Brooklyn Hero Shop
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If the hero shop was a place where heroes shopped, it would be one of those old-fashioned stores that seemed to have been around forever and had everything. There were rows and racks of costumes for all manner of superbeings: from capes in every color to little black masks for the more covert heroes.
The walls were lined with weapons—swords, daggers, bows, crossbows, and a great many gadgets and gizmos; there were also tanks, cars, motorcycles, hovercrafts, and even an early version of an airship or two.
The shop’s interior was decorated with posters of superheroes—both dead and alive. There was a life-size poster of Captain America holding aloft his shield, which had recently been signed by the actor who played him in the movies. A poster showed Wonder Woman in full costume, and one showed Batman standing over a body.
On the day she came here to see about buying some gear, Brooklyn had stopped in front of that poster of Batman—a photo taken just after he’d put on his costume at the beginning of Dark Knight. He hadn’t looked like much then, not even close to how he ended up looking later.
But it wasn’t the costume that had captured her attention. It was that strange glow around him, as though he wore some kind of force field instead of armor. That same sense of power still radiated out from Batman today, and it was only now coming into focus that maybe it wasn’t so weird after all—after all, Bruce Wayne had been born with this incredible gift, this ability to manipulate and shape energies…and to channel them in ways no ordinary person could ever hope to do. And now, with Gotham City on the verge of being consumed in darkness once again, perhaps it was time for someone else to pick up the baton…
“Hi,” said Brooklyn, looking up at the figure standing behind the counter. “I’m looking for a costume.”
He turned toward her without missing a beat. “And you are?”
“Brooklyn,” she told him, feeling oddly shy.
He smiled. “Well then…” He glanced over at the other customers in the store—heroes who were busy browsing their choices of weapons and costumes. “Come along with me, Ms. Brooklyn… I think we’ll find what you’re looking for among the others.”
He led her through the shop to a section marked ‘Super-Sized’ near the back. There were costumes here designed specifically for supersize characters, ones big enough to fit the likes of Superman and Wonder Woman. She spotted a few Batmobiles and a couple of Harley Quinn’s getups.
“I think that one’s perfect,” he told her, pointing out a costume. “It can be tailored to your size if need be. Just come right over here.”
She walked over to look at the suit. It was made of soft red leather, with silver accents. There was a cape at the back and a matching cowl that covered most of her face. The boots looked high, and she guessed they probably reached to her knees.
A utility belt hung from each hip, and both belts held guns, which were mounted on holsters attached to the sides of the suit. There was a symbol embroidered across the chest—a pair of crossed blades.
“How does it feel?” asked Bruce when she finally stood before him, trying it on for size.
“Good.”
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.” He stepped away from her so that he could see how the suit really fit her. When he was satisfied that it did, he took off his own mask and pulled back his cowl. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. All at once, the world shifted and everything seemed to spin around her, as though gravity had suddenly changed directions.
Her vision blurred, and sudden dizziness swept through her. Everything went black.
But the sound of someone calling her name brought her back around.
“Brooklyn!”
The voice sounded very far away, but she forced herself to open her eyes and take in the sight of Bruce standing over her. He had removed his cowl and mask too. His skin was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
She tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t work. All she could manage was a weak mumble.
He bent down to look her directly in the eye. “Are you okay?”
She nodded her head against his shoulder.
He helped her to her feet. “You’re going to be fine,” he told her. “Just stay quiet for a bit—”
Before she knew what was happening, he picked her up and carried her out of the store, heading for the Batcave.
***
THE SOUND OF THE TURBINE ROARING IN HIS HEAD WAS MOMENTARILY LOUDER than usual, and Batman felt the vibration travel up and down his spine like an electric current. As always, there was something comforting about the noise; reassuring. But the way it affected his body now left him feeling unsettled.
His thoughts drifted back to Gotham City, and the chaos that was spreading across its streets. To the people who were suffering beneath the oppressive weight of Bane’s reign. To the city, which had once been his sanctuary…and now seemed nothing more than a place filled with death and despair.
He pushed those worries aside and turned back to the case on the table in front of him, examining the contents within it once again. There were several different kinds of pills lined up on top of the wooden surface. Each bottle had a label on it, one marking each pill with an appropriate title: Painkiller, Strength Enhancer, Fat Burner…the list went on.
Batman had seen a lot since becoming Oracle’s partner, and she had taught him well. But she’d never mentioned that her father had been a pharmacist.
There was no mistaking the purpose of the bottles on the table. They were designed for supersizes to use in their transformations. But this wasn’t just any old pharmacy. It was filled with pills that only villains would want or need.
This is wrong, thought Batman. This isn’t right.
He closed his eyes and let himself drift off into the darkness, listening to the sound of the turbines outside the cave growing quieter as he fell asleep.
***
THE BATCAVE WAS FILLED WITH LIGHT AND the sound of running water. It was warm inside too—not quite hot, but not quite cool either. It was cozy, and yet somehow still felt lonely to the man who was sitting alone in the middle of it.
Bruce Wayne didn’t hear footsteps approaching until they were right on top of him.
The figure stepped out from behind a nearby column. “I thought I heard you call my name,” said Alfred.
“What are you doing here?”
“Looking after you. You should have stayed home tonight,” he told him. “That’s what I usually do when there’s trouble brewing in Gotham City.”
“So why don’t you just tell me what happened?”
Alfred sighed. “It seems we’re going to have to talk about that some other time.” He gestured toward the door, leading deeper into the cave.
“No…” said Batman slowly. “Not now.”
“But you won’t listen to reason? Fine, then…” Alfred turned on his heel and began walking toward the exit.
He paused halfway there to look back over his shoulder, “At least stay in bed.”
Batman shook his head. “No.”
“Don’t make me carry you,” warned Alfred, his tone serious. But even as he spoke, there was a hint of uncertainty in his expression.
“Then I guess you’ll have to tie me down first,” said Bruce.
For a moment, Alfred just stood there staring at him, confused. Then the tension broke, and he burst out laughing. “Okay, sure,” he said, “but don’t blame me if it doesn’t work.”
He turned around and headed back into the cave. When he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder at Batman, who was watching him go, a strange smile forming on his lips.
When he disappeared into the darkness, Batman rose from where he’d been sitting on the floor and walked over to the table. The bottles of pills that he’d examined earlier were all gone, replaced by a fresh stack of them, neatly arranged in a row on the wooden surface.
And they weren’t all the same size anymore. One of them was larger than the others.
He picked it up and studied it for a moment before dropping it onto the ground. A few seconds later, the table began to vibrate.
***
BATMAN’S EYES WERE OPEN AS HE WOKE UP. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was; but a flash of light brought everything flooding back. He opened his eyes.
It was night-time outside, and Gotham City lay before him, its lights glowing faintly against the dark sky. And in his arms, lying on the ground beside him, was a small, unconscious woman. His breath caught in his throat as he realized just what she was…
The sound of his breathing filled the silence for a few seconds.
The Batgirl…
She was wearing her mask. Her costume; was the one he’d seen in the pictures on his phone. She was wearing the costume he knew so well, but there were also traces of something else in it. Something unfamiliar, and yet familiar at the same time. The fabric was slightly rougher than usual, the design more pronounced…like she was wearing a new set of clothes.
But he remembered those. They were his memories, his own. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before, touched them, or smelled them. This was just another way of seeing things again, like a picture that’s always been in front of your eye but you’ve forgotten how to recognize.
But then he noticed the mask itself. It wasn’t just rough, it was broken. As though someone had tried to break it apart and failed.
Batman looked up. There were people everywhere, milling about in the streets, some running, others standing perfectly still. It was obvious from their uniforms that they were police officers: black uniforms, helmets, and masks covering all of their faces except for their eyes.
The only thing that differentiated them from the rest of the crowd was that they were all carrying rifles. And there were hundreds of them, stretching as far as he could see, lining both sides of every street.
They were waiting for him.
***
BETTY BRANDON WAS SITTING ON THE STREETSIDE STEPS of the abandoned apartment building where she’d found Batman, waiting for him to wake up.
She’d been pacing back and forth, waiting patiently for two hours. The Batmobile was parked behind her, and a pile of blankets lay next to the driver’s seat.
The night was quiet and peaceful. She glanced back at the building once more, noticing that there was a light flickering from an upper window. It flickered off and on for a while until finally, the door flew open.
Batman emerged from inside, dressed in a tattered pair of jeans and nothing else. His cape was torn to shreds; the metal studs along his shoulders and elbows were dented and bent. His face was covered with dried blood, and there were cuts along his cheeks. He was carrying a heavy pack over his shoulder.
A quick check showed that everything was strapped tight. His utility belt hung across his chest.
“You’re awake,” said Betty quietly, “Good.” She approached him, crouching down as she reached out to touch his cheek.
Batman pulled away from her, shaking his head, “What happened?”
“I told you…the Joker attacked you,” she answered simply.
She noticed that he was holding his right wrist and looked closely at it. “You don’t have any bandages?”
He shook his head again.
Betty frowned and started digging through his pack, finding two bottles of pills in the first aid kit, a roll of duct tape in the other, and a small canister of gasoline tucked into the side pocket. She handed him one of each and watched as he popped them into his mouth without looking at what they were. He chewed them up, swallowing quickly, and spat them out into a nearby trashcan.
“How do I look?”
Betty smiled warmly, “Like you did before…a little worse for wear, but you’re fine.”
“Let me guess,” he said, reaching for his belt, “you got my car keys.”
“Yes,” said Betty, smiling again. She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips, “Now go home and get some rest.”
She stood up and walked around him, opening the passenger door, and then gestured for him to climb inside. She slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. After a second of hesitation, Batman followed suit, climbing into the backseat after her.
She put the vehicle into gear and drove off as fast as possible toward Gotham Plaza, ignoring the sirens of police cars that started to blare behind her.
***
THE BAT SHELTER WAS IN THE CENTER OF THE CITY, a few blocks from Wayne Manor and not too far from the mansion where Bruce Wayne lived. In fact, most people would think that the two buildings were the same place if they weren’t informed otherwise. It was a giant, old mansion, made of marble and granite, surrounded by acres of manicured gardens and a moat filled with water. From a distance, it was beautiful and majestic, but once you got closer…
It was dark and sinister. Every window and door in the building was boarded up, and every light was shut off. Even the lights in the parking lot were turned off. It felt eerie.
The Batmobile pulled up beside the mansion and Betty Brandon stepped out onto the steps and waited for him to emerge from the passenger side.
When he did, Batman didn’t seem happy to be back there. In fact, he seemed almost…frightened. He kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure that no one was following him. Then he saw that Betty was waiting for him, and he relaxed a bit. But still, he hesitated when she took his hand and led him up to the entrance.
He didn’t like being inside this place, and he hadn’t missed that she’d been wearing her mask since the beginning of their journey. He didn’t want her to know what he looked like beneath the cowl or how his face had changed, either. He wasn’t ready to show her yet.
“Are you scared?” asked Betty calmly, as they climbed the stairs to the main floor of the mansion.
Batman shook his head, “No, but I don’t feel safe.”
She nodded, “Me neither.” She opened the front doors and held them open for him, allowing him to enter first. He followed her through the entryway hall, which was completely dark save for a few candles on the walls, and continued up the staircase toward the next floor. “Where are we going?” asked Batman, glancing at her, “Is this the right way to your room?”
“Yes,” said Betty, “It’s the only way to my room that doesn’t take us through a long hallway full of windows.” She stopped at a closed door and pushed it open, revealing a short hallway lined with closed doors. The room on the opposite side was lit up brightly by a dozen candles, and Betty Brandon smiled broadly when she saw who was lying in bed.
Bruce Wayne stirred a bit, waking up slowly when he heard someone coming into his room. “Who is it?” he asked sleepily.
“It’s me…” said Betty quietly, stepping toward the bedside and kneeling down next to Bruce Wayne’s feet, “You’re safe now.”
He smiled tiredly, “Thank God…I was so afraid I wouldn’t wake up.”
“It’s alright,” said Betty gently, taking hold of his left hand and stroking his fingers. She could see that his hands were shaking, so she wrapped both of hers around his, steadying them. “Don’t worry about anything anymore…it’s all over.”
Bruce closed his eyes again and sighed softly. His breathing slowed to normal and he drifted back off to sleep, letting himself be guided toward restfulness, while Betty Brandon sat there watching over him until he slept deeply once more.
The End