This piece was inspired by "Always A Hero" by Brickgirl. All kudos is 
partly due to that well-written story.



Don The Suit
by Maelstrom


	I look into your eyes and I see your overconfidence. I see the 
cocky look you give your enemies, the careless 
I-can-defeat-you-with-a-flip smile, because you know that the suit will 
protect you from harm. Because you know that the suit will shield your 
flesh, will flow like silk, will let you fly. It is your second skin, it 
is your wings. You know all that and you are smug. You are brash. You 
know that no one can hurt you, not unless I push the button that 
deactivates your armor, and you know I will not do that.

	I have only done it once, when you'd first worn the suit. I was 
angry that you'd taken it from me. Wrath coursed through my veins and 
threatened to seize my fragile-with-age heart. You had no right to don 
the suit. No right.

	You thought that it was because you'd broken into my home, into my 
hideout and stolen the black-knight armor, that I was so angry. You 
thought that was why I was willing to let you die. True, a good deal of 
pride was involved -- I had neglected the security alarms in my old age, 
and I'd thought that the times when young vigilante-wannabes would enter 
the cave and discover my identity were long over. Evidently it is a 
curse I am stuck with for good.

	But my fury was also due to the fact that you'd donned the suit. 
You'd *donned the suit.* Without any prior experience or training. 
Without any permission or warning. You just took it out of the case and 
put it on without a second thought. That made you Batman in your eyes.


	Wrong. *I* am the Batman. Nobody else.

	What right did you have to assume that you could safely take on 
the mantle?  What made you think that it was so easy to wear a costume, 
fight crime, and come home to bed every night? There have been those 
before you, McGinnis, who had worked and trained and fought hard to 
*earn* the role of hero, of savior. They did whatever it took to gain 
approval that yes, they were capable of patrolling Gotham, and yes, they 
were worthy.

	You did none of that.

	You waltzed in and discovered my identity. You admired and fiddled 
with my equipment. You returned demanding vengeance for your father. You 
stole the suit.

	You stole the suit.

	That suit represents more than just a costume. It is the symbol of 
justice and order in this corrupt society. It is the object that strikes 
fear in every criminal's heart.

	It is the product of the Dark Knight's evolution, born at his 
parents' death, eternal immortal. It has metamorphosed over the years, 
but it has not changed. It has witnessed the deaths of many Robins, in 
more ways than one.  It has acknowledged the existence of newer flocks 
in its midst, it fought alongside those newcomers, and it nodded in 
approval. It witnessed my own death as Batman when I was broken -- it 
could not save me then. It was assumed by another as I sought to find 
myself, to heal outer and inner wounds. Its substitute was my very first 
charge, the son I'd never had and never will have. It was a role he'd 
grown to resent, but agreed to assume until I'd released my demons.

	I did unleash some demons, but not all. They would not leave me 
alone. I died as Batman again, and will never return.

	That suit is my identity.

	Was my identity.

	And you have taken that away from me.

	You have confidence. You have determination. You have fire. But 
they will easily be quenched with time, when you find that this is not 
the life you are willing to lead. That this is not how you want to spend 
your weekends and your nights, that there has to be something else out 
there besides crimefighting.

	Others have led this life. Some still do. We knew the sacrifice we 
were making. Do you?

	The police have limited power. There will be no one else but us to 
maintain safety and justice in this city. Are you willing to dedicate 
yourself to a lifetime of that? A lifetime of watching over people, of 
stalking and patrolling the dark because no one else will, and if you 
stop for even a night havoc will erupt and consume the fragile line of 
peace in this city.

	Are you willing to accept that?

	If every person who'd had his or her father killed could so easily 
assume the suit, the world would be swarming with vigilantes by now. I 
allowed you to remain because I finally had to face my limitations. 
Youth was not on my side. There had to be someone else to take up the 
mantle, to resume the work that I'd carried out for so long, to don the 
suit and face the enemy, to contend with the demons that still rage 
within the spirit of the armor.

	You think you are up to that, McGinnis?


		
			End


		   Maelstrom




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