Sesame, DC: Nights of the Knights

[muppetwriter]

Chapter One​

Twenty-Four Years Ago​

I was born in a small town in Australia, under a name different from the one I have today. I used to be known as Anna Kymber, daughter of Elliana and David Kymber—a fashion designer and banker, respectively. I was once the happiest girl on the face of the earth. So what was I doing in one of the unhappiest places on Earth, Gotham City? The reason was that my father had taken his new banking job there, while my mother began her new career as model for the designs she created.

Little did I know about the truth behind both of their jobs.

My father had a run in with the Australian mob, while we were living “down under” when I was at the age of two. He was quite the bludger, owning a lot of dangerous blokes a great deal of moolah, and if he didn’t repay them in time, they would kill my mum and me. So what did he do to get them what they wanted? He struck a deal with them. Telling them that they could earn an equal share of money in America—most particularly Gotham City, with all of the mobs running around there. If they were to take over much of those mobs, they would be living the bonzer life, never having to stay in the $* house ever again.

So my father went into accounting in Gotham (not for the city, but for the Australian mob), and when he reached the top position in the finest bank in the city, he laundered money straight to the mob in hopes of them buying the right weapons they needed to steal money from others. Eventually he was able to hire members into the bank that he worked in, ultimately allowing the Australian mob to take total control over it. Every accountant, every secretary, and even every security guard was a corrupted Aussie.

And how did I know all of this at six years old?

I didn’t actually.

My mum and I were oblivious to the whole thing. She was so busy on her fashion designing, and I was so caught up in private school, that we rarely ever heard from my father. Only when the day came that he told us about the move from Australia to America was when we really ever got to yabber with him. But all he ever told us was that he was just a simple banker—not that he was in league with the most vicious gang in the land down under. He didn’t even tell Mum that the money he gave her to start her own modeling career was coming straight from the Gotham criminals that they stole it from.

We were drongos to his plans, and there wasn’t anything to prevent what happened one day when Mum and I decided to visit him at the bank. It was one ripsnorter of a place: huge windows that allowed the bright sunlight in, marble walls and floors, and a lot of good smells. Everyone seemed really nice—for a bunch of dangerous mobsters, that is—and the funny thing about their put-on personalities was the fact that they all donned American accents to fool the customers (an all-Aussie bank would led suspicions to the cops more so than the mob).

I wasn’t too certain about Mum, but I felt like a new kid on the block with all those phony Seppos around. Only by the time we got to my father’s office was when we got back to our Aussie roots. But even then it felt the same as outside, when Dad talked with a near-Seppo accent. “How’re my beautiful ladies doing on this lovely day, eh?”

“Adjusting, dear…or at least trying to.” Mum said, taking a gander at me while saying it. “Anna’s been doing well in school.”

Dad smiled at me upon hearing this, picking me up and placing me on his lap. “That’s great to hear, Kindie.” It was his nickname for me during that time of my life, because I was attending kindergarten then. My parents, once after the move to Gotham, could now afford to put their little girl in public school. And although I loved it, I really felt misplaced with the other children.

“And she also got into another fight today.” Mum added, causing the smile on my father’s face to slowly disappear.

“Well, I’m sure she had good reason.”

“Oh, yes. One of the children poked fun at her accent and she punched him square in the jaw…broke it instantly.” Mum sounded very sarcastic while she told my father this. She wasn’t happy over my actions at all. While she taught me never to take action and just turn the other cheek, my father was always the one to tell me otherwise. “The head of the school says if she breaks into another fight again, he’ll suspend her little bum until she’s old enough to attend middle school!”

The tone of her voice was startling, and Dad knew it was time for me to leave the room then. No six-year-old girl should be allowed to hear her own parents get fussy. So after getting me off his lap and giving me a small slap on my little butt (my only punishment from him for being a bad girl at school), I walked out of his office and stood outside. Mum slammed the door shut behind me, and then the angry voices bellowed from inside.

I could hear Mum accusing my father of forcing them into living in such a “dirty city” and having no right in changing their lives. She told him we were much happier in Australia, which was far from the truth, because I was alone and miserable there. I still felt that way in Gotham, only not to the extent.

Funny how that all changed with the simple arrival of a bunch of no-good blokes with ski masks and assault rifles.

One of them fired a burst into the ceiling as another hit the security guard on the head with the butt of his weapon, and yet another closed the door and lowered the blinds. The one that fired—a tall, heavyset bloke—fired another burst and yelled, “Everybody down on the floor—now!” Customers and employees alike dropped to their hands and knees. The employees were closer to their desks, while customers were practically in the middle of open space.

I just stood where I was, being the timid little bluey that I was in all of this. It was only by the time the tall, heavyset bloke who I could only assume was the leader of this bunch approached me, with his gun aimed directly at my head.

“I said on the floor, you little witch!” He said, but I failed in acknowledging his demand, because I was so scared. I felt my lower half getting cold and wet, which could only mean by that time I had frightened the urine out of myself. And this bloke with the gun wasn’t going to let that get past him. “Well, well…we’ve got ourselves a little p**s-ant here! Couldn’t hold it in, sweetie? Did we pick the wrong time to rob ya? Well, too bad! Looks like you were in the wrong place at the wrong time!”

And just at that moment, I heard the door behind me quickly open, followed by the ear-piercing sound of a shotgun blast. The next thing I knew, the bloke with the gun had his chest blasted wide open, blood going everywhere (including all over the pretty pink—now urine-stained—dress that I wore that day). I then heard my father tell him as he died, “No, mate…you were.”

Within seconds, that beautiful atmosphere that Mum and I entered in earlier had become a war zone, as many bank employees reached under their desks and pulled out a variety of handguns. Taking advantage of the startled robbers, they blasted away at each of them, sending them directly to their bloody deaths. And before I could see much more of this carnage, I felt my father forcibly grab me by the arm and pull me back into his office.

“David, what the bloody h*ll is going on?” Mum screamed in horror, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Just stay here with Anna! And don’t move!” That was all my father said before he dashed back out of the office, closed the door, and locked it.

Mum held on tightly to me, crying. Her tears fell from her face and onto the shoulders of my dress. Her nervous moaning was all I could hear at that time, because Dad’s office was nearly noise-proof. The sounds of the screaming, battling employees and robbers—accompanied by several guns firing—came through the walls. And then…complete silence. My mum stopped crying and moaning, and we were left to wonder if the battle was over.

Then…two silhouettes appeared against the glass on the door to Dad’s office that displayed his name and occupation as bank manager. At that moment, my mum and I became more nervous than before, with my mum clinging onto my tighter and nearly choking me. I had the feeling that she was more worried about her own life than mine.

One of the two figures standing outside tried to open the door, only to realize that it was locked. So the other used the butt of his gun to break the glass open, causing shards to fall to the floor. Just like the heavyset bloke, these guys were wearing ski masks to hide their identities. But as they came in, one of them made the mistake of addressing the other by his name, and I was able to distinguish one of them. The bloke who broke the glass was named Carmine—as in Gotham’s future criminal (former) mob boss, Carmine Falcone.

The instant Carmine stepped into the office, he glared at my mum and me, while grasping onto his shotgun. All we could do was watch him and his companion, as they raided the office, turning furniture over and knocking shelves down with great frustration. And then he glared back at us again, aiming his shotgun directly at my mum’s head. “Where’s he keepin’ it? Where is that stupid jacka** keepin’ what he stole from me?”

“I…I…don’t know what you’re…” Mum stammered for longer than Carmine could handle. And in that great frustration of his, he fired his shotgun at her. The next thing I realized was that no more tears were falling on my shoulders, but blood instead. And the intense grip that my mum had over me loosened, as her whole body fell to the floor with a huge thud.

I didn’t dare myself to look behind me to see what her corpse looked like. Instead I kept my glance on Carmine, as his gun was now aimed directly at me. He was ready to fire, until…

“ELLIANA!” My father bellowed, causing Carmine and his companion to turn and fire. Dad ducked and returned fire, forcing the two masked blokes in his office to duck themselves behind opposite sides of the door. I also ducked myself, right behind his desk, but I kept peeking near the corners of it to see all the action.

“What’s he got, a five-shot?” Carmine’s companion asked.

Carmine nodded.

“He’s got three left?”

Carmine raised two fingers.

The other bloke edged his gun around the corner and squeezed off a single shot. My father fired twice, just as Carmine guessed. His companion looked at him, and he nodded.

“Youse are gonna go down, you Aussie b*****d!” The other bloke shouted and stood, aiming his gun through the busted door. My father fired again and a hail of buckshot clipped the shoulder of Carmine’s companion. He fell back to his hiding spot and my father moved forward, pulling fresh shells from his pocket. Carmine stood from behind the desk and shot him in the chest.

As I watched my father fall dead to the floor, I realized just how alone I had become now. It didn’t quite fell the same as when I was back home, with no friends and not very many family members coming by to visit. I felt completely by myself…and it hurt so much.

While I secluded myself to the underbelly of my dead father’s desk, I brought my knees close to my head and buried my face in them, letting the tears drench my already ruined dress. I heard Carmine’s companion complain to him in a harsh voice. “Where’d you learn to count?”

“Shut up.” I heard him say in a voice a lot harsher than his friend’s. “Where’s the kid?”

“How should I know? I was watching over my own butt!” All of the sudden, the sound of police sirens echoed in the distance. “C’mon, Carmine! Let’s get outta here! The cops will be here any second!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Sal. I might as well be running things here now that Joey got one in the chest.”

“Alright, whatever. Let’s just get the h*ll outta here, man!”

I heard their footsteps crunch through the shards of glass that had scattered over the floor and faint in the distance. Knowing that they were gone, I came out from underneath the desk and rushed out of the office. I saw my father’s body still lying right where it was, amidst a graveyard of dead bodies—all just customers, employees, and robbers. Carmine and “Sal” had to have been the last two blokes left from all of this…not to mention myself.

“Kindie…” I heard a weak voice call out to me, realizing immediately that it was my father, who was talking through a bloody mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m…sorry I took away…your happiness.”

I cried over his body, as I knelt down next to it and cling onto his arm. “Daddy…please get up.”

“It’s…too late, sweetie.” He said. “You have to…be a woman now. You…have to watch…over for yourself.” The police sirens were getting closer and louder. “Don’t…let them find…you. Get away…as far as you can…from everybody. They’re…they’re gonna try and kill you.”

“Who, Daddy? Who?”

He took a deep breath, before uttering his last word. “Every…bodyyyyy…”

And after that, he died, leaving me with no other choice than to do exactly as he instructed me to do. I ran away from him, heading out the backdoor, so that the police would not confront me as I left. Where I ended up next was exactly where I would spend a majority of my life: in the alleyways of Gotham City.

When I rounded a corner, I suddenly bumped into two green, furry figures that smelled a lot worse than they looked. I fell back into a huge, muddy puddle, further ruining my once-gorgeous dress. While sitting there in it, the two furry figures looked down at me and frowned with their big bushy eyebrows.

“Hey, ya little twerp!” One of them said with a gruff voice that was only slightly intimidating, considering it was a kiddie-type of voice. “Why don’t ya watch where ya goin’?”

“Yeah, watch where ya goin’!” The other said with a voice that was just as gruff as the other’s, only at a lighter pitch.

The first furry figure, whose fur was dark and brown, turned to his friend and said, “Will ya stop repeating everything I say, Davey? Geez! It’s like hangin’ around with a stupid parrot!

“Sorry, Kev.” The second furry figure, whose fur was dark and red, remarked.

“And don’t say that! Grouches never say ‘sorry’!” Kev yelled. “If ya gonna learn to be one, ya have to do as what I do…but not say as I say…okay?”

It took Davey quite a while to understand what Kev meant, but once he did, he acknowledged by saying, “Uh…yeah! Gotcha!”

Meanwhile, I was getting up from the puddle I was sitting in. Once Davey and Kev got a real good look at me, their eyes widened with amazement. “Whoa! You look beautiful!” Kev exclaimed.

“I’m a mess.” I told him.

“Not from where I’m standin’, twerp!” Kev said, as he took off the filthy derby that he was wearing and slicked back the fur on his head. “My name’s Kevin Trash and this is my pal, Dave Garbagz!”

“That’s ‘Garbagz’ with a ‘Z’! Heh, heh!” Davey said.

Kev then whispered to me. “Hey can’t spell too well.”

Although these were the funniest characters I’d ever met in my life, I was not in the mood to laugh at that moment. “Well, it was nice meeting you both. But I haven’t the time to yabber with you blokes. I have to get lost.”

“Get lost? Hey, hey! We know how to do that!” Davey hurriedly said.

“Yeah, yeah!” Kev added. “Just follow us, and you’ll never be found!”

I really had no other choice at the time, because I had no one else to turn to in this big city. As the police sirens finally approached the nearby bank, the lights from their cars flashed blue and red in our direction. Alarmed, Kev and Davey each grabbed my arms and pulled me out of sight, directly into the darkness.

END OF CHAPTER ONE​

 

[theprawncracker]

Oh my GOSH! I'm intrigued! This is VERY interesting Sean! I can't wait to read more! It's very intense! More please!

 

[muppetwriter]

Thanks, PC. I'll have more coming up within the week. I just want to give everyone a preview as to how my version of the movie is going to play out. Maybe not quite as dark in many prospects, but definitely enough to bring just the same realism as the movie had.

 

[The Count]

Hi... Just plugging myself into this story, will read faithfully after seeing the movie tomorrow when it debuts. Bye.

 

[The Count]

Okay... So I went ahead and read Chapter 1 of this. It's all handled quite brillianly, replacing the clown gang with Carmine and Sal, setting up past to present segwaying. But there's one thing I'm confused about. The two grouches named after their respective Muppeteers... First you say that they're green furry creatures. Then when arguing amongst themselves, you refer to Kevin as dark brown furred and Dave as dark red furred. Was that a bit of a slip-up? Cause I have to say, I was thinking of Oscar and Grundgetta rather than this original pair of characters you've now introduced. Oh well... Will be back as soon as there's more posted or after watching the movie later today.

 

[muppetwriter]

By now, I hope everybody has seen the movie, because the upcoming chapters are going to definitely be spoilerish material.

Chapter Two​

Present Day​

When I came back to Gotham City to find my biological brother, Sean Thomas, I never quite expected to be here longer than I anticipated. It has a strong influence on those that have never once lived there before, especially those with a clean conscience. I’ve been to Gotham enough times to avoid falling into the same depression that most of its citizens suffer from everyday. The trick is to never forget where you come from.

That was what I believe happened to Sean, as he stayed as long as three years in Gotham, trying to help save it from the h*ll that it had already become. Three years—that was way longer than the five months that I have been here with Beth, Alex, Teressa, Larissa, and our friends from Sesame Street (Elmo, Telly, Cookie, Rosita, Big Bird, Maria, Luis, Gordon, Bob, and Linda). And he had stressed himself to the point where he had literally become a whole different person. I found out just how different he became one night that he, Elmo, Count, and I went on a bit of an adventure…a pretty dangerous one.

The strangest thing about discovering that a well-known playboy billionaire was a vigilante dressed as a bat during the night was finding out that your one and only brother knew longer than you did. And the most stressful part about it was the choices that came with it. I felt obligated to keep an eye on Sean, as he went out at night and practically did Batman’s job for him. He had been doing this for three years straight, turning him into a hardened man. It really bugged me knowing that, because I have been living on Sesame Street with the notion that he had gone missing—or worse.

Now that I know the truth, I found myself worried even more. There had to be some way of getting him out of Gotham and back to Metropolis, where he belonged. I never once had the heart to tell him—the moment we reunited after Larissa’s rescue from Arkham Asylum—that Metropolis P.D. had suspended him on account of his actions in Gotham. Even if I had though, he wouldn’t have cared, because as far as he was concerned, Gotham was his new home.

Of course, the boys over at Gotham P.D. could have cared less, as they saw Sean as someone a lot worse than Batman himself. Everyone on the streets knew by then that the two were “partners in crime” and wherever Sean went, Batman had to be close behind. However, the truth in the matter was that Sean and Bruce haven’t quite seen eye-to-eye on things and each day seemed closer to ending their partnership. The stories that Count and Oscar told me about how they all used to be a marvelous team back then impressed the heck out of me, because they appeared to be like a dysfunctional family recently. These “tall tales” I heard about monks-in-training with a mystical dragon helping them save Gotham from a vicious plague sounded like something out of a comic book to me.

Whatever happened three years ago in this city seemed to still be happening right now, as one name popped up very often as of late: Jonathan Crane. According to Sean, he was the key factor in that vicious plague that Oscar and Count told me about, and his negative influence was still running havoc in the darkest corners of the city. This was why Sean stopped by the Major Crimes Unit headquarters to dig up some information that evening—information that would prove useful in finding Crane and throwing him in prison for good.

As Elmo, Count, and I waited for Sean in the Lamborghini (a vehicle straight from the collection of Bruce Wayne himself), Elmo shared with me how he used to have “adventures” with a different crowd. He used to hang with the gang from Mystery Inc. to solve mysteries all over Metropolis—with the exception of one that dealt with the disappearance of Superman, which proved to be too big for the little fella to handle.

“Elmo sure does miss his Mystery Inc. friends.” He said. “Elmo hopes to see them again real soon.”

Curiously I asked him, “Where did they go, after the Superman mystery was solved, Elmo?”

“Elmo forgets.” He replied. “They did say goodbye to Elmo before leaving Metropolis again and thanked Elmo for being such a good detective.”

I smiled, rubbing my fingers through his furry red head playfully. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, Elmo. Maybe you can teach me some of what you learned from them.”

“Elmo will be happy to teach Margie what Elmo knows.” He happily said.

Before we knew it, Sean had returned and climbed back into the Lamborghini, carrying a large envelope that he dumped on the dashboard upon situating himself behind the wheel. He looked devastatingly exhausted; but I wouldn’t bet on the fact that he felt that way.

“What did you find out?” I asked him.

“Not very many people around in there tonight.” Sean said. “Most of the on-duty crew is at the site of the bank heist earlier this afternoon, and the rest are scattered throughout the boroughs investigating an odd homicide, a kidnapping or two, and a few serious robberies.”

As he started the car, I was a little worried about all this talk over criminal activities in front of Elmo, who was sitting right in between Sean and me, totally aware of what we were discussing. “Uh…maybe it’s not such a good idea to discuss this in front of…um…” I slightly nodded in Elmo’s direction, and Sean gawked at me, seeing that I was.

“Sis, you know Elmo’s been through so much in this city that he doesn’t mind a little talk here and there about what really goes on in it.” Sean remarked, as his eyes were back on the road in a millisecond.

Elmo then turned to me and said with a smile, “Yeah, Elmo doesn’t mind, Margie. But thanks for thinking of Elmo.”

I gave a little smile, but only for the sake of Elmo knowing how cool I was about it. Honestly, it made me really upset to know that my own brother was thinking less about the people around him when it came to certain discussions. It was becoming like an everyday thing to him, as disturbing as it was, and it was one of the reasons why I wished he would come back to Metropolis.

“Anyways, I got plenty of info about Crane from that new detective, Ramirez.” Sean stated. “He was last heard from somewhere downtown, making deals with the Russian mob, and methinks they’re making another one right now.”

“What gives you that idea?” I asked, and he only responded by pointing upwards toward the sky. I looked out the window and noticed the infamous “bat signal” projected onto the clouds, directly from the searchlight situated on the rooftop of the building we just departed from. While it was still an awesome sight to me, it had become just another everyday thing to Sean, who was beginning to have a great deal of displeasure over looking at it.

“And I’d like to get there before you-know-who does.” He added.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

A little while later, we reached the downtown area, arriving at a dark alleyway that we parked into, right across from a multi-floored parking garage that would’ve been jammed with cars during the daylight hours. But, seeing that it was nighttime, it was as empty as the streets surrounding it. The perfect setting for a secret meeting—just as Sean had suspected it. It really impressed the heck out of me to see how much his skills had improved in three years.

He was looking through a pair of binoculars to see where our targets were. Once he had found them, he was quick to share the discovery with the rest of us. “There,” he said while handing the binoculars to me, “right near the top level of the garage.” I looked through the binoculars at where he was talking about and noticed two black SUVs parked across from a battered white van. Standing near them was a dude with slicked back hair and a heavy goatee, accompanied by a group of men (presumably the man’s bodyguards) and three enormous rottweilers.

“So this is the guy we’re looking for? That Crane fella?” I asked, having no idea who any of these people were.

“No, that’s the Chechen.” Sean said, just as I spotted these men dragging one wearing rags and looking really filthy (like a human version of Oscar the Grouch) out from the back of one of the black SUVs.

“Is that guy Crane?” I asked, and Sean took the binoculars from my hands momentarily to see whom I was referring to. Once he looked through them, he grinned (the closest thing to smiling for him recently) and handed the binoculars back to me.

“Not even close.” He said, and I went back to looking through the binoculars to see “The Chechen” drag his prisoner to the white van.

The van’s side door slid open, and two newcomers dressed in overalls emerged, carrying metal kegs, with guns strapped to their backs. While I was seeing this, I heard Sean turn on the radio, which was playing heavy static for some time. But after he adjusted the knob a few times, the voice of a Russian man speaking heavily accented English played over the speakers.

“Look! Look what your drugs did to my customers!”

My brown, contact-wearing eyes widened, as I moved them away from the binoculars and looked towards the radio, which was on an unusual A.M. station known as “000.1”. Looking back and forth between the radio and the view I was getting through the binoculars, I discovered how in sync they both were. “You mean we can listen in on their conversation through the car’s radio?”

“Lucius Fox built in a special device that can pick up practically any nearby sounds at just one single frequency.” Sean explained, with that same grin on his face. I’d been hearing a lot about this Lucius Fox, who worked at Wayne Enterprises as the company’s CEO, applying Bruce Wayne with all sorts of vast, technical wonders—some of which has yet to be uncovered by today’s scientists.

“Man.” I said with great enthusiasm, before returning my focus to the situation in the parking garage, just as a tall, thin figure wearing a wrinkled blue suit and a burlap mask emerged from the white van. As soon as I had seen this bizarre figure, I dropped the binoculars in shock and gasped. “Oh, God!”

“What’s wrong?” Sean asked me.

Terrified, I tried to get it out as best as I could, “I…just saw…a guy wearing a freaky sack over his head!”

Sean reached down and grabbed the binoculars, moving them to in front of his eyes and seeing what it was that I saw. Again, that grin crept across his weathered face and even a deep chuckle emerged from him. “Yeah…that would be Crane…a.k.a. ‘The Scarecrow’.”

Even the name freaked me out to the point where I had shivers up my spine. The Scarecrow…yeah, that pretty much suits this man, all right. That burlap mask gave everyone the allusion that he was a walking, talking scarecrow. The history behind it all is very vague to me. But I wouldn’t want to dare myself into finding out.

I couldn’t even believe what I heard next out of little Elmo’s mouth. “It’ll be nice to see Dr. Crane again.”

It wasn’t the “nice” part that surprised me; it was the fact that he actually encountered this monster before. “Elmo…y-you’ve met this man?” I asked, wondering if I even should’ve addressed him as such.

“Yeah, Elmo’s met him.” He said. “He was wearing his scary mask the last thing Elmo seen him.”

This was all starting to be too much for me to handle. I felt like saying something else to express my disbelief in all of this, but I was quickly interrupted by the bone-chilling voice over the radio. “I told your man my compound would take you places. I never said they’d be places you wanted to go…”

“My business is repeat customers,” the Chechen said.

“If you don’t like what I have to offer, buy from someone else,” the Scarecrow said. “Assuming Batman left anyone else to buy from.” While he was talking, there came a low, growling noise through the speakers, which could be none other than the Chechen’s rottweilers hungry for human flesh.

There was more dialogue sounding through the speakers, but the sudden burst of static drained out all voices. In frustration, Sean smacked the dashboard, hoping that would fix the problem. But it only seemed to make things worse, as different voices came through.

At first I thought it was one of those late-night stations where there was more talk than music, because the soothing sound of an Australian-accented woman was heard instead of Jonathan Crane’s intimidating voice. “Just remember to be on the watch for my signal and show up with the getaway truck as soon as possible. Don’t dag around on this, mates! My bum is on the line here!”

Then a speaker with a gruff, goofy voice spoke. “Oh, don’t worry, Donna. We’ve got your bum…I mean, your back.”

And just as soon as these voices were heard, they vanished just as quickly, the static returning to drown out their voices. “Who was that?” I asked Sean, who looked like he could’ve cared less.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just hope they’ve got nothing to do with…” As he was talking, he noticed something ahead that brought a startled look on his face. “Oh, no!”

Alarmed and frightened more than I had already been, I asked, “Something wrong? What’s up?” Looking through the binoculars, I spotted something familiar and bizarre at the same time: a Batman silhouette rising from around the corner. Yet something was oddly different about it.

The shape was the same, yes—I mean, who else could pull off that intimidating form? But, and here’s the weird part, it seemed a little shorter and even feminine. The cape was even shorter also, going as far as the middle of the back rather than all the way near the ankles.

This wasn’t Batman…it was more like Batgirl.

Suddenly, there was the roar of a shotgun and a ragged, round hole appeared in the SUV, inches from the Chechen. And then, this female version of Batman looked like she started to get scared, running around the corner as four others dressed in different yet similar Batman costumes dashed all over the place.

“What the h*ll is this?” Sean muttered—another thing I wished he would mind on while hanging around with Elmo was his language.

“Five Batmen?” Count von Count said, doing his thing as usual, only with a purpose at the moment.

I noticed how the Chechen knelt by the rottweilers and snapped the leashes free from their collars. The dogs raced into the darkness. From an alcove leading to an elevator, one of the Batmen stumbled toward the down ramp. One of the dogs leapt at him and closed its teeth and jaws on the Batman’s butt.

“ZOINKS!” was what he screamed upon being bit.

The word really seemed too alien to me, while it was entirely familiar to Sean, whose ears perked up as soon as he heard it. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” He then started up the car and drove out of the alleyway at high speed, heading into the garage and up the ramps leading to the topmost floor.

“What’s going on? Do you know these people?” I asked, while trying to hold on for dear life, one hand clenching onto the dashboard and the other over Elmo, trying not to smother him in the process.

“Let’s just call them some ‘old acquaintances’!” Sean exclaimed, making hard lefts and rights while we were going higher and higher.

Just as soon as we reached the floor where all of the action was happening, one of the Batmen ran directly in our path. Sean immediately pressed down on the brakes, but even that action deemed too late, as the figure was instantly struck by the Lamborghini and knocked halfway across the air.

With clenched teeth, Sean jumped out of the car and we followed after him, each of us hoping that the costumed person we hit wasn’t seriously injured. He appeared to be okay, as he rolled across the concrete, clutching onto his hurt arm. Despite his injury, Sean refused to go easily on him, grabbing him by the collar of his polyester costume and bringing him closer to his face.

Sean unmasked the Batman impersonator, revealing the face of a blonde-haired pretty boy who Elmo recognized instantly. “It’s Freddy! Elmo’s friend from Mystery Inc.!” He had told me a little about this Freddy character and how he was like the leader of the group, always coming up with the plans that never always worked. I would assume the plan he had set up that evening was going the way he planned either.

“Did he put you up to this? Why aren’t you in Metropolis?” Sean asked him with an aggressive tone that seemed to have greatly intimidated Freddy.

“I…we…I mean…” Freddy stammered.

Before the meddling kid could have said anything, there was a loud crashing sound as four large wheels smashed down onto the concrete in front of the Chechen, dust and floor spraying everywhere. I recognized the vehicle: it was the infamous Batmobile—still referred as “The Tumbler” to the ones who had driven it the most, such as Count, Oscar, and Sean. As soon as it had arrived, it seemed as if the whole situation just went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds.

Sean gestured for all of us to hide behind the Lamborghini, and we did as he said, while he roughly dragged Freddy over there with him. “AHH! Take it easy, will ya? I think my arm’s busted!”

“Well, it wouldn’t have gotten that way, if you and your friends had just kept your meddling butts at home where you belong!” Sean yelled over the chaos that had erupted near us. “What were you thinking?”

“It was supposed to be a foolproof plan.” Freddy said. “Daphne was supposed to sneak in and scare them with a firecracker, while Shaggy and Scooby swung in from opposite directions to confuse them, giving Velma and I enough time to come in and trap them all with nets.”

While Freddy was explaining things, Sean pulled out his revolver and loaded it with fresh bullets. Ironically, his next question for Freddy was, “So who screwed things up with the shotgun?”

Freddy’s only response was a dumbfounded look on his face.

Knowing he wasn’t going to get any more answers out of Freddy, Sean looked towards the rest of us as he finished loading his gun. “Count, Elmo…you boys stay here and watch over Mr. Wannabe over here, while I go and save some lives…maybe even spare a few.”

His humor was flattering and frightening at the same time, when it used to be light-hearted and full of life. Despite this, I couldn’t help but wonder how I played in his plan. “What about me?” I asked, sounding a little nervous while I did.

“You’re gonna back me up…use some of those moves I taught you.” He said to which my eyes nearly bulged out in surprise.

“Are you kidding me? These are real guys, not dummies!” I protested. “Real guys with guns! And do you really think they’re gonna stand still long enough for me to dodge?”

I was hoping he was really joking with me…that same old crazy humor he was know for having when we were kids. But the cold stare he gave me helped me realize that he wasn’t joking at all. He actually wanted me to put my life on the line there and then.

Before I could protest again, he raised his free hand up as a gesture for me to keep quiet long enough for me to hear him say, “I’ll disarm them before you can get the chance to take them down. If I miss anybody…” He paused for a second, reaching behind himself and pulling out another handgun that he tossed over to me. “Only use it if you really have to.”

I stared at the gun, my nervousness increasing greatly. Sean knew that I never once in my life took a life, whether it was something as small as a Twiddlebug or as big as a Snuffleupagus. I was never a life-taker nor would I ever become one tonight. I’d let these monsters annihilate me before I could ever bring myself to pull the trigger.

With only a short amount of time to go, Sean and I moved away from the rear of the Lamborghini and leapt into action within seconds. He did just as he promised and disarmed the guys who were packing, but didn’t do it as subtle as I thought he would. Nothing seemed to be ever subtle with him anymore. It either had to be a broken arm, a bruised rib, or a bloody mouth to signify that the job was done. And that’s just how he left these guys after disarming them…at least some…I dealt with whatever was left of others, using what little experience I had in the skill of Martial Arts.

Meanwhile, Batman was handling the others with just the same rapidness and lack of subtlety as Sean. One of the mobsters stood nearby, lining up his shotgun on the “Batgirl” I spotted earlier, who I could assume was one of the female members of Mystery Inc. (Daphne or Velma). Batman grabbed the weapon barrel and bent it downward as the mobster looked into the face of the red deal. It was the last thing the creep saw before getting smacked across the face by him.

With the life of the “Batgirl” spared, Sean took the opportunity to tackle her out of sight and unmask her in the process, revealing the face of a beautiful redhead. “Freddy is hiding in the back of the Lamborghini with Count and Elmo. I want you to get back there and stay there, until we’ve taken care of this mess! Do you understand me?”

He talked to her so forcibly that she might as well have gotten what he said, otherwise it was her neck. At the state of mind my brother was in, it would take a complete idiot to cross him. And that’s exactly the type of person who even tried just now, as he crept up behind him.

Neither Daphne or I had to say anything to Sean to warn him of the approaching danger, seeing as how he twisted in time to take the mobster down with one swift punch to his throat and one fierce kick to the face to knock him flat on his back. “Moron,” he uttered after finishing him.

Daphne ran away from the scene and headed to the Lamborghini, while Sean and I searched for the last remaining members of Mystery Inc. Not very many creeps came into our path, considering that the real Batman was taking care of them all. When we came across the two Batmen that were being attacked by the rottweilers, we noticed Batman at the scene, using a pair of grappling guns to move the two imposters away from the dogs.

Batman then stepped in, as a rottweiler was already in the air, leaping at Batman’s throat. He kicked it in the belly, and the dog fell away, whimpering. The second dog closed its jaws on Batman’s gauntlet, but the Kevlar armor proved impenetrable. Batman swung the animal over his head and it fell to the concrete, whimpering.

As this was all happening, Sean and I dashed over to the two Batman imposters that were saved and unmasked them to reveal the faces of a bushy-haired hippie with a patch of facial hair over his chin and—ironically—a brown, black-spotted dog. The dog I knew immediately from Elmo’s stories was Scooby-Doo (sort of like a mascot for the team), while the hippie had to have been Norville “Shaggy” Rogers, Scooby’s owner and best friend. With another stern address from the stressed-out Sean, the two troublemakers were on their way to join Freddy and Daphne behind the Lamborghini.

Four down…one more to go.

While Batman had been busy with the rottweilers and us with the Mystery Inc. members disguised as Batmen, I noticed Scarecrow climbing into a van. “Sean, look!” I shouted, but I didn’t really need to say anything, as the tires screeched as loud as they could while the van sped toward us.

“Move!” Sean yelled, as we jumped aside in opposite paths.

As I hit the concrete with a hard thud, Sean put his gloved fist through the driver’s window, while the van had passed on by. Startled, the Scarecrow leaned away, unintentionally twisting the wheel. He righted it just in time to avoid smashing into a retaining wall, and the van skidded onto the exit ramp and began to descend it.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily, jacka**!” Sean muttered, right before another mobster came up from behind him. And similar to the previous one, he sensed his oncoming attack and twisted in the right amount of time to block his attack.

Rather than repeat his other vicious attacks, Sean simply lifted the creep high in the air and walked over to the edge of the ramp with him. He waited, staring down at the corkscrew-shaped ramp, and then he tossed the mobster over the edge. The guy let out a terrifying scream as he fell. My eyes widened with horror upon seeing what my own brother had done to this man. Had he committed murder? Did he reach that point of no return? What was the point of that?

And then, all my unasked questions seemed to have been answered at the next moment, as the Scarecrow’s van swerved out of the exit ramp and the mobster’s falling body landed atop it, crushing the cab. The van swerved and struck a wall.

“Dear Lord!” I exclaimed, my words echoing throughout the garage. At first I thought that Sean had killed the man with this fierce action. But then I heard him moaning in great pain, signifying that he was in fact alive, only severely damaged.

The next thing I noticed was Batman walking right next to Sean and glaring at him intensely. His look never once fazed Sean, who only retorted by returning his look. It was obvious that Batman would’ve handled the situation a lot differently—possibly in a much less violent manner. But it was that difference in actions and plans that was bringing the two men further apart.

Not saying a word to him, Batman jumped over the edge of the ramp and expanded his cape into glider wings, slowing his fall towards the scene of the accident. Once he landed, he pulled a dazed Scarecrow from the cab and slung him over his shoulder.

I looked away from Batman and towards Sean, realizing that he did not once take his eyes off his “partner.” Not even the sudden appearance of another Batman silhouette caught his attention, as I spotted it behind the corner of a nearby wall. Realizing that was the final Mystery Inc. member we were looking for, I got off my butt and ran over to her (I knew it had to be another female, because we only found one of them earlier).

Just as I was no more than a couple of feet from her, she twisted her body faster than I had ever anticipated and aimed a shotgun directly at my chest. I became just as confused as I was scared, wondering why exactly would one of these kids be carrying such a dangerous weapon. Freddy’s plan played back in my mind: Daphne threw the firecracker, Scooby and Shaggy swung in opposite directions, and Freddy & Velma came in with nets.

So which one of them was supposed to be carrying a shotgun?

The answer was simple: nobody.

Whoever this was in front of me wasn’t part of Freddy’s plan. She wasn’t even a member of Mystery Inc. It had to be an outside job, coming here with the same purpose, but having a whole different plan of action.

“Who are you?” I asked this woman.

And then she responded with that same Australian accent that I heard over the radio earlier. “Stay out of my way, mate. You weren’t supposed to be part of this.”

“Well, it’s not like I had any other choice…Donna.” I said, remembering the name that I heard on the radio. Judging from the surprised look in her eyes, which were shadowed by the cowl she wore, I could tell she never anticipated me finding out her identity. Although I was only going by a first name, nothing more.

Then she did something totally unexpected. She dropped the shotgun she was carrying, causing it to land with a loud thud on the concrete, and preceded in beating the heck out of me. Her moves were so fast and agile that they even overmatched Sean’s. She might as well have been the closest thing to Batman than the entire Mystery Inc. gang themselves.

I tried to block her kicks and punches, but she was moving so quick that I barely had any time to do so. Her fist connected with my jaw, her foot went almost through my stomach, and she kneed me so hard in the groin that I actually felt it. This Aussie knew her stuff, and she also knew that the butt she was kicking belonged to a complete amateur.

It was probably the reason why she stopped before she could’ve pounded me into a bloody pulp. She left me sprawled over the floor in pain, each and every part of my body aching heavily.

I looked up as she turned away from me and reached over the left side of her body, emerging a flare gun from it. She fired it over a ramp that overlooked the sides of two industrial buildings nearby and the street below, allowing it to shine over the night sky. Within moments, a black pickup truck suddenly appeared at the scene and stopped right by her. She climbed into the back and was taken away, giving me one last look as she disappeared.

“Margie! Margie!” I heard Sean call out my name, running over to check on me. “Are you alright?”

I could barely even talk. The best thing I could do to let him know I was okay was just simply nodding. Once I gave him the confirmation, he dashed away from me and over to a booth, coming out with a stunned, bespectacled brunette shortly afterwards. She was our last Mystery Inc. member to find, Velma Dinkley, wearing nothing more than her underwear—after being robbed of her Batman costume by the Aussie woman.

“I told Freddy this was a bad idea.” She said. “An embarrassing one, in fact.” And Sean, being the sarcastic one that evening, nodded in mock agreement.

A minute later, we regrouped with Batman and the others, as Batman dumped the Scarecrow next to the Chechen’s injured accomplices, who Count had counted to make sure they were all there. The Chechen himself had disappeared—all thanks to the failed plan of Mystery Incorporated. And Sean & Batman were quick to let them know how much in the fault they were.

“We were just trying to help you guys,” Freddy said. “You know, just like the old days?”

“This isn’t like the ‘old days’, Freddy!” Sean retorted. “Things are different now! Everything’s gotten much more deeper than all of you can handle!”

“In other words, we don’t need help,” Batman said as he bound the Chechen’s crew with plastic ties.

“Not my diagnosis,” the Scarecrow said.

Sean stared at the Scarecrow as Batman fitted plastic ties over his wrists and ankles. He walked over to him as soon as Batman was done and pulled off his mask, revealing the surprisingly average and oddly handsome face of Jonathan Crane. All that time I had been expecting something like The Elephant Man; but to see how normal this guy looked, I was totally dumbfounded.

After tossing the mask over to me (what was I supposed to do with it?), Sean addressed the Mystery Inc. kids again, “You five are going to high-tail your little carcasses out of this city by dawn! You don’t belong here and have no reason for being involved in all of this! This isn’t fun and games anymore!”

While Sean was talking to them, I noticed how Daphne was looking in Elmo’s direction, waving at him and giving a little smile. Elmo waved back and smiled also, returning the friendly gesture. Here they were, reunited for the first time in quite a while. It was really cute, in my opinion. The most serene moment in the midst of all the chaos that happened that evening.

And who else to ruin the moment than my beyond-stressed brother, as he got up directly in Daphne’s face and screamed, “Don’t ever let me find you out here again! Understood?”

“Y-Yes, sir.” She said, almost to the point of tears.

Sean looked away from her and turned to Elmo, Count, and myself, nodding for us to follow him back to the Lamborghini. I didn’t know who he thought he was that night (Batman, perhaps?), but he had better think twice before talking that way to me. I might’ve not known kung fu, but I sure did know how to tell someone off.

While Batman was walking toward his own car, Freddy shouted after us. “What’s gotten into you guys? Don’t you need us anymore? There are only two of you now. It’s war out here.”

“What gives you the right?” Velma then asked. “What’s the difference between you guys and us?”

And then both Batman and Sean replied in unison, “We’re not wearing miniskirts!”

Ouch.

I glanced back at the kids as we climbed into our vehicles and noticed Daphne looking down at her ridiculous female representation of Batman’s costume, which indeed include a miniskirt, allowing her legs to be bare and exposed. I’m not sure what she was thinking when she came out there that night, but fashion should’ve been the last thing on homegirl’s mind.

As the rest of us sped away in the Lamborghini and Tumbler that night, only one thing went through my mind: Is this what every night was going to be like from now on?

END OF CHAPTER TWO​

 

[Hope Mills]

Oh my gosh, ((((muppetwriter))))), what an artistic storyteller you are!

Onward, my gallant son!

Love ya!

 

[The Count]

You know.. Now I'm a bit scared for any one of the five Mystery Inc. kids, as that leads to the tag Joker left behind saying "Will the real Batman please stand up?" Also scared for Beth.... Unless it's Rachael that agent of chaos targets...

Please buddy, post more!

 

[muppetwriter]

This next chapter is narrated by Linda.

Chapter Three​

Some people would consider being deaf a curse, because you can’t hear the delicate things in life, such as the birds, music, or singing. But I consider it a great gift, because my outlook on life is much greater than others. With Bob always by my side, I can still “hear” the world around me, as he communicates through sign language. Sometimes I don’t need it to understand people, as reading lips has become a handy skill on mine. But it’s still always nice to have Bob around, especially as we had spent five months in such a grouchy place like Gotham.

Thankfully, we were living under safe conditions with Bruce Wayne (who was also the city’s greatest protector, Batman). Bob, the Thomas siblings, Oscar, Count, Elmo, and I had been staying in Bruce’s penthouse in the middle of Gotham City to stay close to the doctor that had been treating Larissa, ever since her encounter with that crazy Harleen Quinzel at Arkham Asylum.

The doctor notified us that Larissa’s mind was totally scrambled. All knowledge of what she was before that very evening—from being a detective to being the sister of Teressa, Margie, Sean, and the late Lori—had been completely erased from that horrible experiment of Quinzel’s. Her lovely black hair had grown back, of course—only being shorter than it was before it got shaved off.

Larissa had been suffering from a form of retardation that had not been classified by any doctors before. It was like an amnesiac form, where the mind had been reverted back to a childlike state (in Larissa’s case, around three or four years old). She could barely complete a sentence than count to five. But she wasn’t completely hopeless. With friends like us who came from a place like Sesame Street, she could be educated back into the way she once was in no time.

Even as Count von Count and Elmo worked with her on counting to twenty and reciting the alphabet, Bob and I went around the lovely penthouse, looking for her sister, Teressa. We noticed that neither Bruce, Margie, nor Sean returned with Count and Elmo that night after their adventure, and also that Oscar seemed to have disappeared also. And after a while, we also soon realized that Teressa was missing also (very odd).

When we passed by the kitchen, for a second time, we spotted Alfred Pennyworth, placing a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee on a breakfast tray. As soon as he noticed us, he said something with a cheerful expression on his face, which, of course, Bob had to sign out for me. ‘Good morning. I take it that you had some well-deserved rest.’

‘We did,’ Bob responded, still signing things out for me. ‘This is a really beautiful place to sleep. Almost like a fancy hotel.’

I smiled, supporting Alfred’s assumption that we were relaxed. Upon seeing the tray that Alfred was carrying, I signed out to him, ‘You might want to reconsider giving that breakfast to Bruce. He is not here.’

Of course, Alfred didn’t understand me right away, so Bob had to step in and translate. When he frowned, I felt a little bad for giving him the upsetting news. With an attitude of frustration, he placed the tray back on the counter, while clearly uttering something that I couldn’t quite make out, since I could not see his lips at the time.

Bob’s steady hands signed out what he said to me: ‘I suppose I shall deliver it to him at his special hideout, then.’

‘Great idea!’ I signed, with Bob translating my praise, and bringing that great smile back to the butler’s face. Then I also added, ‘We will come with you, too.’

Bob, and now he was swiftly signing my words, as he was glancing over his nose and looking directly at me with a confused twist plastered to his face, signed out his response. ‘We will?’

I nodded assuredly with a smile and signed, ‘I want to see Sean and Margie.’ We came to Gotham, in the first place, to look for one of those two siblings, and we had succeeded in doing so once Sean had arrived at the penthouse, shortly after we settled in. Why waste the time we didn’t have when he went missing for so long?

So, seven minutes later, we rode in the limousine and parked it in a corner of a railroad yard. Once we got out, we walked over to a rusty freight container that sat, lopsided, on concrete blocks. Alfred got a key from his vest pocket and opened a padlock on the container’s hatch, and then we all stepped inside.

When I first walked into the pitch-black area, I was completely frightened, because I became both deaf and blind. But Bob was there to guide me through it all, so that I wouldn’t get lost or scared. After spending more times doing it, I got used to it all, even though it still surprised the heck out of me when that floor lowered, taking us down to the long, low-ceilinged concrete chamber, we usually entered through this tunnel that led to Bruce Wayne’s apartment building. But on that day, Alfred thought it was wise to assure himself that the elevator entrance was in working order and was pleased to learn that it was.

Batman’s massive vehicle sat in the center of the room, near a varied cluster of computers, printers, workbenches, power tools, and microwaves. Closer to it were Sean and Margie Thomas, both of them strangely engaged in a heated argument, judging from the angry expressions on their faces. Their mouths were moving so rapidly that I could barely lip read in order to understand what they were debating. However, I sighted that the two young siblings had sustained quite a bit of injuries: Sean’s right hand was carefully bandaged from that point of his knuckles down to his wrist, while Margie had minor bruises on her beautiful face and arms.

‘It is not a good idea for these two to be involved in all of this,’ I signed to Bob, who nodded in agreement.

Bob realized that he could not just let the two siblings rip each others’ heads off while everyone else (including Bruce Wayne, who sat amid the clutter, watching a television tuned to GCTV, the local all-news station) just casually stood by and did nothing, much like Oscar the Grouch, who stood in his filth-smitten garbage can, and he was doing so with glee. So Bob stepped up and stood in between them, calming both of them down long enough for them to explain what was going on.

Bob hastily signed out everything that Sean and Margie told him, so that I could get the jest of their brutal conflict. It appeared that the kids from Mystery Incorporated had interfered in last night’s scuffle, all dressed as representations of Batman in a wild plan thought up by Freddy Jones. This plan almost caused the man who Sean was targeting—that horrible Jonathan Crane from Arkham Asylum—to escape from him, but they luckily caught him before he could get away. Unfortunately, one other criminal who the police had been searching for had escaped, but at the time he wasn’t on Sean’s hit list.

The reason Sean was after Jonathan Crane was to get answers out of him about Harleen Quinzel, the woman responsible for his sister’s condition, and also a follower to the criminal known as Joker. Margie, knowing that Sean was bent on vengeance, and he only asked about Quinzel to get to the Joker, was encouraging him to back away before he ended up losing his mind—or worse, his life. But Sean was refusing, because he was desperately getting closer.

Curious to know about the whereabouts of Harleen Quinzel, I asked Sean where Crane said she was. Bob signed out both my question and Sean’s response, which was, ‘Harleen Quinzel was still outside city limits, and she was still under the wild belief that she was a harlequin, due to the costume she wore that night at Arkham when her mind suddenly went crazy.’

As long as she was far from where she could create any more havoc in this city, it didn’t matter to me what state of mind she was in. Not to sound heartless, but I was glad she was suffering just as much as Larissa was, although it was still a mystery as to how she had ended up in such an odd condition.

‘Crane didn’t give me anything new to go by, so I’ll be in this situation as long as it takes to bring my sister’s murderer to justice,’ Sean, with consideration, replied, and he signed slowly enough for me to read his lips as his hands expressed his compassionate mood.

But Margie was again talking too rapidly for me to understand her, so Bob quickly signed her words out to me. ‘You need to get out of here, before you wind up hurting yourself even more. In case you forgotten, I got my butt handed to me last night by one of those impersonators.’

Then Oscar uttered something, which I was fortunate enough to briefly interpret. ‘Heh! Wish I could’ve been there to see that!’ Boy, was he a smug one!

Margie returned the grouch another smug look to complement his own. She could just as easily back down from this matter, but she refused to do so, because she couldn’t let her brother get himself killed. They had already lost one sibling a long time ago; it would be more of a nightmare if another was lost from all this senseless chaos. As long as Sean was involved in this, she was involving herself as well.

Alfred then stepped into the conversation and said, ‘Perhaps you should let Mystery Inc. handle this. It sounds as if they almost had things under control last night.’

‘Not funny, Alfred.’ Sean replied with a cold stare.

‘No, I think he has got something there.’ Margie said. ‘This girl who kicked my butt the other night had a good reason for being there. If it was to stop Crane and the Chechen, then I think she’s just the inspiration we need.’

Sean looked very confused. ‘Inspiration for what?’

‘For thinking straight and letting someone more rational handle this.’ Margie told him.

It definitely seemed like a good idea, and from the hopeful look on Bob’s face, I could tell that he thought so as well. All either of us wanted was to get out of Gotham and back to Metropolis, where things were currently quiet and peaceful. We had completed that in which we had intended to accomplish: which was, upon coming here, to find Sean. Unfortunately, we never anticipated our being involved in his war on crime. Although, we cannot leave here without him, and as long as he was pushing himself to fight, we had no choice but to remain loyal and stay.

Even at that very moment, Sean refused to leave, despite the idea to let the woman responsible for Margie’s bruises—the possible “Batman Replacement”—take things over.

For the first time since we arrived, Bruce Wayne made his own statement, which Bob signed out for me. ‘This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to inspire people. I would never resort to guns, like this woman had. People like her are making things more dangerous than they already are. Innocents could be killed by their antics, and I don’t want to shoulder the blame!’

Then Margie stated, ‘She didn’t seem so innocent when she put her knee halfway past my…’ Bob had chosen not to sign out that last part, because it was a bit classless to even put into sign language.

‘The point is things are improving.’ Alfred said. ‘Look at the new district attorney.’

‘Ya mean that twerp who dumped Beth?’ Oscar asked, though I wished he could’ve put it another way that was more respectful for poor Beth Thomas (Sean and Margie’s cousin), who still remained in Gotham with her sister, Alex, and Bert & Ernie to handle the coverage on his approach to fighting the most dangerous mobs in Gotham.

It was a real surprise to know that Gordon, Maria, and Luis were still hanging with them, along with Big Bird, Telly, Rosita, and Cookie. Of course, they were only still in Gotham because they had yet to find Sean like we had. They would have found out that he was here with us, if the paranoid Sean hadn’t requested for us not to tell them. He knew that they would try to convince him to go back to Metropolis more than we had been, and his refusal would’ve just gotten them more involved in the mess happening over Gotham than they already were through Beth, Alex, Bert, and Ernie.

I personally give them credit for their determination after five whole months.

‘I have to know if this Harvey Dent can be trusted.’ Bruce said.

‘Yer just sayin’ that ‘cause he’s goin’ out with yer old girlfriend,” Oscar bantered.

‘Who Rachel spends her time with is her business.’ Bruce remarked.

Then Sean approached him with a bundle of photos and dumped them in front of him as he said, ‘Wish you could say the same for me.’ They were surveillance photos of Sean doing what he had been doing best and intimidating criminals through means worse than what Batman usually did.

‘I am only trying to get you to understand what everyone else has been,’ he told Sean. ‘To know your limits and quit why you still can.’

‘Well, just like Batman, I have no limits.’ Sean said, as he was leaving the chamber through the tunnel that connected between there and the penthouse.

Once he had disappeared, I signed to Bruce, ‘He is only doing what is fair for his sister’s death like what you’re doing is fair for your parents’ death.’

Bruce’s words were signed out to me through Bob. He told me, ‘There is a difference between us. I know when not to put lives at risk…he doesn’t. I know when to let the right people do the job…he doesn’t. I know when to give up…’

“And he doesn’t.” I said out loud, not signing my words as they came out from my mouth. When a deaf person says something that the listener knows he or she is about to say, there is no point in signing. At a time like that, it was best to let words speak louder than actions.

And in response to my words, Bruce Wayne nodded…sadly.

END OF CHAPTER THREE​

 

[The Count]

*Blown away... Need more posted soonish!