A Batman's Nightmare

A feeling of immense fear clutched the man's heart as he dashed across the rooftops of Gotham, the great Batman reduced to a mere vigilante in his desperate attempt to flee this nightmare. Somewhere inside him, he knew he could not run for much longer, the injuries he had sustained thus far hindering him more and more as he ran. He clutched a black-gloved hand to his abdomen in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood. The dark fabric of his suit was stained even darker with the thick crimson fluid, the man's jaw clenched in pain and fear.1

A thin man with seaweed-green hair and a chalky-white pallor pursued him, his spindly legs surprisingly agile. His crimson lips were split open in a mocking grimace of laughter, his high, keening laughter reverberating inside the Batman's skull. This is all wrong, the Batman thought, the adrenaline clouding his senses of logic and reason. Why am I running? Why am I hiding? What's going on--2

His thoughts were cut short as the sound of an explosion rang through the night, the sharp pain in Batman's leg just barely registering through his fear. There was an animal cry of pain-- Was that really me? he thought-- as the black figure collapsed, his chin smashing into the concrete as he went. The hot, sticky blood that ran down his jaw now proved, against popular belief, that the Batman was indeed a human being. The clown figure slowed to a walk, his footsteps loud, measured, and ominous. He grinned down at his fallen quarry, a triumphant chuckle rising in his throat.3

"Ahh, and what a lovely prize we have here," the Joker jeered in a high, soft voice. "The great Batman, finally fallen at my mercy. And what a small, fragile creature he seems to be, now that his life is mine for the taking." Finally, he released a high cackle of demonic glee, throwing his head back and opening his mouth wide in laughter. The Batman quickly checked all the compartments of his utility belt, searching for any lifeline to grab onto, any last shred of hope in the desperate situation. Batarangs? No, they had all been exhausted on the Joker's cronies. Sleeping gas? No, that had sprung a leak a few blocks back. Emergency candy corn? No, he had expended that on a lonely Saturday night when Alfred had gone to Bingo. The Batman was left with nothing, nothing but his mask, his fear, and an empty utility belt.4

Wait a second--5

His mask.6

So that was what the Joker wanted. That was the reason he had tracked him down. Of course the Joker would never really want to kill him! It all made sense now! Now, in his final moments, the World's Greatest Detective had finally figured out what his greatest nemesis was aft--7

He felt the long, purple-gloved fingers slip under his cowl, the bony knuckles bending painfully against his cheekbones. The Joker began to pull off the mask, slipping off the Batman's last boundary, the last great barrier between the black-clad warrior and the rest of the world--8

Bruce Wayne woke up in a cold sweat in the master bedroom of Wayne Manor, miles away from where a clown had been unmasking a bat, lightyears away from where a caped crusader had depended on a bag of candy corn on a lonely Saturday night.9

It was all just a bad dream...10

Now where did he put that candy corn?