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“I’m telling you, Ron, this ‘Batman,’” Clay punctuated ‘Batman’ with aggressive air quotes, “is nothing more than a scheme from the higher ups to scare people out of doing crime.”
This was an ongoing argument. “And I’m telling you, there’s no way the higher-ups could fake it! Nobody in the government can keep a secret that well without someone finding out about it, and if they could, why would they? And besides, they have plenty of other methods of scaring people. Like higher taxes.”
“Did you hear that the mayor is working on a new tax plan? The rumor is he’s going to raise them so he has enough money to build a bunker under City Hall.”
“Why, to hide from the Batman?” Ron snorted. “That’s ridiculous. Why would the mayor need a bunker under the White House?”
“Two words: Nuclear. War.” He tapped his fingers on the table to punctuate the words.
Ron groaned. “Not this again. Hurry up and finish your lunch, we’ve got to get back on patrol.”
Clay shoved the rest of his burger in his mouth just as the waitress brought them their bill.
“It’s on me,” Ron said, reaching for it, but Clay slapped his hand down over the paper.
“You got it last time,” Clay said, then whistled as he looked at the price. “Damn, you’re an expensive date.”
Ron rolled his eyes. Every time with this guy. “I ordered the same thing as you!”
Clay just grinned and pulled some cash out of his wallet.
They both got up to leave, the bell on the door jingling as they went out.
“Hey, have you met the new guy yet? The one from Chicago?” Ron asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Who, Gordon? Haven’t talked to him yet but I saw him the other day. He seems like a real stick in the mud.”
“Maybe he goes in for the conspiracy theories. You can tell him all about them if you ever work with him,” Ron teased.
“Don’t be a putz,” Clay said with a laugh, “I know you secretly like listening to me talk about my theories.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you nut.”
“I think the Batman is cool even if he’s not real,” Mandy said thoughtfully as she walked along, balancing on the curb like it was a balance beam. “I mean, Bigfoot isn’t real, but people still love to talk about him. It’s cool that Gotham has its own creature.”
“Yeah, except Bigfoot is real,” Chris said. “My grandfather saw him once in California.”
“Your grandfather did LSD,” Amy retorted. “I’m with Mandy. I don’t think Bigfoot or Batman is real, but it’s kind of cool to think about anyway. Hey, what do you think Batman would look like, if he was real? You think he’s actually part-man and part-bat?”
“I think he’d have a human face but it would be all scrunched up and wrinkly like those bats we saw when we went on the zoo field trip!” Chris scrunched up his face in his best imitation of a bat.
“I bet he has giant wings!” Amy said. “And he’s covered in fur!”
“If he’s part man and part bat, do you think he poops human poop, or bat guano?” Chris asked.
They all grimaced as they remembered the smell of bat guano in the bat room at the zoo.
“It probably depends on how much of a bat he is. If he’s mostly human, then it would be human poop, but if he’s more bat.” Amy shrugged. Personally, Mandy thought poop was gross, whether it was human or bat.
“Hey, do you think we can talk your mom into taking us for ice cream?” she asked Amy, changing the subject.
“I bet if we dusted the bookshelves she’d go for it,” Amy said. “C’mon, let’s run!”
Backpacks swaying, they all raced for Amy’s house. Mandy much preferred to think about ice cream over potentially-real-but-probably-not bat creatures, anyway.
“I don’t know about this one,” Mike said dubiously.
“You say that every time,” Dylan said, rolling his eyes. “Save the skepticism for when the camera’s rolling.”
“Listen,” Mike argued. “Usually there’s more evidence and more lore, a solid, core story. This ‘Batman of Gotham’ is like a ghost story of a ghost story. Nobody can agree on details besides ‘beats people up’ and ‘is a giant bat.’ There’s not even any fake, blurry photos!”
“Yeah, because people are so scared of attracting the Batman’s attention, nobody wants to talk about it,” Rachel said from the backseat.
“I just don’t think we can get enough footage for an episode,” Mike said. “Especially if nobody wants to talk about it. I mean, you got this lead off an anonymous internet forum. Half the threads were conspiracy theories!”
“We can always pad the footage with a segment on spots where people were murdered,” Rachel said.
“That’s gruesome and disrespectful,” Mike muttered grouchily.
“And it helps pay our mortgages, so quit complaining,” Dylan said. “Worst case scenario, we forget about filming and hit up the nightclubs. I’ve heard Gotham has a really great nightlife!”
“Sure, if you want to get murdered,” Mike retorted.
“Ooh, I bet if you got murdered we’d get a million views on the video,” Rachel teased.
“You’d like that. I bet you’d bring a tripod to my funeral.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” Dylan said. “Now, the vlogging camera, on the other hand…”
Mike punched him in the arm, and Dylan and Rachel both just laughed. Despite himself, Mike laughed too. Yeah, maybe it would be a good weekend. If he didn’t get murdered.
“Batman: Man or Myth?” Dick read aloud. “The new folk legend that’s been circulating Gotham has gained traction recently on internet forums and among conspiracy theorists, but is there any truth to the monstrous creature that is supposedly stalking Gotham? A trio of paranormal investigators from Hartford, Connecticut, thought so, and they recently released a video on the topic. Hey, Bruce, you’re famous!”
“I was already famous,” Bruce grunted. He was currently benchpressing 300 pounds, plus Dick, who was balancing on the bar with his feet in between Bruce’s hands. The extra, and moving, weight was taking all his concentration, and it was slightly frustrating that Dick didn’t look like he had to concentrate at all to balance perfectly on the bar.
“Fine, Batman is famous,” Dick corrected.
“Hnn,” Bruce said. “Batman isn’t supposed to be famous.” Okay, maybe that was enough. It was hard enough to lift the bar and Dick, let alone hold a conversation. He racked the bar and sat up, Dick effortlessly flipping off the bar without dropping his magazine.
“Why did Alfred even let you buy that?” he grumbled.
“Because I asked him nicely,” Dick said, sticking his tongue out and then prancing away when Bruce made a grab for him. “C’mon, you’ve gotta be faster than that!” He grinned as he darted away.
Bruce chased him down. Dick was hampered by his giggles, and he clearly wasn’t trying very hard, because Bruce caught him easily and tossed him over his shoulder.
“Hey, put me down!” Dick said through his laughter.
Bruce released him and picked up the magazine he’d dropped.
“This doesn’t even look like the Batsuit,” he said. “It looks like a drawing a five-year-old made of their dog.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a boogey man,” Dick said. “Don’t complain when nobody’s seen you long enough to accurately portray how hideous you are.”
Play-growling, Bruce dropped the magazine and lunged for Dick. Dick yelped, but Bruce got his arms wrapped around him and heaved him into the air.
“Hideous monster, am I? We’ll just see about that when I make you do extra homework.”
“No, Bruce, wait, I was just kidding! Bruce, put me down!”
Dick’s laughter echoed through the cave, and Bruce’s own deep, rumbling laughter joined it.