One form of articulating my admiration for how this show is being handled is that, even if I didn't knew that Lecter kills and eats people, the things he does do on screen would suffice to creep me out.
By the way, the obvious crossover would be based on the observation that Dr. Lecter, as a world-known psychiatrist with experience with victims of traumatic violence, would be the obvious choice to treat a wealthy young boy who seems to have problems coping with the sudden death of his parents.
In other words, imagine Mads Mikkelsen saying Tell me more about the bat. Because I swear, turning post-Crime Alley child!Bruce into training-for-Batman child!Bruce would be *precisely* the kind of thing Dr. Lecter seems to find fascinating.
As an aside, of course, imagine Hugh Dancy with his eyes closed whispering I don't attack criminals because they break the law. I attack them because they scare me. I hide in the dark and break their bones because I want them to be as scared of me as I am of them. Bats terrify me, so I become one. This is my design.
In Batman Inc.: Leviathan Strikes #1: That Leviathan is who it is and does what it does because of what we see makes *no* sense, so I'm ignoring it. Steph is righteously kickass, which is awesome.
But, if you'll allow me an admittedly fanboy-ish moment: that Bruce gets pounded by Daedalus' mind-crunching labyrinth... I don't buy it. I mean, this is *Bruce*. This is I-Have-A-Crazy-Backup-Personality Bruce. This is I-Talked-Desaad-Into-Killing-Himself-While-He-Was-Torturing-Me Bruce. This is I-Thought-My-Way-Out-Of-Darkseid's-Mind-Probe Bruce. This is Darkseid-Hit-Me-With-God-Killing-Omega-Beams-And-All-I-Got-Was-A-New-Suit-Design Bruce. I'm very okay with Bruce losing fights against metas, and I get angry with him, but not with the writer, when he gets lost in his obsessions and fails to see the big picture. But in my fanon, Bruce's mind is one of the most heavily weaponized and thoroughly booby-trapped constructs ever to be housed in a human cranium. Not because he's as crazy as, say, the Joker (well, nobody is except maybe Azathoth, and now there's a nice crossover to ponder), but because he took the trauma of his parents' death, and engineered that into the engine of a thing called the Batman. That's the point: the same person who engineered his own body into one of the world's foremost martial artists, and who engineered the Batcave and so on, first and foremost and always, engineered his own mind into a tool, weapon, and persona. The bat provided the form, and Crime Alley provided the drive, but it was *Bruce* who cut and trained and pushed and broke his mind into Batman's.
Sorry this got rambly and rather twelve-year-old-ish "No way Batman lost that fight, he has a... a... an anti-this gadget in his belt! So there!" What can I say? I have my blindspots of love and fear, and Bruce's mind is one.
I'll make the next two super-short: In Fantastic Four #601, is it me or is Johnny now kind of one of the most powerful people in the Universe? And where is the *full* meeting between him and Ben? After how they said goodbye before he died, whether sexually or not, they love each other and there's no other way of saying it. And in Snake Eyes #8, I'm finally getting bored of being told how cool are Snake Eyes and the Cobra organization. What we see isn't that impressive in either case.
Q: Why didn't Jason just blow up Batman to smithereens and then set up to control Gotham's crime?
A: Because just like Bruce's fight against crime — and his refusal to kill — are side effects of his desperate need to have his parents back, Jason's fight against crime — and his scruples to kill Bruce — are side effects of his desperate need for Bruce's love to overpower Bruce's issues.
Given how the DC universe works, I'd say Bruce has a an slightly greater chance of having his impossible wish fulfilled.
Jason shouldn't have gone back to Gotham. He was blossoming up as a sneakier version of Punisher. His life was interesting, he was doing good work, and he was getting both support and space from a Talia al-Ghul that was almost openly proud of him.
But you know how things are. Bruce is Jason's Gotham: dark, hurtful, bigger than life, and impossible to walk away from.
The resurrection of Bruce Wayne, in the style of Gaiman's death of Batman. Kind of over-dramatic, because some things are definitely best done in comics form.
If he wanted to live he'd be doing something else. If dying were a choice, he'd have done so lifetimes ago, buying somebody else's life with his own if he was lucky enough. For a second, he had thought that saving the universe would be enough to close his eyes. Enough to buy peace.
But the thing inside him had laughed at the offer. The War was still going on, and he had lost long ago the right to sit it out. He knew the War would go on forever. The thought had long provided him with the oldest and best tool he had, a bottomless source of crystal-clear fear.
A gun fired somewhere in the city. The Bat opened his wings, and Bruce Wayne dived into the night.
Title: Requiescat in Pace, Bruce Wayne Fandom: DCU Rating: PG13 Author Notes: DC has given some spoilers about Bruce's return (that he will return was, of course, only to be expected). I haven't seen them, but I'm guessing they have nothing to do with this.
He can rest. Human civilization is barely beginning. There's little society, and no crime to speak of. Nothing for him to do. The timestream is too fragile as it is, and Gotham is a mirage in the far future, so to preserve his city he will do, for once in his life, precisely nothing at all.
The Paleolithic sky is clean and beautiful. Bruce rests on a shallow hill, looking at the stars with eyes that feel younger than they have any right to. Perhaps it's the world, or perhaps just himself.
It's a young planet. Ten thousand years, give or take, before Earth has the technology and organization to resist invasions from space, or to keep immortal madmen like Ra's al Ghul and Vandal Savage in check. Only sheer luck had stood between humanity and them.
Bruce sighs, entirely unsurprised by what some of his least empirically-minded colleagues-to-be would call 'fate'. Standing up, he begins calculations to orient himself using the far past's stars. It's probably around a thousand miles to the nearest Lazarus Pit.