They were walking out of the cinema after their father had taken them to see the Mark of Zorro again.
"It's a good movie," He defended to their mother.
"I liked it," Bruce agreed "All that action and the fact he wears a cool mask," He tried to perform some of the moves with an imaginary sword. The effect comical until Thomas joined in.
"It was alright," His brother said parrying an imaginary blow from Bruce.
"Sure," His father intoned ruffling Thomas' hair.
Their father and mother walked ahead to try and hail a cab. The walk leading them into a dark alley before opening out onto the main street meant that Thomas and Bruce had to call a truce for the time being.
"Did you like the movie?" Thomas inquired. His steely blue gaze trained on every reaction Bruce made.
"Yeah," He repeated and made to skip up to their parents when Thomas stopped him with a hand to his arm.
"You know we can go see it again," He offered.
Bruce furrowed his brow "We've seen it twice already. Why don't we wait until tomorrow. Dad can take us again," He suggested eagerly.
His brother shrugged but didn't let go of his arm "When he isn't busy I guess. But if we went again now-"
"Boys," They looked to see their parents encompassed by shadows and hurried to keep up.
"Dad will take us again," Bruce promised.
Thomas didn't look convinced but let Bruce swing their joined hands back and forth as their parents told them to cross the street. No cab in sight they had to walk another couple of blocks and hope that a cab would stop for them.
One made to when Thomas tore away from Bruce's grasp to shout "Look!" excitedly in between two blocks of flats.
"Thomas!" His father went after him as his mother tried to get the cab to stay. But two minutes passed and then another five and still no sign of Thomas and his father. The cab driver eventually got fed up of waiting and drove off to leave Bruce and his mother stranded on the pavement.
"Honestly," she sighed and took Bruce's hand to go after her errant husband and son.
It wasn't far they walked between street lamps before they saw two shadows of a father and son standing at gunpoint. His mother screamed and the man took off when he saw her going for her phone.
The shock gone she rushed to his father and clutched Thomas to her who squirmed out of her grasp and made towards Bruce.
"Are you alright?" There wasn't a scratch on his brother but things like this still left people shaken. His father had been stabbed once and the trauma took longer to overcome than the injury itself.
"No," Thomas spat and dragged Bruce into the alley with him. He completely ignored his worried parents to stand where the man had before. Reaching for something dropped on the pavement he pushed Bruce to the side. "I can't believe you messed up your own murder. Things would have been so much cleaner," The man had dropped his gun. The gun Thomas was now holding and pointing at their parents.
Sensing their danger their father stepped in front of their mother and tried to reason with Thomas "Tommy put the gun down. This isn't a game."
"Of course it isn't a game!" He cocked the gun sending his father back a few steps "You had one job. One! But then mother couldn't keep herself from ruining it, like she ruins everything. Well no longer. From now on it's going to be me and Bruce."
"Tommy," He heard his own small voice trying to reach out to his brother. "What are you doing?"
His brother abandoned their parents for the moment to turn to him "I'm doing what needs to be done. Believe me we'll be better off without them."
"Thomas no!" While Thomas had been preoccupied their father had made a grab for the gun.
His mother's screech was all he heard before gun shots sounded and his brother pushed him onto the pavement.
He woke with bright lights obscuring his vision and a warm lap under his head. He tried sitting up and had to lie back down as a large bump made itself known. Turning his head was easier and as his eyes adjusted to the street he saw a queue of people behind yellow tape and even more shining bright lights into the alley.
He heard someone vaguely and waited until the fuzziness went out of his ears before focusing on his brother's familiar voice.
"... the man came back and finished the job. I-I only did it as a prank. I swear," he was sobbing and moving Bruce's head each time he inhaled.
"Are you sure that's what happened?" There was a man sitting next to them and gave Bruce a sad look as he turned to his brother to confirm what had happened.
"Of course that's what happened! I wouldn't have actually shot them! They were just... Bruce and I just wanted some time with them. They never have any time for us," His limbs felt heavy as he made to sit up again. He steadied himself by using Thomas as a crutch and used that as well to comfort him.
His mind was still grey and taking a while to remember how he had fallen over. They had been coming back from the cinema "Bruce?" He looked up to meet the man's gaze. "Hello, my name is detective Gordon. There's been a... well I'm gonna need you to tell me what you remember."
"Remember?" He held his hand to his bump. It wasn't helping things "We... went to go see Zorro again. Dad couldn't find a cab so we had to walk a couple of blocks until we found one. He wouldn't wait..."
"Why wouldn't he wait Bruce?" The man's tone was soft but his eyes were hard as they peered behind him to Thomas.
"Tommy ran off. Said he'd found something. What did you find?" He didn't remember finding out.
"I thought I saw a circus poster. I wanted to see if dad would take us," Thomas muttered between sobs.
"Then there was a guy, he had a gun," He remembered. Then Tommy took the gun and... A cold feeling dropped in the pit of his stomach. "Mom? Where's mom?" He looked around for her but there were too many people in the way.
Alfred came for them a couple of minutes later having to drag Bruce from the alley screaming. The next couple of days were filled with police visits and reporters lurking outside of their house. Alfred was forced to take custody of them which caused quite a stir in the newspapers. Bruce wasn't allowed to read them since Thomas said it was all bad and threw it in the fire.
The police visits stopped when Detective Gordon exhausted his questioning with Bruce "I didn't see anything." "I guess someone could have come back." "All I heard was gunshots. I didn't actually see it was Tommy."
His brother was subjected to some visits from the doctor and given psychiatric help with the trauma but other than that there was nothing more they could do to them. It would be some years later before Bruce finally had proof that Thomas had gotten away with murder. For now he was just left with an idea and a new fear of his brother.
"Are you coming out?" He ignored the knock at his door again for the tenth time "Bruce, you can't avoid me forever."
"I'm not avoiding you," He called. You scare me, was what he left out "I just need some alone time."
He heard a sigh and footsteps walking away. Alfred came later to tuck him in and left off at another cliffhanger in the Sherlock Holmes story they had taken to reading.
Everything came to a halt that night as he woke from another nightmare. The image of his father plastered in blood was replaced with a youthful double petting his hair.
"You were having a nightmare," His tone was soft but Bruce wondered how he could have ever thought those eyes were anything but soulless "It's okay. I get them too." He was beginning to wonder if he was next on Thomas' list when a spark came into those eyes. He looked lovingly at Bruce "I'd never hurt you. You know that right?" The promise seemed real but the unspoken one between parent and child had seemed real too. Still he nodded, this was Tommy. His brother and Bruce figured that if he was going to be killed it would be better for it to happen whilst he still believed in his family. "Good. I'll always be here for you." He snuggled down into the sheets.
The first year went by surprisingly fast. It was soon Bruce's tenth birthday and then Thomas' twelfth. With the new year the hurt hadn't went away. If anything it had boiled into a simmering rage against his brother. One he tried to fight against at every opportunity but let out when he was alone.
Thomas took an interest in their family's business after Alfred came home one day followed by a man in a suit. His brother would shut himself away for hours before emerging with some new command for Alfred. Needless to say they were richer by half the next month.
As the school year approached Thomas decided that they weren't going back to normal academics. Alfred had an argument ready which was shot down as soon as Thomas opened his mouth. September came and he was receiving lessons from Alfred in the parlour room with Thomas. The work was hard but Bruce found he didn't mind so much. It was easier to get along with his brother when his mind was on other things.
October found Thomas in Bruce's room with a knife. Bruce's blood went cold and he made to retreat only to have Thomas advance. He was chased through the manor with his brother hunting him like a rabbit. Fear was strong as he tried to find a room to cut Thomas off at but another emotion was stronger. Hate. Hate that he was once again the victim. How dare his brother think he could treat Bruce like this. It was a mixture of these things that had him stopping and facing his brother.
Emerging from around the corner he didn't try running Bruce through. Instead he smiled proudly like Bruce had done something right and threw the knife away. Even more confused than normal and still feeling the adrenalin he charged his brother.
The scuffle didn't last long. A year older didn't mean anything when his brother had started growing taller and heavier "Why?" He eventually cried. Stuck under Thomas' heavy weight there was nothing more he could do.
"I saw something in you Bruce. You're exactly like me," He didn't think that should be a compliment "You're fed up of cowering and as you just showed me there, you're a fighter Bruce." He let him up "Which is why I want to ask if you want to partake in some other lessons. Ones that aren't controversial but make you feel like a victim no longer."
He was still frustrated but curious about how his brother was going to obtain this feat "What kind of lessons?"
They had a fencing instructor on Mondays who came to the manor at noon. Alfred thought it good that they were getting some exercise and allowed the man to return every Monday despite the fact that, if he knew, Alfred wouldn't have allowed this man anywhere near them. They didn't use foils for starters. Instead he threw them in the deep end with Katana's and made them fight until they were bloody. Thomas made it a rule that they shouldn't hit the face. It made their other rule that much easier to follow when they didn't have question's asked.
"We don't tell Alfred."
Tuesdays found a man with shady credentials teach them martial arts. Bruce didn't know what style it was and didn't really think there was a name. He, like the first, made them fight every lesson. They learned from their mistakes and he taught them new ways to incapacitate each other but he still made them fight. Without pads. Without helmets. Until one of them had knocked the other out.
"We don't tell Alfred."
Wednesdays saw a break in fighting which suited Bruce fine. By Wednesday he was usually in bed until noon and soaking in the bath until one. Then their next instructor came. He was a man trained in the forces but abandoned it to pursue a rather controversial life. He taught them about bombs, chemicals, anything that could be used as a weapon. There was no fighting but the fumes had Bruce coughing and screaming into the night.
"We don't tell Alfred."
Thursday was archery. Instead of doing this one alone like they usually did Thomas had the Queen boy come over and join them. It made Alfred happy that they were making friends and it gave him time to spend with adults. Oliver was fun in a dopey way. He made puns as often as he could and had a possessive streak that all spoiled kids did. For the first two lessons he made out like he was the best archer in the world. After those two he shut up about it and tried to prove it. Bruce turned out to have a natural affinity for targets. Better with knives than a bow he could still put up some competition for Queen. Two hours they stayed before duty called and the Queen's left to go back to Starling. After that their instructor had them shooting live targets he caught or decided needed shot down. Bruce was squeamish at first but soon dulled to the monotonous twang of the bow.
"We don't tell Alfred."
Friday they had Alfred's lessons as normal. They went to bed on time and waited for Alfred to fall asleep before sneaking out their windows and meeting their other instructor in the trees around their manor. This man was a hunter. He trained them in the art of detecting patterns and anomalies. Things people miss when they aren't looking. He usually had them stuck in a tree for hours until they could figure out all the details he wanted them too at a specific target. As they finally crawled back into their beds after hours of looking into the night Bruce couldn't help repeating his mantra.
"We don't tell Alfred."
Saturday had an actual instructor come and teach them something. It alternated every week so some days it was boxing and others it was Akido. The lessons weren't all that important, what turned out to be was the discipline it instilled. Thomas wanted the both of them to learn like this so everything else they did strived to perfection. And for once they were allowed to tell Alfred about their lessons.
Sunday was a day off for Thomas. He went into their father's old study and looked over Wayne Enterprises material for Alfred's submission. Bruce on the other hand was driven all the way down town for a gymnastics class.
"You need to be flexible," was Thomas' argument and although he was right come Sunday all Bruce wanted to do was curl up into his bed and sleep his hurt away.
The lessons never got easier as he turned eleven then twelve but he could see how he was progressing. No longer was he someone who cowered from a knife. Their instructors had drove away all fear and turned it into logical thinking.
Logical thinking that ended up getting him hurt one lesson. Bruce had noticed something over the years Alfred had started tutoring them which was that he was smarter than Thomas. A diagnosis revealed he had an eidetic memory and soon he sought other materials to read that weren't on Alfred's curriculum. He asked for language tutors and became quicker at identifying chemicals or patterns in their other lessons. Striving so far ahead of his brother he should have known that Thomas wouldn't take it as happily as Bruce was.
They were fighting with their long swords for Monday's lesson. A quick sidestep and Bruce lunged a scratch on Thomas' arm. His brother, instead of brushing it off as usual, fainted left and tripped Bruce's leg with a harsh blow. He was shocked at the force behind it, so shocked that he stupidly tried to take Thomas' blade off him. The metal cut his skin and his brother lunged again to catch him in the side. It was deeper than any cut they had done before and their instructor seemed to realise this. Calling an end to their session he rushed Bruce off to the side to make sure he didn't bleed out.
Thomas was panting in the middle of the room. Eyes wild but blinking back into the loving brother he was most of the time. It wasn't completely gone as Alfred came in to whisk the instructor off and Bruce was rather tentative to allow Thomas to help him to his room.
He finally knew what was bothering his brother when his clothes were gone and he was bathing in pink water "You're not better than me."
It was said so quietly Bruce didn't even think it had been said. He still reassured his brother regardless "I never said I was." The rage was boiling beneath the surface. Always there and sometimes overflowing. He could say no more to his brother and just hope that he realised that this was Bruce. This was the one person he saved that night instead of ridding him like their parents.
"I'm sorry," He had an armful of Thomas as the teens mood rapidly changed into remorse. "I could have really hurt you," He fingered the cut he made on Bruce's arm "I'll make it up to you," He promised.
Making it up to him turned out to be a secret lair. Thomas had been using some of his Sunday's to carve it out. The old clock in their father's study led to caves underneath the manor. They went on for miles but the main event was where Thomas took him. An open space down some stairs where equipment had been set up for Bruce.
"I love it," He really did.
"There's another reason I brought you down here," Bruce looked over to where his brother was wandering into the shadows. "See I had this idea a couple of months back when I went to a board meeting with Alfred. We were stuck in traffic and I saw this woman getting mugged," Thomas held no remorse for that woman. It was just a part of his story after all. "We were stuck long enough for me to see her be robbed, assaulted then left. The police hadn't turned up by the time we'd moved despite us being there for fifteen minutes."
"Why didn't you tell Alfred?" It was no secret their butler stood up for the down-trod if he could.
Thomas smiled "I knew you'd say that. But so many years of keeping secrets from the old man it just didn't seem right. But it got me thinking..." He tapped his head "I knew if you had been there you would have done something." Bruce nodded to Thomas' insinuation "Yeah because you're good like that. So I thought we should put our new skills to the test. Why not do something."
"I don't understand," Thomas had pulled out a tall blank case which he wheeled towards Bruce.
A snap of the wrist and the blank case wasn't blank. Inside was a Halloween costume. Some kind of cat mask with a cape and black boots. The rest of the suit wasn't nice to look at either. "I thought you might like to be a superhero."
He didn't know whether to laugh or yell for Alfred. The look on his brother's face had him staying still and complimenting Thomas' idea "Like the Green Lanterns? It's a good idea, I mean I like to help people. But I don't exactly have superpowers."
"You don't need them. We've been training for years. We've won championships and even street fights with our knowledge and skill. Any mugger or rapist won't stand a chance against us," It sounded appealing when Thomas said it like that. "Think Bruce. A chance to be the hero and not the victim."
He looked back at what Thomas had created "What's it meant to be?"
"A bat. Is my artistic genius that hard to tell?" He joked.
Bruce snorted "I'll do it. But I'm redesigning the suit."
"Fine. It'll just make mine look all the more cooler." Thomas' turned out to be way more cooler. A costume of silver and blue he was going to be called Owlman and Bruce had the unfortunate name of Batboy since he was "Just a kid. You can be 'man' when you get pubes."
He worked on the suit as a pet project until it was as he liked it. Four months after Thomas had shown him their lair they went out on the street for the first time. Although they stopped a mugger it turned out that being a hero was harder than it looked. For one they couldn't get to the crime in time. A stolen police scanner meant nothing when they got there too late because they had to run to the scene. Then there was the fact these criminals had no problem going for the face. It was their first priority with the second being a knife attack. Bruce had three close calls and Thomas even more when they got ganged up on.
They had to adapt to survive this new lifestyle and Bruce was more than willing to. He felt like he had found his calling. The satisfaction of helping people made Thomas stitching him up hurt less. When he was fourteen they had bought bikes and taught themselves to ride them. Bruce managed to take his apart and make it better, faster for the next time they were on the streets and so long as he did Thomas' his brother didn't have a problem with it. Fifteen and they had grappling hooks, batarangs, sonic devices. Bruce spent most of his time down in the caves inventing new gadgets for him and his brother.
Fifteen also brought about more new things. For example he realised he wasn't interested in girls. His brother was seventeen and the beloved darling of Gotham. Most mornings Bruce woke to women joining them at the table and it was then as their bra's hung low and thong's barely concealing themselves that he realised he had no interest. He figured he would grow into liking them later in life or that he was too mission orientated to notice right now and didn't make as much a deal of it as others would have.
At sixteen Thomas brought back another woman. This one wasn't like the others. For one she was engaged to be married and for another she was a meta. He'd heard stories about them but hadn't actually seen one until this woman Lois broke a hole in his brother's floor. Bruce was startled when he walked in on them both naked in the parlour room as Thomas' bed hung in parts through the hole and promptly left them to it. It wasn't until she became a frequent presence in their house that Bruce investigated her further.
Her name was 'Lois' by law but Bruce had examined her name against the woman who should have been Lois Lane and saw that this woman was merely impersonating her. She was engaged to a man who was simply called Ultraman. No alias' just Ultraman. He was vile to look at and even viler in person. A would be dictator that wanted to rope Bruce and Thomas into his maniacal scheme.
"No thank you," Bruce turned down and had gotten a concussion for his refusal.
He came around with Thomas promising that was the last he would see of them but Bruce had long since known when Thomas was lying.
Eighteen and Thomas never came out on patrol anymore. Bruce had given up trying to ask him since it just resulted in him being ignored for days on end. There was also the reason that, apart from Gotham, Owlman Superwoman and Ultraman had taken action into their plans.
Their image was plastered over everywhere they subdued and conquered. Metropolis had been made their base and Thomas spent most of his nights there than at the manor now.
It was his nineteenth birthday. Thomas hadn't been there all day and he'd spent the night in Gotham until three. Passing out on the sofa had been his plan but when he got there it seemed stupid not to walk all the way to his bed.
He wasn't alone. Thomas was sitting with a present wrapped neatly in his lap. Sprawled on Bruce's bed if he hadn't known Thomas had been gone he would have said he'd been waiting for him.
"Happy Birthday," He held the present out. Bruce glanced at it briefly and turned back to Thomas. There was something off about him. It took seconds for Bruce to place what.
"Are you high?" Years of beating down on addicts and dealers had given him a strong view on drugs. To think his brother-
"It's a stimulant. Nothing to worry yourself about," He waved off. Bruce noted his motor functions running as normal and still ignored the present Thomas was insisting into his hands "Take it."
"Why are you high?"
"I told you. Now just take your present and stop being so ungrateful," The box was thrust into his arms.
He chucked it to the floor "Ungrateful? I've spent the better half of my life trying to help people if anyone's ungrateful it's you. You turned your back on your city!"
Thomas scoffed "I'm trying to help our city."
"Is that what you call it? You promised me three years ago that you weren't going to see those people again and look at you now. You're a tyrant Tommy!" He held his jaw as his brother backhanded him.
"Ungrateful! That's what you are! And after everything I've done for you. I could have killed you along with our parents but I didn't. I thought if anyone would understand me it would be you! But look at you... I give you a city, a city I made them promise not to touch and what do you do? You dare call me ungrateful. Well you know what Bruce I think I might take it back. See how you fare against us," the drugs had turned Thomas' rages into something beyond what Bruce was used to. "Better yet why don't I take you out of the equation altogether. At least until you learn how much I've done for you."
Thomas went in for an attack which Bruce countered easily. What he wasn't expecting was the moves that followed. Years of fighting and working with Thomas meant he knew all of his moves. They had become predictable to him until tonight. It must have been the drugs.
"Not as smart now are you," Thomas growled and crushed his airways until he passed out.
Trained as he was he woke fast and found himself in a room he'd never seen before. People were in there with him but looking like they had seen better days. A middle aged couple were huddled in the corner next to a sleeping man. Further off from them was a woman who reminded Bruce of Superwoman. Unlike Lois this woman had a beauty that came soul deep. Worn down she still shone like a diamond and faced him with steely eyes that promised no remorse. Further down was a man shaking so much he looked like he blurred into three as another man tried to console him. Brown hair and a pilots jacket Bruce wondered what he'd done to incur his brother's wrath. Altogether there were at least twelve people stuck in the room and only one of them he recognised.
"Oliver?" The blonde perked up at the name only to glare daggers when he realised who was speaking to him.
"What are you doing here? There's no archery competitions for weeks," The joke was lame and he knew it.
"Thomas..." He could tell Oliver had no clue who put him in here and Bruce had the presence of mind not to get himself killed on the first day. "I upset Ultraman. I guess he doesn't like people standing up to him much."
"You can say that again," Another blonde scoffed.
"How long have you been in here?" He addressed to Oliver.
"A month I think. Ever since they took Star City," Oliver made a sweeping gesture "That's why we're all here. They took our cities and when we fought back they put us here."
"Why?" It didn't make sense.
"Because they're sick," Oliver spat. He was lucky he'd only just got on their bad side. Bruce had been edging that line every since he was granted Thomas' mercy.
He tried a different tactic "Who are these people?"
Oliver shrugged "Why don't you ask them." He returned to his huddled position. All the fight gone from him.
He decided the couple were probably the safest people to approach and made himself seem as none threatening as possible as he sat near them. The man they were huddled by turned out not to be asleep but passed out. In some sort of fever the couple took turns mopping up his sweat and cooing nothings in his ear.
"My name is Bruce," He offered with his hand.
"Jonathan. And this is Martha," He shook Bruce's hand "The other's don't like to talk much. Some of them have been... well it's not been nice." Bruce didn't want to know what that pause meant.
"My mother's name was Martha," He recalled.
Martha awed "Did one of those people..."
"Yeah," It was the truth "Owlman. He shot her and my father." He hoped Oliver wasn't listening in.
"I'm sorry," She rubbed his arm in apology "I can't imagine what that must have been like. Clark here was only threatened with our deaths and he lost it. I can see why they probably thought you a threat."
"He's your son?" They nodded. Bruce took a closer look at the man. Young like most of the people in there he had a startling resemblance to Ultraman. But like the woman on the opposite side of the room where Ultraman was cold and heartless he could see this man was more beautiful than anything Ultraman could fashion himself to be. "What's wrong with him?"
"It's these damn walls," The man hit the structure behind him "Our son has a bit of an allergy and those monsters knew about it. They've laced this whole place with it."
That was interesting. Why would they lace the place with whatever this man was allergic to? They had to have done it before capturing him which means they meant to keep him. But why?
"How long have you been here?" If they were the first ones then it meant this man was the key to his brother's plan with these people.
"We were the second ones to come here. After that lady over there," She was still glaring at him.
"Any idea why she's so hostile?"
"Apparently they took her home, just like they did ours. She yelled the first couple of days at the walls when we came before Clark took ill. Then she tried to help us nurse him back. He won't get better. Not here," Jonathan smiled kindly at the woman who still hadn't removed her gaze from him.
"First one?" The nodded. The first prisoner in this place. He wondered what the prison was like before they captured Clark. She could have seen her attackers. It would explain why she was walking over with a look intent to kill.
