He'd been running for miles. The exhaustion of his sprint only just catching up with him, The Demon's Head finally stumbled into a dark corner and pressed himself against a wall, desperate to make himself invisible in the shadows. But at a moment's glance downward, he realized that the garish clothing he had been forcibly dressed in since his arrival was going to make that all but impossible. His heart was pounding, his skin was perspiring, and he was lost in an infinite maze of foul stenches and stone imprisonments. Being in this... 'Gotham City', provoked a feeling unlike anything he'd ever experienced. And it was beginning to take it's toll on his mind.
Fear.
Desperation.
Confusion.
These emotions were both foreign and distant to him. His League of Assassins' training had prepared his mind to experience the cruelest of environments, but this place was something else entirely. It was less like a metropolitan city and more like a dream, unlocking parts of Bruce Wayne's mind that he had been longing to see... but at the same time, distorting his present way of thinking in such a way that he wasn't sure how to handle it. He looked up, into the shadows, wondering if that figure he had seen chasing him a few blocks back was still there. It could have been anything - his imagination running wild, one of the League's soldiers that had tracked him all the way from the Sahara... or an assassin, looking to claim his life before The Joker could.
Deciding it was safe, Wayne shut himself out from the rest of the world, as he concentrated on what his mind was telling him. Chemicals in his brain were beginning to place themselves together, as he went from only hearing the voices... to actually seeing them, for the first time. Like he was being broken, and put back together.
Broken...
"-OU ARE ALREADY BROKEN, BRUCE WAYNE!"
He saw himself placed in the path of a behemoth. A monster, almost, trolling about in such a vicious way that it almost took him aback. But whether it made sense or not, he was
experiencing it.
"PATHETIC, USELESS... A MERE SHELL OF WHAT YOU ONCE WERE! THIS IS WHAT YOUR UNDERLINGS WERE TRYING TO TELL YOU! AND FOOLISHLY, YOU DROWNED THEM OUT... DAMNING YOURSELF TO ME!"
Bones were cracking. Blood was being thrashed about. He was in awe of the images before him... not so much at the ferocity of the bellowing adversary he was fighting, but how slowed and weakened his defensive measures were. It was like he was fighting on his last breath of life, unable to continue any further... until the beast forced him to.
Finally, he was in the air. Grasped at the heel, unable to even fight his way from the depths of hell that were thrashing upon him.
"SO EASILY, COULD I END YOUR AGONY... SILENCE YOUR SHAME..."
Then it all went black.
For a moment.
"...-REAK YOU!"
Brought back to reality after a momentary stunned reaction, Wayne fell to his knees, a jolt in his heart trying to lapse his pulse into a steady beat. His eyes were widened, his fists trembling. He wasn't sure what had happened next, in the grasp of that animal. And despite his uncertainty, he didn't think his mind would allow him to see it. It was all so vivid and clear for just one moment. Names that meant nothing to him were now on the tip of his tongue, almost collapsing onto themselves. But he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember a single one of them.
Why?, He asked himself, burying his head into his palm.
Why is this happening to me? Am I dreaming it? What is all of this? Am I going mad?
So many questions, and not enough answers for them. It was enough to drive a person insane. But if he wasn't beginning to buckle under the pressure, then what was happening to him? Was his mind just... preparing itself for some massive revelation, finally revealing a true key to his past? Or did none of this mean nothing. Was it still possible that this was some sort of brainwashing, brought on by the raving beliefs of the madman that had brought him here?
The madman...
Why was he beginning to feel like this wasn't the first time he had met him?
"...-and then I'll split the little tike's skull, just like I did to the bird boy!"
Endowed, The Demon's Head narrowed his eyes, thinking clearer in order to pry open a pandora's box that was just begging to be unlocked.
"Do you hear me, Gotham? Hell-ooo? Better pay attention, because this time, I'm not joking around! The Mayor's son dies if I don't get a heaping pile of cash on my doorstep by midnight!"
He could see the clown, smiling and grinning his way through malicious threats to the city as a whole. Wayne's own point of view was on the outside of a screen, as The Joker's image didn't so much as appear, but beat itself into his mind.
"Oh, but don't worry yourself, Mr. Mayor! I don't have any urges to pull my trigger finger any earlier than the deadline. At least... not yet! You see, I'm quite content in the fact that sooner or later, Gordon'll send one of his pet rodents to take me down... so the way I see it, you have a choice. If I get even a whiff of cape leather, you'll be seeing little Jimmy strung up like a Christmas ornament on Gotham square. But if I get my ranson money without the slightest interference from pointy ears, the boy is sent home with a nice little memory of this encounter."
The Joker places himself against the camera lens, dead-eye facing anyone who would dare to watch.
"So what do you say? Big, splattered mess of child for your crook of a Mayor... or big, spattered lottery winnings for your dear ole' Joker? Either way, I think I'm going to be sleeping soundly tonight! HA HA HA HA!"
It was enough to turn Wayne's stomach in disgust. But it was also making him even more confused. If he's encountered The Joker before... then does that validate everything the clown told him? Was he really some orphan who took it upon himself to rid Gotham City of evil? It sounded so completely absurd, and yet...
No., He dismissed. What am I thinking? This isn't my life. My place was always with my family... with my wife, and son.
Son...
"-egally declared ward of Bruce Wayne, by the city of Gotham!"
A judge's galvel slammed itself down before a court of witnesses. Wayne was hearing it, but he couldn't see what memory it was attached to. All he saw were flashes, pushing themselves past his comprehension to a point that they were beginning to give him a headache. But what he saw, what little he could make out...
They were startlingly vibrant.
"...-nd you swear that you'll fight with me against crime and corruption, never allowing yourself to be vindicated by it's vice. We will remain symbols of hope in the city's darkest hours, and beacons of justice for the helpless. You will not fail me, or the city's needs. From this point on, there is nothing but the mission. Do you swear it?"
A young boy looks into his eyes, fierce determination beyond his years brewing from behind an eager grin. He holds his hand up and to his side, illuminated only by dim candlelight. It is here, that some sort of oath is made.
"I swear it!"
The Demon's Head only watches in intrigue, as the next events play out before him in grand unison.
"...-oly alphabet soup! The killer's marking his territory with letters of the alphabet! This one says 'D'!"
"Perhaps,", A stern voice tells the child.
"But remember your training, Robin. Criminals aren't as predictable as they used to be. If he wanted us to find something, he would have been more discreet. Look beyond the obvious."
"Hmm,", The boy mumbles aloud, inspecting the plastic card in his hand closely.
"D, letters of the alpabet. It could have been a teacher who's last name starts with 'D'. Gotham Elementary?"
"Now you're just guessing. Never assume.", The voice warns.
"If there's an answer to be found, it's-..."
"Going to be certain. I know, I know. Sheesh...", The boy groans.
"You can really be a mood-killer."
Wayne isn't certain... but he's almost sure that he catches himself smiling.
Moving past his own confusion, he allows more images to unfold. The boy is now older, more impatient. The stern voice calling out to him now grizzled and hardened, into more of a growl than before.
"-...as an amatuer mistake! You could have gotten Gordon killed!", it yells.
"When we're dealing with Two-Face, there's no time to argue. I told you to stick to the plan. And that was all I demanded of you, but you disobeyed me. You're not going to prove anything to me by-..."
"I wasn't out to prove anything!", The boy yells back.
"Your plan was totally out of sync, and you know it! You're just mad at me because he used to be your friend! But let's go ahead face something, Bruce... those days are gone!"
"I am not going to discuss this. You need to learn discipline, and I'm through trying to teach you that."
"That's just it, isn't it?", The boy asks.
"You never discuss anything anymore! It's always 'we need to do this', or 'it's my plan that'. I'm not some kid anymore! You can't just tell me that you're not acting out of your emotions - I can see it! And it's not just me. Gordon can see it, Barbara can see it... everyone can see it but you!"
Turning around, the now-clearly enraged adolescent walks off, beginning to enter darkness.
"You know what? I'm outta here. Kory called, and The Titans need me. Maybe when you clear your head out a little, I'll be willing to do it your way, but until then... consider this goodbye."
"Robin, come back here!"
Nothing replies.
"I SAID-...!"
But still, there's only silence.
Wayne tries to free himself from the sensation of the memory's vibrancy, but he's too far affected now. That boy... dressed in that costume, talking to his mysterious mentor about plans and strategies as if they were a team. And he was almost sure that, behind that barritone growl that he kept hearing was a voice not unlike his own. But what did it all mean? What did anything that his mind was trying to tell him mean anymore?
The madman, the monster, the boy... it was all like they were apart of some strange fantasy, lost within the experiences of a fictional crusade. The Demon's Head's only known reality was with The League of Assassins, as their king and leader. His 'crusade' was to carry out the will of Ra's Al Ghul, and the duties he held as a husband and father. Those memories,
those experiences... they were the thoughts that comforted him.
But Wayne wasn't sure if he actually believed that, or if it was what he was just trying to tell himself. It made sense... but just about as much as everything that he was beginning to see with clearer eyes. There was only one person in the world that he
knew would know the truth.
Talia..., He thought.
She's the only one that can help me now. I need to find a way back to her. Away from this... madness, and into the arms of the woman I love.
With that one goal maintaining itself, Wayne departed the alleyway, and went into the streets. The public streets, which were now crowded with people that didn't pay the slightest bit of attention to him. They were all too panicked by whatever had transpired back in Crime Alley --- whatever had allowed for his escape.
Looking down at his clothes once more, Wayne scanned the crowd for a moment, looking at the people that were passing him in the hysteria. One of them was wearing a darker set of clothes... perfect for the means he sought. Narrowing his eyes at the stranger, Bruce slowly began to follow the man as he crossed the streets, led on by the fleeing crowd.
Until finally, he approached the unsuspecting bystander, grabbed him around the neck, and swiftly pulled him into the darkness - unseen by a single wandering eye.
Memories or illusions, he would escape this nightmare and flee back to the desert.
There had to be a way.
