The Interim

I never fully understood the magnitude of the Batman. I'm still not sure if I do. The scope of him seemed to increase with every passing day; before either Master Bruce or I knew it, the world was watching the Caped Crusader.

It wasn't very long before others began to crop up. Not just people in costumes - heroes with fantastic powers, gods who had walked the earth in secret came out in defense of us normal citizens against the epidemic of organized crime. It was incredible, and terrifying, for they - Batman as well - inspired a new breed of criminals to match. All kinds of painted-up and jump-suited terrorists, seeking fame and intrigue or some other type of twisted satisfaction.

Master Bruce was concerned, to say the least. There was more than one occasion on which he asked me if the Batman was causing more harm than good, and for a while, I didn't know myself. But after only a few short years, the change in the city and its people was undeniable.

I remember the night Master Bruce summoned me to the cave under the manor, apart from other such nights. He'd really done a lot with it - instead of the cavernous pit it had been the day he dug into it, the place really looked like the sort of cave that would house a grown man in a bat suit.

He knew my feelings on the subject.

But I remember the night because as I descended from the main building into the hideout, carrying a tray with some dinner on the off chance that Master Bruce would be hungry, I was met with the absolutely unexpected sight of an enormous Olympian of a man standing beside the console chair and observing the collection of screens.

Dressed in red and blue and larger even than Master Bruce, Superman appeared in the Batman's operations as a sort of begrudged part-time accomplice. They rarely met, considering that Gotham and Metropolis aren't even in the same state, but they kept in contact. Master Bruce was always hesitant to trust these out-of-the-sky heroes, and it would take years for him to become accustomed to working with them.

That night, though, was a beginning as far as I was concerned. Master Bruce can claim what he will about the 'blue Boy Scout', as he likes to call Superman, but he can't hide his respect for the Man of Steel from me.

There is no question that the Batman came as a result of his parents' deaths. There is no doubt that Master Bruce will never fully heal from that night, years ago - it's not in his nature to. He keeps his scars, hidden under suits of various kinds, but kept all the same. I try to remind him regularly that there is more to a man than his wounds, but of the many skills and qualities Master Bruce possesses, listening to what he doesn't want to hear isn't one of them.