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Apokaliptian demigods. We're a little out of our depth here.
My suggestion is you find a way to bring Kent back to life. The world needs all the heroes it can get. And if you don't mind. I'd like to get back to work.
Twenty-five years... my parents murdered in front of my eyes... the wet rattle of my father's dying breath... the heavy emptiness invading my mother's dilating eyes... so long ago. Too long ago... Too long to feel the loss... or the rage... or the fear... all those things that made me... I can't remember my mother.
Everything that's happened I planned for. Every variable, every murder and double cross. I should've realized it earlier but I didn't. And now it's too late.
I read somewhere that the term "Gothic" might possibly be derived from the word "Goetic" -- goes in the Greek -- meaning "magical." I'm beginning to believe that. If architecture could be used to focus and direct spiritual power, then... then... could it also be used for evil?
He calls himself "Scarecrow." Psychologist turned psychopath. He preys on the innocent and instill them with fear. When I chose to wear my... costume, it was to prey upon the criminals, and instill them with fear. The irony is not lost on me...
Tell everyone. All the punks, junkies, gunsels, enforcers... all the wise guys, leg-breakers, muscle boys... tell them they're finished. Tell them the streets belong to the Batman.
There's war in Gotham City. Perhaps where crime is concerned, there always has been. But seldom this open, this rabid. A madness seeping into every stratum of criminal society. Escalating like a plague, threating to surpass even the horror that created me.
Open your eyes. Look into the darkness... as the darkness looks into you. That man you killed -- he had a family, people who cared for him. Do you, punk? Will anyone care? Will anyone... miss you?
Clean? You can never be clean. Drugs. Prostitution. Protection. Corruption. Assassination. This city is sick. Its people are sick with fear. Now you know what that feels like. You and your kind have turned Gotham City into a Hell. Now rot in it.
No, O'Quarious, these kids are not the problem... it's us and our middle-class hang-ups! It is we who should learn from them! If there is any hope in this crazy, messed-up mudball of ours, it lies with the kids! They possess the wisdom of the truly ignorant! They are our future! Look at them and learn, O'Quarious!
Kathy...? I'm sorry. I don't want to frighten you. I did once when you saw me through the window at your home. I know I look scary and there have been too many scary things in your life. So I want you to see... I'm just a man, a man who's trying to help.
Alan Scott said Grundy isn't really alive -- therefore he can't really die! I could let him go... but he walks like a man -- talks like a man -- and who am I to judge where life begins or ends?
Did DeWettering really trust Bruce Wayne? Or did he have an inkling of my other dimension? Did he choose the Guardian of Gotham as the new Guardian of the Grail? I only hope he chose well.
Dawn Golden. I haven't thought about her in years. I'd put her out of mind after she broke my heart in college. Now she's become an obsession. I find myself searching my memory for her... all the way to the dimly remembered days before my life was shattered forever. Before I became what I am.
Is he right about Gotham? Is it the city that brings out the beast in people, or is it always there... waiting for the right origin story to set it free?
This war was a mistake. It began as a game -- an exercise in planning and strategy that was never meant to happen. But now it has. The result? Thousands injured. Hundreds dead. Police... gangsters... civilians... friends. As things got worse, I kept playing the game. I knew the pieces. I knew the board. All I had to do was play the right moves... or so I thought. But war is not a game. It's an abomination. And this must be stopped... tonight! No more games. This is war.
Without warning it comes... crashing through the window of your study... and mine... I have seen it before... somewhere ...it frightened me... as a boy... frightened me... yes, Father. I shall become a bat.
Without warning it comes... crashing through the window of your study... and mine... I have seen it before... somewhere ...it frightened me... as a boy... frightened me... yes, Father. I shall become a bat.
You claim to act out of love, but I don't think you even understand the meaning of the emotion! Love requires empathy. Sympathy. Compassion. There's nothing inside you but ice and hate.
Starting today, we fight ideas with better ideas. The idea of crime with the idea of Batman. From today on, Batman will be everywhere it's dark, no place to hide.
In the cave, in Nanda Parbat, I hunted down and killed and ate the last traces of fear and doubt in my mind. Tell your "dark master," whoever he is, to make his move soon, before I come looking for him. Tell him, he was wrong to wait until I was ready. Tell him... I look forward to facing him.
I decided early that I would never take a life. Right around the time I decided that I wanted to live. It wasn't an arbitrary decision and it was more than moral. It's about identity. As long as you can choose that, choose who you are in the world... you can choose to call yourself sane.
Without warning it comes... crashing through the window of your study... and mine... I have seen it before... somewhere... it frightened me... as a boy... frightened me... Yes, father. I shall become a bat.
Ladies. Gentlemen. You have eaten well. You've eaten Gotham's wealth. Its spirit. Your feast is nearly over. From this moment on -- none of you are safe.
I've known Commissioner Jim Gordon for more years than I'd care to admit. During that time a friendship has grown that I thought was as solid as a rock. I would have trusted my life to the man.
I survive, but the Beast escapes... leaving a startling realization in the wake of his departure. I've finally run into someone who's better at this game than I am.
The police, unfortunately, have been trained to give a suspect a chance to surrender before they open fire. That moment's hesitation is all the Russian Killing Machine needs.
With the exception of Bruce Wayne, who was a logical if erroneous choice to be on the list, each of these men had a part in the process that led to my becoming the Batman. These were the men who trained me.
Maybe you are innocent. This time. But you're filth. I want you to know -- from now on, I'll be watching your every move. The first time you step out of line -- will be the last time.
Rest... I'll need more of it than she knows... Now that I have to face a man-- two men eventually-- fueled by the same venom that turned me into a monster... nearly destroyed me. And in my arsenal... sedatives.
No harmony or integration. No speed or grace. My body knows what to do, but it's forgotten how. My back is healed, but the muscles are soft and lazy. My physical memory is short. I've lost far more than I realized -- basic skills, automatic reflexes. Got to pull my mind away from the end of my goal... stop thinking and exist for the moment, in the here and now. Relax and take each step in its time -- let each move flow from the last and into the next. Stay within myself at all times... expanding the ambition of each move only when and as my skills return. Learn to absorb acceptable and necessary losses -- to achieve every available gain... and to prevail, even poorly... but at least to prevail.
Fear serves no purpose beyond triggering the primitive instinct of flight for self-preservation... but in this case we have to face our beast, hunt it down, and slay it.
I'm not going to present you with a fairy-tale image of Gotham. It's a hard luck town. It always has been. It's a place of dark tragedies and bitter ironies. A city of deep shadows and sharp contrasts. A city that touches everyone who lives there. For good and bad. I see Gotham as an anvil. One is broken or tempered on it. So many trials. So much misfortune. So little hope. But some thrive there. Gothamites are a tough breed. They're proud of their town and their talent for living in it. My family has lived there for two centuries. It was there that they built the financial giant that is a leading player in a half dozen industries. And it was Gothamites who helped build it. By their sweat and their labor and sometimes their lives they made Gotham a world competitor. Against all the odds. Maybe Gotham is inspiring in its own way. Inspiration spurred by fear. Or something even darker. But despite their troubles and their setbacks, Gothamites keep going. And there's something noble about that. It's an admirable trait, I think. Every city has its own personality. I like to think that dogged determination is Gotham's. It's a town that's never had its hand out. That's never played the victim. It's a town that's used to standing alone. It bears being maligned and forgotten. It helps itself. Even when the burdens become too great. Even when it should be screaming for rescue. But the people of Gotham know that justice can be an illusion. And rescue has its price. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Gotham can only help itself from this latest catastrophe -- with your help -- the country's help. I know the people of my hometown will work hard to rebuild. I know they'll repay this nation for any sacrifice it has to make. There's simply more to be gained by helping us than abandoning us. And I'm betting my entire fortune on it. Without a single doubt or regret.
You can't fight fate, and you can't survive alone... I can't help but notice that almost seems like a definition of who I am... A person who's trying to do both.
Bruce Wayne is a mask I wear, that I've been wearing since I was a child... but it's become a liability, so it's over. Bruce Wayne and his troubles aren't my concern anymore. The only thing that matters now is my mission. Nothing will stand in the way anymore.
I lost sight of what all of you mean to me... And lost sight of the fact that an innocent woman was brutally murdered for no reason other than to hurt me...
If Clark wanted to, he could use his superspeed and squish me into the cement. But I know how he thinks. Even more than the Kryptonite, he's got one big weakness. Deep down, Clark's essentially a good person... and deep down, I'm not.
I made a promise on the grave of my parents that I would rid this city of the evil that took their lives. Tonight... I nearly became a part of that evil...
The LexCorp Gulf Stream 5 has the same specifications as WayneTech's Air Glide 3. Lucius tells me that we'll be in court for years over patent infringement. Having knowledge of the inner workings of the aircraft gives me the edge. It's one of the few times I'm grateful for the way LexCorp does business.
And as the sun, that had been too afraid to show its face in this city, started to turn the black into grey, I smiled. Not out of happiness. But because I knew... that one day, I wouldn't have to do this anymore. One day, I could stop fighting. Because one day... I would win. One day, there will be no pain, no loss, no crime. Because of me, because I fight. For you. One day, I will win.
I've gone through times doubting the need for a -- sidekick. Now I see. The brightness of him. I need to see that light more. I need hope. I fear for Tim. Harvey. Selina. Dick. Alfred. And my city -- filled to capacity with every conceivable variety of maniac.
We're a team. Wayne Manor should be your home. Dick was my ward. Legally, it gave him security. I think you should have that too. However... the laws have changed. can't adopt you as my ward. For you to have the security I feel you deserve... I'd have to adopt you as my son. I don't know how you feel about that, Tim. I do know that I could never replace your real father, but I'd try to --
In my attempts to see clearly in the deepest dark, in my efforts to go to the still eye in the storm of madness, did I open up myself to some pure source of evil? Did I finally reach the limits of reason? And find the Devil waiting? And was that fear in his eyes?
Look, all of you, until this time, he's only come after you tangentially, to get to me. But now, he's saying he's coming for each of you head-on. And when Joker comes for you, he goes for everything you love, everything you care about, to destroy it.
Your training isn't worth anything to me. There are people who've trained their entire lives and fallen in this war. Did you really think it was as easy as picking up a taser? What did you think? That I would see how much you've grown and take you back to my base? Tell you my real name? Give you a car and a cape and let you fight by my side? This isn't a game, Harper! If you pursue this, you will die, do you understand me?!
Seems Clayface has mutated. What little is of Basil Karlo's DNA is disappearing fast. Meaning, Clayface is no longer an actor. No longer a mimic. If he samples a person's DNA, brushes their skin, finds a single hair, he can absorb it and fully become them. Which means, he's truly a clay man now. Everyone and no one. The only question is...who will he become next?
Whoever it was that just tried to kill me, he was good. But he made one mistake. He tried to use Gotham's legends against me. But I'm the only legend this city needs.
You think you can fool me? You think so? You can't. Because I know all the tricks. Hell, I invented them. And sooner or later... I will find you. Wherever you are... you can't hide from me. Hide in the dark. Because I live here... in the dark... in Gotham. It's my city.
You asked me before, what the Court did to me. What they did was show me the truth. That the Gotham City I thought I knew, my city... doesn't exist. They showed me that the real Gotham, the Gotham out there, is a city of birds, a city of owls. It's a stranger and an enemy... it always has been. And I'll tell you, Dick, if someone could've protected me from that truth, I'd have been grateful.
If Damian's next surprise is anywhere near as personal as the first, I might want to be alone. Wouldn't want you to see the dark harbinger of justice burst into tears.
I'm tired of marking the night I watched my father bleed out from his sucking chest wound and my mother from a hole in her throat. It's not how they died that should be remembered, it's how they lived. That's why, from here on out, I'll be honoring their wedding anniversary and not their final night on this planet.
Don't think I didn't notice the restraint you just showed, Robin. Refusing to pound these fellows with the excessive force you wanted to is commendable.
If you cared about me and what I've lost, you'd want to dredge this up! Don't you see-- there's a chance you can help me erase one of the worst days of my life, Jason! You can give me the greatest gift of all and help me figure out how to bring my son back!
If I'm going to be honest with you, Damian, I'll need to be honest with myself. It's not just the upbringing that your mother forced on you that made you who you are... I'm also to blame.
Police scanner reports a warehouse full of bodies. Seemingly poisoned. All bearing some semblance of a rictus-like grin, even in death. Gordon's bound to be there.
Batwoman assessment. Final conclusion. Regarding her civilian identity, my theory proved correct. Kate Kane is Batwoman. It is time she and I have a serious discussion about the future.
And one more thing: Keep Flamebird out of the Weeping Woman case until you know what you're dealing with. Murdered sidekicks tend to come back from the dead. As super-villains.
Attention Gotham City police. This is the Batman, and I've just taken over your airwaves. Some of you have seen me, some of you have even worked with me before. All of you know I'm good to my word. Now I'm asking you to take me at that word, and follow my orders.
No more games. You're anything but stupid. It's beyond that. All the thefts! The fights! The idiotic risks! It's all leading to one unavoidable end! Is that what you want?! Do you want to DIE?!
I tell myself to stay out of sight and return later with back-up. It's the only sensible thing to do. It's the only sensible thing to do. But then my mind's eye flashes on those bodies, hanging from hooks like sides of beef.
You should know, whatever created you, whatever Yatz shot you up with contained not only the Doctor’s nano-technology, the smart skin, but also elements of the Joker’s so-called “venom”. I’ve seen men driven insane from exposure to it… Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they don’t.
What I am... was born from death. So we fight, David. We fight what's outside... it helps what's within. You're a hero. And you honor us all with your strength.
There's law -- and there's justice. What have you gained by all this? Nothing. You've put yourself in your own prison. And I'll always be around to make sure you stay there. That's the promise I made -- and that's the promise I'll keep. For the rest of our lives.
I couldn't forget Hassan's words: ""Yourcountry-- it does not murder? It does not bomb women and children? It does not prop up a dozen tyrants who brutalize and persecute their peoples?"
The doubt is still there. Even if it were an illusion, there is the uncertainty. Is it possible that I never brought their killer to justice? And in the end, does that matter? Does that make a difference in what I do? No. It does not.
Debbie Farrow will never fall in love. She will never have children. She will never fulfill whatever dreams she had. She will never have anything again. Because of you. Doesn't that make you want to die?
What? You'll come up with a better gas? Or you'll pick at the scabs of my psyche and find a deeper fear? Don't you understand I've faced terror a wretch like you could never imagine -- and I overcame. This boy has been through more than you've ever known. He's beyond your illusions too. You have no power. You're the joke you always feared you might be.
Hugh Marder, their president, a man I actually like, has been working feverishly to develop technology that'll aid in the development of cancer drugs. I trusted he was working on the technology he so enthusiastically put all his weight behind. But this...
The quest for traveling faster than the speed of light. I get it. But why is it here? Was Marder testing it on himself? Trying to propel himself through space?
A few months ago, after my last' trouble with the Joker, all these lunatics were allowed to congregate in Old Grant Park. I thought it was a very bad idea. For them.
You know the sort of people I've gone up against, so you know I don't say this lightly... but the Joker? Riddler? Croc, Scarecrow and the others? He's in their league. Only without the crippling psychoses to cloud his judgment.
People think it's an obsession. A compulsion. As if there were an irresistible impulse to act. It's never been like that. I chose this life. I know what I'm doing. And on any given day, I could stop doing it. Today, however, isn't that day. And tomorrow won't be either.
Everyone looks up to you. They listen to you. If you tell them to fight, they'll fight. But they need to be inspired. And let's face it, "Superman"... the last time you really inspired anyone -- was when you were dead.
Why? Because some Greek psychic, high on inhalants told you we might all die? The JLA has taken on Darkseid. And won. But we were united. Doing this on your own just increases the chances that you'll fail.
We'll be ready. Justice is always ready. That's why evil always fails. There's only one kind of good, and it's all evil ever gets to battle. Makes it weak and narrow-minded. There's an endless variety of evil. And good's got a lifetime of tricks up its sleeve. We learn from the best.
We die every day. A thousand times an hour. Anyone who does this work sees it. Death. Their own... their partner's... their loved ones. We go to work anyway. Death is powerless against you if you leave a legacy of good behind. Death is powerless against you if you do your job. My father saved the lives of over four thousand people, one at a time... with his bare hands and his mind. Death was with him the entire time.
He calls himself "Scarecrow." Psychologist turned psychopath. He preys on the innocent and instill them with fear. When I chose to wear my... costume, it was to prey upon the criminals, and instill them with fear. The irony is not lost on me...
My name is Bruce Wayne. When I was ten, my parents were murdered in front of my eyes. I've spent my life training to fight the same kind of criminals that took their lives. But this is different. This isn't about me. This is bigger than I am. And it's bigger than you are.
This is a war, Dick. Robin is my second... my lieutenant. Anything less than total devotion to this cause is simply wasting my time. I'll say it again... you're fired, Dick. Get out of my cave.
I need a team people expect the worst from-- a team that bad guys see as kindred spirits. All those "screw-ups" you refer to-- the coup in Africa, the Nuke in Russia, the Prison Riot-- they got you branded as terrorists. As much as you hate it, that's exactly why the Outsiders will accomplish things no so-called heroes can. And if you refuse to be a part of that, well... then you're everything I always hoped you would be. Go back to the good fight, Dick. Leave the bad fight to us.
Plastic Man survived for 3000 years as little more than crumbs scattered around the Atlantic. If that doesn't give you an idea of the level of power he hides behind that doofy smile of his, then you're brain dead.
You wouldn't know a decent impulse if it punched you square in the jaw! I think it's time we ended your little coup--! I didn't think there'd be anybody worse for this country than Harjavti -- but lady -- you're the bottom of the barrel!
You remember the conditions of our agreement. You disobeyed a direct order in the field. No excuses. That was also part of our deal. You're fired. Take the rest of the afternoon to gather your things and retrieve your personal files out of the computer. Take everything now, because you won't be back. The codes will be changed as soon as you leave. I gave you a fair shot. You didn't measure up, but there's no shame in that. And Stephanie? Let this be the end to all of it. From now on, I don't expect to see Spoiler out there either.
Supergirl, you're one of the most powerful creatures on the planet. If someone intelligent were to come after you, they wouldn't attack you directly. They'd try to trick you. Surprise you. Remember Supergirl... only your body's invulnerable.
No, Clark, you're missing the point of the question. Why do I keep that giant penny? Or old costumes, models of the Batmobile? Orphans are collectors, Clark. Losing so much... makes it that much harder to give things up.
Croc was crazed, insane, lashing out... I'm not sure he knew where he was. Or who he was fighting. He's all rage - desperate, desperate rage. Not that it was helping me any.
What would I say...?... That I wanted her? That I didn't care if she was married? That here we are trapped in Darkseid's hell in space--death and torture all around us--and yet I would be nowhere else. Because of her. Because of Bekka. My beautiful, beautiful Bekka. God help me.
So the obvious path is, who else knew he was doing the story? Who else wanted to protect my identity? Who would want to stop this story enough to kill?
You're an architect, Clark,. You're building a future. I'm a fireman. I put out fires as best I can, and then move on to the next one. Go build your future, Kent. I've got work to do.
It is a remarkable dichotomy. In many ways, Clark is the most human of us all. Then... he shoots fire from the skies and it is difficult not to think of him as a god. And how fortunate we all are that it does not occur to him.
Like the earth he sprang from, he deserved our respect. Perhaps even our love. But he's gone... and as ever, it's futile to speculate on what might have been.
I won't lose anotherRobin. Youagree to work with me -- to do what I say when I say it -- to trust me like I'll come to trust you... then we have a deal. Partner.
Death is powerless against you if you leave a legacy of good behind. Death is powerless against you if you do your job. My father saved the lives of over four thousand people, one at a time... with his bare hands and his mind. Death was with him the entire time.
Let you in on a little secret, Superman. I can't fly. Bullets don't bounce off my chest. I can't bend steel in my bare hands. But criminals fear me. I'm sorry normal citizens do too, but I'd rather have that than word on the street what a nice guy I am. That sort of talk could get me killed.
I didn't pull the trigger on Robin and Batgirl, but I might as well have. I trained them. I let them wear the costumes that made them targets. It doesn't matter that the Joker shot Barbara Gordon, not Batgirl. It was only a matter of time.
Criminals are a superstitious cowardly lot -- so I have to wear a disguise that will strike terror into their hearts! I must be a creature of the night, black, terrible, like a... a... a bat!
You have a choice. You can crawl -- on your bellies -- and plead for her forgiveness. That's the first choice. The second is -- I hurt you. Choose one. Choose the second.
It's been quiet in Gotham of late...almost too quiet. So, having actually invoked that old cliche, something should be going awry somewhere in town right about--