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Bruce Wayne is the wealthiest man in Gotham City. His manor sits atop Wayne Hill, overlooking the countryside miles away from the lights of the city. Bruce is a secluded chap who wallows in his privacy, tucked away from the other rich socialites out and about the town. He lives alone with his dedicated butler Alfred, who works dust control to the enormity of Wayne Manor. These two lonely single men have a special relationship for they share a bond of secrecy.

By day, Bruce Wayne is a red robed sandal wearing playboy bachelor. By night, he transforms into a brooding masked caped crusader; the Batman. As the moon beams through the deep blue hues of Gotham City's skyline, all of the filth and degenerates scuttle in fear. For they know, when the sun goes down, the Batman emerges to cleanse the darkness.

Buried deep under Wayne Manor is a series of bat inhabited grottos crammed with super computers, ridiculous vehicles and crime fighting equipment. There is a pointless sign above the entrance to this underground fortresses stating its name in large gothic lettering, the Batcave.

Tonight the Batcave is silent, its unreasonable number of television monitors, gadgets and data processors are powered off. Only the sound of a few sleeping bats can be heard echoing through the vast cavernous space. The lack of activity in the Batcave on a starlit evening can mean only one thing, it's Tuesday - Batman's night off. This is the one time a week for Batman to relax, catch up on his Batly duties, indulge in his favorite late-night talk shows and partake in other sorts of pleasantries enjoyed by forlorn bachelors in their mansions.

Endless nights of crime fighting in the filth of Gotham City are hell to a superhero's outfit. Only patience and a lot of muscle can get rid of layers of blood and dirt imbedded in a cape. Batman has the strength, but his temper is trying.

Standing above a soapy water filled basin in the middle of Wayne Manor's enormous living room, Batman scrubs his garb against a washboard basking in the light of a full moon. A vein pops out in his forehead as his massive arms bulge with each furious stroke of the fabric on the ridges of the board. Bubbles float up out of the wooden sink as beads of sweat trickle down from Batman's furrowed brow. The washboard creaks as the pressure increases from his brawny fingers mashing the garment downward.

God dammit, Batman thinks to himself. This is the worst stain I've ever had to deal with. What is it even? Batman ponders as he examines the cloak more closely.

"It smells like actual shit." he states to himself. In his mind, Batman wonders if actually is shit.

Reaching down to the Bat-Belt around his waist, Batman procures and activates his handy Bat-Flashlight. Using detective skills honed through years of study and experience, Batman scours over the stain as if it was a clue left by a criminal. He notes the subtle hues of pea-green and earthen brown gunk smudged into the tightly woven fabric of the cape.

Another tool is retrieved from the Bat-Belt, the Bat-Microscope goggles. Batman tunes the goggles until he can see the stain at a microscopic level. He examines the various microbes swimming around in the brown, soapy mixture on his garment. Pausing for a second to process the information through his computer-like brain, Batman can only come to one conclusion.

"This is a fucking shit stain! How in the fuck did I get poop on my cape?!"

His temper rises as his face becomes flush. Gritting his teeth, he strains to recall how his outfit got so filthy. "I must have fallen into a pile of dog shit when I got thrown through that jewelry store window last night! Motherfucker! I hate this fucking dirty city!"

Batman pushes even harder on the washboard, he is determined to eliminate the fecal blemish.

"...why can't people pick the fucking shit up off the..." Every fiber of his being is put into the soapy strokes.

"...if I had it my way..." The washboard begins to crack.

"...kill all of that scum..." The strain becomes too great, its only one pass away from breaking.

"...burn the city to the ground..."

SNAP!

Batman's colossal paw drives straight through the washboard and into the bottom of the basin, knocking it over and spilling the cold, soapy, dirty water all over the polished wooden floor. Ruining priceless furniture and rugs in the process, the turd colored water flows through the cracks and crevices in the floorboards before settling a soppy mess.

Batman stands in a furious silence quivering and sopping wet, wearing only his mask, poop stained cape, and Bat-Underwear while a the puddle of dirty water soaks into Bat-Socks. Another veins pops out of his forehead as his left eye begins to twitch.

Suddenly Wayne Manor is bathed in a beam of bright yellow light that is projected from within Gotham City. The light shines through the giant windows of the mansion and illuminates Batman in his predicament. Even though his is blinded by the intensity of the beams, Batman instantly recognizes the source of the radiance. It is his calling card; it is the only way the city has to contact their savoir in times of crisis; it is light of the Bat-Signal.

"GODDAMN THESE FUCKING PEOPLE!" He roars out. "Why me, why choose me! I didn't ask for this!"

Batman's head and hands begin to tremble as tears stream through his mask. "I can't take it anymore! I have had enough of this bullshit!"

Stepping forward to take a dramatic Shakespearian pose under a beam of light from the Bat-Signal, he bellows out, "TAKE CARE OF YOUR OWN DAMN-" Batman's pose is unexpectedly interrupted as he slips in the puddle and lands face first on the shit stain in his cape.

SNAP!

The sound is heard across the expanse of Gotham City. Every man, woman, bum, criminal, and super-criminal hears it. It is the sound of a man pushed farther to the edge than any other before him. It is the sound of a great tension breaking, a stress that Batman has had building inside him since the first day he donned his mask. Such a snap would drive anyone, even Batman, completly mad.

24 Hours Later.

Batman sits alone in Wayne Manor on a simple couch, with a warm beer can resting in his right hand, and a television remote hanging in his left hand. There is nothing on the screen but a soothing glowing static, lighting Batman's sullen unshaven face, baggy eyes and empty grin.

The flickering flames of a fire can be seen in the reflection of Batman's eyes. However the fireplace is not lit in Wayne Manor on this night. Instead Batman is being warmed by the smoldering embers of Gotham City, burning to the ground. Smoke and ashes flow through the mansion, through the Bat-Cave and into the silent night.

Gotham City is no more, Batman has burned it to the ground. But in doing so, he has found a way to escape his duties, to finally find peace, and to be rid of Gotham's troubles forever.

Article was last edited on Thursday, January 14th, 2010 @ 12:37 PM