Gotham's Dark Defender

Crane is no longer on the loose. He's in my custody.

My custody, as I'm sure will be illuminated to me, is not lawful, nor is it constructive. It's my belief that Crane needs structured punishment for what he has done: a trial, imprisonment, and psychiatric help. Not a pitchfork carrying mob and a chopping block.

Crane is from my world, and I know him. I know the scope of his threat, and his madness. I also know that what's in store for him is unacceptable in the state it currently exists. I want to surrender him - I will surrender him - but I have demands regarding his treatment that RISE will sustain, if they want my cooperation. This is my letter to RISE discussing my terms.


When it comes to standing trial, it is essential that Crane is treated as the mentally unsound man that he is. I'm sure nobody who experienced the effects of his fear gas, his "treatment" before, or his network behavior since, would doubt that. So from the moment he's surrendered until his trial, I want him overseen by a psychiatric professional. Secondly, in a trial of his peers, I cannot imagine that suitable people can be found who were not affected by his gas, or have friends affected, but the attempt to do so should be made. If impossible, I want to know - and I think the public ought to be aware - of how this unbalance of justice is going to be addressed in this "court's" judgement. Regardless he will be put to trial fairly and swiftly, with a full, paid, state defense--preferably with an import attorney. If one cannot be found then a suitable local attorney should be appointed to him, and paid for out of imPort pockets.

My final demand should be obvious: Crane cannot be allowed to mix with a native population, nor continue using the network the way he has been recently; you'll notice no interference from him presently, and up until his handover has been properly negotiated. Crane doesn't need fear gas to cause harm. He doesn't need his powers. He is Gotham's villain; he makes battle with his mind, not the blunted weapons of magical abilities and the supernatural, and that's what makes him dangerous. That's why I can be certain even now that my catching him, and my handing him over, are both elements of his agenda. You have been warned.

I don't think anything I'm asking for is beyond reason. They are concerns everyone here should have with the criminal justice system that they themselves allowed to take hold, and will be held accountable to if they break the law - as I have.

If you want Crane, then RISE needs only state it's intention to cooperate, prepare its tribunal, and in seven days I will hand him over to face the people's justice. If you want to come after me instead, then you can expect a fight.

"Justice cannot be for one side alone, but must be for both." That is all I'm asking for. Much is being done to rebuild in De Chima, the families of the people he hurt continue to need your help, but justice for them and justice for Crane are the same thing, and one cannot be leveled for the sake of revenge for the other.

The Watchtower Itself

Down in De Chima there is a gorgeous late 18th century building, tiered like a cake. Its uppermost floor features a handsome clocktower, but the penthouse suite behind it has suffered a fire, perhaps decades ago, and the windows are all boarded up. This is the Watchtower, the seat of the Justice League.

Opposite the grand entrance to the building, now owned by a pharmaceutical company, an alleyway creeps away into the nearby tower blocks and buildings. About halfway down this alleyway, an interesting piece of graffiti decorates the wall. Painted in reds and golds, it symbolises the Egyptian God Aker, guardian of the Underworld. At the foot of the graffiti, is an entrance to the city's sewer system, or at least an unused part of the old system, and on the metal cap of this is the word JVSTICE, discreetly embossed where only anyone looking for it would find it.

Inside the Watchtower entrance is a long, very dry sewer tunnel, lit only by hidden glass "windows" disguised as stones in the alleyway above. A modern steel door waits for the arriving hero, which identifies the person arriving primarily by their nano i.d.s, but subsequently uses heat signatures and voice commands to disarm the alarms that would otherwise sound in the tower. Just don't ask how Bruce got those voice recordings.

Enter through the doors, and the lift takes you to the uppermost penthouse floor of the building. Originally, the top three floors were gutted by fire, and it still bears these scars outside to make it seem unoccupied. Inside, steel covers all the windows, but the clockface is semi-transparent from within, and looks out over the city. The clock mechanisms, naturally, is still all in place, and the ancient steel girdles within give the modern set up the impression of being a part of two times; old and new.

The building is spacious and almost shapeshippy in its modernity. The steel structures are parted by glass walls, and great glass cases have room for costumes. Steel boxes and cases store various things but mostly the storage is empty, in order to allow room for Justice League members to use it. There is a solid block in which the computer is stored, and consoles all over the tower have access to the massive power of the computer. There are weapons mounted on walls, television monitors showing the news--

The watchtower is equipped with lush, comfortable seating in one quarter of the main floor, and in another a large, oval shaped conference table is set up, with a holographic projector in the center of it. A small kitchenette is squeezed into one corner. One final third of the ground floor is left to a medibay, complete with a disinfectant shower/containment tank, bed, and full body scanning equipment.

Above the main floor is an L shaped walkway, reached by sets of stairs on either side of the ground floor. There are more consoles and storage up here, but largely its redundant space. What is visible from this height, however, are the silver tubes extracting heat from the computer's servers, and a different angle of view through the clockface.

Oh, and there's a Batwing on the roof.

The Justice League

By now, anyone involved in the JL has probably been shown the tower, and are free to come and go as they please. This can totally be handwaved. Bruce or Bats could have handled that personally. Some characters were involved in getting the building ready for use, and can handwave that too (Supes? GL?) If there's any questions, let me know, or if you're doubtful your character is involved etc. etc.

At some point in the coming months, JL membership may be opened up slightly to people who are like minded. It really depends on how the coming months go.

Immediate plans follow concerns about Crane, the power void in Maurtia Falls, and muting cold war escalations wherever possible.

The Justice League itself, at least in this incarnation (as Bruce has envisioned it) has a singular purpose: to protect the people of this world, while members of the League are in it, and leave that continuing legacy to other imPorts as need be. They want to be organized to respond to any threat to people, irregardless of their nationality or the government which rules them. If need be, the JL will resist sovereignty, and the Watchtower's infrastructure is meant to facilitate vigilantism if the shit hits the fan. Rather than following governments and orders, the League will be stubbornly independent...which may cause fractions within, between existing members. But why don't we just cooperate? etc.

That isn't to say that if the US government calls on them they won't respond, but unlike RISE they aren't government supported, don't need to report back to them, and won't necessarily hand over information or prisoners. And if the government says 'Don't go to Russia and save people from this burning building', the JL's motto will just have to be 'Fuck you, authority.'

League members aren't permanently tied into League activity. Basically, as well as providing members a secret base to use in De Chima, they're only asked to respond to emergency calls from the League when a situation calls for an organised response, like say, a swear in getting gassed. Characters can be vigilantes, registered, unregistered--doesn't matter, but membership may affect your standing if the government chooses to retaliate, especially given the mess with Archangel.

ANY QUESTIONS?

Bruce Wayne, age eight, sat in the theatre, watching the stage ahead of him. The music rose, dramatic and fierce, and Bruce tensed, his heartbeat racing, anxiety building little by little. There were a horde of bats on stage, black and twirling on ropes, artistic and dancing, swirling, pressing in about his face. He was back in the well again, in flashes of panic, furry bodies and thrashing wings coming around him in a violent rush. Bruce wanted to scream, but he was better than that. They were surrounded by people. He looked at his mother, engaged in the oprah, and knew she wouldn't understand - nor did he want for her to know that he was afraid - so instead he turned toward his father, tugging very slightly at his sleeve.

"Can we go?" His father looked puzzled for a second, but Bruce tried harder to make him understand why it was important with just one word of urging. "<i>Please.</i>"

<i>Please understand.</i>

"Okay," his father said, in his theatre voice, and Bruce felt a rush of relief and affection. "Let's go." They began to stand, and his mother glanced over and recognized quickly that they were leaving. No fuss - not in public - leaving efficiently and without explanation. Even until they left the auditorium, Bruce could feel the beating of those wings about and inside him. His fear pressed him outside, but it was already beginning to feel silly by the time they reached the door and slipped out into the empty halls.

It didn't feel like just a silly play to Bruce, but that was all it was, after all; just actors on the stage. How could he possibly explain to his mother? He was supposed to be just like his father: strong, and brave, and capable of protecting her. He stayed quiet, hoping that she wouldn't notice, watching his feet as they came out into the alleyway, but nothing got past her.

"What's wrong, Bruce?"

His father was ready though. Like a knight in shining armor he came to Bruce's rescue. "No, no. It was me. I just needed some fresh air." He helped his mother into her coat, looking straight at Bruce as he did. "A little bit of oprah goes a long way. Right Bruce?" He winked, and Bruce's affection for him spiraled. His mother smiled too. "Come on," urged Thomas Wayne, bringing his family together. "Let's go."

When they turned, there was a man walking in the other direction toward them. Bruce didn't pay attention to his approach, but he could feel his father on edge beside him. When the stranger - and now he looked, blonde hair, skittish eyes - suddenly drew a gun: "Wallet, jewelry. Fast." --His father was ready for it. "Come on. <i>Fast</i>"

"That's fine. Take it easy." Even in the midst of his new, very real fear, Bruce felt the utmost respect for his father. But he was afraid, they all were. The tension was like a tightrope, and all it would take was one little upset for it all to come tumbling down. It was unreal, like a nightmare. Everything was happening so fast,and yet it seemed to take forever. Bruce barely breathed. How could this be happening?

"Take it easy," his father repeated, holding his attacker's gaze as he removed his wallet. "Here you go."

The worst possible thing happened. Both men were shaking, and the wallet slipped from their fingers and fell to the ground. Bruce sensed his father's fear, felt his own, saw it in the mugger's eyes. He sucked in a breath, but his father found control faster, stepped back with his hands raised, and then tried to comfort and console the desperate man. "It's fine," he said, his voice soft, authoritative, calm. "It's fine."

The stranger crouched to recover the wallet.

"Now just take it and go," his father said, and Bruce almost felt the relief of the scenario ending. The man would leave. He'd go, and this terrifying ordeal would be over, and he'd never ever, ever ask to leave the oprah early again, he promised.

"I said jewelry!"

The gun turned. The angle of the muzzle passed him as it moved for his mother, and his father moved with it, like he was tied to it by a piece of string. The muzzle flared, and the deafening sound of the gunshot rang out. His father fell against his mother, then tumbled to the ground. His mother screamed, screamed his name, following his father toward the ground in horror.

The mugger grabbed for his mother's string of pearls. Strangely it was the last sound and sight that made any kind of sense--the pearls snapping, falling to the ground. His mother's scream was cut off by the gunshot, but Bruce barely heard it. He only knew that his mother, and the pearls, and the shell from the gun, all hit the ground at the same time, and he snapped upright, turning toward the man, fully expecting the next bullet to be for him.

He felt afraid, and alone. The man looked at him only for a moment, and then he was running, and Bruce took his chance to look on the horrors that had been done to him. He turned, looking down at his parents, desperately hopeful. But there was no hope here. Not in this alleyway, not in this city. No hope to be found. No smile on his mother's pale face, lying on the ground in a pool of pearls, still and quiet. There was so little blood. Her heart wasn't beating.

His father, though, was still alive. His shirt was soaked with blood, and it pooled underneath him, spread like winding fingers around the cobblestones. His father looked up at him, and he was dying--both of them knew it. Emotion finally made it through the horror, and Bruce felt it swell in him, a kind of fear and misery that he'd never felt before, that surely nobody could ever survive feeling. His father took his hand.

"It's okay," Thomas said, softly, and Bruce could only sniff. He didn't even have time for tears. "Don't be afraid."

But he was. He was so, so afraid, because as he watched, kneeling on the wet ground beside his parents' bodies, he was left absolutely alone. The light died in his father's eyes, and he fell still, and Bruce let himself cry into the silence of the Gotham night, in shock, a chasm opened up inside of him.

Carrie [Here]

You know what to do. Comments screened, IP logging off, anonymous on.

anthropossugarbearcargojet[an. if using portions of this app must rewrite, especially if changing canon point. +Harvey +Joker +further details on close relationships; Bruce's personas do not cover all this information. bear in mind fused knee cartilage issue if tdkr; strong impetus for pre-Two-face showdown canon point.]

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Name: Bruce Wayne
Canon: The Dark Knight Trilogy
Original or Alternate Universe: Original
Canon Point: circa. Batman Begins, during the fire at Wayne Manor
Number: 010 >> 088

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