We're Batty

Bat Brain

The night was young, as usual, when he left to start on the daily duties to which he was faithful. He soon made it to the highest heights of the city, standing atop a tall, dark building, keeping a watchful eye of the busy city below. He spoke naught...usually only when spoken to.

The view was different, yet still fantastic, every night. There was always something new and exhilarating to add to the job, whether it be the one billionth bomb threat, or hostage, or secret-identity-reveal threat.

Even if entertained by his job, he was still fascinated by how unoriginal these "villains" could be after a couple of months. Hell, even less than that. Maybe, they just don't have resources to assist them in favor of originality. If that's true, then I definitely hope that no one ever supplies them with any. Batman pondered silently.

He paced around impatiently, repeating his usual routine: looking up into the sky every so often, feeling a tinge of disappointment at the absence of the Bat Signal, then choosing to move to another area of Gotham. Rinse and repeat.

Eagerly, Batman gripped his grappling gun, targeted some other structure, and hastily transferred himself there. He only ever stayed in one place for around 5 minutes, give or take, but even then he glided around from building to building effortlessly. All this crime, no matter how big or small the situation, had kept him up and on guard for the past 5 1/2 years now, battling adversaries, not just physically.

Batman moved through the night swiftly, strategically...he was, though not admittedly, disappointed in the lack of action tonight, but still glad that in general no one seemed to need him right now. He knew this was true; his sharp eyes and ears gathered everything. And even then, the Batsuit caught every detail that he didn't.

He arrived back at Wayne Manor at 6:30 AM every morning, immediately going to bed (often without bathing, to Alfred's made-obvious dismay) and sleeping for whatever time the day allowed his busy rich ass. Upon getting up he'd usually get ready for something to do with Bruce Wayne, to Batman's own dismay. So, he finished all of his late-morning duties up, with time to spare. He decided to switch onto the main Gotham news channel.

"-icki Vale here with a breaking 'news' story," the television rang out into the spacious living room. "But for all of my fellow Gothamites, we know it's nothing new. Yet another break out by patients—yes, patients plural—from Arkham Asylum has citizens furious and concerned, but not at all surprised."

Bruce perked up at the mention of this, but wasn't stunned either, having dealt with this situation time and time again. He continued to watch the television, becoming engrossed by the footage and words of the reporter as he made the decision to don his suit once again.

"Going somewhere, Master Bruce?" Alfred chimed as Batman finished putting his suit on.

"Alfred," Batman stated in his low tone. "There's been another break out of Arkham Asylum. The Riddler and The Joker made it out this time." He sighed exasperatedly. "Master Bruce," Alfred noticed Batman's exasperation. "Don't you think it's time to put a little bit of trust in the authorities? Picking up the slack for them isn't going to go as well as you think it will, with how tired you are." Batman raised an eyebrow as Alfred chuckled gently. "Don't think I haven't noticed how much you've been wearing yourself out."

"Alfred," Batman finally grumbled out after a few seconds of silence. "I...appreciate you caring, but...this is something I need to do. My rest can wait for later, and so can Bruce Wayne. For now, the people come first, and so do those mental patients who broke out." An appreciative smile almost played on his lips as he got himself some water (there's a dispenser built into the suit, of course) and took off out of the Batcave.