Part Thirty

The White House,

            The president stood holding his breath gazing at the screen. His heart was beating in his throat; many things raced through his incoherent mind. Can Superman stop the bomb in time? Can he stop this rampaging beast? What will the people think of their President now, had he made the right choice? He regretted releasing the nuclear bomb, he regretted having this responsibility. Nonetheless Superman has not been present in months, he had no choice, and it was their last alternative. The mental images of people running for their lives yanked at his heart; it was the images of innocent children among those in loss that tore him. Sirens and alarms were vibrating in the air, buildings were tumbling and underground gas lines were exploding. Was what he was witnessing, the dawn of the apocalypse? Will there be an end to this living nightmare? Had he done the right thing? The President dug into his pockets, searching for his handkerchief. Feeling something of a pin, he pulled it out and opened his hand. It was a button of the man of steels emblem. He rubbed his thumb across the symbol as a smile cracked the sides of his mouth. He felt recharged, he felt hope and he trusted that word of the nuke, would get to Superman in time.

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            Ground Zero,

            Batman pulled his cowl over his head; he winced as pain shot through him, wondering if he had the strength to carry on. Jason’s voice resounded in his head, “You mustn’t give up Bruce! You are Batman.” With that, he took in a deep breath and picked up the canister. The ticking bomb took him back, how he tried to get to Jason in time. He could hear Joker’s insidious laughter knowing he had won. How the Bat broke into a million pieces. The sound of his heart thumped inside his head like a beating drum. Thump, thump... thump, thump. He could feel Jason slip away and there was nothing he could do. How he heard that thumping slow, and eventually stop. The coldness he felt from Jason, the pain that ripped his heart apart. How he loved Jason, he loved him, and it tore him not letting him know. How he wanted him to be so much like him, the crime fighter, the dark knight. He had forgotten where he was, Batman stood staring at the bomb. Joker was speaking to him, but he never heard a word as everything that had happened, leading up to now, had replayed over in his head. Turning his head to Joker, finally his voice penetrated his ears.

 

“What do you say, Batsy. Now that we are partners in crime, can I drive the bat mobile? I promise it will be a squeal.”

 

“Be my guest,” Batman tossed Joker the keys as they shuffled side by side. “It’s all yours.”

 

Joker laughed in delight, “Hey, what’s the big idea? These aren’t the keys to the bat mobile. They’re keys to that rust bucket we rolled in on… get it, rolled in. Ha!” Joker looked on as Batman kept walking; Joker shook his head, “tough crowd.”

 

“We haven’t much time,” Batman looked at the ticking bomb, turning to Joker, he said. “We have to lure it to us. We need to get its attention somehow, any ideas?”

 

“Hey, you forget whom you are talking too,” Joker tugged at his collar with a grin, “this bag of goodies should have something we need.”

                      

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