BATMAN 1

PART 1

PROLOGUE

Gotham City, 1986.

The streets were shaded in pitch black, the only light emanating weakly from the odd lamp post which was dim to begin with. The Waynes made their steady way across the vacant road quickly but quietly, scanning both ways for cars before crossing to the other side. No driver would have been able to see them through the darkness in time to swerve away, but in Gotham, no one even cared to try. It had once been a city like any other, and in some ways still looked as it may still be, but Gotham was no longer a peaceful place to live. The dangers and risks of living there were getting worse by the day, for crime was becoming the dominant business in such harsh times. No one dared walk the streets at night, especially when a party consisted of children; but on this night, the Wayne family had no choice in the matter.

Mr. Thomas Wayne was a very successful business man who had carried on in his father's place as the head of a technological research corporation known as Wayne Enterprises, and was arguably the wealthiest man in all of Gotham City. Riches aside, the man himself was an honorable and well respected man, known for his generosity and delightful presence over all else. He had lived his entire life in Gotham City, and to his family, it was a home that no other place could ever replace. The recent change of atmosphere had almost gone unnoticed by the wealthy family who had spent most of their time inside the protective walls of Wayne Manor, if it had not been for the outpour of media coverage on such things as gang warfare and murderous crime sprees. Despite such distasteful headlines, Mr. Wayne knew deep in his heart that the residents of Gotham had once been good people, and he dedicated a great amount of his time to helping others to remember that as well. Much of his earnings were spent on government funding for keeping the streets as safe as they could possibly be, allowing for more local officers to join the ranks and patrol the streets twenty-four seven.

Wayne had a loyal wife of ten years, Martha, who stood by him at all costs, and a young son, Bruce, who had just turned eight. The three seemed to be walking at a quickening pace as they reached the sidewalk again, alert yet confused as to what had been happening on this particularly strange evening. Only Mr. Wayne himself knew for sure that were being pursued as he tried hard to conceal his intention of escape from his loved ones as not to arouse panic, yet also pushing them along faster in an attempt to avoid detection.

"Sweetheart, not so fast!" his wife had a recognizable amount of concern in her voice.

"Turn here," Wayne gestured towards a darkened alleyway to their right. The alley was pitch black, so black that at first, the young Bruce hadn't noticed a gap in between buildings.

"What?" his wife protested. "It's dark in there, what are you…" she was cut off as he hustled them into the darkened path.

"It's a shortcut home." Wayne lied. It was a hiding place, somewhere he had hoped no one would be searching for him.

"But the car is back at the theatre," Bruce piped weakly. They walked on through the dark, barely able to see five feet in front of themselves.

"You're scaring him!" Wayne's wife said nervously, whispering now, detecting the danger that her husband was trying to avoid. She had been scared herself, moreso than her son, for she knew that something was in pursuit of them now and did not have a clue who or what had been the cause. The family had left the theatre barely twenty minutes into the production after Wayne had returned from a trip to the restroom, beckoning that they leave for home immediately with no explanations as to why. It had been the deep trust that he shared with his wife that prevented her from asking questions before complying with his request, a trust that had strengthened over the years through love and appreciation for one another.

"Mummy!" Bruce suddenly cried out, sensing at his mother's words that something was definitely wrong.

"Everything's fine, just keep going." Wayne had just finished his instructions when suddenly from out of the shadows, a lean black form appeared before them. The dim lights from the opposite entrance to the alleyway were the only thing that distinguished his figure from the sheer blackness around them. No face could be seen, no color depicted in his clothing, just the outlines of a human form. The Waynes stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the stranger and immediately the threat he posed became evident. It was the way he stood there in there path, barely moving except for the slow motion of breathing which was done all too calmly in such a dreadful place as this. The figure took a slight step forward, followed by another and muffled a laugh.

"Something wrong, sir?" the voice was not deep, nor threatening, but the calmness of his reverberations repelled the family with each step.

"Nothing at all, thank you." Wayne muttered, still afraid to push his family onward.

"Then why walk so quickly? And through such a dark alley so late at night… some would consider that a bit odd, wouldn't you agree? Foolish, even." The man took another step forward, his features still thoroughly masked by the night's embrace.

"Please just let us be on our way," Wayne gently placed his hands to the backs of his wife and child and guided them forward, ever so slightly as not to mistakenly throw them into harm's way. As their path turned away from the dark figure, he side stepped back into their path.

"But we have so much to talk about, Mr. Wayne."

Hearing his name led to utter panic, threatening to consume him completely. Wayne took a few slow breaths in attempt to calm himself, but it was not working. His family was in danger because of him, and now there may be no way out for any of them.

"Please just let them go,"

"I could do that… but that depends on how cooperative you are." The tall figure raised his hand in the air slightly, and the outline of a gun could be seen clenched between his tightening grip. "Now, Mr. Wayne, talk."

"I… I don't know what you want me to say, is it money that you want? I can get you money, just…"

"I don't want your money, Mr. Wayne. I want to know what happened to mine. Tell me, where did all of my hard earned dough find itself?" the man pointed the gun slowly at Mrs. Wayne, young Bruce attached tightly to her waist.

"Please! I, I don't know who you are! Tell me who you are and I can tell you where your money is!" Wayne pleaded with the faceless criminal.

"If I were to do that, I couldn't leave witnesses, could I?"

Bruce started to cry into the coat his mother wore, unable to understand the heavy situation his father had somehow put them in.

"I… I… but I don't know!" Wayne got on his knees. "Please just let them go and we'll talk!"

"The woman can go, the boy stays until you tell me what I want to know." The man commanded, sorely disgusted by Wayne for resorting to begging. Mrs. Wayne clutched at her son, refusing to leave her child alone in a psychotic man's hands. "No?" he had given her a chance, and she had ungratefully not taken his generous offering.

BANG!

The body that young Bruce held on to fell limply, and lifelessly to the ground, the pitch black covering the bullet wound freshly planted into her forehead.

"No! You son of a bitch!" Wayne dropped to the ground beside his beloved, tears streaked across his face but unseen through the darkness. Bruce was frozen in place, unable to move as the weight of the world dropped heavily onto his shoulders and his breath no longer functioned on its own.

"My name is Red Hood." The man revealed himself.

Wayne looked up at the man's face, but it was still hidden. "I don't have your fucking money! I don't know you! Pleaheahease!" he wailed and squealed, his life had fallen away from him, completely out of his control.

"That is a shame, Mr. Wayne. I would hate to see this boy grow up without a father, as well as a mother. This is your last chance, Mr. Wayne." The man readied the gun out in front of him and cocked it, a sound that echoed through the alley and implanted itself in the mind of young Bruce and would stay there for the rest of his life.

"I don't… Please, no!" Wayne cried weakly, accepting what was about to happen, yet hopeful that by this comment the man intended to let his son go after the deed was done.

"Time is up, Mmmmiisssttterrr Wwwwaaayyynnne." The words were drawn out in Bruce's mind as his brain took in every millisecond of the next few moments.

BANG!

Another bullet made its escape through its wretched hole and charged its way through the center of Mr. Wayne's skull, matching the one planted in his lovely wife's head. Bruce looked up at the murderer, the innocent child still unable to bear such mature feelings of hatred and anger as one would expect. His eyes bled of anguish and fear, but they too had been masked by the black of the night.

"I've been there, kid." The man addressed the child as if nothing of importance had happened at all. "And one day, you'll become like me."

Bruce stared in horror, still unable to move a muscle in the presence of the masked killer. Suddenly, the man turned and started on his way through the alley.

"Be seeing you." It was a promise that Bruce should have made himself.