Hello, internet! This is my first ever fan fiction, and the first time the general populace will ever read a major piece of my writing. This is a history of the Bat Family. A non-canon, patchwork, slightly made-up, simplified retelling of the proud clan who wear the symbol of The Bat to fight crime in Gotham and beyond.
Again this is completely my own interpretation of the history of these characters, it is in no way intended to summarize decades of comics and other media. (Though it is a good place to start if you're new.) I guess you could call it a head canon. A very large one. Any future stories I write would likely start off with this as the base universe.
I don't own anything. Batman and everything related to him is owned by DC comics. He was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. Thanks to all the writers and artists who have ever contributed to the Batman mythos. You made something great.
Everyone knows the story.
Two of the greatest citizens of Gotham were shot dead in a back alley one fateful night. Thomas and Martha Wayne were both titans of the city and their deaths resonated deeply with the people. There was no reason to the crime, just a petty thief looking for a score. And in that moment of senseless violence, two great pillars of virtue and strength were lost forever. The city would go on to mourn them and sympathize with their young son, who had witnessed his parent's murder. 'How terrible it must be to watch your parents die', they thought.
The boy however, did not care for their sympathy. He did not care for much at all. Only one thing consumed his mind, revenge.
Revenge on those who had torn his life apart. His parents murderer yes, but more than that. His hatred encompassed all of the scum in Gotham, every last person who had ruined anyone's life. Bruce Wayne was not fueled by sorrow, but by the all consuming force of rage that burned deep in one's soul. He swore an oath to rid his city of the evil that had taken his parents, and he would accomplish it or die trying.
But not now. He was merely a boy of nine years. Even he knew such things were impossible for him to accomplish. His war on crime would not begin until he was ready.
Eighteen years passed. As he grew, Bruce trained. Physically and mentally in every way he could. He developed a photographic memory and consumed huge quantities of information and knowledge. His learning could not be tempered by the restraints of traditional methods and he sought out the greatest in every field of interest and absorbed everything he could from them. Most considered him a prodigy. If only they knew. He had learned dozens of languages, extensively studied the law, excelled in the field of psychology, acquainted himself with the highest levels of mathematics and science, and became an expert in forensic investigation. This training would one day cause many to regard him as the world's greatest detective.
Even more incredibly, he trained his body to it's absolute limit. Studying with ancient masters and modern soldiers, the boy became on par with the best combatants in the world. And then he surpassed them. He also studied stealth and evasion techniques such that he could move unseen in almost any environment. He conditioned his body to require very little sleep and survive in even the most impossible circumstances. His reflexes were tuned to unimaginable levels and no traditional restraints could contain him for long. These skills would one day earn him the title of world's greatest crime fighter.
But this did take a toll on him. Bruce's life was one of solitude. No person could ever know what he was doing, it would risk their life and his. No, he was forever destined to fight this war himself. He couldn't be a person, he needed to be a symbol. A lone force of justice in the world. And in his solitude, his hatred continuously simmered just beneath the surface. His one driving force that caused him to sacrifice his life to be the symbol that no normal human could ever be.
Initially Bruce had wanted to exact vengeance on the scum of Gotham city. Vengeance in the exact manner that his parents had been taken from him. But as he grew, his training made him realize that this desire made him no better than the criminals he fought. His personal sense of vengeance had to be overridden in order for justice to prevail. Never would he take a life, because then nothing would separate him from them. Seeking retribution for every wrong ever committed would result in a world where evil repeated itself in an endless cycle.
When he returned home, the now grown man set out to create the tools he would need for his crusade. With his considerable fortune Bruce constructed an underground fortress in the caves beneath his family manor. His resources were funneled into designing the most advanced armor, non-lethal weapons and gadgetry that could be created. He prepared for every contingency, every mishap, every possible obstacle. And even then he had only scratched the surface of his future arsenal. The car would be overhauled endlessly and the plane had yet to be optimized for combat purposes. His armor would see many variations to counteract different threats, eventually including a nearly limitless alien refugee.
Searching for a way to characterize this newfound persona of his, Bruce desired to find a way to strike fear into the hearts of criminals. He turned to his own fears for inspiration. The one thing that had frightened him in his childhood was a simple bat. This is what criminals would see, not a man but a legend. This creature of the night would come to be known only in whispers on dark street corners at midnight. The mere mention of his name would cause even the hardest criminals to hear noises in the dark. Not only would his actions build his reputation, but his legend would as well. The Bat was born.
Through only the absolute necessity of circumstance, Bruce turned to his loyal butler to aid him. Alfred Pennyworth had raised him after his parent's death and was perhaps the closest thing to family that Bruce had. Perhaps his last truly human connection left in this world. A proper gentleman, the butler attended to every aspect of Bruce's life that was necessary for him to function as the hero that Gotham needed. He served as a line to the outside world, arranging Bruce's life so that his actions would never be questioned. Alfred also became his source of intelligence and base command while out on patrol. And a skilled medic to the various injuries Bruce would sustain through his time in the cape and cowl. The two of them would become inseparable; Bruce so full of drive and knowledge, while Alfred supplied the caution and wisdom.
This is how it all began. This rather humble beginning would lead to the greatest group of heroes the world had ever known. Not the strongest or the fastest or even the most powerful. But most certainly the greatest. Swinging from the ledges of these old buildings, stopping robberies and gang fights, keeping an eye out for the criminal elite, and avoiding the police. This is where Bruce Wayne ceased to exist. This is where The Batman was born.