Gotham

By: Chase Buie

Chapter 1

Bruce looked down the barrel of the gun at the shaky hand holding it, but his attention was somewhere else. His cold, blue eyes drifted over to his right where a girl sat in a chair, bound and gagged. Chloe Sullivan, the young journalist that came to Gotham only a few weeks before.

Her face was turned down towards her lap and her blonde hair acted as a curtain, hiding whatever damage this man may have done to her.

As Bruce felt his heart rate start to go up and his face start to burn, his attention went back over to the gunman.

"You're going to pay for what you've done to her", he said with a cold, but youthful voice. As he spoke, his eyes drifted around the warehouse that they stood in. It was dark, making it hard for him to make out much of his surroundings, but he could hear the "tap tap tap" of the water leaking through the roof near by.

"You gave me no choice, Bruce. I never wanted to hurt her, or you, but this is what happens when a punk kid thinks he can play with the big boys."

His hand was shaking more now than ever before.

"Would you prefer for me to do you or her first?"


Three Weeks Prior…


Chloe Sullivan stepped of the dart bus at Hanson and 14th street. The world of Gotham City looked back at her as she stepped down onto the sidewalk.

"Hey lady", the bus driver said behind her. She turned around. "If this is your first time in Gotham I'll give you a friendly piece of advice. Find some place to stay before dark." And with that note he closed the doors and pulled away from the curb.

"Thanks", she said to no one.

Her eyes turned back to the world that awaited her. A bench with no one waiting, just a homeless man that considered it his bed and a few pigeons. To her left and right the street stretched on, full of people walking and talked and standing and begging.

"Hello Gotham."

She sat down her two suitcases that she'd brought with her and pulled a small piece of paper out of her pocket.

1301 Hanson St. Apartment 402.

Her new apartment.

Her father and best friend, Clark Kent, would be bringing the rest of her things in a few days. The apartment already had her bed and kitchen table, so she was good for the time being. Some clothes and her laptop filled the suitcases that she carried with her.

Three blocks north and she'd be there, so she began the walk, which was a lot harder than she thought it would be. People running into her and her bags on both sides, people begging for money, and even more people that just stood in the way made the trek a challenge.

She made it to her place after an hour of walking just to realize that she'd left her tape recorder on the bus.

"What a great start. Hopefully I didn't have anything on that thing that was too revealing."

She opened the door herself, mostly because there was no one there willing to help, and carried her things up three flights of stairs, down two long hallways, and to her room.

She'd been to this apartment a few times in the past couple weeks, but now it was official. She was a Gotham girl.

She walked in and looked around her bare apartment with a smile. A new city, a new job, a new start, and a new life. This is exactly what she needed.

Chloe took a few steps in, sat her things down and jogged into her bedroom where her bed was waiting for her.

"Where have you been all my life?" Falling face first on the bed, she already started to dose off.


Bruce Wayne sat in an empty, dark room. No chair, no furniture, just him and the room. He sat with his legs crossed under him, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

Suddenly the room turned on and there was another person standing twenty feet in front of him. An older man, his hair had started to thin and wrinkles had started to develop on his face.

"Wayne, you've proven yourself a great student and a worthy adversary to even the best martial artist, but there is still one thing you must do to prove yourself." He paused for a moment as he took a step closer to Bruce. "If you can defeat me, then I will say that my work is done. Now, stand."

Bruce looked up at this teacher with young, handsome features. His black hair was wet with sweat and his face glistened. His strong jaw line clenched as he stood to face his master.

"No holding back?" Bruce asked.

"No holding back." It was understood that the rules went for both players.

And without another word the instructor leapt out at Bruce with his fist clenched. The punch only missed by inches as Bruce leaned over to his left side. As he did this, he turned his body back and lifted his leg to throw a spinning kick up at the instructors head.

Blocked. The teacher brought both hands up and made them into an "x", catching the kick in between arms.

The both took a few steps back and put their hands up in a guarding stance.

"Very good, Wayne."

And they were back at it. Bruce threw a straight punch that was knocked away by the teacher and then the teacher brought his hand up for an uppercut aimed at Bruce's ribs, but that too was knocked away.

Several more blows were thrown and blocked before Bruce lifted his foot and stomped down on his instructors. He could have done it hard enough to break it, but he pulled the force at the last moment, doing some temporary damage.

The instructor fell to one knee and that was all Bruce needed. He grabbed his teacher by the back of the head and started to bring his knee to his opponents nose.

"Stop!" The teacher screamed. "Stop! You win."

Bruce stopped on a dime, put his foot back down, stepped back, and respectively bowed to his former instructor.

"You have passed my own skill level, and now you are the master. I should be the one bowing to you."

Bruce smiled, looked down on his old teacher, and offered him a hand up.