“I don’t have eyes on Spoiler,” Oracle said, crisply.
“When did you lose her?” Batman asked.
“Ten minutes ago. I don’t know what’s going on.” Oracle hesitated. “I’m not sure, Batman, but I think she might be in distress.”
“Understood.”
***
Bruce followed the real-time trail of breadcrumbs Oracle was assembling for him. It seemed as arbitrary and as careless as she was, going everywhere and nowhere.
And then it landed there. On the roof of a hospital. Spoiler was
there, sitting back against a chimney, the cape pooling around her as
she bent over her knees, head cradled in her hands, her forearms resting
along her thighs.
She was shaking, sobbing, helplessly.
Bruce knelt by her. “Spoiler?”
“Don’t touch me,” Spoiler managed, her chest heaving. “Don’t you come near me.”
Bruce stood up and carefully retreated a few feet away. “Oracle is worried about you.”
Spoiler shook her head violently, and pushed herself upwards,
dragging her mask off her face and wiping her eyes, still sagging back
against the chimney. “Oracle doesn’t like me.”
“She’s worried about you,” Bruce repeated.
Stephanie straightened her back and tilted her head up, so that she
was looking straight up into oblivion. “You know what I’m starting to
figure out?” she said. “That worry and love and like aren’t all the same.”
“Spoiler…”
“That girl,” Stephanie said, her voice full of anguish. “That little girl.”
“She’s going to be all right, Spoiler.”
Stephanie shoved her face into Bruce’s, her bare nose right up against the tip of the thick kevlar cowl. “She’s not,” Stephanie said, with their faces not an inch apart. “They cut her foot off, Batman. She’s never going to be okay.”
I just… the reason you “hated Batman killing” was because you were supposed to. You had the correct reaction to this movie because this movie was written to give Batman a very harsh and hard reality check.
It’s actually one of the most incredible bitter pills the fandom could take to cure the gross toxically hypermasculine culture that Batman has become an unfortunate symbol for.
You were fed that shit with a dose of reality and you rejected it, congratulations. This movie meant to DO something to you, not make you feel warm and fuzzy about American capitalist exceptionalism.
There are probably worse ways to make a first impression on Batman,
Steph thought giddily, pressing her wadded up cape against the bullet
graze on Robin’s skull. The blow had knocked him unconscious, and the
bullet had cut away hair and skin, leaving a long, jagged scrape that
was currently bleeding copiously over her thighs. She looked down at
her lap and was suddenly reminded of the time when she was thirteen and
she got caught unawares without a tampon or a pad or anything.
A dark and ominous presence dropped down beside her.
“Robin,” Batman said, in a voice that crept in the shadows. She totally wasn’t intimidated by it, not even a little bit.
“It’s just a graze, it’s not too deep,” Steph said, lifting her cape
from the wound long enough to let him see for himself. “My, uh, my mom,
she’s a nurse. I know first aid. I think he’s just gonna needs
stitches or staples?”
Batman stood, but he kept looking down at Robin, lying in her lap.
“You should go,” Steph blurted. “You’ve got to catch them, Batman!”
it’s really wild to see how batman has evolved over time as a consequence of writers wanting to change everything while also changing nothing because any comic that lives that long is a shambling stitched-together corpse
early batman is a swashbuckler and he’s having a good-ass time beating up these bad guys, because he existed in the context of organized crime being a big fucking problem. they were coming out of the 1930s. that’s the era of al capone, you know? john dillinger only died five years ago and he was a fucking celebrity. and batman shows up to be like YOU KNOW WHAT’S COOLER THAN SHOOTING PEOPLE AND BRIBING GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS? BEING BATMAN.
early batman could not have been more clearly edutainment, pulpy enough to make kids feel like they were reading That Good Shit but always with a really obvious message (the message was DON’T DO A CRIME). he fights a lot of giants because having to protect yourself from people twice your size is very #relatable to children.
when he adopts robin it’s very clearly to give kids a character to relate to more strongly than they can bruce wayne–FIGHTING CRIMES ISN’T JUST FOR RICH MEN, IT’S ALSO FOR COOL KIDS LIKE YOU. see how cool robin is, kicking the shit out of these dudes? don’t you wanna be cool, like robin? he’s from the circus, that thing you wanted to run away to because that’s a viable life choice in this era!
bruce wayne was rich but his whole cover was that rich people are fucking useless. a man who inherited money? a fucking useless, lazy shit, no question. this was just accepted by everyone, that obviously an heir would never be suspected of doing anything that might take effort. the difference in attitude on a fundamental level toward the idle rich is staggering.
his wealth is also MONUMENTALLY downplayed, in the same way you see in old movies. they deliberately did not film the philadelphia story in an actual mansion because they didn’t think anyone would believe that the rich got to live like that. so bruce wayne ends up looking like he lives in a tract home in a suburb. “is this how rich people live? yeah, sure, probably. who cares, let’s fight crimes.”
they only introduce a backstory after the comic has been going for a while, because at first it’s like? why would he need a reason to fight crime? it’s fun? but i guess they figured they had to create SOME reason for bruce wayne to not be completely useless, as all rich men are. why is bruce wayne the only rich man capable of doing cool shit? because his parents died, that’s why. check out robin kicking this dude in the head. fucking sweet, right?
there’s a whole storyline where batman fights a whole fucking town because it’s corrupt and the cops are corrupt and THE WHOLE DAMN SYSTEM IS CORRUPT so he’s gonna FIGHT THE WHOLE DAMN SYSTEM IF HE HAS TO, FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR COCAINE.
then the comics code happens and fucks everything. batman can’t fight, like, systemic corruption and dudes with tommy guns anymore. all the crimes get CARTOONY AS SHIT. the joker isn’t just a murderous jewel thief with a weird face, he’s a fucking clown. he’s a weird clown man committing clown crimes. puns everywhere. suddenly batman is fighting Supervillains, and they’re all insane. but they aren’t, really? they are a cartoon’s idea of insanity, like a wolf in a straitjacket getting hit on the head with a mallet. when a character is insane what that actually means is they’re wacky, they do weird shit, they have no meaningful motivation and do crimes for no reason because the alternative is having them commit real crimes for good reasons and that’s not good for the kiddos. the fact that batman changed so much after the code is fucking WILD because, remember, it was ALWAYS for the kids. it was BLATANTLY for the kids. the code still managed to fuck it just through the culture shift it created.
then later there’s this shift, again, away from the code and away from kids entirely. late seventies, i think? fuck if i know, i don’t know shit about damn. suddenly they want to be more GRITTY and REAL and DARK. they want REAL CRIME. batman is PUNCHING RAPISTS IN ALLEYS. but this isn’t the era of dillinger anymore. as a society, collectively, we understand more about crime and the societal forces that drive people to crime and so on. there are a lot of alley rapists in this era of comics tbh and this is probably why. rapists always deserve to get punched regardless of class struggle. also at this point we understand more about violence, and people who are violent, who commit acts of violence and solve problems with violence and enjoy being violent. a rich guy having a blast kicking a guy in the head for robbing a bank is no longer great optics.
so batman stops having fun. this is now his dark mission, his grim assignment. he doesn’t like this job, but someone’s gotta do it. he will not smile as he punches a rapist in the head. this is serious business. i don’t necessarily have a problem with this decision, because i think it’s a legitimate course of action to say “in a modern context, these behaviors become unacceptable, and so we will change his behaviors so that he can continue to be a heroic figure”. that’s valid as a motherfucker and i wish more people would remember that the whole point of making batman a grump was so that he could continue to be a good guy, as opposed to the alternative of gleeful violence.
(getting rid of most of the violence is also good–he’s a detective–but these are comics we’re talking about here so lol)
and then there’s the villains. you’d think this would be the point where they say “hey, maybe let’s go back to the way some of our villains were before the code”. you’d think that if they hated the goofy villains so much they’d just move on. but it’s comics so nothing ever goes in the trash for good. and that’s when you have writers who look at a cartoon wolf in a straitjacket and they say “that’s not what insanity looks like! we should make him a sociopath.”
i mean you could have just said “let’s stop calling him crazy and try to find a better motivation for these crimes, like being an asshole” but instead now batman has all these villains with sociopathy and OCD and DID and schizophrenia, because that makes it REAL, because now instead of being cartoon crazy people committing cartoon crimes they are real crazy people committing real crimes!! OH BOY
and at some point someone looks at this and goes “you know i feel like this might be ableist as shit” and writers could have said “yeah in retrospect the only evil clown i’m aware of was legally deemed sane and didn’t actually commit thematically appropriate crimes, so maybe mental health isn’t the issue here” but instead they said “yes, batman is kind of an asshole to be punching these sick people, but he’s a necessary asshole because without him there would be Crazy Crimes and we all just have to come to terms with that i guess”
now we’re at this place where we’re trying to reconcile about eighty years of nonsensical horseshit and all of these decisions that were made because of shifting cultural attitudes or to sell comics or because one writer in particular assumed everyone would love his cool OC as much as he did, and there are writers going “you know, bruce wayne probably has pretty severe ptsd” and there are writers going “what if batman was the REAL villain all along” and there are writers going “lol rich man wears bat costume to punch the mentally ill and poors, did u ever think about that” and there are writers going “hey have you heard of this ayn rand chick because boy howdy i just did and now i’ve got ideas”
but the reality is that heroism and goodness are not static concepts that look the same to all people even within the same era and trying to reconcile every different version of what the popular conception of heroism has looked like for almost a century is dumb as hell and batman should have entered the public domain in 2014
When Jon is still tiny, godfather Bruce scores extra babysitting hours by lending Lois one of his grapple guns. Walking around with it in her bag makes her feel extra badass.
He taught her how to use it and got to keep Jon for a whole weekend.
Dear god, the idea of Lois with a grappling gun is TERRIFYING.
Just imagine. You’re a CEO who’s been involved in some shady dealings, and they’ve come to light. You’ve spent the entire week dodging the press, and finally get a chance to relax in your office, safely behind three layers of security.
As you make it to your office, you notice a slight draft. Huh, who left the window open, you wonder as you walk over to close it. You sink into your expensive office chair with a sigh. This week has been a nightmare. Sure, you may have payed off some politicians and stiffed some contractors, but you don’t think you deserve this kind of exhaustion. You’re a businessman, after all. Everyone does this, you were just the one with the bad luck to get caught.
Well, at least now you have some time to yourself. You yawn and start to doze off.
“Excuse me, Mr. Paxton?”
Your eyes shoot open. Who said that? Your vision focuses and there she is, hanging upside down from the ceiling.
“Lois Lane, Daily Planet. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“You gave her a grappling gun?”
Bruce barely glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to the infant he was shaking a set of plastic keys at. “Look, Jon. Who is that? Is that your daddy? Did he come to see you?”
“Actually, he came to ask Uncle Bruce why he and Mommy are conspiring to put Daddy in an early grave.” Clark held his arms out expectantly as Bruce gathered himself and Jon from the floor, inwardly sighing when Bruce stopped just short of his reach. “What?”
Bruce eyed his outstretched arms warily. “It’s Friday.”
“Yes…?”
“Lois said I could keep him until Sun-”
“Just give me my kid, Bruce.”
Bruce huffed his displeasure but did hand Jon over, and Clark could physically feel himself softening once his son was in his arms. Looking down at the bright-eyed, curly-haired little boy dressed in a Wonder Woman onesie and gnawing on a plastic key ring made it hard to remember why he was supposed to be annoyed with anyone.
Still…
“Seriously, Bruce? A grappling gun?” But he was smiling now, and it seemed to be enough to relax Bruce from his defensive posture.
“Yes?” One shoulder lifted in the barest shrug. “You already knew she had it.”
“I knew she carried it around sometimes, not that she knew how to use it.”
“She didn’t. Until I showed her. …That why I get to keep him until Sunday.”
Clark tore his eyes away from his son to fix his best friend with a look of resigned disbelief. “You traded grappling gun lessons for a weekend of babysitting.”
Bruce stared back at him impassively. “Yes.”
Clark let the silence stretch a few seconds before prompting, “Do I have to ask why?”
“Well, she didn’t seem interested in the Batarangs.”
“Bruce…”
“And there was no way I was letting her drive the Batmobile, so-”
“Bruce.”
Bruce gave him another few seconds of emotionless stare-down before his brow furrowed just slightly. “Dick’s at the shore with the Gordons this weekend.”
Clark suppressed another sigh, bouncing Jon a little in his arms. “You know, she would have let you watch him if you’d just told her you were gonna be bored and lonely. Hell,” he continued before Bruce could protest the very idea of sharing his feelings, “she probably would have said yes if all you did was ask.”
“Don’t swear in front of the kid.”
“She actually likes you, Bruce.”
“I know that,” Bruce insisted, stressing the verb in a way that told Clark he really wasn’t so confident. “We’ve known each other longer than you have.”
“Exactly.” But, wow, that was always weird to be reminded of. That Bruce and Lois had an entire history, relationship, and world that didn’t involve Clark at all or only tangentially at best. It didn’t bother him at all. It was just weird.
(And since that world was at least partially comprised of bizarre baby-bartering, it was probably one he was content not to be a part of.)
“You don’t have to be so…” Intimidated? No, not a good word to use. How about… “Hesitant about these kinds of things. And you don’t have to trade favors.” And it was maybe a little unfair when coupled with his next words, but Clark gave him the most beaming, disarming, sincere smile in his arsenal. “You’re family, B.”
Bruce’s eyes widened just a fraction of a fraction, his face warming with the beginnings of a flush before he caught himself and looked away, and yes, that had been completely unfair and uncalled for, but Clark didn’t feel even the slightest bit guilty.
“God,” Bruce muttered, glaring determinedly at the wall. “Fine.”
Clark beamed even brighter, unable to resist pressing just a little more. “Okay…?”
“Okay! Yes, fine. Stop smiling.”
“Not happening.” He did, however, tone his grin down to emotionally manageable levels for Bruce and turned its powers to Jon for a moment, chuckling. “But seriously, B. A grappling gun?”
“Why not?” Bruce shrugged again. He was still staring at the wall, but his glare had relaxed. “Seems to make her happy.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Her job’s already dangerous.”
“So why add to it?”
“It’d only really be adding to it if she were bad at it. But she’s pretty good.”
“Pretty good?”
“She could stand a little more upper body strength if she really wanted to master it.” Something like… not quite fear, but maybe apprehension flickered in Bruce’s eyes, and he looked quickly back to Clark. “You can tell her that.”
Clark’s grin turned mischievous, and a singsong note snuck into his voice. “You’re afraid of her…”
“Of course I’m afraid of her. I’m smart.”
Clark gave a half-shrug and nod combo. “Granted. But still, I’m not-”
“Listen, Clark…” Bruce cut him off, his shoulders and mouth sagging in the way that signaled he was resigning himself to open and clear communication. “I know I don’t have to remind you, but Lois can take care of herself.”
Clark stopped himself before he could open his mouth, holding Jon a little closer and letting Bruce continue.
“I know she… I know we’re all fragile… squishy little humans you can’t help but want to brood over like a hen on a nest. Yes, I know I’m one to talk, shut up. But we’ve been watching out for ourselves a long time before you showed up. We’re happy to… We’re grateful that you’re here to help. But you don’t have to hold our hands the whole way.”
Clark once again let a measured silence pass. Then he tilted his head to the side. “Are you saying you want to hold hands, Bruce?”
Bruce looked the least impressed Clark had ever seen him. “We were having a moment.”
“I know.”
“You ruined it.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Not enough to stop grinning entirely, but he did incline his head concedingly. “You’re right, though.” Lois had already said as much earlier. (Again, weird.) “But I’m always going to worry.”
“Fine, worry. Obviously. God knows I’ve called Dick three times already today, and the most risky thing he’s doing is eating amusement part hot dogs.” Bruce’s gaze flicked to the phone sitting on the couch, and Clark suspected he would have made more than three calls if he hadn’t been distracted by Jon. “Just maybe not so much that you barge into my house in the middle of the day in full uniform.”
Jon chose that moment to pat at the “S” on Clark’s chest, giggling, and Clark passed a sheepishly glance between them. “Noted.”
“Good.”
“But for the record, you’ve got negative room to be talking about barging into people’s homes in full uniform at any time of the day.”
“Also, noted.”
“Also, good.”
Bruce dropped his eyes to the tiny, babbling child in Clark’s arms and smiled for the first time since Clark got there. “Besides, Kansas, Lois might actually be safer this way.”
“How do you figure?”
“Now she’s got a way to save herself when she’s pushed off a building for the… What is it now? The twenty-eighth time?”
“Twenty-seventh,” Clark said with a sigh then blinked. “That… is true. She’s really annoyed by that.”
“So I’ve heard. And…” Bruce’s smirk was practically gleeful. “Think of how this broadens our combined horizons for inconveniencing Luthor.”
“That is a… very good point.” Clark nodded slowly, gaze drifting upward. “Perry, too. He was so pi-” His eyes darted down to Jon. “Ticked off today.”
“I bet.”
“And Steve moped for three hours about how he didn’t get to have a grapple gun…” Clark shook his head, meeting Bruce’s gaze again when a defeated laugh. “Okay, I give. You’re right. This is a win-win.”
Bruce smiled with false modesty, his tilted head and open-palmed shrug clearly saying, “Yes, of course I’m right, Clark. Thanks for joining us.”
“Yeah, yeah, Batman’s right, and Superman’s wrong. Film at 11.”
“Technically, Batman and Lois are right, and-”
“Do you want the kid back or not?”
“Yes, please.” Bruce shut his mouth and held his arms out to receive Jon, who started making grabbing motions with his tiny hands once he saw who he was being handed off to and gurgled happy nonsense once settled against Bruce’s shoulder, patting at his face with the plastic keys.
“What?” Bruce asked in response to Clark’s raised eyebrow, and this time his smirk was positively shit-eating. “Aliens love me.”
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