The Conversion Bureau: Joker's Revenge

by Convair

Penthouse View

Bruce Wayne, or the pony that had been Bruce Wayne, looked out the large windows of his penthouse, basking in the city lights that danced across the glass. He swept his gaze slowly from the streets and their large crowds all the way up to the skyscrapers across from his own.

He took in every little detail he could, from the colors of cars below to the way the moonlight gleamed off of the windows in every direction. This was made easier due to his new, abnormally large eyes that seemed far too large for something as small as a pony.

Nonetheless, the larger eyes did give him slightly sharper sight, and, when combined with his now extremely powerful ears, made him insanely aware of what was around him. The heightened senses could even be considered better than short-range radar in some cases.

It was because of these upgraded senses that he was able to hear the sounds of polished shoes tapping against marble, the expensive leather making only the slightest sounds as it moved with it’s wearer. Not a moment later, be heard the turning of a doorknob, followed by the opening and closing of the door.

This, combined with the jingle of glass and ceramics, revealed the person's identity fairly quickly.

“Good evening, Alfred.”

“Good evening, Master Wayne. I trust you’ve been busy today?”

“Not really, Alfred, just been helping to get things back up and running at the company.”

Alfred set the tray down on the table beside Wayne. “I’d assume so. After all, having such a large portion of employees change species at one time must have set back everything by months!”

“*Sigh* It’s getting better, Alfred. Most of the workers are at least trying to do their jobs, though many are having trouble because of their work field’s requirement of hands.”

“I wish them the best. Now, how have you been faring since the…incident?”

Wayne looked down at himself, the black fur, dark blue mane hanging in his eyes and those accursed hooves. What were they good for anyways? Walking seemed to be the only thing they could be used for, their thick keratin making them useless for most other tasks that didn't require smashing something to bits.

Still, he even found himself having difficulty doing such simple tasks as holding a glass without it slipping between his forehooves or breaking when he put too much pressure on it.

This had caused much aggravation as well as having depressing the Caped Crusader, his life having become infinitely more difficult. The only thing he found enjoyment with in his new body was his new pair of wings, the feathery appendages allowing him to float above the ground, soaring across the sky as the wind ran through his mane.

He had found being able to stand on clouds especially entertaining, the fluffy-yet-bouncy material being both the perfect place for both a bit of fun and a nap.

Nonetheless, he found that having neither hands nor a horn made it difficult to do many of the things that were required by him, and it showed as he looked up at Alfred from his seat on his large, plush armchair.

“The same as when you asked me yesterday, Alfred. I’m certainly not getting suicidal like some have, but this…change has ruined parts of my life I can’t even begin to deal with yet.”

Alfred looked down at his employer, now a 3-foot tall pony, and smiled. “All is not lost, master Wayne, for as long as it is you inside that body we shall all be here to support you. Always remember, your friends are always here for you, no matter what you look like.”

Bruce looked up at his servant, tears brimming in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if ponies were naturally more emotional than humans, or if he had simply been holding his emotion back for so long that it had built up, but he had found himself much more inclined to cry since his conversion.

“T-thank you Alfred. You and the others have been more help than I give you credit for.”

“No thanks is necessary, master Wayne, we are simply doing our duty to help a friend in need.” Alfred looked upon Bruce fondly; recalling all of the years that he had been around the curious man, or at this point, pony.

Since he had been but a child, he had cared for him, keeping him safe and helping him through each of his struggles throughout the years. Now, sitting back on his haunches in a chair several times his size, he looked in need of that support more than ever before.

He had, in the past minutes, showed more emotion than Alfred had seen in years, even letting his lip quiver slightly as a few stray tears ran down his face.

“Why Alfred?”

“Why what, sir?”

“Why are you focusing on me? Surely there are others who need help more than I do, others in more distress, family or friends perhaps?”

“Perhaps, master Wayne, but have you yet considered that you are our priority because, when on your feet, you are a far better ally to those in need than any of us could ever be?”

“But I can’t go out anymore, Alfred. People will know who I am.”

“So? Let them know. Let them know that you were strong enough to get through this, strong enough to put the bad behind yourself and move towards a better future.”

“But what about you? What about Rachel and all the others I care about? They will be in danger if the city knows who the Batman really is!”

“That may be true, but ask yourself this; what is more important; the city holding onto its hope, or the few people who are seen as close to you being in a little more danger than they usually are? Gordon is with the police, so he already knows of many threats to his life and Rachel and Harvey are mixed in with the courts and mob, things that make danger part of their everyday lives anyway.”

“What about you, Alfred?”

“Me? I am of no importance to anyone, I fear. I am simply an old man who works for you, not anyone that could be seen as worth their time to put in jeopardy.”

“That may be, Alfred, but what would you have me do?”

Alfred smiled, reaching a hand down place it on Bruce’s neck and slowly pet him, having found soon after Wayne was converted that the feeling was incredibly relaxing to ponies, and had been one of the few ways to calm him since he had been converted. Wayne practically melted under his hand, leaning into the fingers as his servant spoke.

“I would have you seek out your friends, let them see that you have not given up. Let them see that there is still hope for all after such a terrible thing has been forced upon so many. Most of all, I would have you endure, master Wayne. For the sakes of both yourself and those around you, endure.”

Author's Note:

Traveling a lot today. Wont have time to post the next chapter until tonight. Hopefully this keeps you sated until then.

Comments

[BronyofMeddlers]

I'm hoping that Batman and Joker might join forces to get rid of this problem....And I desperately wish that Joker wins this battle.

[Indieman]

Pony Bruce Wayne actually disgusts me.

[Meta Knight]

look I'm a huge fan of ponies but I personally hope the Joker makes them burn

[Lord Shaxx]

5410123 This describes how I feel about the ponies in this story so well on... Lessee...
*Nine hours later*
Yeah, over 9000 levels.