The stench of the Narrows did little to inhibit the pleasure Gothamites felt now that the weather was getting warmer. Delinquents hung out on fire escapes and around street corners in their shorts and tees but they were far from ever being innocent children. The red brick tenements glowed in the afternoon sunlight unprepared for the moment when the light lowered enough and the first of the deep shadows flooded grimy, cluttered alleyways. Kids who knew that they were only tough when the sun was up fled the streets to homes of dysfunctional families, and mostly whoever would have them.
Some of the inhabitants of the Narrows could be called criminals, or their associates. However, those few who were honest, good people worked hard to keep their noses out of crime. They woke up, went to work, spent time with their friends and family. And at night they fell asleep to the chorus and cacophony of wails, shattering glass, beaten flesh, screeching tires, and police sirens. What children learned from a young age to associate as the Lullaby of the Narrows. But on the other side of Gotham the screams and wild groups of socialites stumbling down streets into night clubs signaled that the night was just coming into it's full swing.
Bruce Wayne would make an appearance tonight if only to reassure Alfred he hadn't lost himself in the vigilante. All the while feeling the pull of his alter ego. He'd set his watch back at the penthouse, hoping that being seen at the Era night club for only an hour would be sufficient. Bruce itched uncomfortably at his crisp button down. The smell of cheap booze and musky cologne was choking him but he persevered. Only another couple of minutes and he could leave all of the civil chaos for a more real version. The type that could kill a man with a shovel and kiss it's daughter goodnight without ever realizing the irony. The criminals in the Narrows were stirring and it wasn't just because they had finally thawed from Gotham's winter.
'Tonight,' Bruce thought, 'tonight will be a busy night.' The air felt restless and none of the unsuspecting citizens could tell, but the criminal underworld was preparing. And Batman was always watching. Even though his beat had slowed down during the winter he was on top of the mobs latest movements.
As the DJ began addressing the crowd Bruce slid onto a bar stool before the crowd surged forward onto the dance floor yelling nonsensically in reply. He flashed the bartender a twenty asking quietly for a champagne glass filled with ginger ale. Bruce had a plan for his escape, he never usually had to plan it out, he just needed to know where he would be and how far he was from the bunker by the docks. But his plan always involved another person, and a dark corner.
Those of the fairer sex who were looking to proposition the billionaire were not too subtly slinking through the crowd. Their eyes were focused on the prize. He felt the bartender push the flute of 'champagne' gently against his arm, as he turned he even caught the hungry eyes of a man standing down the bar from him. Bruce wasn't adverse to using men, it all depended on who had imbibed the most alcohol.
There it was, what Bruce liked to refer to as a 'textbook example'. Two women at the end of the bar throwing back shots and giggling at each other. Bruce only needed a moment to assess their situation. He smiled pointedly at the blushing blond leaning heavily against her friend. He checked his watch one more time. This was always the same, no matter who she, or he, was. Bruce downed the ginger ale leaving a fifty dollar tip to the good man who hadn't questioned his order. He flashed another billionaire smile towards the girl as she was turning away. Playing the uninterested card, just like all her friends had taught her to do no doubt.
"Hey honey," Bruce slid an arm around her small waist and pulled her around so that he could just see the side of her face. He dipped down so his breath would ghost her ear, "wanna come with me?"
"Kelly," she giggled hoping the music would hide her voice.
"Have fun sweetie." Her friend just laughed pushing her away. She stumbled against Bruce and he pulled her closer.
The girl wrenched away from him now pulling on his hand all the bit a flirt. Her smile and alcohol breath was starting to get to him but Bruce regained his grip around her waist and led her towards the back stairwell. It's air was pulsing with the heavy bass leaking out of the speakers.
He pushed her up against the dirty wall sucking on her collar bone and sliding up the hem of her purple mini dress. He was momentarily surprised when her hand fought back pulling it down. He moved up to her jaw and then her lips, he ran a hand through her hair holding it still long enough to check the time. She moaned as he deepened the kiss her inebriated brain already getting fully worked up. The playboy kissed down her neck as she writhed against him, slowly he pulled away to check that her eyes were screwed shut. And then he was gone.
When she realized the weight of the man had disappeared she opened her blurry eyes searching for Bruce Wayne, and for a moment she was confused. But she straightened her dress wiping at her mouth to make sure her lipstick hadn't smeared. At least now she would have one hell of a story to tell Kelly. Any way, she'd never know Wayne had skipped out prematurely.
Bruce leapt from the last step wetting the hem of his pants in what he hoped wasn't urine. His scan of the alley as he'd come down immediately picked up the slumped unmoving man in the trash bags around the dumpster. But the bum turned cheesing an unkempt smile and raising his brown paper bag in the form of a toast. "To good weather son, to good weather." He said drawlingly and dissolved into a fit of laughter as he tipped the bottle back up to his lips.
This is what his parents had fought so hard to stop, homeless people and filthy streets. They had wanted to clean up Gotham, help her people. But Bruce knew it was impossible, well, as long as criminals ruled the city. Maybe his route to a clean Gotham had deviated from the path his parents had taken, but in the long run being Batman would help the city more.
Or so Bruce hoped. As he sped past the crowded city Bruce couldn't help but smile. Neon lights, fast music, this was his Gotham. Bruce Wayne would never experience what Gotham truly was. Because that's all Bruce Wayne really was, he was just a character. Bruce Wayne smiled for the cameras, he let girls hang off his arms. Bruce Wayne was the playboy billionaire. Bruce was just a man. But Batman, he was important, he meant something to this city, he was something more than a charity donation and a pretty smile.
His body leaned right dodging around slow moving cars. Tonight he would shed his suit for another, more meaningful one. He would go to the bunker and don the batsuit. His bike slid to a stop before the metal containers doors. Bruce punched in his code and wheeled the bike onto the lift and as it started to descend he felt the excitement. But with it came a dread, he couldn't become Batman without thinking that something could go terribly wrong in his city. He pushed the bike towards the wall kicking down the stand and shielded his eyes against the whiteness, waiting for them to adjust. He hit the button on the computer consul for his suit to emerge from the floor.
Bruce stripped down to only his briefs. It was difficult to wear boxers under the mesh body suit. So he opted for undergarments that fit more snugly than actually going commando. He had just slipped the formfitting fabric over his hips when the lift descended again. Alfred smiled at him stepping off the platform before it was at rest.
"Well sir, an hour? I'd say it might be your shortest appearance; but I hope it was enjoyable."
"Hardly, it smelled horrible. Remind me to find a different club for next time." Bruce watched as his butler sniffed at his discarded clothing.
"Of course sir," He grimaced. The scent of the night club still lingered on Bruce's jacket. Alfred sat it on the consul pulling the crumpled dress shirt out of the pile of clothes. He began buttoning it.
There was a comfortable silence as Bruce finished fastening the different pieces of his leg armor. He knew Alfred had some ulterior motive for venturing from the penthouse tonight. As curious as he was he wouldn't break the silence to ask. Bruce switched on the computer while fitting on more of the pieces of the batsuit.
"Master Bruce," He turned and saw Alfred fumbling with the last few buttons. "I brought you some energy bars." He pointed at the bag he'd set down on the desk. "I know you haven't eaten since lunch, and before you argue, eat at least two so I know you aren't neglecting yourself." Alfred smiled kindly at him.
"Alfred," Bruce started, but then sighed when he saw the anxiety of Alfred's knitted brow, "fine, hand me one when you're finished."
The elderly butler folded his suit pants and placed them on top of Bruce's shirt. "I'd be delighted." Bruce smiled as Alfred began to chuckle. Finally the last things were his cowl and cape. But he took the preopened bar from Alfred and ate it in two bites doing much the same with the second one. Alfred draped Bruce's suit jacket over his arm and picked up his folded shirt and pants placing his shoes on top. "Be careful tonight sir." With one last smile Alfred left his employer to his thoughts.
Bruce wiped the sweat from his face and quickly started up his bike. Tonight he was the Batman, and he would protect his city, his home, his Gotham. She was threatened by all the scum that she had unknowingly bred, secretly in every alley, in every dirty broken tenement. This was Batman's Gotham, the city that wasn't clean, or shining. But at night, she glowed, and she was beautiful.
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