Chapter Text
“You did WHAT?!” Superman’s voice bounces off every surface in the computer room, and the guilty speedster shrinks into his seat like a tortoise does into a shell. The rest of the team, sans Batman, cluster around him in a ring of their own varying disappointed expressions.
Because he understands how intimidating Superman is, Clark makes a conscious effort to avoid glaring or shouting sternly at anyone. But this time? It’s 100% warranted. If he wasn’t trying to drill into Barry how serious this matter is, he’d be pacing around and panicking for the livelihood of his friends. The very world hangs in the balance!
Okay. Maybe not the world. But the world's view of the Justice League certainly does!
The Justice League has their own email address, which every member has access to, including Batman. (He’d given Batman his own work phone with the numbers of every League member, but the idea never truly stuck.) This email is inaccessible to the public and is used to contact companies and benefactors only. Somehow, a talk show studio, ‘The Spotlight’, acquired it and invited the Justice League to their first major interview. This invitation went out a whole two weeks ago, and since the League didn’t keep Barry on a leash 24/7, he unfortunately became the first one to read it.
And what did he decide to do? Perhaps alert the rest of the team, or even consider his response carefully?
No. He responded in a sentence no greater than three words. Clark still pales as he has to read it in his peripheral vision. ‘We’d be down?’ Seriously? What kind of moron responds in such a way?
Now, Barry has gathered everyone because they responded after 2 weeks of silence, telling them they would be expected at the venue in 2 days to film! 2 days!
“Okay, I know this looks bad, but you have to see it from my perspective.” He says, swerving around on his chair.
“Do we?” Hal makes a compelling point. The Justice League is toast.
“I figured these guys are busy, right? Talk show companies are always super busy, so if I left them hanging to go talk to you guys, we could be forever, and they’d cancel on us. I had to accept it then and there! And, well, we would have accepted anyways, right?” Barry fumbles to explain his case, and is met with the barely concealed contempt of his teammates.
“Journalists and talk show hosts are ruthless! What were you thinking?” Clark snaps out.
“I-I don’t know?” Barry shrinks.
“When do you ever know anything?”
Clark whips around to glare daggers at Oliver. “Hey!”
J’onn cuts in as the voice of reason. “Barry has already accepted on our behalf. If we fight like this in the face of the public, it will surely ruin our image.” He speaks again, seeing how he has everyone’s attention. “The optimal course of action we can take now is to use the pros to our advantage and work around the cons the best we can. Barry, tell us everything you know.”
He straightens upwards and curves his office chair around to the monitor again. His eyes skim the email with great speed. “The six of us are gonna sit down and answer a selection of handpicked questions… yadda yadda… Here’s the address… I think that's it. We’re doing a question-and-answer type thing.”
“The six of us?” Diana says.
Barry blinks, then it hits him. “OH! They don’t know Batman’s with us! I guess I was so quick to respond that telling them totally slipped my mind!”
“Come to think of it,” She says, thoughtfully, “Is Batman even an official member in the eyes of the public?”
Clark and the rest of the room absorb the information.
“Sure, he is. We’ve been seen with him plenty of times!” Hal waves a dismissive hand and begins surfing the web.
He’s right. Sometimes, the Justice League will get briefly interviewed outside a crime scene, or they will talk to the Police. Batman is not the vocal type, but he does make an effort to stand close by to show his affiliation with the group, which Clark appreciates. Hal boots up a clip of some random interview, and Clark immediately realises he spoke too soon. Batman is nowhere to be seen. He boots up another, and another… and, oh hey, there he is! Everyone closes in like hawks pinpointing a fish, only to be met with a grainy and barely visible black blob loitering around in the corner.
“See? Batman in the flesh.” The black and fizzly blob retreats around a wall, and peeks meekly from the corner as Wonder Woman is being interviewed in the foreground. The journalists haven’t noticed him at all, and Clark realises that maybe Batman wouldn’t want to have his face plastered on some talk show.
“Right.” Someone says, sounding very convinced.
“I don’t think this qualifies as him being an official member, Hal,” Oliver says.
“Hey, look at this.” Barry pulls up an article on the monitor. “People think he might be a part of the League, but it seems nobody’s entirely sure.”
The article is titled: Batman: Justice VS Myth, and Clark and the others briefly read it. It goes on to describe scattered rumours of Batman being spotted near Justice League crime scenes, or hanging around them like some sort of looming spectre. The footage cited is scarce, and appearances are, generously speaking, insanely blurry. One photograph is essentially a blob. Or would the more accurate term be a bat-blob?
“I say we take this as an opportunity to finally make it official. Barry’s poor decisions don’t always have to lead to disasters.” Hal says, leaning back.
“You have a point. Interviews like this could be important for keeping our image more down-to-earth with the public.” His friends chip in with nods of agreement at Diana’s words, and Clark turns to the article again. Showing up with someone fiercely protective of his private life and city and suddenly announcing ‘Here’s this guy we’ve been keeping from you all that’s with us!’ isn’t a good look, and it’s just begging for the media to begin prying into that. Also, his heart aches for how uncomfortable Batman looked in that video clip, scurrying to hide in some corner!
If Batman hates being on film to the point of hiding, then they obviously shouldn’t drag him into this. Even for the sake of transparency, Clark feels it’s not worth it. They can introduce him another way, or another time.
“What do you say, Clark?” Oliver asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“I want to say I agree, and tell you all that Batman being on a talk show means the world can better understand him, but I don’t think he would want to be on camera.” Clark pauses, considering his words. “We ask him, and he disagrees; we don’t push. Otherwise, I think we could pull this off. We just have to be smart about what we say and how we answer these questions.” He sighs with relief when he receives murmurs of agreement his way from everyone besides Barry, who’s munching on a pear.
“Agreed,” J’onn says simply. “You should inform him as soon as you can.”
The Justice League has elected Clark the official ‘Bat spokesperson’ of the League, with Diana as a close runner-up. Batman (in his own colourful way) has expressed his discontent for his teammates infringing on his territory, so, when he is absolutely needed, either spokesperson will head to Gotham during her late hours to seek him out.
“What if he already knows? I mean, they’re based in Gotham so–”
“You mean we’re going to Gotham for an interview? And you didn’t bother to tell us that part first?” Hal shoots.
“I was getting to it—“
“Forgive my intrusion, but bats live in caves, yes?” Diana chimes in, ” I wouldn't think a man who lives in a cave would be so concerned with a talk show. He cares more for Gotham's well-being if anything.”
“Are you saying he lives under a rock?” Hal asks.
“No–”
“Trees!” Diana’s denial falls on deaf ears. “They also live in trees!” Barry adds helpfully.
Hal bounces back. “He’s a cave guy one hundred percent!”
A strange mixture of dread and embarrassment envelops Clark as he watches his friends bicker hopelessly. Heroes capable of great feats are reduced to this. Thankfully, J’onn seems to share the same sentiment because he cuts in and breaks it up. “I’m sure the public would take great pleasure in watching the Justice League bicker like children.”
Diana, Hal and Barry go quiet. They at least have the decency to look guilty.
J’onn folds his hands like a frustrated father. “Do keep going. I’ll wait.”
Clark pinches his nose at the entire interaction. Backing out would surely be the best option because there’s no way his friends are going to survive being on television. But, of course, they can’t just do that. All the fans, supporters and hopeful children who wanted to get to know their heroes better would be let down. Everyone would be disheartened, let down or unhappy in some way.
No, they cannot refuse. They won’t.
Clark looks back at his friends. Barry is spinning around in his chair like a crack addicted toddler, Hal is trying (and failing) to show him a picture of a bat, and Diana, Oliver and J’onn all swarm around Hal like bees. It seems he’s going to have to do all the heavy lifting, isn’t he?
He dreads speaking to Batman. He really, truly dreads it.
—
A pall as black as tar has fallen over Gotham, but she is teeming with life, lit up like an amalgamation of fireworks. Skyscrapers soar as high as can be, dotted with glowy windows and illuminated signs that snag one’s attention. Superman, however, is not here to admire the scenery. He’s here for one man and one man only.
The system that he and Diana have developed has become particularly useful in fulfilling that mission. All Superman has to do is circle the areas Batman is known to patrol and let out a high-pitched whistle. Gothamites have long grown used to the sight of this, however comical it may be.
Batman, on the other hand, is never pleased when Clark does this. While being stoic seems to be the man’s default expression, when you’ve been around Batman for so long, you begin to see all the little kinks and quirks his face has, especially the way his jaw clenches when he’s unhappy. Clark has seen that face all too many times when he’s summoned Batman, to the point where he sometimes wonders if he’s accidentally said a slur in Batman's language. He hopes not.
Superman whooshes through the air and lands on the rooftop of a Wayne Enterprises building, holding the high-pitched note. It takes a couple of minutes, but he eventually hears the shift of Batman's cloak swirling around him to a land directly behind him.
He turns to his cryptid teammate and puts on a friendly face. “Hello, Batman. I know you must be busy with patrol, but this is important.” Batman steps closer. Clark keeps going. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but, you see… the Justice League has been invited to a talk show. The public has sent in questions to be asked, and we have to sit down and answer them in front of an audience. Barry agreed to it before any of us knew, and it’s in two days from now.”
Batman tilts his head like a curious dog.
“We wanted to ask if you’d consider showing up? This is big for us. It’s the first time the League has done anything like this, and as far as the public is concerned, nobody really knows you’re with us. If you’re comfortable, it could be a good way to get your name out there? Only if you want to. I know that isn’t really your style.”
Batman leans closer, his own pale white eyes only a centimetre or two away from Clark’s brilliant blues. Clark doesn’t really know how to react to that, but he pushes on to get the message across.
“And… Well… You don’t have to, if you don’t want to! I’m a journalist, so I know how interviewers can twist things, and I’ll help you out if you’re worried about how to deal with that. We all will. Again, it’s entirely optional, and we won’t be upset if you say no!”
He stares. Stern and hard, like Clark has done something to offend him. Then, he steps back and shakes his head with a resolute refusal.
“Oh. Okay. See you arou—“ Clark sputters out, but Batman's already jumped off the roof. He rushes to check on him, but sees neither hide nor hair of Batman.
Is it bad that he feels somewhat relieved? He had been stressing out the entire day and on the trip to Gotham on how fitting Batman into this sort of thing would go, but he doesn’t have to worry anymore! This is good, for the best, even. Batman has no need to go out of his comfort zone, and Clark does not have to stress out figuring out ways to accommodate him!
He feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest. He can do this.
They can do this.
—
Deep within the caves of Wayne Manor, Bruce is certain he can do this, too. He’s sat at the Bat computer, still and accompanied by nothing but his own solitude as he works on his latest case.
He has been building a case against a white-collar criminal for the past few weeks. One of his goons is in possession of an encrypted drive with financial records that would easily expose the mastermind once and for all. Tonight, the courier is meeting a receiver at a public venue to hand off the driver to a third party for safekeeping.
Once that handoff happens, the drive could end up anywhere. Untraceable and utterly gone.
Batman needs to apprehend both the courier and receiver in order to stop the entire operation, and this happens tonight.
However, there is one tiny, minute little detail that makes this slightly more complicated than it needs to be. This venue is the same one where Ted Calloway, a seasoned and witty talk show host, will be interviewing the Justice League.
Naturally, one would imagine this is deeply inconvenient, but Batman has no choice but to work around it. So, he’s devised a plan to ensure he apprehends both men swiftly without making a scene and ruining the interview for the Justice League.
Bruce is aware that breaking in and apprehending both men would be easier than blinking, but that would also mean cameras, people waving their phones in his face, and worst of all — 6 unhappy teammates. Superman’s face on that Gotham rooftop comes to mind unbidden. Bruce could tell how much this meant to him, how all he wanted was for it to go without a hitch, and he can respect that.
He’s so absorbed in his thoughts that he does not hear Alfred approach. “I see you’re considering stretching your social muscles, sir? God knows they need it.” He must be referring to the image of the venue on the Bat computer.
“Not today, Alfred. Our targets just so happen to be heading to the same location the Justice League will be at. I’ve devised a quick and stealthy plan to apprehend them both without threatening to ruin this for them.” The older man hands him a cup of tea.
“How considerate of you. And if this were to go sideways?”
Bruce takes a long sip, then speaks. “It won’t. Can’t. I’m making five other backup plans just in case.”
“Very good then, sir.”
He lets Alfred walk away, and the cave settles into silence again. Just him, a cup of tea and the Bat computer. Everything rides on this. To fail is to risk humiliation and the daunting disappointment of his teammates. Batman doesn’t do failure. He cannot, will not, fail.
—
Under the supervision of Superman, the Justice League had spent the next two days brainstorming potential questions people could ask, rehearsing answers and practising public speaking in front of each other. It went about as well as he had expected; Hal talked too much about himself, Barry talked too fast, and Clark spent upwards of 20 minutes explaining the definition of a ‘softball question’ to J’onn.
It’s fine. They’re going to be fine.
Then, the day comes, and before Clark has fully processed how they got here, he and the team are backstage, watching Ted Calloway work his magic.
His turf, the stage, is decorated like any other talk show set. There’s a large, cream-coloured couch with six seats for the Justice League, with a coffee table in front of it. To the side is Ted Calloway's own desk, where a notebook lies. The surrounding decor is homely but also flashy. There’s a lit-up sign that reads ‘The Spotlight with Ted Calloway.’
Clark had done his research after Barry unwillingly sent them all on. Ted Calloway is a broad, gruff and imposing man who has been hosting the Gotham Show, ‘The Spotlight’ for the last 20 years. From what he could gauge from the episodes he had watched with J’onn, this kind of programme thrives on the kind of chaos that is unique to Gotham. Awe and spectacle, rich people with obscene amounts of money, scandals and embarrassment.
Calloway himself is a seasoned man who carries himself with a swagger all too reminiscent of Gotham's billionaire playboy, Bruce Wayne. He then painfully remembers that one of the episodes he had watched actually involved an interview with Bruce Wayne. Clark yearns to have that interview forever burnt from his memory.
He does his monologue, and the audience is like putty in his hands. People whoop, cheer and shout with hype.
“And now… without further ado, allow me to introduce this evening's guests!” He bellows. That’s their cue.
They walk out.
The crowd ERUPTS.
Barry starts waving immediately, and Clark smiles politely. Hal looks like he’s enjoying this more than he should, and J’onn is perfectly still and utterly unreadable. There’s the couch, and they all get situated. Clark sits closest to Calloway, then Dianna, J’onn, Hal, Oliver and Barry on the end, who’s vibrating like crazy. Oliver shoulders Barry into staying still.
Calloway looks at them. “Well. Here you are.”
“Here we are,” Superman says.
“I have to say, I’ve been doing this a long time. A long time, folks. And I have never been more honoured, more humbled, more genuinely moved than I am at this moment.”
Diana smiles. “We’re honoured to be here.”
“The honour is entirely mine, Wonder Woman,” Calloway says, and he means it genuinely, which lowers Clark’s guard a little. He appreciates the work they do, like any inhabitant of Earth. “Now, I think I speak for everyone in this room and everyone watching at home when I say we have questions.” He picks up his book.
Laughter and cheers from the audience.
“112,672 of them to be exact, all submitted over the course of two weeks by the public.” He looks back at the Justice League. “Our team has gone through and handpicked a selection of the most popular, juiciest, wildest questions yet! How are we feeling, league?”
For ungodly reasons unbeknownst to Clark, everyone turns to look at him like a gaggle of chicks following a mother hen. He pushes through and answers the question. “We’re just as excited as the rest of you.”
“Wonderful!” The host reads out the first question. “We’ll start slow, get to know you a bit more, yeah? What does the Justice League do to unwind after a mission?”
Clark had been internally screaming, threatening to claw his nails out when Calloway started raving on about the most ‘popular, juiciest, wildest’ questions, but this isn’t so bad!
He’s confused, even. Usually, Ted Calloway would get right into the chaos and humiliate his guests as much as possible. Something has to be wrong—
“After every mission, the Justice League engages in a debrief, where we carefully analyse the decisions made on the field, what should have been done, and how damage can be minimised in similar scenarios. Furthermore… “ J’onn stops explaining when he realises the audience has gone dead silent and lowers his head with shame. Poor guy.
Diana puts a hand on J’onn’s shoulder. Clark decides to get the ball rolling again to set a good example for the rest of the league and the people watching. “Personally, I find that—“
“I eat.” What. What is Barry doing.
“I was going to say that I find that after we get the debrief out of the way, returning to a normal routine helps. Reading, spending time with the people I care about…”
“And eat. Returning to a normal routine also involves eating.” Yes. Thank you, Barry.
“I train.” Says Diana.
Hal raises his hand. “I also train. Sometimes.”
“I do some cooking to unwind. I’d like to think I make a mean chilli.” J’onn stares at Oliver with pure horror on his face.
“A mean chilli?” Calloway repeats, sounding amused.
“Yeah. You want the recipe?”
“Hell yeah, we do!” J’onn turns slowly and looks directly at the audience with a look of pure fear in his eyes. They erupt with laughter.
“Hear that, folks?” Calloway gestures at the crowd. “After the show, we’ll be posting Green Arrow’s chilli recipe for everyone at home to try!” More cheering, and Oliver sits quietly pleased with himself. Clark is grateful that at least one of his friends has experience with this sort of thing. Having a rich person on one's team is very beneficial.
“And you, Flash, concerning food, one of our most popular submissions was questions about how many calories you consume a day. I have to say, I’m also a bit curious!” The host redirects his attention to Barry, who is staring at nothing in particular. The speedster sits up as if he’s been waiting for this question his entire life.
“Okay, okay.” He cracks his knuckles.
“So it depends on the day, right, like a regular no-crime day versus a heavy mission are completely different ballparks –"
“Give us a number. A range," Calloway says.
“On a regular day? Maybe like ten thousand.” People in the audience gasp and react. So do the Justice League. Clark knew Barry had to get all that energy from somewhere, but, gosh!
“But that’s just a light day, maybe my bare minimum. If we’re talking a full-scale mission, then we’re looking at… triple? Quadruple?”
“Christ above! You must be starving right now!”
“You bet!” Calloway calls over a guy from backstage and whispers something to him. He nods and heads to the back. He comes out with an entire bucket of greasy fried chicken. He very casually tosses it to Barry like he’s feeding a pack of dogs.
As Barry goes absolutely crazy, getting grease on Ollie (poor him), Calloway glues his eyes on J’onn, who’s looking pensive. “Martian Manhunter? We never actually got to hear your answer on how you unwind. There's no way you’re telling me a guy from Mars doesn’t like to kick back every now and then!” Clark hears his own words from the day before, when he had instructed J’onn on how to answer such a question. He silently hopes J’onn hears them too.
“I… watch television.”
“Anything in particular?” Everyone turns to look at J’onn, who is considering the question with great seriousness. Even Barry’s stopped eating.
The pause stretches.
“The Real Housewives.”
Absolute silence.
Then absolute chaos.
His Martian friend surveys the room slowly, genuinely confused by the guffaws coming from the audience. Barry and Hal are chittering and laughing to each other about the whole thing like a bunch of gossiping schoolgirls. Clark doesn’t know what expression is on his own face right now, but he suspects it’s complicated.
This is fine, Clark thinks. Barry’s lack of basic etiquette is somehow endearing to the public, and everyone and their mother wants to sample Oliver’s chilli recipe, and from the looks of it, J’onn remembered Clark's advice in full. The questions being asked of them are light-hearted and lead to a good discussion. He had been so panicked, but so far this is going pretty okay!
As the night passes, individual members get pulled off stage periodically for private one-on-one interviews with a separate crew backstage. Clark finds this slightly odd, but so long as nobody is getting butchered into little pieces or being exposed to Kryptonite, it’s just a bit of good fun for the public. Ted Calloway had said they would be available online after broadcast as a fun get-to-know-your heroes type thing, as Flash had been corralled to the back.
He watches each of his teammates disappear behind the walls one by one and prays quietly that none of them says anything irresponsible. But as the night progresses, he finds that his prayers had been in vain, and that nothing could have prepared him for the catastrophe that this show would be.
He and the Justice League had been played. Lulled into a false sense of security with the cosy opening questions designed to induce cheerful discussions. Clark had regrettably assumed that because they’re the Justice League, Ted Calloway wouldn’t try to humiliate them, but he supposes he’s wrong. Questions asking about who the funniest is, or who the mom friend is, had been manageable, welcome even. He had relaxed.
He should not have relaxed.
The questions have been spiralling and twisting into snappy little pieces aimed to squeeze as many tears of humiliation out of his friends. Allow him to illustrate.
‘Who smells the worst after a mission?’ Nobody knew how to respond to that one. Barry took the fall.
‘Martian Manhunter, what do humans taste like?’ J’onn answered that question with complete sincerity, which only made things a hundred times worse.
‘Green Arrow, do you ever feel insecure being the only one without powers?’ Oliver just stared into the camera, looking as if he had aged a solid ten years.
But no, that one surprisingly hadn’t been the worst one. Clark's least favourite question had to be submitted by an individual who clearly loathes oxygen.
‘Superman, does Kryptonian biology allow men to get pregnant?’
This is a humiliation ritual. That’s what this entire thing is and was always meant to be. Again, he finds that he is so glad that Batman does not have to be present for this.
—
Batman has been here for around two hours, and so far, he can say with confidence that this is going perfectly. Before the show had even begun, he’d woven through the roof's ventilation system and positioned himself in the rafters directly above the stage. With darkness as his cloak, nobody has spotted him. Below him sit the Justice League, left frazzled by questions that Bruce Wayne would twirl around with flying colours. It’s a sight so pathetic he files it into his memory for later and once again focuses on his mission.
His cowl's facial recognition technology sweeps through the audience methodically, and he spots the receiver seated four rows back on the left side of the auditorium. He’s in civilian clothes, completely relaxed and unaware that Batman is on his tail.
Batman watches him for a bit, still as a tiger observing its prey.
The courier must still be en route, so that gives him a window of time. The receiver will surely need to step out and make a call to him. He slinks through the rafters and positions himself above the service corridor that runs adjacent to the bathrooms. This is the best place one would go to in order to take a call; it's just about desolate. Bruce plans to drop down from the overhead vent, intercept him in the corridor even before he reaches the bathroom, neutralise him quietly, steal his phone and stuff him into a supply closet. He’ll text the courier to change the meeting point and take him down just as cleanly and claim the drives for himself.
Clean, simple and just his style. Nobody will ever know he was here at all.
Below him, the host asks Flash how many calories he consumes a day. His answer delights the audience, but Bruce couldn't care less about this right now.
The receiver shifts in his seat and checks his phone. Puts it away. Shifts again.
There! He’s getting up!
Batman is on the move, crossing the rafter in four steps, silent and precise, angling towards the corridor access point. The receiver is shifting through his row, bumbling out 'excuse mes' and 'sorrys' as he heads for the aisle.
He begins the race. He’s faster, quieter, and a thousand times more skilled. This will be over before he knows it.
Except that the layout of the building he’d extracted failed to consider this possibility. His five other backup plans failed to consider this possibility. Maybe the rafters above him aren’t as stable as he’d believed, or they aren’t well-maintained. Maybe they’re more cluttered with wires or loose ends. But Batman had already made the decision, the decision so mind-numbingly careless he’s beginning to wonder if his age is finally catching up to him.
It’s his foot. Perhaps it's tugged on something, or the surface is too slippery. The world tilts.
He finds his footing has dangerously slipped. Time slows down, and he’s fully aware of his predicament. If he does nothing, he’ll careen towards the hard stage floor and crack his head open in front of an audience. He has to do something!
The grapple fires instinctively, but by the time it’s found its hold, he’s already hurtling down into the stage, right where— God, right where the interview is happening!
His fall arrests, and he’s plunged upside down, almost like a bat leaving its roost. His cloak swallows him protectively, and he’s now face-to-face with the audience.
Noises of gasps, Clark lurching from his seat, Calloway shifting, shouts, frenzy, and awe are all a blur, muffled to him. All Bruce sees is the receiver, eyes blasted wide and, clearly knowing what is good for him, high-tailing it right out of there.
All Batman can really do is watch as he goes. He’s failed, blown the entire case and everything's gone wrong–
He’s failed. He failed, he failed and now—
Bruce’s world widens as it dawns on him again that he’s on TV, he’s on stage, and he’s squat in the middle of Clark and the host. They were both clearly in the middle of something, because theirs and just about everyone else’s jaws dropped at his presence.
What is Batman supposed to do in this situation? Keep hanging? Grapple back up? Try to explain? He doesn’t even get a second to just think about it all when the audience goes wild.
People shouting, cameras jolting, and hushed whispers all assault his sensitive ears from every direction. Bruce jolts and splats onto the floor in a pathetic, undignified heap. What an entrance for The Dark Knight, huh?
Clark must have sensed the absolute fear running through his veins because he gets up from his seat and gently helps him up and fusses over him. But Bruce can’t face him, or anyone, right now. He’s petrified!
And to make matters worse, he spots Ted Calloway from the corner of his eye, soaking this all in. He had thought nothing of the Justice League being in a talk show, but now that he’s seeing the host, he comes to the sickening realisation that it’s Ted Calloway! Ted Calloway interviewed him once, and he’s still trying to forget all the raunchy and saucy things he had said that day!
This is a nightmare. He wants to die. Screw the mission. Screw everything. Superman whispers to him, barely audible against the loud noises of chatter from the audience. He can barely see the rest of the team, looking at him somewhat worriedly. “Batman? Are you—“
“Well,” Calloway says, looking at Bruce carefully. “This is…”
He looks at the audience. “…unexpected.”
Superman’s eyes convey a thousand messages, all of which Bruce can discern with ease. Naturally, he wants Bruce to sit down, stop drawing attention to himself and disappear. He gets the memo. He nervously turns to the couch and sees that it’s packed full of his teammates. No room for him.
Barry zips from his position and slam-dunks himself onto the floor and leans back against J’onn’s legs. Clark just… pats Batman on the back, as if to encourage him to get a move on, so he does. He stiffly makes his way to the couch and takes a seat next to Oliver, who awkwardly clears his throat.
Ted Calloway is just as stumped as everyone else is, but he adjusts accordingly, his 20 years of experience kicking in. “Feast your eyes on our seventh and final guest for the night; that's right, ladies and gentlemen, it is the one, the only, the Batman!”
People whoop and cheer, and nobody even questions his presence. Bruce sits completely still at the end of the couch and make himself as small as possible in hopes that they’ll all have their laugh, ignore him and get on with it. But of course, the world of celebrity gossip and talk shows isn’t that simple, as Ted Calloway begins again. “Y’know, me and the team wanted to save the juiciest questions for last, but now that Batman's here, we can finally begin with our most BURNING inquiries!”
He clears his throat. “So it appears that way, but we and the people want to hear it right from the source. Is Batman an official Justice League member? To have a seventh member right under the public's nose without telling them is an… interesting move, no doubt.”
The Justice League shuffle, bite a nail or swerve to look at each other, clearly unsure on how to answer the question. Bruce, selfishly, remains silent.
Wonder Woman, the absolute gem she is, speaks up for the team. “...He is. We know that there have been rumours circulating on the internet about our relationship with him as fellow heroes, and we would never omit information or lie to you all.” Her tone is solemn but also controlled, as if she’s rehearsing this carefully in her head as she goes.
“He is a man of few words who deserves his privacy. We didn’t announce this officially because he is content protecting the city of Gotham and helping us wherever he can. He may not enjoy being in the public eye, or be around as frequently as the rest of us, but that doesn’t make him any less of a member.” Diana smiles tenderly at him. He… doesn’t know what to say, left fidgeting in his seat.
Why must they make this so hard on him?! He’s grateful to the stars and above that she feels this way, but with the audience, the host, and this whole thing, he’s left silent, unable to show his gratitude for her words. If he were to somehow muster up the courage to talk to her after the show and thank her, the timing would be completely inappropriate and therefore uncalled-for. He’s stuck.
“Whoa. That– that’s actually kinda beautiful. Never mind then.” He blinks and shuffles through a book in his hands. “So we have a curated selection of Batman questions we’ve been saving for last… But since you’re, y’know, here, I’m gonna go for it. Capiche?”
Right. Respond. Bruce, you need to respond.
He tries to speak, squeak something out, but realises responding to that question a solid ten seconds after pure and utter silence would make him look like some sort of idiot who can’t comprehend basic questions, so he stays put.
“Oookay. So, this question was initially intended for the whole League to guess, but, y’know, Batman, who is your favourite Justice League member?” He asks.
This is a very innocent question, but Bruce can’t help but tilt his head with consideration. He feels he cannot pick a favourite on camera. If the media hear him say it, they’ll fixate on it like the crocodiles they are, and everyone's feelings will be hurt. This single question has one purpose: to split everyone up, and he won’t allow that. Bruce shuffles uncomfortably.
Clark raises a nervous hand. “He, um, doesn’t have the vocal cords for–” and instantly slams his own hands over his mouth in horror, shutting himself up. Inside, Bruce is livid. Wants be livid, but can’t.
“He WHAT!?”
“I mean– he’s not really a– the thing about Batman is–”
Bruce has felt fear. He has felt anger. He has felt embarrassed. But he has never experienced all three at once, and with brimming fervour. No, no, no! He has to do something! He’s not about to let the world believe in this pathetic lie, is he? Do something! Push him! Shove him! Anything!
So he chooses the least chaotic decision. He jumps from his seat and covers Clark's mouth with both hands. He goes cross-eyed staring at the gloved hands covering his face. Hal, one of his idiotic teammates, looks away and covers his mouth with laughter. He and Barry have their own stupid silent conversation about the whole thing.
Batman continues holding eye contact with Clark, trying to affirm to him that this will not be tolerated. Clark slowly raises his hands, like he’s dealing with an agitated animal, and very softly puts them on his own and pries his hands off. Bruce still holds his gaze.
Neither says anything. Clark tries to stutter something out, fails, and looks away first. Batman returns to his seat, and Oliver, who’s always been a bit smarter than the rest, tries to save the situation. “Batman just likes to express himself… more physically.”
Ted Calloway considers these words, then says the thing that seals it in that everyone around him is stupid. “What, like an animal? Cause I’m looking at him right now, and…” He watches Batman's stiff posture, he watches his inability to speak, and he watches how eternally angry he looks and comes to the conclusion of a lifetime. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but is he just the Justice League's housecat?”
Housecat?! How dare he! Bruce is so damn frustrated by all these people calling him an animal, cryptid, or whatever else. Sure, the underworld of Gotham not knowing entirely what he is adds to his intimidation factor, but now that he’s been called some housecat on television, that scare factor has been completely killed! He snaps his head in Ted's direction, gritting his teeth.
Diana shakes her head. “No, never! He’s just different. In the same way we have a Martian, a Kryptonian and someone like myself on this team.”
“I don’t know, are you guys sure it’s the same? Earth to Batman! You alive? Hope I’m not talkin’ to an animal, here!” This guy begins snapping his fingers at him. Bruce has lost it with him. He feels insulted, dehumanised, and disgusted. He’s lost weeks of careful, methodical work, the drives, and now he has to sit here and be the victim of a nature documentary-style dissection in front of a live studio audience!
Still, despite the fires of anger burning within him, he remains frozen. Petrified, just like tiny, freshly orphaned Bruce Wayne, who could barely piece together a coherent sentence when being spoken to. Terrified of the big, greater world that wanted nothing more than to rip his life story apart.
“With respect.” Clark's voice cuts through his thoughts, and the rest of the League don’t look pleased with the show host either. Oliver has put a hand on Bruce's shoulder.
Superman's smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“He’s one of ours.” He says pleasantly. “And he can hear you perfectly well.”
Calloway blinks. “I didn’t mean any–”
“He defends Gotham the same way I defend Metropolis. The same way Green Lantern defends his own sector.” Clark gestures along the couch. “He has people he cares about. He has his own code, his own methods, his own reasons for doing what he does every night in a city that would eat most people alive. His voice is confident and sure. “He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t act the way you want him to, so what? He’s a little different but– but he’s not an animal.” A brief pause. “And, snapping at him like that because he won’t speak? He protects an entire city, every night, without fail. He deserves far better than that.”
Bruce… doesn’t know what to say. That's– wow. He looks up, slightly, and sees Clark, who, underneath that mechanical smile, he can see is furious. Passionate about this and passionate enough to defend his name on television. Even Hal chimes in with his own retort. “Yeah! You think that because Martian Manhunter's green, he must be a reptile!?”
J’onn blinks slowly. So does Bruce. The rest of the League looks at Clark proudly.
“I mean—“ Clark, apparently now aware that thousands have just watched him threaten a talk show host, is attempting to walk it back. “You’re entitled to your own opinion, and I didn’t mean to, but at the same time—“
Bruce silently hopes that Clark's speech was inspiring enough for Calloway to drop the ridiculous animal business.
“No, no.” Calloway raises a hand, smiling again. Genuinely, this time, which is highly uncharacteristic of him. “You make a compelling case, Superman. A compelling case.” He regards Bruce with an expression that has shifted from dissection into something closer to consideration, curiosity, even. Then he drops his eyes to his notebook.
“Speaking of which. This also happens to be one of our most popular questions.” He looks up at the audience, and although he’s dropped it, Bruce still feels apprehensive. “If he isn’t an animal, what is the Batman?”
The audience goes quiet. Curious and invested in this frivolous topic. The league look at each other, while Bruce looks at nobody.
“Well?” Calloway gestures at the couch. “Floors open.”
Hal clears his throat. He has to go first, because he’s Hal. “Um… a cryptid?”
“Oh, oh!” Barry’s hand shoots up like he’s in a school setting. “He’s obviously the manifestation of Gotham's heart and soul!”
Bruce… doesn’t hate that? It could just be something he heard on the internet that sounded fancy, but at least he isn’t being referred to as an animal, so he’ll take it.
“That’s beautiful, Flash,” Diana says.
“Awe!” With that, the rest of the Justice League answer the question, while Bruce watches curiously.
“He’s a man," Clark declares.
“He’s Gotham's guardian.” Replies J’onn.
Okay. All normal responses he can accept…
“He’s Gotham's mascot.”
Bruce gives Oliver what he hopes to be a very disappointed look, but it apparently isn’t enough to deter him from continuing.
“Mascot,” Clark repeats.
“Yeah.”
“Like a sports team?”
“Sure.”
“Green Arrow.”
“What? He patrols the same city every night, he has a symbol, and everyone knows his name. That’s a mascot.” Oliver gestures towards Bruce. Bruce flinches away.
Clark opens his mouth, then closes it. Bruce realises that Superman, of all people, cannot argue with that, and it is a painful realisation.
“He even has merch,” Oliver says, and someone in the audience stands up and adds very helpfully that they own a Batman mug.
Calloway's face lights up. “He DOES have merch!”
Bruce does his best to ignore Oliver, who must be smirking proudly next to him. He does his best to ignore everyone in this godforsaken building because if he doesn’t see them, then they don’t exist.
He hears Barry say something, and Calloway turns to Hal, leaning forward with interest. “And you? You said cryptid.”
“Nobody knows where he came from.” He counts on his fingers as if he’s thought extensively about this. “Nobody knows what he is. People have been reporting sightings for years, and half the population thinks he’s a myth.”
“He’s right over there.” Calloway signals to Batman. Hal looks at him. Batman looks at Hal.
"Allegedly," Hal says.
Maybe Bruce had forgotten to school his expression at that moment, or perhaps he had flinched or given off the impression that he had been affected. Either way, Hal must have caught that faint shift in his expression because he pauses.
Bruce is not hurt by his teasing. He’s just fed up with being talked about like he’s not right here.
Hal must have concluded that because Bruce had accidentally petted Oliver on the head a couple of times, if he were to do the same, it would calm him down. Hal… he gets up, and he leans over and pets him. Pets him like a dog. Gives him ear scratches. Head scratches. “Cheer up, spooky! The whole world knows you’re real now!"
The audience is losing their minds. Clark is peering from his seat like a nervous parent watching their child do something stupid. Barry is openly laughing. He won’t deal with this. All of this only worsens the idea that he’s the Justice League's house cat. Did Hal not consider that at all?!
Bruce, very calmly, removes Hal's hand from the top of his head with two fingers, in the same manner he would remove something unpleasant from the bottom of his shoe. People are laughing and cheering. Someone in the third row is standing up and snapping photos.
Amidst it all, a man shuffles onto stage. Bruce clocks him immediately, ears swivelling towards him. Young, spindly and part of the production crew. There’s a camera in his hands, and he inches towards the couch, keeping it raised.
He’s looking at Bruce. Bruce looks back. Why is he—
Oh. The one-on-one interviews. It’s his turn.
The guy mumbles something about it being his turn and grabs him outright by the arm. He is being grabbed on live television by a production assistant during the single worst evening he’s ever had. He’s lost his target, the drives, all that investigation right out the window, he’s been called an animal, cryptid, housecat and worst of all, Hal Jordan patted him on the head in front of however many thousands of people.
He is being grabbed.
“Maybe don’t—“
Batman's lips peel back just enough to reveal teeth, and a harsh rasp pushes from his throat. He uncoils to his full height, all while maintaining eye contact with the young man, who, surprisingly, hasn't let up.
Oliver and Hal are both up on their feet, while the rest watch worriedly. Oliver's hand closes around Bruce’s other arm like they're playing tug of war with him. “Whoa, what’s your deal?”
“It’s his turn. He needs to be interviewed.” The guy says again, foolish but committed.
“No, it isn’t. Let go of him!” Both sides wrestle for Bruce's arms like immature children.
All of this is just bringing even more unnecessary attention towards him. Calloway hasn’t even interrupted to say some cocky remark about Batman being used like a rope, or said anything to steal the audience's attention because he’s eating this up too. Bruce bites back a yawn, frankly sick and tired of this tussle.
Diana rises. “Please, don’t—“
The guy pulls again.
He is Batman. He has his own autonomy and dignity. He is not going to be dragged across a talk show stage like a reluctant child while thousands watch. He will go on his own terms, with his head held as high as it possibly can in a social situation like this.
He shakes Oliver off and then the camera guy. “You coming?” He asks, as if Batman hadn’t just hissed at him.
Right. He’d hissed at him… that’s not going to look good. Still, he has an interview to go to, so he nods and trails behind him.
Calloway claps his hands and says something about continuing the show without him.
Please. Please do and keep it that way. He would be eternally grateful if this show continued without him…
Bruce is situated in a room with a white backdrop. A chair much too small for someone of his stature, a large light, and an interviewer who appears far too happy despite the awful job she ended up receiving. Interviewing him.
He decides that he will not entertain this interview at all and instead focuses on his cowls audio amplification to listen in on what’s happening on the stage. He’s on autopilot, sitting rigidly on the tiny chair.
"So," Miss interviewer says, brightly. “How are you feeling tonight?” He briefly registers a microphone being shoved into his face as he listens attentively to the happenings on stage. Diana is trying to convince herself that Batman will be fine, and Barry is wondering aloud if someone should have gone with him.
His ears flick sharply towards the conversation. Oliver is expressing his discomfort at Batman being dragged offstage to do something he’s visibly uncomfortable with, which is… admirable.
The microphone is brought back to the woman, who stares at her clipboard. She remains steadfastly unfazed at Batman's silence and just… continues the conversation? “I hear you! Lots of nerves going around, huh? I hear you’re an official Justice League member. How does that feel?”
Barry’s voice rings out. He’s asking the host if they have fruit backstage. Bruce's brow furrows beneath the cowl? Fruit?
She’s nodding again and writing something down with great conviction. “Absolutely. I get how you feel.”
She turns a page. The microphone is extended towards him. He’s far too tired to even bother making eye contact with her.
From the stage, Calloway's obnoxious voice assaults his ears. Something about bananas, oranges, and J’onn is saying something.
“Now, I wouldn’t want to keep you, but we have one final question for you that was asked of the other members about their respective cities. What do you want Gotham to know about you?” The microphone is fisted into his face again, but all he can pay attention to is that someone is saying his name again. Saying how he’s going to absolutely love what they have here and that he’s going to lose his mind once he sees it.
He gets up and speed walks his way back to the stage, the interview forgotten. He carefully ensures his expression is stoic and unreadable as it usually is. Lo and behold, there it is, sitting innocently on the coffee table in front of the couch, is a bowl of fruit.
Did the League do this for him? All for him? Surely, this would make Ted Calloway think that Batman is some fruit addicted pest! If he eats the fruit, he’ll prove Calloway's suspicions correct, but if he doesn’t, then his teammates will be unhappy. Clark had defended him so fervently, and the way Diana had spoken about him was heartwarming. Not even acknowledging the fruit wouldn’t just make them unhappy; they would definitely be heartbroken! He would be betraying their trust!
Bruce takes his seat, and Hal throws an orange from one hand to another, grinning like a cat that’s just stolen the cream. “Hiya Batman! Care for a banana? Or are you feeling… orange?” That pun was awful. He swallows down his pure contempt for Hal at that moment and takes a banana to shut him up.
Everyone marvels and awes over Batman as he peels the banana. He tries to tune it out and reminds himself that he is surrounded by dimwits who don’t understand that enjoying a piece of fruit is a completely normal and healthy thing.
And here comes Calloway's dumb remark. “Well, what do you know! You were right on the money, Flash! Gotham's manifestation, cryptid, mascot and protector does enjoy fruit!"
“Yeah! He’s our little fruit bat!” Nope. He was wrong about Hal being the worst person right now, because Barry has snatched the title with ease.
The night only gets worse and worse. The curated selection of Batman questions were so absurdly awful that he hadn’t been able to come up with a reasonable answer for any of them. He had unintentionally subjected his team to even more awkward explanations and hoop jumping. The worst offenders were:
‘Is Batman afraid of garlic?’
‘Is Batman warm-blooded?’
‘Does Batman pay taxes? Does the Justice League force him to?’
And a question only one person asked, but it was so stupid that they apparently had to ask the League, and they even read the submission out in full.
‘My boyfriend said that Batman hissed at him once. I said that’s insane. We argued about it for three hours. Can the Justice League confirm or deny? Our relationship is fine otherwise.’
That one had been particularly dreadful. The Justice League had argued back and forth with Calloway about why Batman doesn’t hiss at people, and the young production crew member even came onstage just to participate and say that Batman had, in fact, hissed at him, all right under his nose.
Time moves like concrete. Batman steadily picks at the fruit. He stifles a yawn. The Justice League chats, laughs, discusses, and does all the ridiculous things one does on a talk show. All through it, Bruce wants nothing more than to be back home with his family.
Calloway begins with his closing segment, and Bruce is suddenly aware of how heavy his eyelids have been feeling, like heavy pieces of stone. He asks the Justice League if they have anything they want the public to know, and chatter follows. The words have turned into soup in Bruce's mind.
Today has been horrible.
Bruce tries to wade through the fog and listen to the responses of his teammates. Clark drones on about how, above everything else, the safety of the Earth and her people are the Justice League's priority. It would be commendable if he wasn’t currently having an internal fight with his mind about how he shouldn’t lean back into the soft, plush pillows of the couch.
Hal says something about his responsibilities as a Green Lantern. Diana… something something Themyscara? Bruce blinks, the edges of his mind feeling all too soft. He blinks again, and he finds he doesn’t blink any more.
—
Something bumps Oliver’s shoulder. Heavy, limp, and warm.
He goes very still.
There’s no way. No way this is happening right here in front of a live audience.
Oliver calms his face and keeps talking. He pieces together a speech about community outreach that he has never once considered before this moment. The weight on his shoulder is persistent, and he can feel Batman's warm breath ghosting his collarbone.
He steals a tiny glance, and… Oh my God.
Batman is… fully, completely, and deeply asleep. His head crushes Oliver’s shoulder with its weight, like it had been waiting for somewhere safe to fall. His cloak is cocooned around him like a blanket, and his face, for the first time this evening, looks completely unguarded, the bliss of sleep washing away all the tension his jaw had held. Just asleep.
On Oliver Queen. On live television. In front of far too many people.
Oliver hastily peers forward and continues talking. His eyes have split wide open, and his words are rushed. It seems his mouth has decided to handle this one without him.
Barry is the first one to notice, surprise also carving his eyes wide. His mouth forms a perfect O, and he crawls a little closer to poke Batman on the shoe. Oliver gives him a look that says, "Drop it," and he does.
J’onn must have sensed Batman's mind going still, or his Martian senses must have picked up on some sort of change because he begins gazing at Oliver like he wants to lend a hand. Then Diana. Her hand goes to her mouth, and the rest of the team then slowly start realising that the fricken Dark Knight’s fallen asleep on him!
The wider audience has also noticed now, like a ripple moving through the water. It’s gotten noticeably quieter, to the point that Oliver can now hear the studio lights humming overhead. Every camera in this building must definitely be soaking this up right now.
Oliver flinches because, understandably, he has no idea what to do, and that turns out to be a mistake. Batman's head slouches sideways like a heavyweight, and his body slumps onto Oliver’s thighs.
The man who brings all of Gotham's criminals to tears, to horror, to terror, is now draped across his lap like an enormous — he regrets to say this — house cat, who has found the most inconvenient time and place to sleep.
Oliver looks at his friends, then the audience. Nobody has said a word.
Calloway gazes at his book, then at Batman, Oliver, and the book again. He must be figuring out how to go about dealing with this. Oliver doesn’t blame him.
“Well, folks.” His voice is barely above a murmur. “There we have it.” The host begins thanking everyone for showing up, thanking the Justice League, and he exchanges handshakes with each member, except Oliver, who feels he cannot get up out of fear of disturbing Batman.
There is no logical reason for him to feel this way. Batman has chosen a completely inappropriate time to fall asleep, and waking him up would make this go 100 times smoother. He does NOT want to be the one who has to lug Batman's body out of here. Just envisioning it in his mind is enough to make him shiver.
The audience's applause is noticeably hushed but still quite loud. Perfect. That will definitely wake Batman up so he doesn’t have to be the asshole who ruins his sleep.
Batman does not stir. Not in the slightest. Oliver shakes him. Hal waves a hand in front of his face.
Oliver has two possible reasons for this. Either Batman had to have been running himself ragged doing something crazy before this, or it’s because he’s a bat who needs his sleep. Either way, he’s out like a light and probably needs the rest.
“Should we—“ Barry gestures towards him.
“Leave him,” Oliver says.
“Green—“
“I said leave him. Superman?” Clark nods, instantly understanding what he’s being asked to do. The rest of the Justice League collect their bearings as Clark very carefully tucks his arms underneath Batman and lifts him up, cradling him close and away from the cameras' prying lenses. It almost appears as if he’s cradling a big, black burrito.
“Thank you all for joining us tonight.” Calloway addresses the audience. “We have witnessed history today, folks, truly.”
He looks at Batman, obscured by Clark’s body. “In more ways than one.”
Barry, J’onn and Diana wave quietly to the audience, keeping close to Clark. The Justice League make their exit, leaving with one more member than they had come in with.
—
@TheSpotlightWithTedCalloway
Tonight's episode of The Spotlight has been the most-watched broadcast in our network's history. We'd like to thank the Justice League. We'd like to thank our incredible studio audience. We'd like to thank Batman, wherever he is. Our bite-sized interviews with every individual Justice League member are available on every platform. Thank you all.🎙️
@Gothamgirl27
@TheSpotlightWithTedCalloway, ive gotta know, was batman dropping in like that supposed to happen?!?!
(GIF of Batman coming down from nowhere as Superman and Calloway flinch)
@TheSpotlightWithTedCalloway
That was unscripted. We have no idea how he got into the venue.
@detective_smoke
Born and raised in gotham. we’ve known about the growling and being mute for years. glad the rest of yall are catching up.
@RJWheelher3
I dont think humans are supposed to growl
@detective_smoke
jhats just it. Hes not.
@RJWheelher3
What. what does that mean
@v1rtualvalkyr1ie
@JusticeLeague i will literally scream if you guys respond omg. Is batman ok? Where did you take him??!?!
@JusticeLeague
While we can’t tell you where he is, we can confirm he’s okay and just needed to rest. Thanks for your support. From Superman
@florashxop
The way superman picked him up im not okay the league loves him omg
(Image of Superman carrying Batman bridal style)
@fhjestia
Hhhh?? Did you notice how he tilted himself away from the audience??? Superman is so considerate like that
@JusticeLeague
We love him too. Signed Martian Manhunter.
@LexCorp
Feeling unsafe in today’s world? LexCorp's new home security system provides the protection you need without relying on alien intervention.
LexCorp.com/security
@ticklytangos61
My guy really said superman mentioned gotta make this about me 😭
@dark_passenger
Silence BRAND!!!
@TheSpotlightWithTedCalloway
The one, the only… the Dark Knight's private interview!!
(It’s Batman's interview in full. The interviewer asks him how he’s feeling tonight and puts the mic in his face. He stays silent. She pretends he responded, and the interview continues with a one-sided conversation. The interview only ends because Batman gets up mid-question and simply leaves.)
@therealgiussepe
shw just … kept going?? ☠️
@Batmansleftear
They keep insisting he’s not a house cat, but only my cat would walk away mid conversation…
@GreenRrownum1fan
this has so much reaction image potential..
(Image of Green Arrow making an indiscernible face as Batman rests on his shoulder)
@wasteland_jpg
unironically it was really sweet of him not to move becuz ive heard batman weighs like 400 pounds. I bet his ribs were pressing in on his heart or something
@JusticeLeague
No, we are certain he does not weigh above 400 pounds. No further comments about Batman's weight or sleeping patterns, please. From Green Arrow.
@GreenRrownum1fan
I LOVE YOU GREEN AREOW OMMGGG!!!😍
—
r/JusticeLeague
Comprehensive analysis of Batman’s biological classification based on last night’s ‘The Spotlight’ interview. Long post. [SERIOUS]
Posted by u/gotham_cryptozoologist
Now that clear footage of Batman exists, I have watched it all through 14 times. I have taken notes, I have consulted bat experts, and I have made a spreadsheet based on what we know and how certain traits coincide with certain animals.
docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1BatmanBiologicalClassification_FINAL_v14
The Justice League clearly does not have a concrete answer on what he is, so I (and the internet) will figure it out. What do you guys say? What do you think of my findings? If anyone wants to challenge this, please do.
—> @Stewedyamszzz
Just read the spreadsheet. You sound like the type of person to get a full nights rest
—>@gotham_cryptozoologist - OP
Why sleep when you can crack life's most burning mysteries
@batmanEnthusiast
Okay. I’ve been lurking around this thread for three hours, and I need to contribute because nobody is doing this systematically enough.
The problem with the bat versus cat debate is that we’re trying to fit him into existing classifications when the evidence suggests that he exists outside of them entirely. Let me explain.
We know the basics about bats; they’re nocturnal, some use echolocation, they roost in elevated positions and are highly territorial. Batman is nocturnal. He was also above in the rafters of the studio before anyone else knew he was there, because Gotham is his own defined territory that he does not share.
And the traits he just so happens to share with cats. Being territorial, going still before striking, and having an uncanny ability to disappear and reappear without explanation. Similarly to a cat, he also cares less for human social norms, falling asleep on live television.
He is not a bat. He is not a cat. He is something that shares traits with both and belongs fully to neither. You wouldn’t look at a creature nobody has seen before and conclude that it must be a dog because it has four legs. You would say ‘we don’t know what this is yet.’ Batman is an unidentified species. Just as Green Lantern said so, this is the true definition of a cryptid. He is no monster, and he’s obviously not a myth, but rather, something that exists entirely outside of our current understanding of what is possible.
I think we've been asking the wrong question. The question isn't what animal is Batman. The question is, what is Batman that has never existed before? We keep putting Batman into a box that already exists, but the point of a cryptid is that the box doesn’t exist yet.
@Pigeonfeet_11
I grew up in Gotham. I’ve seen him. I’ve seen Nightwing. I’ve seen Robin. I’ve seen the Red Hood. I’ve seen just about all of the other Vigilantes that are affiliated with him. Most people have, but you don’t hear about it online because everything gets written off as a half baked rumor.
But reading this thread with everyone's ideas about what he truly is has inspired me to share my own personal view.
The Flash said something on that show that everyone laughed at and moved on from, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. He said Batman is Gotham's heart and soul. Her manifestation into the real world. The media has just treated it as a cute little thing said by a guy who probably just thought it sounded cool, but as a Gothamite, I can tell you that I believe he wasn’t just being poetic.
I believe Batman is the genuine manifestation of Gotham's plight. A being manifested out of her fears, her worries and her horrors and into something built to fight it.
Let me explain.
Gotham is a truly awful place to live, and this would be fifty pages long if I sat here explaining that. It attracts the worst kind of people, those who prey on the vulnerable or those who hurt children. Criminals so inhuman that calling them monsters feels more accurate. Gotham knew that the law and morality could only go so far with these people, so she stopped waiting for something that could follow rules, stopped waiting for humans to take action.
Gotham reached into herself, into everything she had ever lost and grieved and survived, into every child she had failed to protect and every monster she had failed to stop, and she made something that had no limits.
Something that could follow the monsters all the way into the dark because he is the darkness. Something that hears everything because he is the son of the city. The Batman. A creature of the night.
He was Gotham's first, raw attempt. He is pure darkness. He is built for Gotham's night world. That is why he trills, whistles and calls into the night. That is why he disappears. That is why he goes where he pleases.
And the others? I also have a theory for that.
I’ve established that Batman was Gotham's first attempt at voicing her anguish. Raw, sorrowful and her messenger above all. But he wasn’t enough. He grew lonely, and she noticed.
So she refined her attempt and blessed him with his first Robin. He was not wholly darkness like he is, but something in between. Something human enough to walk into the daylight, bright enough to exist where he cannot.
He, and all his other vigilantes we have today, are the bridges between Batman and humanity. Where Batman disappears into shadows or whistles into the night, they can smile, bond and interact with humanity on his behalf. But they also speak his language and understand it, because they are the same. Just different.
Batman was born out of anguish, and his family was born out of hope for a better tomorrow.
—> @GeneralNora
Just shed a tear reading this. I don’t think ill ever see Batman the same way I once did
—> @izzenommii
after tonight’s show? Me neither