When Asked Later, Batman Was Unable to Say Exactly How He Received the Blow to Side of the Head

When asked later, Batman was unable to say exactly how he received the blow to side of the head. He was in pursuit of someone; that much he knew. He never saw the attack coming, and it was only through extreme effort that he stayed on his feet.

The blow to was severe enough to bring on a concussion, and Batman staggered about blindly, barely able to focus on shapes around him. His grip on consciousness waning, he sought out temporary sanctuary. He began pulling every door handle he passed, finally finding a large trailer that was unlocked. He hauled himself inside and found it empty.

Seconds later, he was jolted back to alertness by a fist rapping on the door. He had slumped into a chair, and had to remember how he came to be in the trailer.

“Hey, they’re ready for you!” a voice called.

Batman said nothing, smelling a trap by his enemies.

After another knock, the door opened and man stepped in. The woozy Batman sat up straight to present a clear view of his imposing figure. The brawny man showed no surprise at finding Batman there.

“Let’s go, Adam.” He stood there, waiting for Batman to move.

“He thinks I’m someone else in the Bat costume,” Batman realized, amused that for once Bruce Wayne wasn’t being suspected.

“Are you okay?” the man asked.

“Sure, just hit my head,” Batman mumbled. “Can you give me a hand?”

“Did you get cut? Let me see.” The man reached for his cowl. Batman jerked his head back.

“I can’t let you do that. It would severely impair my...” Batman stopped before he completely blew his cover

“I already know what you look like. Boy, you’re really groggy, aren’t you? Do you even recognize me?”

Batman thought fast for an answer. “Didn’t you say they’re waiting for me? I’d better get going.”

“Do you even remember what you’re late for?”

“Of course,” Batman insisted as the man helped him step outside. Looming before them was a huge building that had “Stage 15” painted on a sliding door.

“Daniel, something’s wrong with Adam!” his handler called out to a second man.

“Don’t tell me you two were getting drunk in there, Hy!” Daniel said, rushing over to smell their breath. “We’re behind schedule already!”

“No, we’re not drunk. Go get the doctor. Adam hit his head.”

Batman had heard enough to satisfy himself that these two were merely street-level con men. He stepped back and pointed an accusing finger.

“Let’s just lay our cards out on the table, shall we? You two are obviously stalling for the miscreant I was pursuing – whoever that was.” He scratched his aching head as he tried to remember his quarry’s identity.

“Why were you chasing a ‘miscreant’ during the middle of the shoot?” Daniel asked.

Batman shook a finger. “I’m through with this foolishness. You can either tell me where he is, or we can go down to police headquarters and you can explain it to Commissioner Gordon.”

Daniel and Hy’s jaws dropped and they exchanged a look.

A mustached man in an expensive suit emerged from the hangar-like dwelling. “What’s the hold-up, guys? The Publicity Tonight crew is setting up.”

Hy and Daniel left Batman and raced to meet the man. “Fred, we’ve got a problem! Adam hit his head and now he thinks he’s really Batman!”

“We’ve got to get rid of that lady from Publicity Tonight,” Daniel said.

Fred glared. “Are you nuts? We’d never get them back before this airs! We’ve got to create some hype over this two-parter or we’re going to get clobbered in the overnights by the Munsters!”

Daniel shook his hands. “But he might be permanently damaged! How can I even finish shooting this episode? He could be like this for the rest of the season!”

“Not that you mention it,” said Hy. “If he talks like this all season, I wouldn’t even have to write any dialogue for him. We could just have the other actors improvise off him.”

“We’ve got to make him understand he’s an actor,” said Daniel. “What if we…”

“There’s no time! Maybe there’s a silver lining in all this.” Fred rubbed his chin. “It’s a comedy, right? What if we just tell Publicity Tonight it’d be fun to play the piece like she’s talking to the real Batman? They were worried that Adam wouldn’t interview with the cowl on, so they’d probably go for that.”

Pretending to be distracted by a passing flock of birds, Batman listened in on the three men discussing their dilemma. He was confounded by whatever trickery they were hatching. “Have to be on my guard,” he warned himself. He whirled as the mustached man walked right up to him.

“Batman, it’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’m Fred Foster. And this is the renowned director, Daniel Roberts, and our writer, Hiram Sea.”

“Mr. Foster,” Batman shook his hand. “Perhaps you can explain…?”

“All completely legitimate, I assure you,” he chuckled. “I’m a television producer, and we’re being paid a visit by the syndicated infotainment program, Publicity Tonight. Perhaps you’ve seen it?”

“Not much time for television in the war on crime, I’m afraid.”

Fred laughed. “Of course not - how silly of me.” Batman noted that Fred laughed a little too easily for his liking.

“If you’ll come this way, I’ll introduce you to the reporter and you can judge for yourself.” Foster led Batman over to the door and slid it open. Just before it closed behind him, Batman glanced back to see Daniel waving his arms at Hy, who was crossing out lines in a film script.

Inside were several detailed sets, situated one next to the other. Foster led Batman past several until they rounded a corner to find a small film crew waiting in a hallway.

A blond woman with a microphone approached and stuck out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. We…”

“Actually,” Fred interrupted. “Since I see your people all ready to shoot, I was wondering how you’d like to interview Batman himself! He’s heard of our little program about his adventures and come down to see what it’s all about.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s awesome! You bet! Okay, let’s do this!” She looked back at her camera man, who switched on his bulky camera and gave her the thumbs up.

The woman faced the camera and lifted her microphone. “We’re here today with none other than the Caped Crusader himself, on the set of the show Batman,” she informed her audience. “Thank you for taking time out of your hectic schedule to be with us!” She held the microphone up to Batman and grinned as if expecting a punch line.

“Poor, naive woman,” Batman thought. “She doesn’t believe she’s talking to the real Batman.”

Vowing to maintain a polite demeanor and indulge the confused newscaster, Batman smiled. “The pleasure is mine. A free press is the cornerstone of our democracy.”

The blonde stifled a chuckle. “What brings you here? Are you pursuing a super villain?”

“Nothing to be alarmed about,” Batman said, waving off assistance. “I have the matter well in hand.”

“Was it Harley Quinn?” Fred said, grinning broadly. “You can see her hideout is right over here!” He led the group over to one of the sets. “She’s the villain this week. Naturally, we have the cameras tilted at an angle, seeing how crooked that little jester is.”

Batman perused the colorful set, which was occupied by a man wearing a “Goon” sweatshirt and sipping on a soda.

“No great feat, that,” Batman thought. “That could be any villain’s hideout.”

The blonde continued. “Thirteen seasons of climbing the sides of buildings and getting gassed in the face - quite a crime-busting track record,” she said into the camera. “Benefiting from a shrewd marketing campaign, Batman first debuted to stupendous ratings. The show was not only a hit, it was a national fad.

“The craze was too much to last, however. By the end of the first season, ratings were already starting to slide. And ratings were so low by the end of season 3 that the network decided to cancel the show. But at the 11th hour, as the costly sets were about to be demolished, the show was granted a reprieve. A rival network had decided to pick up the show. Surprisingly, Batman was moved to a 10 pm slot and the serial device of cliffhangers was brought back, so much so that at times they seemed to substitute for an actual plot.”

She turned to Batman. “How do you feel about the controversial turn your adventures have taken since Mr. Foster assumed the helm?”

“I wasn’t aware of any. I shouldn’t wish to be the cause of controversy.”

Fred leaned in towards the mike. “Our sponsors let us know in no uncertain terms that we needed to deliver a more mature demographic. We decided to take a chance in order to cultivate the more sophisticated elements of our audience. The later timeslot was unheard for a super-hero show and caused a brief uproar.”

“The show had been getting a little too childish to survive?” the woman asked.

“That was a concern,” Fred agreed. “Of course, we have nothing but the greatest respect for the show’s initial creative team – despite the things they said about us.”

She turned back to the camera. “Over the years, new characters have been added to spark renewed interest: Batgirl in season three, Batwoman and Flamebird in season five.” She shoved her microphone towards Batman. “Some say the introduction of the last two began a trend that has seen you relegated to a supporting role on your own show, Batman. Do you agree?”

Batman racked his brain for an appropriate answer.

Fred came to his rescue. “And here’s the Commissioner’s office set, complete with the beloved hotline phone.” He gestured at a wood-veneered set.

Batman noted that the production had done a detailed job of mimicking Gordon’s office, right down to the knickknacks on his desk. “Still, this required no inside knowledge. There are photos of this office all over the internet.”

“And over here we have Barbara Gordon’s apartment,” Foster continued.

Batman looked over to see a recreation of Barbara’s one-bedroom. They hadn’t quite managed to capture the unorthodox wonkiness of the real dwelling’s layout, but the precise detail with which Foster had managed to recreate the room was impressive.

His head still reeling, Batman managed to mumble words of encouragement. He was surprised the television show would go to such pains in their facsimile. He remembered stopping in to see Barbara occasionally relating to cases, but the notion that such a minor character’s apartment warranted inclusion in a show about him was difficult to fathom.

“If only these walls could talk, eh, Batman?” The reporter winked and thrust the microphone towards him.

Ignoring the apparent jibe at Barbara’s personal life, Batman looked the reporter in the eye. “I imagine the walls would say Miss Gordon is a model of decorum and poise, and they feel fortunate to be able to verbalize their admiration.”

This was too much for the cameraman. Despite stifling his laughter, he was unable to prevent his convulsions from shaking the camera shot.

Noticing the technical difficulty, the reporter wrapped things up. “We must be keeping you from your unending battle on evil, so thank you for your valuable time, Batman. Meeting you was truly unforgettable.”

“It was my pleasure. And I’d just like to remind your viewers that it’s national driving safety month, so buckle up for Batman.”

The reporter made a cutting motion with her hand to the chortling cameraman and then coiled up her mike cord. “I’ve met method actors before, but I have to say you take the term to new heights, Adam.”

The film crew departed from the stage, glancing back frequently at the caped crusader.

Hy and Daniel came rushing up to join Fred, who was mopping his brow. “Sheesh! That was close.”

Batman saw the three men studying him, pondering their next move.

“She called you an actor,” Fred said gently. “Does that ring any bells for you?”

Daniel gestured at the sets around him. “See, Batman isn’t a real individual. He’s just an actor in a costume, standing on a set, speaking lines that were written for him.”

“Look,” said Hy. “Here is this week’s script.” He handed Batman a script which was already opened and folded down the middle.

Batman read from it aloud, but without intonation. “’Harley: Well, it sure knocked Batgirl for a loop.’ ‘Batgirl: Yes, it did. Thank you, Harley. I might never have seen Edmond in quite that way, otherwise. He’s special to me, now.” He looked up from the page.

“Escapist drivel,” he declared, tossing the script to the ground.

Hy Sea held up a finger. “Do you remember that episode – uh, the adventure when Robin said it felt as if someone was writing the impossible dilemmas you would get in and out of?”

Batman thought hard. “Certainly. So…you’re saying you wrote those dilemmas into existence?”

“Well, not that one. I think Stanley wrote that episode. But it came from a script. All your adventures came from some scriptwriter’s brain.”

“Unless they’re written by a comic book writer,” Fred said, producing a rolled up comic book from his back pocket. The cover depicted a scene of Batman watching in dismay as Batgirl and a nerd exchanged wedding vows.

“And this is only the tip of the iceberg,” Foster continued. “You’re a multimedia phenomenon. There’s books, radio, a website!”

Batman shook his head. “I congratulate you on this complex hoax you’ve attempted to foist upon me.”

“But your adventures are intentionally ridiculous!” Daniel exploded. “You use shark repellant! The thought of someone marketing something called shark repellant is silly! It’s supposed to be funny.”

“I am here talking to you, while the shark you speak of is dead, Mr. Roberts. What more need I say?”

“Look, you’re an actor! Why would Batman have stage makeup on his face?” He reached for Batman’s cowl. “See for yourself.”