce was otherwise occupied. On any other day, he wouldn't even have to come into this office, but now, Bruce was back at the helm, and glad to be there.

"Sir, R&D needs more funding for nanotechnology. They drew up this requester earlier this morning," said the balding executive assistant.

"Lucius, please. It's Bruce."

Lucius smiled politely. "Sorry. It's just that you haven't been around much lately and I --"

The door to the president's office flung open, and in walked a ravishing, raven-haired woman.

She tossed the two gentlemen a conniving grin and said, "Your president likes to surprise his employees. It seems only proper of me to turn the tables on him."

"Could you...uh...excuse us for a moment, Lucius?"

"Certainly, Bruce." As he left the room, Lucius could only imagine who that woman was.

"Talia?" was all Bruce managed to get out. She was the daughter of Ra's al Ghul, betrothed to Batman by her father, and thus to Bruce Wayne. After learning of Bruce's secret identity, Ra's asked him to be his successor, once the anti-philanthropist would take over the world. Batman flatly declined, but Ra's' daughter was still enchanted by the Dark Knight, despite her father's misgivings.

"Yes, it is me, beloved. I was finally able to escape my father's grasp, and I could think of no one else to turn to but you."

Bruce Wayne glided away from the window, toward the angel he once knew. He started a new life this morning, and already, things just kept getting brighter.

The radio chided him for being so inept. James Gordon could do nothing but listen with contempt to the events of the long day he suffered.

"Just one hour ago," started the newscaster, "two banks in downtown Gotham were robbed. Both were in the same locale, equidistant from Gotham City police headquarters. Since the robberies occurred at the same time, police could not scramble to both scenes. An estimated five hundred million dollars was stolen from the two banks. No official reports from the police have yet been issued, but it is suspected that the Morrones were involved in the heists. It seems this mob family left the police with their --"

The police commissioner flicked the switch on the radio to the "off" position and returned to his sullen melancholy.

The following morning, Bruce woke up with a divinity in his arms. This wasn't just any woman, though. It was the daughter of the Demon.

The rain outside fell not too heavily. Bruce got up from bed, trying not to rustle Talia, and went downstairs. Since Alfred was not around, the billionaire fetched the morning paper himself, and read the headline:

"Another Two Banks Robbed - Morrones Laughing All The Way"

Last week, this would have compelled Bruce to act, but today, it was just another piece of news to him that people forget about, one minute after reading it. In his case, it took two seconds. He tossed the paper onto the obsidian coffee table he'd imported from Egypt two years ago, and flew back upstairs to be with his beloved.

"I don't get it, Commish," said Bullock. "How do these mooks keep pullin' it off?"

"Harvey, I just got harassed by a bunch of reporters on my way in here this morning," complained Gordon. "Though I know it's not going to go away, I really don't want to think about it right now."

"I really hate to say it, but shouldn't somebody call up ol' Bats? He hasn't been around here lately."

"I know, Bullock, I know..."

"Here, let me get that for you."

Bruce pushed Talia's chair in for her as she sat down. Moving to his own chair across from hers, he motioned to the maitre d'. "Give me a bottle of your finest, Marcus."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll have one of the others bring it to you shortly."

He smiled. "Thank you very much."

The billionaire gazed into the eyes of his love, and wondered how such an exquisite person could be related to the Demon.

Just then, a young waiter arrived with a portable phone on his tray. "Mr. Wayne, there's a call for you. The person on the other end said it was imperative that he speaks with you."

Bruce deprived the tray of its item. "Hello?"

"Good evening, Detective."

It was Ra's al Ghul. "Speak of the --" thought Bruce, but he decided not to finish his thought, noting the irony.

"I trust you are well," said the Demon. "It has come to my attention that you have taken my daughter from me. In turn, I hold captive your squire. Meet me at the place you hold most dear in thirty minutes --"

The line on the phone disconnected, leaving that annoying, constant tone to sound off in Bruce's ear.

"Who was that?" inquired Talia.

"I'll tell you on the way. Right now, we've got to get moving. True evil is impatient."

"You finally arrived. I was beginning to think you had gotten lax in your abilities."

Ra's al Ghul watched as the two lovers approached him. His eyes had seen a millennium pass by, and they were cold and menacing. He smiled more deviously than a cheshire cat, eager to face the couple he knew so well. Standing atop the grave site of Bruce's parents, he couldn't help but glare.

"How dare you desecrate my parents' resting place! Where's Robin?"

"Your squire is being delivered to your residence as we speak. I am a man of my word." answered Ra's. "Daughter, come to my side."

"No!"

"I warn you, Talia: this belligerence toward me will not be tolerated. Return to me. Now."

Talia looked into the depths of Bruce's eyes, noticing a fire rekindled. Knowing it would be fruitless to resist her father's command, she wrapped her arms around Bruce one last time, and kissed him passionately. She slowly retreated next to her father.

"I admire you, you know," admitted Ra's to the handsome man who stood not far from him. "Despite all your efforts to stop me in my worldly desires, you still take hold over my most precious possession."

Ra's started walking backwards to his personal helicopter, while the blades began to rotate. "Our paths shall cross again, Detective."

The Demon ascended into the helicopter with his daughter soon after. Though the whirl overhead soon made it impossible for her to be heard, Talia mouthed the words, "Goodbye, beloved." And with that, the gleaming vehicle rose high above the cemetery and out of sight.

Bruce walked closer to his parents' grave and kneeled near the stone. He talked aloud, as if his parents stood right in front of him. "For once in my life, I was actually happy. But now, I understand that happiness only lasts for so long.

"Mother...father...how could I have forgotten you? How could I have abandoned what has been the driving force in my life? I made a vow after you died that I would restore Gotham by freeing it of evil. I'm sorry that I haven't kept it in the past week. I won't let you down again."

James Gordon walked into work early the next day, ensuring that no nosy reporters tagged along with him. He reached his office, but could only step in so far to see all five of the main members of the Morrone family sitting uncomfortably in the middle of the floor, bound and gagged. On one of the crooks, he found a note. It read:

Jim...

Sorry about last week. Hope this makes up for it.

B.

He went over to the window which overlooked the city of Gotham, relieved that the mob was contained, then felt tremendous respect for the man responsible for it all. "Thank you, my friend...whoever you are."

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