AN: This is just something I wrote as a trouble-shooter for my brain. Once it was done, I decided to publish it to see how everyone else would like it. So … how is it?
Dark clouds thundered in a threating manner over the city of Gotham while flashes of lightening sporadically lit the streets up. This was appreciated by some, but ignored by others as the sprawling mass went about its business keeping its head down while staying very much on the alert for he was back in town. In the parking lot of a fancy, uptown restaurant an Audi R8 pulled into one of the lots and the engine was cut off. After a moment, the driver's side door opened and out stepped a man in his late twenties straightening his suit as he did so. Christian Grey huffed once more before slamming his door shut and moved on in the direction of the restaurant's entrance.
For, perhaps, the first time in his life, Grey felt angry about work. He and his wife, Anastasia, had flown in specifically to Gotham city for a business meeting, which he practically had to beg on bended knees for. Wayne Enterprises was a corporation he had had his eye on for quite some time. Despite the fact that they seemed to serve the city and the army more, he saw it as a particularly lucrative investment as it had long ago began looking into a self-sustaining electricity project. His intentions to purchase the corporation for a billion dollars were met with a kindly smile and a firm "no". His attempt to raise the price to ten billion was met with a hard stare and a "my next meeting is here, the receptionist can show you the way out". Bruce Wayne certainly irritated him to no end and he didn't even seem like he was concentrating throughout the entire meeting. The man had the audacity to even look distracted and concerned about something other than Grey's existence. The worst thing was that he couldn't even attempt to destroy Bruce Wayne because the government would shred him to bits Wayne was so useful to them.
To make matters even more horrible than they already were, his mobile phone had been stolen from him as he was crossing the street that very afternoon so he couldn't obsessively stalk Anastasia and bully her. He huffed once more before entering the restaurant, where he had agreed to meet his wife, and walked a few steady paces. He froze as the scene registered to him and the loud bang of a gunshot rang in his ears. A body thumped to the ground the sound like a sack of fermenting potatoes dropping attracting his attention to a young man wearing a rubber clown mask with a bloody hole through the left eye lying lifelessly on the ground.
"Must I repeat myself?" a harsh nasally voice spoke drawing Grey's eyes up towards the most blood curdling man he had ever seen.
The man wore a purple suit and a green waistcoat with matching tie. His hair was poorly dyed green and grease paint had been smeared onto his face making the most garish impression of a clown possible. It wasn't the strange attire, or the odd choice of make-up that made Grey stop, though he instantly judged him for it. It was the roping scars that stretched from each end of his mouth right to the end of his cheeks. A scurrying of feet of another man wearing a clown mask running to stand dutifully by the entrance was what snapped Grey out of it and he was instantly shepherded by another clown to where a small number of people sat huddled. He tried to spot Anastasia as his head was forced down to huddle with the rest and his heart flopped into his stomach with dread when he couldn't see her. Maybe, his mind hopefully piped up, she's just late because she wants to toy with me.
He looked around him for the first time and saw that most of the tables had been turned into varying states of disarray. Some were flipped over entirely, some had been knocked askew while others just had their contents thrown off or messed up. The chairs were very much similar. Grey sat with a small group of people who looked terrified and this showed with people in varying states of distress.
"So, ah, as I was saying," the painted man spoke and suddenly Grey's world exploded in pain as a gunshot rang out and a bullet shattered every bone in his foot. He yelled out in pain only to receive a foot in his mouth, which broke off a front tooth. He gargled on this tooth, but it was effective in reducing him to sniffling sobs in the background.
"As I was saying," the painted man continued waving around the gun he had casually shot Grey with and paced around. "Tonight, we are expecting a guest of dubious financial affairs. This is a very special guest and I wanted to give him a partay of his own and we all know how I love to partay."
Grey shivered and looked anywhere, but at the painted man while he shuddered in pain. He had finally come to the conclusion that this was a terrorist of some kind and that he meant to kill someone. In his aversion of looking at the gun wielding man he had come to see that there was a pile of dead bodies ruthlessly shoved to the side of the room. There was one body that had caught Grey's attention most. It was a little away from the pile of bodies and it wore a very familiar outfit; in fact, he had seen that very outfit on Anastasia that very afternoon. There was a pool of blood congealing at the bottom of the body with a trail leading up to the painted man's footsteps, his blood covered footsteps. Grey concentrated hard on the body hoping desperately that the familiar brown hair and skinny body did not belong to Anastasia … but the head lolled weakly and fluttering eyes stared at him for a suspended moment. Anastasia opened her mouth as if to say something, but resignation flashed through those brown eyes and they closed forever.
An anguished scream built up in his chest and was released as he launched himself at the painted man, Anastasia's killer. He knew martial arts, he worked out hard, and he would get his revenge by murdering her murderer. However, he only got as far as launching himself at the painted man. Sure, he had forgotten about his pain as the adrenaline shot through his system, but he was not conditioned and did not possess the strength that the murderer did. He was flung into one of the tables that stood upright and the back of his head collided painfully with the hard, wooden surface. This did not deter him much.
"YOU KILLED MY WIFE!" he yelled and he launched himself forwards again, but he received the same treatment and he saw stars for a few seconds.
Strong hands gripped him around the neck and he panicked as he felt a chokehold-taking place. He gagged as he attempted to get around the chokehold, but was punched roughly in the forehead. Dazed now, he could only stare up at the horrifying murderer as the murderer pressed his face into his.
"You, uh, interrupted me. DON'T INTERRUPT ME!" the murderer screamed into Grey's face and his stomach rolled at the rotten stench that came off the murderer's breath.
Grey attempted to knock the murderer off his feet by swinging his legs around, but he gagged on another yell of pain as he felt the sharp, jagged edges of a serrated blade enter his thigh right down to the bone. Out of wild panic, he clawed at the murderer's face, but one arm was twisted out of its socket while a fist pounded down on to the forearm of the other cracking bone. The sound, mixed with the pain, made his stomach roll and he convulsed weakly as his oxygen supply ran out steadily. Belatedly, he realised that this murderer had been choke holding him this whole time and that the murderer had been using his spare hand to do all this damage. He moaned weakly and in that instant he understood Anastasia's look of resignation. This man, this murderer was nothing they had ever experienced in Jack Hyde. Jack Hyde was a man that could be broken and cowed. The monster that held his neck was an unstoppable, ruthless force to be reckoned with. Resignation flashed through his eyes. At least I will be with my Anastasia soon, he thought blissfully as he felt darkness creep into the edges of his eyes.
Suddenly, the monster's hand was ripped from his throat and he fell to the ground roughly, a grunt issuing from him and air was forced from his body from the impact. He blearily looked up to see the monster engaged in a conflict with the strangest thing he had ever seen. It wore a black suit made of armour and a cowl covered its face while a cape was tucked neatly behind it. It seemed to be doing a better job of beating off the monster than Grey had. However, the darkness had returned to the corners of his eyes and the monster taking a punch to the gut was the last thing Grey saw before his head thudded to the ground.
Thick, grey clouds hung in Seattle's airspace as fat droplets of rain pelted down on to the ground. The streets were awash with rainwater and people drove extra carefully that day. In the outskirts of the city a graveyard stood ancient and full that day. A large crowd of people congregated around a single grave where a coffin had been suspended over the waiting, empty hole in the ground. The weight of the many bouquets of flowers that had been draped over the coffin made it creak ominously, but it did not give way.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," a priest read mournfully over the coffin while the plentiful sounds of sniffling, sobbing, and crying threatened to drown out his voice. Courageously, he carried on with his speech though he knew that no one was listening especially Christian Grey.
Christian Grey simmered with a massive amount of anger, rage, despair, anguish, and grief. It had only been four years that they had known each other (most spent married), but it had been the best of his life. He had finally come round to feeling and caring and respecting himself and had enjoyed that experience to the fullest … but … but it was over now. The love of his life had been ripped from his – well – life and he had been left alone. Actually, not permanently alone, he still had their two children, Ted and Phoebe. They were the only light of his life now, not even his family had the ability to inspire a smile. Yes, Christian Grey had spiralled into a depression.
After he had passed out in the restaurant back in Gotham city, he was told that the monster, known as the Joker, had fled the scene as soon as the sirens had started wailing in the background. The thing had turned out to be a masked vigilante known as the Batman and had also turned tail at the sirens as he was wanted for the murder of their DA, Harvey Dent. SWAT teams had to clear the building before the police and the paramedics were allowed to enter. He had been taken to a local hospital to receive initial treatment until his parents had been contacted and they had him (and the body of Anastasia) air-lifted to Seattle where he could receive treatment closer to home.
Currently, he was seated in a wheel chair (recovery for his foot looked to be nebulous at best) and his right arm was stuck in a cast and in a sling around his neck. He had also been told that his concussion was severe and that he might end up forgetting things. He had been prescribed enough morphine that would make a heroin addict happy and the wound on his leg needed constant re-dressing. Yes, Christian Grey felt rather like he had gone through a war.
In his moping and his access to his favourite person (for now), Welch, he had conducted an investigative research on that Gotham city. The results turned his weakening stomach. Gotham had been subject to the worst depravity in all of America's history. The crime rate was through the roof and the citizens lived through a daily torrent of terror for their lives. There was even an evil legend about the founding of the city, but he hadn't bothered to read into that. In the more recent years, the city had an outbreak of a vaporised neurotoxin that caused mayhem in the city … and the Joker had arisen.
Had Grey known about the dangers of the city and, further, the recent outbreak of the Joker from Arkham Asylum, their local loony bin, he would not have come at all, least of all allowing Anastasia to come with him. Also, he would have insisted on Taylor's twenty-four/seven presence provided the insane crime rate (his stolen mobile phone was proof enough). Yes, Christian Grey would not have come at all.
The Batman was something, a concept that intrigued Grey. One man had finally had enough of the crime, the corruption, and the death. He had taken it upon himself to get justice for the people without actually taking the credit for his good work, but then … Harvey Dent. The old DA had been making strides and leaps to clean up the streets until – he disappeared completely … only to wind up dead by the hands of the Batman the very same evening that the Joker had been caught. Why would he, the Batman, do that? Grey was haunted by that question. Perhaps he was jealous of the competition, but it didn't make sense. He had seen, briefly, the Batman in action against the Joker and the Batman did not seem the jealous type … but Grey doubted everything now.
Dr Flynn had told him that he was suffering great trauma and, thus, an existential crisis. He didn't exactly understand what an existential crisis was. He had never been diversely well read enough before. He was changing that. Whenever he wasn't obsessing about Gotham and basking in his agony/overly drugged up state, he was making sure that he was more than well read and residing on his bedside was a large book on existentialism. Yes, Christian Grey figured that he may be under crisis.
On the topic of Wayne Enterprises, he had dropped that thought entirely. Having to oscillate between Gotham and Seattle (as Wayne Enterprises was solely based in Gotham) would wear him down. His digging had revealed that the company had been in Bruce Wayne's family since the very beginning of Gotham (no shit, Sherlock!) and that had convinced him that there wouldn't be much of a budge in that department. People warned others to stay away from Gotham. It made sense; the Joker had blown up an apartment complex in the CBD in the short space since his return to Seattle.
Yes, Christian Grey had lost a fair deal and was set on a warpath. He was going to kill that Joker freak, or he was going to die trying.