The sun had just risen over the Gotham skyline. What looked to be a bright day was soon interrupted by a barrage of clouds that brought a thick rain, showering the rooftops and sheeting over every crack that only served to enhance the city's architectural flaws. The skyroom wouldn't normally be my first choice for shelter in the penthouse - frankly, I've always hated the room - but for my purposes today, it is practically ideal. I've been sitting here for three straight hours since the incident on the docks, without so much as a regard for food or sleep. Just watching Gotham, patiently waiting for any sign of the man who's been tormenting and dominating every corner my mind. The man who made himself an enemy with a purpose that, as of yet, is wholly unknown to me. He's called himself Bane, but I know him better as something else. The embodiment of an evil that I swore I would fight against until my dying breath, one that I was confident I could beat into submission.
Now it only seems like I've been forced into a corner, waiting for the moment when it's all ripped away from me. Bane managed to take my already suffering reputation and twist it even further, turning my city against me in droves and using the symbol I had intended for hope to shed another coat of blood onto Gotham's streets. And worse, he's somehow managed to exploit my greatest weakness in the process. Every moment that he's still out there is a moment closer to the destruction of the life that I know, and I have absolutely no idea how I'm supposed to find him. It seems that for the first time since my life took this unorthodox turn, I've run out of options. And I start to wonder if that means I've truly lost.
"Sir? You've returned?"
Alfred approaches the entrance adorned in a robe, barely awake at this hour. Usually he's left undisturbed as I tend to any minor wounds and try to get some work done into the morning hours, but I suppose I lost the track of time tonight. He scans the room and notices the pieces of my armor scattered across the floor.
"Apparently you've returned intoxicated. Shall I prepare the usual herbal remedies?"
I don't acknowledge him at first. My eyes are still trained on every street corner, in every skyscraper's window. Waiting for the sign that assures me I'm right. Waiting for any sign at all that my every movement has been watched. Alfred steps closer.
"Bruce, are you alright? You seem rather... misplaced."
My eyes sneer out at Gotham. I almost hope he's watching tonight. I want him to know that I'm onto him now. That his sick little game is over, and my secrets are no longer his.
"He's out there."
Alfred follows my gaze out into Gotham.
"He? I don't understand. Who are you referring to?"
My voice grows cold. Enraged, but silent. Almost like a whisper.
"Bane. He's been watching me. Watching everything that I do."
To say that Alfred looks at me like I'm a rambling lunatic would be doing a disservice to rambling lunatics.
"I beg your pardon, but did you just say 'Bane'?"
My gaze narrows.
"Don't you understand? He's out there, in Gotham. On the rooftops. Stalking me like I'm his prey, it's the only way he could have known."
Placing his hand on my shoulder, Alfred tries to usher me to rise.
"Perhaps you're more intoxicated than I realized. These windows are tinted, sir, no one could possibly see inside. And given your current state of attire, it is quite fortunate. Ms. Harriet will be here in fifteen minutes to begin her shift, do you realize what could have happened if she had arrived early and found you like this?"
I push his hand aside, focusing on the city. I know it's hard to explain to him, I know that Alfred's right. But he had to have found a way. I covered my tracks the best that I possibly could, I thought there'd be no indication left to find. And yet here I am in the dusk of dawn, feeling completely exposed. Completely vulnerable.
"Sir, you're not listening. We need to hide your equipment."
I break focus and look up at him. His expression indicates worry, as he peers back into my tired eyes.
"Good lord, how long have you been up here?"
"Alfred..."
My voice rasped with the rage I barely contained, I swallow it and suffer the sting.
"He knows who I am. He knows that Bruce Wayne is Batman."
Alfred's face nearly turns white as the realization hits him.
"He called me by name. I don't know how he figured it out, but he escaped with it. It's out there with him now, and at any moment, he could..."
I lean forward, staring at the floor.
"I... I don't know what to do."
Finally deciding to compose himself, Alfred breathes in.
"Perhaps not. But we both knew and believed this day would come."
I shake my head.
"I tried to prepare myself. Tried to say it wouldn't last, but I'm not ready for it. Not now, not when I'm so close."
"That's not important now. The day is here, we're in the thick of it. The only suitable action is to accept it and deal with it as best we can."
He grabs my arm.
"But this isn't the way to do it. Wallowing in your own guilt has brought you nothing but torment, and this requires more than that."
My head still lowered, I break free of his grip once again.
"I'm not even sure I can this time."
"Of course you can. You just need to try."
"It's not just that, Alfred."
Placing my hands together, I meticulously go over the information I've acquired once more. Which is surprisingly very little, considering the scope of vengeance that my enemy has tried to seize.
"He's planning something. I don't know what, but it has to do with the mob. He killed Carl Grissom and took control of his men. Then he tried to attack Maroni that night, and I only just found out he was the one impersonating Batman. And it's because of me. All because of me."
My voice shifts from sorrow to rage once again.
"He literally wants to shatter my life apart, and the only reason he gave was a name from my past. Someone that once meant more to me than anything."
Alfred sits down on the nearby couch, with a loud sigh. He doesn't realize what I'm talking about, I haven't yet told him everything about my past. I figured - I assumed, that there were some things that were worth keeping private from anyone. But Bane proved that notion inaccurate.
"Alright. Then consider this. If it's something personal with him, if he's truly after you for revenge, then why would he have withheld your identity for so long?"
Stopping myself in place, I look back over at Alfred. He raises an interesting point.
"Perhaps this isn't a mere case of exploitation, sir. If he truly wants to destroy you, then perhaps he'd like it to be on his own terms. A privatized battle between the both of you. You're obviously his target, but he hasn't acted to pick your life apart just yet. He wants to prove something."
I lean in.
"Prove what?"
"I'd imagine it's something that's designed to get your attention. And if that is the case, you have no reason to suspect your secret is in danger. He will use it for his own gain, not the needs of those who would otherwise benefit."
He indicates Gotham.
"Think about it. If you were this 'Bane' and had an enemy that you hated with so much passion, who would you entrust to destroy him? Who's the one person you would feel deserves the right to make him suffer?"
It takes no effort for me to answer the question. Because in all honesty, I've considered it before.
"Myself."
"Precisely. Personal revenge leaves no room for allies, sir. It can only be wanton destruction passed down between two bitter enemies, leaving no stone unturned until the other is vanquished. He knows your secret, so know his. He can never betray his own need to see your death at his own hands."
He's right. I didn't see it before, but it's all so clear. Tonight's struggle would have ended with him killing me with his bare hands, he made that notion very clear. I could see the pride beaming off of his face as he thought he had me under death's grip, and the wallowing anguish as Zucco's men prevented him from carrying out his task. Were he after something greater than me, he could have easily aided the mob in taking me down. Instead, he chose to systematically destroy his competition. His pride wouldn't allow the chance that The Syndicate would eventually remove me from the equation.
Allowing myself a chance to take this in, I sit up in my chair and rub the bridge of my nose. The lack of sleep's finally catching up to me.
"Jesus. He's even more deranged than I realized."
"It would seem so. Now, if I could quickly change the subject, I have something else to direct your attention towards. Another enemy that Bruce Wayne has seemingly made."
Holding up the remote, Alfred turns on the television and switches the station to a morning news report.
"-and after hours of verbal protest, police were finally able to control the scene at The Gotham Paladium as Dr. Hugo Strange finally left the premises after another highly publicised seminar for his pattoned 'Strange Way' method of self-help psychology. Strange, a former employee of Gotham University's counselors group, declined to comment to the media after several questioned his taped rants that called out several of Gotham's elite by name, focusing particularly on billionaire Bruce Wayne, whom Strange cited several times during the seminar. Wayne's publicist has yet to issue a response, but sources close to Waynetech's CEO say that although Strange's public outbursts are harmless at best, Wayne has been under lock and key following the purported attempt against his life back in September. We'll have more on this story as it develops."
The screen shows a side-by-side picture of me and my supposed "attacker", whoever this Hugo Strange is. I've honestly never heard of him before now, but it seems that he's heard quite alot about me. I look back at Alfred and then pull myself up, beginning to collect pieces of my uniform.
"I'm hardly worried about some television personality with a grudge, Alfred. Especially right now."
Turning off the television, Alfred grabs my cape from the couch and folds it over his arm, grabbing my cowl as I hand it over to him.
"Be that as it may, one of my many responsibilities requires me to deal with such matters and repair any damage made to your reputation among the press. And it would seem that somehow, this man has made quite an impression."
Heading upstairs, I begin unfastening my utility belt.
"Then handle it. I don't have any comment right now, just make up whatever you want."
"Will you at least consider scheduling a meeting with him to settle this, or at least give yourself some decent press? It could help ease your mind about what transpired tonight."
Waving him off as I approach the door to my bedroom, I toss the belt back at him. Surprisingly, he catches it at the bottom of the stairs with ease.
"So shall it be."
I close the door and lock it behind me, hitting the bed rather hard as I drop my torso armor. Feel like I could sleep for hours, yet my mind's still going. Between Bane, Hugo Strange, and The Syndicate, I feel like I'm starting to compile a long list of people who don't like me over the people who do.
When did it all come to this?