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The Dark Knight stood silhouetted on the top of one of Gotham's tallest towers, moodily surveying the depths of the city. Bright lights flickered and sparkled like flawed diamonds shining from the very deepest shadows. Out there, lives were endured or celebrated, deaths were feared or welcomed. Out there --
"S'nice night, innit?"
Batman turned quickly, his eyes penetrating the darkness to see the shadows by a ventilation shaft resolve themselves into the figure of a tall and hideous creature, its tattered wings drawn round itself, and its claws clicking against the concrete as it stalked forward. He blinked as it came more clearly into view, shaking the shadows from it, to be revealed as a short and unprepossessing man with an unfiltered cigarette clutched between his grimy fingers.
"Wotcher, mate," the man said in what Batman supposed was technically an English accent. "Gorra light?"
"No," Batman said shortly. "It's a filthy habit."
"S'why I like it," the man grinned, revealing a set of unappealing teeth. Definitely British, Batman thought. "Never mind, I fink I've got a lucifer or sumfink." There was a faint whiff of sulphur, and the tip of the cigarette glowed red.
"A lucifer?" Batman said.
"S'what yer call a "match" nowadays," the man said. "I'm old-fashioned, me. I like the old name. 'Ere, where are my manners?" He held out a hand. "Yer c'n call me Ligur."
Batman found himself bemusedly shaking hands. He was glad of the gloves, as Ligur's hand seemed no cleaner than the rest of him. "I'm the Batman," he said.
"Yer a superhero," Ligur said cheerfully. "I like superheroes."
"I just do what's needed," Batman said sombrely, turning his brooding gaze out over Gotham once again.
"Yeah, that's what Spiderman says too," Ligur sniggered. "'Course, I s'pose I shouldn't compare the two've yer. Bats eat spiders up, don't they?"
"No one enters this life to engage in petty, time-wasting comparisons," Batman said disapprovingly.
"Oh, right. Size don't matter," Ligur said. "Mind you, I find that anyone 'oo says that tends not to 'ave seen Superman's." He took a long drag on his cigarette and smiled in a horribly friendly way. Batman really wished he couldn't see his teeth quite so clearly. "Anyway, lissen, Bruce. Word 'as it yer a miserable bugger--"
"What did you call me?" Batman said.
"Wot? Yer want me t'call yer "Mr Wayne"? I want t'be yer pal, Bruce. Pals don't stand on ceremony."
"Where did you hear that name?" Batman said, advancing menacingly.
"I 'ave my sources. I c'n call yer "Mr Wayne" if yer really wants, but I'll 'ave to insist on yer kneeling t'me and callin' me "Yer Grace", and that just ain't in the modern and democratic spirit," Ligur said, blowing a smoke ring. "'Course, I ain't exackly modern or democratic, so do feel free to press your face into the ground as you kiss my feet. It's all you're really fit for, isn't it?"
Batman blinked. Ligur's accent seemed to have changed and he looked less -- harmless. "Bruce is fine," Batman found himself saying.
"That's the spirit!" Ligur said, looking grimier and friendlier again. "I c'n 'elp yer, Brucie-boy. Wot d'you want? I mean, really want? Can't be girls, not when yer dressed like that. Boys? Nah, yer got yer little ward. Wealth? Nah, yer a rich man already. Lessee, lessee." He smiled brightly and held up a hand. "I know! Peace. Absolution. Or maybe --" he giggled, "Not to feel the crushin' weight of being an 'orrible little shit wot got his parents killed. Am I right?"
Batman stepped back, his heart racing as if he'd run a marathon. Ligur pinched out his cigarette and carefully stowed the butt away.
"Well, yer in luck. I'm a generous sort, Bruce, an' I c'n wash that guilt right out of yer 'air. Oh, stop lookin' at me like that. Anyfink you want, I c'n supply. I'm the bleedin' Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus rolled up into one bargain package, and all I want is sumfink you ain't usin too much anyhow. How about it, mate? Want ter feel better?"
"Yes," Batman whispered. "But all I can do is keep on --"
"Bugger yer noble sacrifices," Ligur said. "Wot you want, pal, is faith. Faith c'n move mountains, I read that somewhere. 'Ere, watch this."
He clambered awkwardly up onto the parapet and stepped off, walking forward. Standing in thin air he turned round, sniffed, and held out a hand.
"Come on, then. 'Ave some faith. Walkin' on water, that's just a cheap trick wiv surface tension. You come on and walk out 'ere to yer Uncle Ligur."
Batman stared at him in shock. Ligur wiped his nose on the hand he wasn't holding out and winked.
"'S'good, innit? Come on, give yerself into my keepin'. I ain't some common or garden mutant, yer know. I ain't nothin' you've seen before."
Batman stepped up on the parapet, telling himself he just wanted a better view. Ligur nodded in satisfaction, still casually standing where anyone looking up might see him in Gotham's sky.
"It's just one step," he said. "I won't let you fall. Come on --"
Batman hesitated. It was a long way down, and Ligur didn't look very trustworthy.
"Oh, fer 'Eaven's sake," Ligur muttered, and shook himself in a peculiar way.
Vast wings spread out behind him. They weren't tattered and leathery, as Batman had thought when the small man had first walked from the shadows, but were feathery, white and gleaming with soft opalescent light. Ligur was outlined in a vague, flickering shine, his hand still outstretched. Tears gathered in Batman's eyes, and he looked away. He, of all people, didn't deserve an angel.
"Bruce," Ligur said kindly, the crackle and hiss of flames in his voice, "I ain't no angel."
Batman stepped off the parapet. Ligur's hand was steady and felt very strong. Batman held on for dear life as Ligur smiled up at him, his teeth sharp.
"Oh, we're goin' to 'ave fun, you an' me," Ligur said. "Let's get you started."
There was a sound of soft thunder, air displaced and crashing back. The sky above Gotham was empty once more.