Bat/Man Begins

The war between bat and man had been waged for centuries. We bats were giants, towering above you, and you too used to have wings. Until one day, the gods seemed to descend from the sky, and offered a choice. The choice was no choice at all, but a trick from on high. Our races, once similar, diverged even further. You, siding with the visitors, gained technological aptitude and advancements, but lost your wings. The visitors did not like our savage stance against them, and so we lost our stature. They went so far as to even erase our structures, our homes, and reduce us to cave dwellings, but now – thousands of years later, things are again changing. Having long forgotten the pact that was made, it is being unwittingly broken, and now the curse will be lifted, and our battle shall begin once more…

A rural barn party rages on as we see two figures go into the shadows behind the barn, just out of sight. One shows off their new under arm wings they had been hiding beneath a large hoodie, the other has an additional pair on their shins now. They fly off to the front of the barn, and around it, high above it and beyond the rabble to the surrounding forest. A large shadow descends upon the transformed revelers, a piercing screech is heard, then nothing. On the forest floor, two headless bodies crash through the trees and hit the ground still spurting blood.

A writer prints this out for their friend to read, but it has just rained and there are tricky jumps to avoid large puddles and not get their shoes wet on the way to the bar. Having seen a shimmer of pavement above water level, they attempt to use it as a stepping stone. The writer is cut off by a pair of shoes ignorant to other people, the mission for dryness becomes a failure due to the selfishness of others. Continuing the walk to the bar, it takes the writer a few seconds to get out of their own head at the rudeness of faceless feet to realize that their friend is no longer holding the printout. They had accidentally dropped it in the puddle. Mid-apology their walk is stopped. A bespectacled man wearing a turtleneck under a button up vest and suit coat holds out a piece of damp paper. He introduces himself; he’s the famous author Lan Opher (christ, no), he admits that while at first he was glad to have saved a young writer’s draft, he now regrets it. He describes it as horribly derivative trash, idiotic, uses a word that clearly conveys the implication that it was written with the sole purpose of being adapted into a b-movie because they lack the talent to write a screenplay, poorly paced, and that the puddle he had saved it from had far more depth to it, so leaving it there would have been a favor to the world. The writer, having been holding in pee for the entire walk and tirade, takes the criticism in stride as they feel a drop of pee leak, quickly thanks the author for the advice, grabs and folds the paper, pockets it, and the pair of friends dash into the bar.

After having relieved themselves, the writer exits the bathroom and heads over to their friend’s table, already with-pitcher. The paper is taken out, and laid flat upon the table. It is quickly re-read by the writer as their friend apologizes for how shitty of a person the author was being, saying that they liked it, and, trying to connect to the piece, ask if the visitors were actually aliens and not gods. The writer admits that, yes, they were, and wonders aloud if it was really that obvious. (It was). The writer then change tones, though, because they fucking hated that author, their shitty trilogy, and all of their shitty novels. It’s all pretentious trash that completely misses the point of why it’s being made, why it’s being told, and the motivation of the characters. They were right about one thing, though: Bat/Man Begins is fucking garbage. The writer knows they can do better.

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