Understanding

Batman and Spider-man

Understandings

Batman and Spiderman and all associated characters are the property of DC Comics, and Marvel Comics; respectively. I don’t own any rights to them, nor do I earn any profit from this story. (No parallel universe or alternate dimension tropes or cliches in this story)

          It was late at night; deep shadows fell over Pinelawn Memorial Gardens outside of Queens, NY. A lithe figure, clad in blue and red, slipped over the wall, into the cemetery. He carried a bouqet of blue roses; it had been his uncle’s favorite color. The masked man moved stealthily, neither the security guards nor the cameras that monitored the grounds detected his movement.

         One set of eyes was watching, however. If the owner of those eyes was correct and he usually was; the figure in red and blue had only one goal and it was touching and tragic not malicious, as the editor of one of the city’s leading newspapers would have you believe.

          The masked red and blue man, known to the people of the city as Spiderman, knelt before a gravestone with the inscription: “Ben Parker-He leaves behind his wife, Mae; and nephew Peter.”

Spiderman pulled back his mask, revealing the face of a college-aged young man, stained with tears. Peter placed the flowers on Uncle Ben’s grave and said a silent prayer, some part of him still believed in the power of prayers.

          The watching figure felt a pang of sympathy, he knew what Spiderman was thinking and feeling; But he had lost his faith in prayers some time ago.

It was only through the encouragement of a stalwart English butler, and five remarkable young people named Dick, Barbara, Tim and Damian, and yes, even Jason; that he had discovered that there was still room for hope in the world.

Spiderman finished his musings, and rose to leave. He rapidly pulled the mask back over his face when he heard a deep voice say, quietly, “Mr. Parker.” Peter spun to see a tall, dark figure moving out of the shadows; he stopped just short of stepping completely into the light.

Peter was on high alert, no one should have been able to approach him this closely, without everyone of his senses setting off a half-dozen alarms. And how did the mystery man know his true name?

A black gloved hand extended from the dark figure and handed Spiderman a plain manila envelope. “I understand,” the dark man said and without another word, just a soft rustle of fabric, he was gone.

          Spiderman was filled with uncertainty, what the hell had just happened? Finally his brain started working again and he fumbled with the envelope, pulling it open. He reached inside, and pulled out a photo of a young boy kneeling in front of a double grave. The boy in the picture was even younger than Peter himself had been at Uncle Ben’s funeral.

          A distinguished looking; balding man in a dark suit had his hand on the kneeling boy’s shoulder. On the tombstone barely legible in the photo, was inscribed, “Here lay Thomas and Martha Wayne, they are survived by their beloved son, Bruce.”

Spiderman looked off into the night where the shadowy form of the enigmatic hero known as Batman had disappeared, and he too, understood.