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Short drabble of Batman's thoughts at the end of Arkham City. First Person POV.
He was dead. Finally dead yet I felt nothing. All the years we fought came to this. No explosion, no poisonous gas, not even a bang. I was actually at a loss for words; my mind went numb.
What was left for Batman now? A few common criminals? The rest of them would believe that I killed the Joker; they didn't know what happened or even how it happened. They would truly fear me. No criminal would ever want to cross the Batman's path or else they might end up like the Joker.
Now I thought, as I placed his body on the hood of the police cruiser, of how dependent we were of each other. I ignored Jim as I continued to walk away. We lived off of fighting each other. Had we formed a sick, twisted kinship from this? Honestly, I believe so.
I believed that I could save him. I actually wanted to save him. I felt responsible for what happened to him. I was the one who created him that night so long ago.
I thought that there was still a man in that crippled body. How wrong I was. What was I thinking? Am I finally going crazy? If not, than what's wrong with me?