Batman's Closing Stage

Since the last disgraceful incident, which occurred over two months ago, he came to the realization that things were changing. He hated change. Sorry, but he did. Change preordained the process of adaptation, which was not something he was really into these days. He used to be really good at it, a very adept regulator that was able to do as he pleased, as abnormal or normal as society required him to be. Society is really what brought him here today. He could still remember when he was feared, when delinquents cowered back in trepidation at the very sight of him, at the sound of his name. When he was at his prime, a superior figure among both citizens and heroes alike. He was the man with the shadow. Nowadays, he was just a shadow.

Sometimes, when he was younger and in a way undeveloped, he would wonder about what it'd be like to finally be at this point. The thought never occurred to him that...well, the thought never occurred to him. He supposed he never setted on an answer, and that was probably for the best at the time. Unfortunately if he were to do the same now, there was no need. Why did it matter? He was already there. He was smart, and sometimes surprised that he was smart enough to allow himself to finally admit it, even if afterward a headache pounded his skull that usually lasted hours on end. Gotham City didn't have this much trouble admitting it, however. Every now and then, when he did decide to venture outside, it was obvious that his presence was inadequate as it'd ever been in all his years of work. Even in daylight.

Part of him wanted to make a comeback that is usually only seen in comic books and at the end of action of war movies. Minus getting the girl. But pain caused by recognition of something you wanted to deny forever was awful, and getting this far was enough. If he tried the extra mile and ended up falling short, how would that benefit in any way? And who? It wouldn't, and that was his final decision, although it was distressing. His morale was already beaten up, along with his mind and body he presumed. Hi doctor frightened him enough to the point he wondered if he'd snap in half if he jumped off a stature more than two feet. "Bruce, your body is falling apart," he'd say while taking off his rimless glasses, "and it'll only get worse if you continue carrying out your purpose for much longer." It was questionable if he was even being sincere, or if he had other intentions. Purpose, as in his job? Or his life? Even his own medicine man was against him.

Two months ago, he heard his calling and came to. He wasn't as swift in this night and age, but that never stopped him after a long day. When the police department had already been present, the shouts rang loud in his ears as he was pushed to the side, as they had the few times before that. Go away. We've got it under control, thanks for nothing. You're in the way. You're not needed here. He'd never let any villain or gangster or thug degrade him by any means, and now Gotham had turned? Had they realized that, in actuality, he wasn't going to be around forever? Later that night he had pulled out his uniform and studied it, almost for the first time. It was tattered and worn, and he had the sudden urge to toss it in a fire and forget that Batman ever existed, that he ever saved anyone or ever saved Gotham. That was finally when his thoughts of relinquishing were born.

Roaming the night was out of the question; he needed his proper rest. Battles were no longer his strong point; his bones were brittle. And his uniform hardly fit on his once vigorous form anymore. No one wanted a sluggish savior, and no one needed anymore problems. That included him. No, of course that's not what the work brought him, but in the end it was the people that made the decision. In the end, it's always the people that make a decision. This was a democracy, inside and out, no matter how many people saw red on the subject. And only they, if they stayed intact, could break a grown man's sense of worth. That is what had been done. And tonight, as soon as the sun goes down, he will wander out into the street, throw his unifom in the dumpster, and go on about his business as a normal resident with a normal job and normal problems. A normal life. They no longer needed him, the police force was as strong as ever and bad people would continue to blossom and probably succeed in their transgressions until the world came to an end. As far as he was concerned, the people of Gotham City thought that this was the answer. Batman was to be no more. And, as far Bruce Wayne, he would become nearly just as dead.