SquidgeWorld Archive

Taken in by the delicate noise

Gunfire. Perched on the roof of a four story high building, I hear gunfire. Memories dulled with years, colors washed out even in my dreams, but it still makes my stomach clench.

I hate guns.

Knocked to the ground by the subtle thunder

I land next to a bloodied body. I got here too late. Scarlet stains my boots, seeps into my cape. I'm frozen into place because...

Because...

Shackled and bound by the sound of your voice

She's crying, almost hysterical now, standing next to the fallen man. She's trying not to scream, and the sound coming out of her throat is even worse. She's trying to keep her ripped clothes together. There are beads all over the sidewalk.

Beads string down from a snapped cheap necklace. I'm frozen into place because...

Because...

Wandering around in silent wonder

He tried to rape her, she tells me, almost convulsing. She didn't want to... didn't mean to... she hoped never to use the gun when she bought it. But Gotham, dearest Gotham, you drag us down, you shake us, turning us upside down, against our very beliefs, in every chance you get.

Like you wanted us, dear Gotham, to destroy you, destroy ourselves, a little more each day.

I'm moving, but I'm frozen into place because...

I allowed this to happen again.

What chance did I have with the silver moon hanging in the sky opening old wounds?

He'll be another soul to haunt me in my dreams, and I'll scream.

'You were a rapist! Criminal! Vermin infesting the streets!'

He'll laugh. 'So it's ok if the victim becomes the victimizer?'

Revenge. Scales tilting. Karmic justice. The universe's big practical joke.

She's broken. Rape and murder in one empty, meaningless night. Fear, anger, shame, guilt. No one should be so angry, ever.

I should have...

I...

Taking hold of the hem of your dress

Gotham, dear lady, angry mistress, dark beating heart.

I try. I don't know if I try hard enough. I don't know if I could try harder. I reach as far as I can but it's never enough.

Why do they keep doing this to you?

They never stop. It's crime and theft, domestic violence and child molesting, rape and murder, and blood and tears and noises that sound worse than the screaming. Every day, everywhere and I...

I don't understand why they do this to you. All their loved ones are part of you, but still they stain you, warp you.

And you break us, mark us, in return.

Gotham, please, spare your children.

Bodily whole but my head's in a mess

No bullet ripped through my flesh, nor a drop of my blood was shed tonight, but...

I'm frozen into place, far into my lair, and it's not far enough. I want to set myself apart from them, I want no share of their mindless corruption, but I won't put myself far enough, ever. They won't stop the wheel of misery from turning, but I'll try, Gotham, I will.

I'll fight fire with fire, and I'll...

Gotham, you're breaking my heart.

Fuelling obsession that borders psychosis

Dawn is upon us.

I can't sleep.

I want to clean your streets once and for all; I want to finish this threats. Your super villains, Gotham? I don't hate them, I just can't. They are superlatives of the human nature. They rave on their unique purposes, their insane motivations, and when I'm close to call them monsters and set them aside from you, a regular man, one of your beloved children, comes and does worse than they do.

I can't hate them all, Gotham, no one should be that angry. Ever.

But, if your children are capable of doing great evil as much as they're capable of doing great good... shouldn't I save hope for your monsters?

I want this to stop. Your children, they won't stop, not even for their own sake.

I don't want to believe in anything anymore.

I hate what you do to me.

It's a sad disease, creeping through my mind, causing disabilities of the strangest kind

I shower, scrubbing my skin until it burns.

Last night, I let it happen. Another life ruined, another life ended before time. If I had been faster, I could have stopped the attempting rapist, and that girl wouldn't have a dead man in her conscience.

I am not guilty of their sins, but I'm tired of failing to protect them. When it seems all
I can do is protect them from myself, from this anger that no one should have...

And even at that, my record is vastly flawed. Harvey, Dick, Jason, Tim, Barbara, Jim. I brought misery and death into their lives. You and me together, Gotham, such a terrible price to pay for the mission.

I'm so tired, dear Gotham, and it feels like I'll break under your weight.

So I set out to look for one that will lend me his strength.

Taken in by the delicate noise

He spots me before I'm close enough to speak to him. He sets his eyes on mine, and doesn't ask questions. I'm grateful, for I don't think I have any answers. He stands up, grabs my arm carefully, always so careful that I want to...

Why can't your children be as careful?

He takes me to the roof, the Daily Planet's roof, and the light hurts my eyes a little. The clean air hurts my chest a little. He says my name, a question for all he doesn't know how to ask, and the concern in his voice kills me a little.

I say nothing. I don't know if there's anything to say, at all. I know what he'll say if I tell him I failed, I know what he'll say if I tell him about last night, I know the words he'll use to reassure me, I know the way his eyes will turn sad. Hearing him will only prove that there's nothing, nothing at all, that can make this better.

I just stand close to the edge, staring down at the city bathed in morning light. It's beautiful. He stands next to me, admiring his city, his beloved, dear Metropolis, and the way the sun hits him makes me think he's glowing. He's beautiful.

I don't know what I'm doing here.

Knocked to the ground by the subtle thunder

He wouldn't have failed you last night, Gotham. I think, somehow, that's why you hate him. You have this self-destruction thing going, and I can't really stop it, but him...

Maybe he could save you. Maybe he could save me.

Is that why you hate him, maybe? Because perhaps there's a chance for me not to be completely lost in your soiled, dark loving grasp?

My fists close tightly, and maybe I'm shaking, because he puts a warm hand on my shoulder, and I feel like he's pinning me down, keeping me still when I feel like I'm going to explode.

I'm trapped and bound, timeless and senseless, no sound, no wind, no warming sun. There's just you and me, and this frozen endless rage. But he's here too, and he's looking at me like he knows, like he understands.

I want to throw that feeling away, because I know he doesn't, I know he can't understand, not me, not you, no what you have done to me in all this years, but I feel like I have so little already, that throwing this away would be a sacrilege.

Shackled and bound by the sound of your voice

Maybe it's wrong to think this is as close to sacred as I'll get. He's, all in all, only a man. But I'm cold and more than a little broken, and he's warm, and he's always so careful, like he's trying to mend pieces I didn't even think were left anymore.

You have taken so much from me, Gotham, and I have given you all I have. Let me have this, just for a while.

I relax into his touch, leaning towards him the slightest bit, a silent invitation he takes easily, no second thoughts. His hand moves across my back to hold me, and he clutches me close to him, a friendly hug, nothing he - or I, would need to feel ashamed of if someone comes by. I almost regret his precaution.

No one comes up, of course, the roof of a newspaper is really nobody's business; I let out a sigh I didn't know I was holding. It comes out shakily, and for a second I wonder if something is going to break inside me this time.

But no, moments pass and I feel his warm seep from his body through our clothes, reaching me. In turn, I reach for his free hand, a soft, phantom touch that I hope he can see for what it is.

Regret.

Wandering around in silent wonder

I must leave soon, and so does he. This is not a crisis solved, not a wound healed. Nothing has changed. This is a never-ending battle, where there's never a winner but always casualties.

A battle for you, dear Gotham, for the world, to make you safe, to return you to innocence.

A battle for my soul, to grant it peace, free it from the anger and pain you have brought to it.

A battle for his right to be human, to be loved and not feared, to be cared for and not be set apart.

A battle for hope, for humanity, for peace, for a better world.

When I can't, he keeps hoping; he remains unscarred where I have been burned. He looks at your children, all the World's children, and he believes.

I stand straight, trying to accommodate the weight I took upon my shoulders for you, the weight you put upon my shoulders, and he lets me go. Tonight I'll watch your streets, saving the memory of his warmth so you won't tear me apart.

I won't give up on your children, Gotham, because he believes in them.

And I want to believe in him.