My property follows me wherever I go. I wear it to my father's company, on my dates with the hourglasses; it is around my waist as my life saver, and for the people I protect. They are my partners. Though birds, female bats and cats included, are at my side fighting through the blood, the bones, and the blasphemy, they are not my allies. They are also not my property. They are my partners. I can rely on them as they rely on me; however they all leave my cave for one reason or another. Twisting out of my loose grasp of acquired feeling, they find a more deserving city to do good deeds in.

My tools will always be there for me. Well, no they won't. They have been taken away from me multiple times, though when I defeat the villain or whomever, they are waiting for me still, metal, and wires. Even when they are firmly around my waist, I am not alone. I am not referring to my very loyal and only true friend and father, though he does count, he does not understand.

It is the one I answer to who haunts me. The one who is responsible for each my every action, thought, and punch. It palpitates and beats in my skull and leaves me quivering. It is my master and I am its bruised slave begging on my knees for mercy and receiving none.

As I try to run, two bullets appear in front of me. My image is reflected in their metal shells. I reach out to grasp them but my hands are in tight fists. I try to relax my aching fingers. My hands remain firmly clamped into a fist. Instead of fighting it, I punch the bullets in one strong sweeping motion. However, they are too fast for me. Whipping past my ears, the sound of ripping flesh and the cracking of bone erupts behind me.

I know what is there. I see it every time I close my eyes. I do not want to look. But I know I have to. I know I have to look because it is my fault. My fault that I couldn't protect them. When I finally do look, I collapse on my knees. Their eyes are wide and glossy, staring. Conviction was on their hushed lips and I was guilty. This is my sentence. Life under a cowl, forced to bring madness to justice.

Each time I cuff them, I expect them to stay in their plastic cages with their hands tied firmly against their chests. Over and over again they break out and take more lives to compensate for their lack of sanity. And every time their blood ends up on my gloved hands while white coats drag them away. I hope each time would be different, but it never it.

I am stuck in an insane loop. Though my hands are cuffed into fists and the shackles at my ankles keep me in a prowl position, it seems that I am chained to the night. However, it is quite the contrary. The night is chained to me. When I was sentenced to this life imprisonment in this damned city, they didn't expect that I would own it. I own the night. It is my true ali.

My property follows me wherever I go. While I creep in the shadows, as I protect the innocent from the unholy, and while I glide on its cold, blood tinted air. I am never alone. Nor will I ever be.