Gotham Tales: Always Hold Your Mother's Hand
By
C.W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)
DISCLAIMER:
Batman™ and all other characters contained herein are copyright © 2001 by DC
Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan fiction, non-profit
entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. This story
is not endorsed by DC Comics Inc. This original work of fiction is copyright ©
2001 by C.W. Blaine and may not be archived without the express permission of
the author. This disclaimer and the e-mail address above must appear with the
story unless permission is first received by the author. Comments and questions
should be directed to the e-mail address above.
The
rooftop gave the Batman the perfect view of the dark street below. Setting his
cowl lenses to starlight mode, the Caped Crusader made a quick visual sweep of
the area, determining if his presence was needed here any longer. For weeks,
there had been a series of muggings and the police, already overworked by the
wave of criminals that made Gotham City their home, had not been able to spare
enough patrols to maintain a constant vigil over the area.
Gotham
City had been rebuilt, but it took no time at all for some of the newer
neighborhoods to fall into disarray. Slumlords took advantage of the cheap
property prices to establish small "fiefdoms", where those people not fortunate
enough to have steady incomes were forced to live. It wasn't the tenants that
were the problem, it was the predators that fed upon their misfortune. They
would take pleasure in destroying that which had been rebuilt, as if it were a
statement to the society that had seemed to excommunicate them.
Batman
had some of his allies watching the area, but for all of their efforts, they
had not been able to stem the tide of lawlessness that threatened to overwhelm
this area. Even Richard, his best friend and companion, the Bludhaven hero
known as Nightwing, had spent a few nights here, despite the many problems he
faced in his own city. Batman had finally decided that it was time for the
"Bat" to mark his territory.
The
sound a voice, using simple language, reached the enhanced audio equipment in
his cowl and he immediately looked over in the direction from where it came. A
woman, no more than twenty he guessed and quite pretty, was walking the dark
street with a child. The youngster was small and frail, but she seemed, from
what he could tell in the green light of his lenses, to have some of her
mother's features. It was unfortunate that Bruce Wayne, the identity the Batman
used to mingle among the average person, did not possess the financial
resources to ensure that all of the citizens of Gotham City had adequate
housing. He had learned a long time ago, though, that money wasn't always what
was needed to solve the problems of the world.
The
woman was carrying a plastic bag with milk in it and the child seemed to be
asking for a variety of treats, which the mother would answer "no" to. Batman
grinned slightly, remembering his own childhood and how he would constantly
pester Alfred for such things. Alfred would not simply say "no", he would go
into a speech about tooth decay and obesity and acne…as if a six year old child
would even care!
"Trish,
stop jumping around so much," the woman said to the child in a stern voice.
"I
want some cookies, momma!" the child exclaimed.
"Honey,"
the woman said reaching out for the child, "you know better! Always hold your
mother's hand!"
In
an instant, the words reached deep into the Batman's mind, grasping at a memory
that burned his brain when he closed his eyes. It was that night…there was no
need for any other description, for it was the only night that mattered to the
Batman. It was the sum of his life, the birth of his creation.
They
had just come from the movies, from seeing "The Mark of Zorro", a special
showing at the theater. It was a dark and cold night, and yet, Thomas Wayne
wanted to walk, catch some air after being trapped in the movie. His wife had
complained, she was afraid their son would catch cold, but the distinguished
Gotham City physician waved it off. His wife relented and took young Bruce's
hand in hers. He could still remember the warmth of it even today. "Bruce,
always hold your mother's hand. I want you to be safe and that's the only way I
know how in this situation."
Thomas
Wayne smiled and they set off to find a cab a couple of blocks away. Bruce
remembered struggling against his mother's grasp, trying to get free so he
could reenact the scenes from the movies with the dashing Mexican hero.
Then,
he remembered the gun and his mother squeezing his hand, as if by exerting
pressure on the limb, she could project a magical force field around them. Then
there was the shot, the sound of his father moaning, the clang of the casing on
the sidewalk and then his mother's scream. The only thought that was going
through his young mind was to hold onto the hand.
Then
another shot, the smell of gunpowder, the shudder of his mother's body and then
she started to fall. He didn't let go. Even as the gunman pointed the weapon at
him, he wouldn't let go. His mother, dead or dying, still had her hand firmly
around his. As long as he didn't let go, he would be safe.
The
gunman couldn't shoot him.
His
mother had been right.
Before
he could pursue the memory further, another voice could be heard. Batman
instantly homed in on it and saw a man holding a gun on the woman and her
child. "Give me your money, whore! Now!"
The
woman pleaded. "Please! I don't have very much! I need it…her father doesn't
pay child support…"
The
gunman roared in anger and brought the weapon up, pulled back the slide and
locked a round in the chamber. "Give me the damn money!"
He
was behind the man instantly, lowered down on his nylon cord. A gauntleted hand
grabbed the gun arm and pushed it up, while a fist struck the man just below
the armpit. The man cried out and tried to whirl around, but his wrist went
back and snapped. The gun tumbled to the ground. "Watch out for the wall,
punk," the Batman said as he shoved the criminal into the side of a building.
Holding
his broken wrist, the man looked up in time to see the cape envelope him. Fear
caused him to pass out.
The
man turned and picked up the weapon. He ejected the clip and then ratcheted the
chamber to allow the unfired bullet to fly out, which he caught in his hand. He
looked over to see the child, teary eyed and shaking, firmly holding her
mother's hand.
He
stood up straight, his cape covering his body so that he looked like a dark
nightmare. "Are you okay?"
"You're
not going to hurt us, are you?" the woman asked, pulling the child even closer
to her.
"No."
The Batman looked at the child and tried to put on a smile. "I see you listened
to your mother. You held her hand and you're okay."
The
child only nodded. He knew that to her, he must seem like either an angel or a
devil. Perhaps both. "Always listen to your mother."
The
woman stepped forward. "Thank you. I don't know how I can repay you…"
He
turned and tied the criminal up. Then he pulled him up and put him over his
shoulder with little effort. "Keep raising your daughter to respect her parents
and that will be thanks enough for me."
The
woman nodded and hurried on her way, while the Batman activated his cowl's
communications unit. "Oracle."
"I'm
here, ever since you opened the digital video link. The woman has a prior
record for prostitution, but she's been good for about two years, after they
threatened to take her child away. Oh, I've contacted the police…a cruiser
should be waiting for you at the next block."
"Good.
Find out who the father is."
"Already
done…he's three years behind in child support. He's living in Bludhaven now."
Batman
thought for a second. "Tell Nightwing to inform him that he has a bill to pay
here in Gotham."
Oracle
acknowledged the command and signed off. Batman began to carry his prisoner
down the street. He began to think of
the risks he took every night and how lucky he had been, considering all of the
things he had been through in the past decade. With enemies like the Joker or
Tw-Face, it was a wonder he was still alive.
"I
suppose," he said silently, looking up into the night sky, "I'm still holding
you hand, mother."
The
End
