A/N
...This is a little late, but I had intended to post this earlier...homework said otherwise...
Thanks to memeteam2016 for Betaing!
Disclaimer: I don't own, but I wish I did. I won't get to see the movie in theaters, either ;-;
With Pain and Suffering
As a child, he'd been happy. He had loving parents, and he was as naive as a newborn child. Somehow he'd remained innocent and, dare he say, oblivious to the true nature of Gotham. To this day he still didn't understand how they had done it. Perhaps that had been their downfall, in the end. He'd been too innocent.
They'd fallen, they'd died and he was changed, forever scared. He became part of Gotham and Gotham welcomed him in. The darkness overcame him, and a Bat emerged. That was how it started.
The night was black, and Bruce Wayne softly sighed, his footsteps silently ghosting across the wooden floors and a newspaper clutched in one hand. Tinted windows encased him in sorrow, thick pellets of rain pounding against the glass in agony. He couldn't sleep.
It was a habit, in a way, learned from years of late nights and his natural insomniac tendencies. There was nothing to do, now that Batman was gone.
Bruce was left with his days full of masks, a business man, and his nights dominated by brooding. It was a sort of cursed existence, an empty house that not even Alfred's big heart could fill. There was too much death permeating the musky air.
Death. Heart-wrenching cries of sadness. Pain. Suffering.
He'd stopped, sworn never to return, because he'd realized something. It wasn't the petty criminals in Gotham who caused the catastrophes, it wasn't even the supervillains-it was him.
Every crook who rose to power, every innocent civilian that took their last breath, it was all caused by him. He'd thought that, maybe, he was making a difference. That perhaps his sleepless nights and bullet wounds were helping save this twisted city. But they only encouraged the villains, raising themselves to a new standard, to give themselves a good reputation.
The Joker himself had told Batman, straight to his face, that he only stayed because of him. It was his fault, and now he was paying for it.
Dick had left in a flurry of shouts and screams and tears and accusations Bruce had tried to ignore and deny, and his child had spread his wings and never looked back. Jason had tried to live up to Dick's name, to be a better Robin, but the crooks never stopped. Crime rose and new tech and powers surfaced, things Jason just wasn't prepared for-heck, Bruce wasn't prepared for them. He hadn't been willing to change, to evolve to keep up with the other side, and now Jason was dead.
Jason was dead.
Bruce paused, staring up at the suit, tainted by Jason's blood and the Joker's spray paint. He could remember planning that suit, adding armor that Dick had once refused, adding extra homing beacons and weapon pouches-it wasn't enough. He hadn't let the Joker get away, and roughly 36 anger filled hours later the cretin was quivering in his grasp, laughing. Batman had cursed and shouted and screamed, and the insane clown was put in custody with more injuries than usual, but Bruce. Couldn't. Kill him.
He couldn't kill the man who'd killed his son, and he hated himself for it. His mind was numb, and he supposed this was what it felt like to die inside. Bruce (not Batman, just a man in the suit) had kept fighting, catching crooks and busting crime rings until he literally passed out. It still wasn't enough.
The suit was a reminder, a punch in the gut that was there to make him remember (it was all his fault). His mouth downturned in a frown. Blue eyes darkened, dispatching themselves from reality and taking on a harsh, cold glint. His fists clenched angrily, and Bruce nearly jumped as the paper crinkled in his hand, breaking the tense silence.
The newspaper rose, and Bruce's eyes scanned the words. Hero. Savior. Army of his own. Attack. Metropolis.
Superman.
A cold fist wrapped itself around his heart, a devil's hand whispering things Bruce had always avoided. Vengeance. Reprisal. Satisfaction. Revenge.
He couldn't save his own sons, but maybe-maybe this was his chance to make things right. He wouldn't let anyone else get hurt because of his own foolish mistakes and untimely blunders. No. This was his punishment, his liberation. He would fix this; and nobody was going to stop him.
The decision was made.
The newspaper fluttered to the floor, the tapping of determined footsteps fading away. Outside, the thunder boomed ominously, and the wind howled a sorrowful tune.
He fixed the clock hands and prowled through the darkness below, ignoring the way his last shred of sanity screamed at him. Finally, he found it, and silver doors slid open, revealing a black suit he had thought he'd never set eyes on again.
It looked brand new, all the little scratches and nicks invisible to the naked eye. Slowly, calloused hands reached out, brushing the mask with care. He picked it up, sliding it over his head, blinking a few times to allow his eyes to adapt to the darkness. Bruce-no, Batman smiled, and then there was no going back.
Death.
It was all his fault.
Jason was dead.
It wasn't enough.
Revenge.
The decision was made.
Every story had a timeline, a beginning, and a middle-this was how it ended.
A/N
I hope y'all enjoy Batman v Superman! DON'T SPOIL IT FOR ME!
Image belongs to batman dot nerdbong dot com/
Kisses!
Alyss