New Fan Fic: Batman Strikes Back

[johnnygobbs]

The current topic is my attempt at a Batman fanfic, with acknowledgment to some of the ideas explored by 'Gotham Knight' and 'Catwoman' in their respective stories.  I apologise for the rather unimaginative title; I suppose it's meant to evoke 'The Empire Strikes Back' in the sense that this story should be perceived as the bridge between the first part of a saga 'Batman' (1989), and the hero's subsequent 'Return'.

Batman Strikes Back

Written by Johnny Gobbs

Characters by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, Sam Hamm, Daniel Waters, Wesley Strick, Akiva Goldsman and Johnny Gobbs

The following story takes place between the events of the first Batman film and Batman Returns, during the period between Fall 1989 and Christmas 1991.

Chapter One: Gotham City

Gotham City, Thursday 7th December 1967, Evening.  The front exit of the Monarch Theatre was throbbing with an exuberant crowd of wealthy patrons, several of them adorned in lavish furs or finely-cut tuxedos, many of them couples accompanied by similarly well-dressed children; all of them giddy with unbridled joy and beaming with goofy, unselfconscious grins of the type that could only be induced by the kind of uproarious, knockabout entertainment they had just enjoyed.  'Footlight Frenzy', a fast-moving and physically relentless 'behind-the-scenes' comedy had just premiered, and if the ecstatic reception of its first-night audience was any reliable sign, it was sure to enjoy an exceedingly healthy run.  

Although perhaps the exiting crowd's heightened state of euphoria wasn't entirely attributable to the delightful show.  It was early December, and the pre-Christmas exuberance particularly familiar to those families with young children had begun to seize upon these privileged Gothamites.  One such family, an apparently young but well-heeled couple and their son, a spirited boy not much older than ten, who was clutching an old-fashioned paper popcorn carton, seemed to best evoke this idyllic, Norman Rockwellesque atmosphere.  From a distance one could see the three of them stride across the bright, crowded streets that lined up to form a circumference around Gotham's central concourse.  At the small strip of grass that lined the centre of the concourse, a group of workmen were hoisting up a mammoth Christmas Tree as various officials directed this gargantuan effort from a safe distance, all in time for tomorrow's annual tree-lighting ceremony which would, of course be presided over by this year's newly crowned 'Ice Princess'.  

Although slightly obscured by the many couples and families also making their way from the Monarch to the assorted taxi cabs and chauffeured Rolls-Royces that lined up against the pavement, it appeared that the young boy was striding slightly ahead of his oh so dignified parents.  From the giddy manner in which he seemed to be addressing his father, it looked as if he was still recounting in no small detail, the various scenes they had just witnessed on stage.  Onward the family moved, past the concourse and the workman and officials frantically trying to prepare for tomorrow's ceremony; past the wealthy families being solicitously ushered into their Rolls and further up the street, their less privileged peers desperately trying to secure one of the few remaining cab rides before it got too late; past the large, inviting department stores and elegant government offices that eventually gave way to small Italian restaurants and the less auspicious five and dime stores; and past the comforting throng of Gotham's commercial district and into one of the long desolate side alleys that eventually led to their apparent destination.  A car perhaps, and from the way these people were dressed more than likely another chauffeur-attended Rolls, considerately waiting a few hundred yards away from the city centre's 'no parking zone'.  How 'sensible'!

Still conversing but in a more hushed manner that suggested they were not so comfortable in these unfamiliar environs, the family continued through Gotham's less salubrious streets.  The further they proceeded, the quieter they became.  Were they being naturally cautious, or had they heard something?  Foot-steps, perhaps?  Yes, and worse those steps were from only a few yards behind, in precise tandem with their own, quickening and tightening as soon as theirs had.  The parents huddled closely, each embracing the boy from the front side so that he was entirely obscured from whoever or whatever was behind them.  Suddenly the click of a gun barrel sliding into place reverberated throughout the narrow alleyway, and the father immediately recognising the sound, spun round a hapless expression of dread spread across his face.  'What was happening!'  'Who were these people?'  Before either he or his wife had any chance of properly registering their assailants, a pair of hands reached out to forcibly grab her pearl necklace from under her throat.  The husband drastically lunged at those very hands, struggling to remove them from his wife.  Suddenly, the pistol shot, three times in rapid succession, each time aimed straight at the man's heart.  The close proximity of the offending weapon punctuated the impact of each bullet causing the man to contort and slump almost instantly onto the ground.  The woman recoiled in horror as her husband collapsed, and tried in vain to let out a scream but even before her assailant's hands could successfully snatch those pearls, the same gun released a second wave of gunfire into her abdomen, causing both her and the pearls to crumple immediately.

Still, there was a third body to take care of.  The gunman's arm fully extended, the barrel once again clicked into place and the pistol aimed directly dead on target at the little boy before it.  The boy was still facing away from the gunman and his accomplice, and his face was entirely obscured by his cloth cap, but this forlorn figure was now fully exposed, his parents who had moments ago stood in unison as his protectors, now suddenly slumped on the ground either side of him.

Slowly, the child began to swivel round so that his face would finally meet the man who had robbed his parents of their lives in a mere matter of seconds.  Something was wrong though.  This was not the anguished, petrified face of a child who had had just seen his parents murdered, and was moments away from meeting the same fate.  This child wasn't crying; nor frowning; nor was he spooked.  No, as poorly illuminated as this back-street alley was, there was no mistaking the expression on this boy's face, especially one with such a bright pallor.  This young child, barely ten years of age was grinning an almost unfeasibly broad smile that stretched his mouth into a perfect crescent.  The ruby red lips were the only traces of colour on his pancake white face, and his eyebrows were almost impossibly furrowed into his brow. This wasn't the face of a ten-year old boy.  This was something out of the worst recesses of hell; a demonic, twisted clown.  "Tell me," he uttered in a deep, malevolent, most definitely unchildlike rasp "have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moon light?" before unleashing the most hysterical and blood-curdling of laughs.

Bruce awoke with an abrupt jolt.  He instinctively turned to ensure that Vicki had not been stirred.  Thankfully, her classically beautiful features were a picture of tranquillity, and her head was still snugly nestled against his chest.  Cautiously he manoeuvred his athletic body from the side of the bed, careful to avoid arousing Vicki from her slumber, and walked over to the bedroom window.  It was still nightfall but there was no sign of the signal tonight.  Damn!  

What was it going to take to relieve him of these nightmares?  Bruce thought it would be over, but the 'inner demons' that plagued him throughout his life had become worse, more lurid.  He never thought it would be so simple, and it had certainly never been his plan, at least not consciously, but the death a year ago of his parents' murderer, the man called Jack Napier, should surely have marked the beginning of the end of these torments.  Maybe, even the end of the very goal that had sustained him all these years.  Yet, even with the love of a compassionate and sympathetic companion like Vicki, and the infatigable support of Alfred, who had essentially raised him as a son since the age of ten onwards, Bruce had rarely felt as he did now, the overwhelming need to don the literal and figurative cocoon the Batsuit provided him with.

To be continued...

[Catwoman]

that was good!

[Dark Knight Detective]

that was good!

"Good" isn't even a word to describe this piece of literature... as this fan fic is brilliant, spectacular, & epic (& it's only chapter 1, too) !

[Catwoman]

yea no way i'm posting mine now. it cant measure up.

very good johnny! post more!

[Dark Knight Detective]

yea no way i'm posting mine now. it cant measure up.

Don't be discouraged. Your chapter was kickass, as well. You must continue, it's calling you!

very good johnny! post more!

Yes, please do!

[johnnygobbs]

Thank you Dark Knight Detective and Catwoman for your feedback.  It's a slight disappointment for me that no one else has appeared to read the fanfic (or if they have read it, they have not been able to offer their comments) but I really appreciate your response DKD and Catwoman.  Honestly, if other people have read it, and don't like it I'll be more than happy to hear from them.  I appreciate constructive criticism and any negative comments, as long as it's not merely along the lines of "That sucks!"   

Still, as long as someone is reading it I'll continue writing more instalments.

Finally, Catwoman I hope you were only joking when you suggested that you would give up writing your own story.  I enjoy reading your fanfic a great deal.  IMHO you have an excellent grasp of characters and in establishing the various scenes, and I would be sorely disappointed if you chose not to continue presenting your fanfic on this site.  As I earlier posted, I am grateful to you and Gotham Knight, not only for your work but for providing me with the impetus to write my own fanfic, and I hope that other members on the site decide to produce their own stories because I for one really enjoy reading them.   

[Catwoman]

awww ty or yw. or whatev. lol.

[johnnygobbs]

Chapter Two: Batman

October 1989.  The Joker had descended to his blood-curdling doom, several hundred feet from the precipice of Gotham's ancient cathedral.  One of the various grappling hook devices secreted within Batman's utility belt had spared both him and Vicki from a similar fate.  From their precarious position, dangling at roughly the mid-point of the monolithic building, neither Batman nor Vicki dared look below where they might have been able to identify a remote purple speck representing their tormentor's gruesome corpse.  The impact of his body had created a Joker-shaped crater, a few inches deep, within the paved brickwork that covered the ground.  Neither could Batman nor Vicki hear the chilling, repetitive sound that emerged from within the inside of the lifeless Joker's coat pocket; the pre-recorded sound of mocking laughter.  Luckily, Bruce would be spared Jack Napier's last hurrah!

Batman caressed a weary and dishevelled Vicki as they waited, suspended in mid-air for the whirring sound of the police helicopter to get louder.  Vicki, far removed from the elegant grace and composure that had so entranced Bruce on their first encounter, yet still undeniably beautiful despite her present discord, looked straight into the piercing eyes that lay behind Batman's imposing cowl.  "Tell me it's all over, Bruce"...but he couldn't tell her that, at least not with the conviction that customarily defined his present persona.  "I hope so," he whispered in a rasp that was not quite Batman, but not quite Bruce either.  Even after all they had been through together, Bruce, or was it Batman, would not let down his guard.  His armour had proven as impervious to her heartfelt appeals, as it had to the Joker's legion of guns and goons.

A line descended from the helicopter swiftly followed by a rescue officer who beckoned out to Vicki to grab hold of his hand.  ?Vicki,? Batman whispered, ?I?ll be with you.  I promise.  But first I need to take care of unfinished business.?  Vicki turned to face him from directly above, with a rueful expression, before she proceeded to be hauled onto the vehicle.  Batman grabbed onto the line but refused to be brought inside the main body of the helicopter.  Instead he held on tightly to the end of the rescue line as he was dragged through the air, almost as if he was abseiling through the sky.  Batman gestured to the ground below, where a battalion of officers, and other assorted members of the public had convened around Commissioner Gordon who was crouching beside the now lifeless form of the Joker.  It would have been impossible for the helicopter to have dropped further than its current altitude.  Nevertheless, it swerved close to the tops of the various buildings that lined one side of the street leading towards the cathedral.  Batman let go of the rope, before landing with a tumble on the flat concrete roof of a nearby tower.  After rolling forward using his cape to soften the impact of his descent, Batman immediately regained his composure and almost instantaneously sprung onto his feet; at which point he broke into a steady jog before reaching the lip of the roof and diving head first into the air, his cape stretched out to its full expanse allowing him to seamlessly glide onto the street below.

Batman steadily landed on the ground only a few yards away from where Commissioner Gordon was now standing.  ?Hold your fire,? beckoned Gordon, raising his hand to motion the police officers behind him to lower their guns.  James Gordon had never been an easily rattled man, and throughout his entire forty or so odd years on the force, approximately thirty of those within this infernal city, he could easily lay claim to thinking he?d seen everything.  Yet even with the myriad of bizarre events that had transpired over the last few weeks, and the corpse of a perma-grinned, acid-bleached clown laying a couple of feet away, he was still nevertheless, rendered almost speechless by the fantastical six foot bat striding towards him.  Even with his hands spread out before him in a passive, unthreatening manner, he made an awesome, almost surreal sight.

?Some of Napier?s men are still on the loose.?  He spoke in a low but audible rasp.

?My team is spread throughout the city.  We?ll deal with it,? Gordon reassured him, valiantly asserting himself against this apparently benign but somewhat intimidating figure.

?I take it that your men are not going to arrest me, Commissioner.?

Gordon hesitated.  What was the standard protocol for dealing with such a situation.  He?s be damned if forty years on the force had prepared him for this type of eventuality.  On one hand, Batman was a vigilante, who?d used unauthorised force against various individuals; had possibly been directly responsible for the deaths of some, although that consideration was, as yet unsubstantiated.  On the other hand, this man had single-handedly saved the city from one of the most potentially devastating massacres to befall a modern metropolis.  The numerous asphyxiated corpses, currently being identified by several of Gordon?s officers further down Main Street, were the tragic testament to the full-scale annihilation Batman had averted.

?No,? Gordon shook his head solemnly.  ?I think we owe you, the city owes you a tremendous degree of gratitude.?  Gordon outstretched his arm, a gesture that he hoped would confirm the sincerity of this truce, and to his concealed astonishment Batman reached out and shook his hand affirming this conciliation between law enforcer and vigilante.

?In that case Commissioner, if it?s alright with you and your officers,? Batman?s glance gestured to the apprehensive, frightened and in a few cases, possibly hostile faces of the officers positioned directly behind Gordon, ?I think you could use some help rounding up the last of Napier?s men.?  Although it was clear that he posed no physical threat to either Gordon or his men, at least not at this present moment, Batman was not going to be reasoned with, and the possibility of this law-unto-himself being brought ?down town? was out of the question, however much that may have rankled with a few of the rank and file.

?Err, no...,? Gordon uttered.  Before Gordon could complete his train of thought, Batman had released his grip from the Commissioner?s hand and begun to turn away.  ?Batman, how can we reach you?? hollered Gordon, asserting himself before The Dark Knight had disappeared for good.
Having strode several yards away from Gordon and the attendant crowd, Batman turned back, a vague smile on his otherwise severe visage.  ?I?ll be in contact Commissioner,? and with that Batman faced toward one of the many post-industrial monstrosities the city?s town planners had commissioned in all their innate wisdom, before emitting one of his grappling devices onto the building?s roof, and in an instant he was gone.

To be continued...

[Dark Knight Detective]

Ah, excellent chapter you have here, Gobbs. I could probably go on about your literature, but I'd like to stay brief at this point. A+ material!

But I must ask, why is it in September? I'm just asking because I've always imagined that the film took place in October.

[The Joker]

Very nice fanfiction, Mr. Gobbs. Very nice indeed. I quite enjoyed it, and find the time period your story takes place in to be pretty fascinating!

Cheers.