The red murk of the sun setting was slowly vanishing in to the dark abyss of the night sky: the heavens cried, as if to echo the mood of Gotham itself. Hopelessness was beginning to clench Gotham: it was dying. The Batman had been taken out of commission after Killer Croc had broken both his legs and his right arm: he was taken off the battlefield for an undetermined amount of time. Even lowly gangs were now brawling for power over the streets of Gotham. Bruce knew it was only a matter of time before Joker broke his way out of Arkham once more. Without Batman to stop him it was inevitable. His sphere of influence was too great to be stopped if the bat was away. All Bruce could do was hope that his allies were strong enough when he needed them. Nightwing had been on his rounds, but would he be able to stop the clown prince of crime himself. The dark memories of Jason Todd sprung to mind and sent shivers down his spine. He must recover soon; he thought to himself, a repeat of Jason Todd was the last thing he needed.
"Worrying, Master Bruce, will not help you get out of this hospital bed, so I suggest you forget it all until you can at least walk again. I'm sure Dick has got it under control you must trust in his abilities Master Bruce. He is no longer the boy you took under your wing, he's a young man now and you must respect that, must you not?" Alfred interrupted his thoughts with his uncanny knowledge of reading Bruce Wayne like a book. Bruce gave a weak smile and greeted Alfred with a sigh of joy and a "Morning Alfred", he then continued to say "any news from Dick?" Alfred gave a smirk that said I knew you were going to say that and replied "yes Master Bruce, a gang by the name of, The Gods of Gotham have recently seen an increase in violent crime all across the city, but there still has been no new about Killer Croc, or The Joker Master Bruce. That's all I've got I'm afraid". Bruce paused for a second, but came up with nothing; this gang must have risen during the month he'd been away; however, a new gang was probably the least of his problems right now. That was nothing that Dick couldn't handle by himself. "Thanks Alfred" he replied. Gangs are nothing to worry about Bruce assured himself, they tend to take care of each other if all else fails; however, the feeling that it could also be something rather than nothing still sat amidst his thoughts, which made his need for freedom even greater. The hospital was imprisoning him in a tomb of defeat, leaving the city a part of his mind. Doing whatever it might do without him: he feared the nightmare that it became in his mind. Bruce soon drifted in to unconsciousness and the room became quiet with only the sounds of machines and other patients kept it from silence
The walls of the hospital were grey and in need of painting and Alfred could smell the sickness on the air as he sat beside Bruce, sighing in disapproval, "you've really done it this time Master Bruce" he thought aloud "much more of this and you'll be decommissioned permanently". It was at this moment Alfred noticed he wasn't entirely alone; a young man who couldn't have been any older than his early twenties was standing at the door. He was approximately five foot nine with black dyed, medium length, shaggy hair. His fringe that had previously been swept to the left now drooped slightly covering his left eye, but Alfred could clearly see the other was of a murky bluish green. The man pulled off a pair of red headphones and placed them around his neck. "And you are?" Alfred questioned. "Sam McMountfeurd. I'm with the Gotham News, but it appears Mr Wayne is asleep, so I better get going". Alfred hesitated before asking "you're a bit late aren't you? He's been here for nearly a month". The room filled with an eerie quiet for a moment before he replied "it's not about the accident, it's about a donation that was supposed to be made to one of the orphanages on the west side of the city". "Oh, well I will inform Master Bruce as soon as he awakes and I'm sure he'll be right on it" Alfred replied with a short smile "now you best be off, I don't mean to be rude, but Master Bruce needs to rest." Sam nodded in understanding before pulling the headphones back over his ears and walked back down the corridor.
As Sammy walked down the stairs, he let out a sigh "well that's that sorted" he whispered to himself before pressing play on his phone, as to start the music again. He thought about the orphanage where he grew up and remembered the loneliness, yet it was the closest he'd ever had to a home. It was a pity to lie to such a nice man, but he thought, the pressure of the press might get the donation there faster, besides it was easier than explaining his true reasoning and it had gotten him through the door, so there wasn't really anything to be guilty about in the first place. Sam exited the hospital and entered the dark streets of Gotham. The streetlights seemed blinding compared to the lights in the hospital.
His phone rang: it was his brother again. Sammy, without hesitation, ignored it; he really didn't feel like doing anything else illegal today. The Gods of Gotham could wait. Sam hated the way he made a living, but what else was he supposed to do when his brother was the only family he had left. They didn't always get on, especially not recently with the violent crimes increasing. It was okay when it was only loan sharking, but this, this was wrong. He wanted to leave, but his brother would have him killed. He was beginning to realise what an asshole his brother was. He needed out and he needed it soon.
Another call rang from his phone; he quickly pressed the ignore button again.
His phone buzzed with a text that read "get here now Sammy boy! We need ya, stop fucking us about!" Sammy sighed and got on his bike and rode towards the warehouse to where he had been summoned. "You really are a pain in the ass" Sammy whined as he revved the bike and accelerated through Gotham's streets.