Hey guys. This is my first story in my new universe. Please give me feedback on this. I have no idea when Bruce's birthday is, by the way, but I'm saying it was February 19, 1984. That means that his parents died in 1992. By the way, I own nothing in this story. Enjoy!

Bruce Wayne never wanted his lifestyle as Batman. Gotham's Savior. The Dark Knight. But he had no choice. He was the only child of Thomas and Martha Wayne, and the sole heir to their fortune and company, Wayne Enterprises. It all happened on Bruce's mother's birthday, December 9, 1992. The Wayne's had gone to a production at the Monarch Theater, when Bruce fell asleep and had a nightmare. The figure in his dream seemed to be human, but it had large pointed ears and wings. Bruce edged towards it, slowly, until it hissed, spread its wings, and flew towards him. Bruce woke, screaming and sweating, clinging to his mother.

"Are you OK, Bruce?" She said.

"Yeah," He lied. "Just a nightmare."

"Do you want to leave?" She asked.

"No, it's fine." Bruce replied.

"Don't be silly," She said. "Tom, we're leaving."

"Coming, honey." Tom said. They exited the theater and started walking down the street. There was a great crowd outside, and travelling by foot was very difficult. Tom led them into an alleyway behind the building.

"Are you sure this is the right way, honey?" Martha said.

"It's a shortcut," He had assured. "Don't be scared, Bruce. Not long now."

As they were walking, someone appeared in front of them. The Wayne's went to turn around, but another man was behind them. The man in front reached into his coat, and pulled something out that Bruce couldn't see. It appeared to be a firearm of some sort.

"Give us your wallet, and the watch," the man said, "and we won't hurt you."

"OK, just take it easy," Tom said, handing over his valuables. "We don't want any trouble."

"You won't get it." The man behind them said.

"Because you'll be dead."

BANG!

"TOM! OH GOD TOM!" Martha screamed.

"Quiet, lady." One of the men said, and another shot was fired.

"Mommy!" Bruce screeched.

"Should we kill him too, Joe?" The man behind him asked.

"No," The man called Joe said. "He's only a kid."

"Fine. Let's scram before the cops get here." The man behind them said.

"Good idea." Joe said. They ran off, leaving Bruce alone with his dead parents. A fire lit inside Bruce's soul that day. He felt a grief like none that he had ever felt before. He felt alone. Afraid.

He felt angry.

He felt something he had never felt before.

His parents had been taken away.

The people he loved the most.

And he was going to make sure that the same fate didn't come to anyone else.