I was down and out in Gotham. Rough childhood, Mama was mean to little Stevie, yeah. Ran away, lived the mean streets, knew the hidey holes. Even where HE kept backups. He was prepared, man.

Then the Big One happened. Freaks and geeks got pulled into a Royal Rumble and never came back. Even the class-A crazies at Arkham headed for space, or Russia, or Jacksonville. Somebody had to be the Man in Gotham. Why not Steve? Finders keepers, losers creepers. With the old capes gone, there were punks and retards to sort out, but no powers or robots or such shit. I had time to school on the tools. BAM! BIFF! SOCK! And get guns. Gotta have guns.

Then one day I was shootin’ at some fools and I saw her standing there. Such weird curvy edges and shiny bits. I made a bat-line over there. I said, "Toots, Check me out! No, seriously, check me out! I'm the goddamn Batman." I’d been workin' out; punchin' heads and kickin' ass. You know she liked what she saw. She said, "Let's take a ride in my invisible airplane." Uh huh, she was bat-shit crazy. But the fun we had! She liked to tie me up with yellow rope and have me say how I loved her. And I did too, what a fine ass she had.

But like I said, loco. One day she tried to shove three feet of steel through me. Good thing for the goddamn armor. I told her to go pound sand.

It’s lonely without her. But chicks be crazy. Maybe I’ll adopt an orphan. I might have to make one. Omelette, eggs.

A Crazy Steve story for JD, inspired by BvS:DoJ; also for TMDFQ (will you spot the second half?); AND for BQ'16 294. Trifecta!

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