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Detective Samson Donovan always prided himself on being one of the LAPD’s finest detectives. He’s not arrogant about it, nor does he gloat that he’s the best. His work spoke for itself. Thirty years on the force had taught Donovan a good and simple lesson: good intentions weren’t enough. Procedures existed for a reason. Gaining evidence the right way mattered. The chain of command mattered. Because every shortcut has a consequence, and every rule was written for a reason.
He followed these procedures and rules by the letter, and as a result, he had solved thousands of cases over the course of his career. He saved countless lives, survived shootouts, watched good men and women retire, and buried many brothers and sisters in uniform. Even now he is busy writing his reports of the multiple cases he’s solved this past week. Just like he’s always done. How it should be done. Without a system like this, everything crumbles. Everyone knows this. But it seems like there is one guy that doesn’t seem to get it.
“He dropped another suspect…”
“Took down a dozen gang members, can you believe it…?”
“Got to the scene way before us…”
“Saw Alvarez talking to the guy last night…”
“Don’t know why the Commissioner lets him…”
Donovan stops typing, his fingers hovering above the keyboard as the voices continue around him. He stares at his report, unable to continue.
Batman. Donovan thinks, his fists clenching tightly.
That was all everyone had been talking about lately. Ever since he arrived, criminals have been found beaten and bound in random alleys. Many of the mid-size gangs moved most of their operations away from the neighborhoods and into the daylight. Bringing its own kinds of advantages and dangers. He was prevalent enough that many of their witnesses have been able to give out more detailed descriptions of the vigilante. They called him a hero, but to Donovan, he was a man with no identity, no authority, and no accountability. To make matters worse, Alvarez seems to vouch for the vigilante, and instead of being reprimanded, Commissioner Wright allows the partnership to continue.
But that’s not the only thing that is bugging him. Over the course of his career, he has dealt with strange people. Criminals with elaborate plans, conspiracy theorists, weird college kids, and plain stupid people. But this was different; this wasn’t a man dressing up as a fictional character for a convention or a costume party. But this guy wasn’t wearing a Halloween costume; he wasn’t performing at a children's party, nor was he attending a convention. He literally wears a costume and calls himself Batman of all things, and the worst part is, he wasn’t pretending; he genuinely believed he was Batman. Even the name itself, Batman, was ridiculous. Batman was a fictional character; he was nothing but a story for young kids and adults to read and enjoy. It was about a random billionaire in Gotham City who dressed as a bat and fought criminals at night. Gotham isn’t real, the Batman isn’t real, and yet a real person had the bright idea of becoming Batman.
Donovan rubs his temple, already feeling the headache coming up every time he thinks of that vigilante. The same questions flood his mind: What kind of person did that? Who gets the bright idea to dress up and fight crime? What drives a man to do that? Psychosis? Stress? Trauma? Boredom?
The voices around him continued talking, unaware of Donovan’s turmoil.
“Did you hear? Alvarez invited him to the roof.”
“Really? Does the Commissioner know about this?”
“The Commissioner seems okay with it.”
Donovan turns his monitor off. Hearing enough, if nobody is going to say something, then he will.
Rooftop
By the time Donovan reaches the roof, Alvarez and the vigilante are already talking. What it is, Donovan doesn’t know, nor does he care. He walks towards the duo. Alvarez glances back to see Donovan walking towards them.
“Sam…” Alvarez says.
Donovan ignores him, his attention focused entirely on Batman. Seeing him up close, he was different from what Donovan expected. He never caught a glimpse of the vigilante before, only getting vague descriptions of the man. He’d imagine some hulking ex-soldier hiding beneath the mask, towering over everyone. Instead, he barely reached Donovan’s shoulder.
“So the rumors are true…”
The vigilante says nothing. They just stare at Donovan with those big white, unnerving eyes that Donovan hates.
“Sam…” Alvarez sighs, rubbing his eyes. “This isn’t a good time.”
“Not a good time?” Donovan scoffs, “I think it is a great time.”
He looks down at the vigilante, taking in the outfit. That mask, the ears, the coat, and the symbol on his chest were all ridiculous to him. “You wanna know something strange?”
The vigilante says nothing, continuing to stare at Donovan.
“You call yourself Batman,” Donovan begins, shaking his head in disbelief, “You really believe you are him?”
“Sam…” Alvarez warns.
“Stay out of this Alexander,” Donovan says, turning back to the vigilante. He presses his index finger on the vigilante's chest, more specifically the symbol. “Batman’s nothing but a comic book character. A story people read to escape reality. You might think wearing that mask gives you some sort of power, but it doesn’t.”
“Donovan…” Alvarez warns.
Donovan ignores Alvarez, continuing to stare at the vigilante. “I don’t like you. You represent everything I stand against.”
The vigilante says nothing; he only looks down at the finger still on his chest before looking up at Donovan’s face.
“We don’t want you here. You’re a vigilante. You answer to no one but yourself, deluding yourself into believing you are what this city needs. You aren’t. You’re just a lunatic in a Halloween costume. The only reason why you’re not in handcuffs is that the Commissioner is being lenient about Alvarez keeping you around.”
The vigilante says nothing. Somehow pissing Donovan even more.
“Sooner or later you’ll screw up.”
Donovan could see Batman’s jaw clench slightly.
“And when you do, I’ll be there.”
Donovan steps back and walks away from the roof. Leaving Alvarez and Batman to watch Donovan’s retreating figure.
“...You trust him?” Batman finally speaks up.
Alvarez nods, “With my life.”
Batman hums slightly. “Doesn’t seem to like me much.”
“Give it time, I’m sure he will warm up to you.”
“I doubt it.”
“...probably.”
Alvarez pats Batman on the shoulder. “Good luck tonight, kid; remember to text me when you’re finished.”
Batman nods, watching Alvarez leave the roof, leaving him alone as he overlooks the city below. Donovan’s words still linger in his mind.
Batman’s nothing but a comic book character…
He couldn’t exactly disagree with the detective. He knew better than anyone that this whole thing is something no sane man would willingly do. Batman only ever existed in fiction, and maybe one day he might fail, but until that day comes, he won’t give up.
Unit seven, possible robbery in progress…
The radio broadcast interrupts his thoughts; he turns to the ledge, overlooking the city as he jumps off, disappearing into the night.