Fans will soon be able to return to the world of Tim Burton’s iconic 1989 Batman film. There have been several iterations and adaptions of Batman on the big screen over the years, but the one that stands out to the majority of fans came from the creative mind of filmmaker Tim Burton. Starring Michael Keaton as Bruce Wayne / Batman and Jack Nicholson as Joker, Batman helped reintroduce the Dark Knight to a larger audience and paved the way for future DC movies. Batman: Resurrection is an upcoming prose sequel by New York Times bestselling author John Jackson Miller that follows the story from the Burton film, and we have an exclusive look inside its pages.
ComicBook has an exclusive excerpt from John Jackson Miller’s Batman: Resurrection, the first book in a forthcoming Batman duology that is set to be published on October 15th by Random House Worlds (see on Amazon). After The Joker’s death, Batman and Gotham City are facing a mysterious new threat, and only the Dark Knight can save the day. The excerpt we have for you today features Batman dealing with some uncertainty as he looks back on the night he faced Joker atop Gotham’s cathedral. Batman begins experiencing dreams where he’s confronted not only by The Joker, but by Alfred, Vicki Vale, and his deceased parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne.
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What is Batman: Resurrection about?
The Joker is dead, but not forgotten. Gotham City is saved, but it is still not safe. By night, its new symbol of hope, Batman, continues his fight to protect the innocent and the powerless. By day, his alter ego, Bruce Wayne, wonders whether there may someday be a future beyond skulking the city’s rooftops or the cavernous halls of his stately manor alongside the ever-dutiful Alfred Pennyworth.
But even after death, the Clown Prince of Crime’s imprint can be seen in more than just the pavement. Remnants from The Joker’s gang are leading wannabes fascinated by his bizarre mystique on a campaign of arson that threatens the city—even as it serves greedy opportunists, including millionaire Max Shreck. And survivors of exposure to The Joker’s chemical weapon Smylex continue to crowd Gotham City’s main hospital.
To quell the chaos, Batman needs more than his cape and his well-stocked Utility Belt. Bruce Wayne is forced into action, prompting a partnership with a charismatic scientist to help solve the health crisis. But as he works in both the shadows and the light, Bruce finds himself drawn deeper into Gotham City’s turmoil than ever before, fueling his obsession to save the city—an obsession that has already driven a wedge between him and Vicki Vale. The loyal Alfred, who had hoped Bruce’s efforts as Batman could help him find closure, finds the opposite happening. Nightmares begin to prompt Bruce to ask new questions about the climactic events in the cathedral, and investigations by Commissioner Gordon and reporter Alexander Knox into the arsons only amplify his concerns.
Having told the people of Gotham City that they’d earned a rest from crime, Batman finds the forces of evil growing ever more organized—and orchestrated—by a sinister hand behind the scenes. The World’s Greatest Detective must solve the greatest mystery of all: Could The Joker have somehow survived? And could he still have the last laugh against the people of Gotham City?
The exclusive excerpt from Batman: Resurrection can be found below, along with a look at the back cover.
As uncertainty continues to plague Batman, and unrest across Gotham City continues, Batman begins to question everything he experienced the night he faced The Joker atop Gotham’s cathedral.
The cathedral, again.
Batman knew it was a dream, this time—but this one was going exactly as he remembered. Jack Napier had blamed him for creating The Joker—and Batman had punched him in the gut and shoved him through a rotten wall.
It was just as satisfying as it had been in real life.
Batman stalked his nemesis through the darkness. “You killed my parents.”
“What?” The Joker turned his head to spit blood. “What are you talking about?”
“I made you? You made me first.”
The Joker spoke quickly. “Hey, Bat-Brain—I was a kid when I killed your parents. I mean, when I say I made you, you gotta say you made me. How childish can you get?”
Running out of space to back up, The Joker put on a pair of glasses—his last trick. Batman knew what would come next. And yet—he stopped. “Wait.”
“What?” The Joker blinked. “Oh, gotta take a leak, huh?” He took off the glasses and gestured toward Batman’s outfit. “Just go in the suit. Nobody will care. I do it all the time.
Batman pointed at him. “You said you were a kid when you killed my parents.”
“Proof that even pointy ears work.”
“But why did you say it? You don’t know who my parents were.”
The Joker shrugged. “I just assumed. You said I made you first.”
“Right. But I’ve only been Batman a short time. Why would you think I was talking about people who died decades ago?” He peered at The Joker. “Do you know who I really am?”
Motion, to the side. The Joker looked to the left and saw Vicki Vale cringing behind a column.
“Hey, Vick, do you believe this guy? Stopping a fight to play Twenty Questions.”
“What are you waiting for?” Vicki said to Batman. “Hit him, again!”
None of this had happened before—but another thought struck Batman, and he had no choice but to go with it. He faced her. “Did you tell him who I was?”
“No! Of course not!” She stepped next to The Joker, apparently unafraid of him. “I’d never tell him. He’s a lunatic.” She looked Batman up and down. “I mean, so are you. But you’re better looking. And you’ve got a limo. And a butler.”
A dignified voice came from the darkness. “You called, madam?”
Batman stared in amazement as Alfred stepped into the light.
The Joker gawked. “Who are you? The old man of the tower?”
“I am the gentleman’s gentleman, sir.” Alfred produced a tray from behind his back. “Martinis?”
The Joker smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.” He happily took a glass—and Vicki surprised Batman by taking one, too.
Batman moved to confront Alfred. “Did you tell him who I am?”
The butler’s eyes widened. “Sir! I would never—”
“You would never?” Batman pointed at Vicki. “You let her into the Batcave.” Batman poked Alfred in the chest. “The Joker knows. I want to know if you told him.”
Alfred scowled. “I won’t be spoken to in this manner.”
“You’re not my father.”
“No?” Alfred dropped the tray. He removed his glasses—and transformed. The skin on his face bubbled and boiled.
“Alfred!” Batman grabbed the butler’s shoulders in concern.
The old man looked down in pain, white hair falling to the belfry floor in clumps. When he looked back up, dark hair had emerged from his scalp to replace it—and Alfred’s visage had been replaced by that of another.
Batman’s jaw dropped. “Father!”
The face of Thomas Wayne glared at him. “Release me!”
“Yes, sir.” Batman took a step back.
“I’m very disappointed in you, son.”
The voice—exactly as he’d remembered it. “Father, I’m sorry. But how—”
Batman looked to Vicki for support—only to see her doubled over on her hands and knees, that beautiful face curdling. She yanked out her hair and screamed as her skin twisted into a new shape. When she looked up at Batman, it was with his mother’s eyes.
“Imagine dressing up like that,” Martha Wayne’s doppelgänger said, standing up. “Mister Napier is right. You are childish.”
Batman stood transfixed.
“Come with us, young man!” His would-be father grabbed him by the wrist. His mother took his other hand. Batman didn’t want to go, but as he tried to pull away, they grew not just in strength—but in stature, their bodies growing rubbery and stretching. Monsters from a wax museum, his perfect parents only in their faces.
They pulled him to where The Joker stood, at the parapet overlooking Gotham City. The villain grinned. “I love family reunions, don’t you?”
Shaking as his parents held him near the outer wall, Batman looked to them—and then to The Joker. “The truth, Jack! Did you find out who I was?”
“I’m not telling. Not now.” The Joker strolled over and plucked his hat from where it sat on a gargoyle’s wing. “Dead men tell no tales.”
“And you’re dead.”
“You sure about that?” The Joker thrust the hat over the side of the wall—and a gloved hand there snatched it away.
Batman gawked. Was there someone else over there, outside, on the ledge? He wrested away from the parent-monsters and turned, intending to look over the side. Before he could see anything, a pair of hands grabbed him and yanked him over.
It had all happened before. But this time, there was no ledge to grab on to, no trick on his belt he could use. He seemed to fall forever . . .
Bruce Wayne crashed onto the floor of the Batcave.
Disoriented, he fumbled about. He’d fallen off his chair. He heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Are you all right, sir?” Alfred asked. He set down the tray he was carrying and offered his hand.
“Thanks.” Still dizzy, Bruce got to his feet with his manservant’s help. “I dozed off.” He opened his eyes widely, trying to reorient. “And I had another dream.”
“Oh, dear.” Alfred helped him back into the chair. “You really should sleep in a bed if you’re going to have these episodes.”
“Didn’t help me yesterday.”
Alfred walked over to his tray. He returned with a steaming cup. “Was it the same dream?”
“Not quite.” Between sips of coffee, Bruce explained the nightmare, point by point, right down to the fall. Alfred listened intently—and nodded when he was done. “More mysteries at the cathedral.”
“It sounds like a board game.” Bruce stared into the empty cup. “I keep turning up more questions about what happened there. At the time, I was so glad for it all to be over—and happy to have gotten Vicki out of there alive—that I didn’t really think much about it.”
“But do you have any real reason to believe Jack Napier knew your identity?”
Bruce considered. “He knew he shot Bruce Wayne at Vicki’s apartment, and when he didn’t hear about it on the news, he figured out that I’d lived. One of his surviving henchmen said he assumed I’d had a bulletproof vest or something.” Bruce frowned. “But maybe he changed his mind.”
“It’s paranoia, sir. The mind playing tricks.”
“Yeah, it’s all mixed up with what I learned about him, and my parents.” Bruce shook his head. “My folks being there was new.”
Alfred crossed his arms. “You needn’t fear your parents’ judgment. They were proud of you—of who you were becoming.”
“What about what I’ve become since then? I know what Vicki thought.” Bruce stared into the distance at the landing where, months earlier, she had entered the Batcave led by Alfred. He faced the butler. “What do you think?”
Alfred smiled gently. “Miss Vale and I both know of the event you witnessed, years ago—and we know that Jack Napier caused it and that you defeated him. To her, it follows that you should be done with your double life.”
“And to you?”
“I think, sir, the only opinion that matters is yours. And I believe that you are still deciding.” He paused.
“My years have taught me that getting justice for a loss does not erase it. The Joker’s fate was deserved, but it is no magic salve. When you have done enough, you will know.”
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