HERE'S TO YOU JOE
CHAPTER 1 - PILGRIMAGE
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything in this fiction, DC owns it all
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set between B:TAS and Batman Beyond, so Bruce is about 50 something, in this first chapter he's on his way to see Selina. A lot of this story will be about reflection. Oh and it fiddles around with continuity stuff as well, whilst also borrowing a bit of inspiration from "Batman: The Dark Knight Returns". DON'T FORGET TO SEND YOUR REVIEWS, I live for reviews, I especially love detailed, analytical reviews, be sure to tell me all about exactly what you did or didn't like about the fic.
It wasn't a very nice day today, not for Bruce Wayne anyway. Maybe it was the heat wave?. Peaked at 97 last he heard, no sign of letting up, the manor has everykind of air conditioning...and a pool, heat didn't bother you there, but he was out in Gotham's streets now, donned in an emmaculate suit and tie and damn near roasting alive. He felt like a lobster, being boiled alive in his own jacket. His white, button up shirt clinging to his form from all the persperation, felt like a second skin.
'Only two more blocks till Selina's, then it'll all be ok'.
He ressaured himself.
Anything else, on a day like this, he would've just taken a car, but this was a pilgrimage, this was about suffering for what you get at the end of the trip, and lord was he suffering. From Wayne Manor to Selina Kyle's abode in the East End, all on foot, one day a week. As much as he loathed the heat, he could more than tolerate it, impressive, especially at the age of 55. Besides, the more suffering he endured along the way, the sweeter the arrival would be.
If it wasn't the heat, it was definitely his leg, that goddamn leg!. the one that was busted, the one that gave him a limp, the one that he needed a support cane for. The pain he felt in that leg, like somebody driving a bayonet through it. He hated that goddamn leg, because with every step he felt that stabbing pain, that pain...that pain that mocked him, taunted him, haunted him, that pain that would laugh at him:
"You failed old man, you fucked up...BIG TIME, now there's shit everywhere...shit all over them...and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!".
And it was true, all of it, every last word, true. This leg was his reminder of everything that had gone wrong, of every mistake he had ever made, of everyone he had failed, this leg was truly his curse, truly his penance.
'Only one more block till Selina's, prove your worth it oldman'.
So he pushed on, shuffling across the pavement, with his cane and his gimp leg.
"Hey old man got a dollar, scratch that I'll take fifty".
Some weasely thug with a switchblade blocked his path.
"What, you deaf oldman, fork over the cash".
A single backhanded swipe, and the old man's cane connected with the thug's jaw, the weasel went straight down, his head landing in the drain, blood and teeth strewn across the pavement.
"Sorry punk, that money's child support".
That little punk was nothing, there were new gangs popping up everywhere these days. He had taken down every last freak in this city before the cowl got hung up for good, but who was gonna deal with their children, not him, too old, too tired, too burnt out, who was gonna clean up all this shit?. But then he turned a corner and all that shit vanished.
-Kyle's-
That's what the club was called, simply "Kyle's", he loved that name, but he feared it also. Such a lavish old building, one of the oldest and finest peices of architecture in Gotham city, one from his preservation collection, which he had eventually donated to her, the mother of his only child, for an ambitious venture she had planned for years.
"You made it old man, you lucky bastard...you made it".
END OF CHAPTER 1.
Well I hope you enjoyed that. DON'T FORGET TO SEND YOUR REVIEWS, I live for reviews, I especially love detailed, analytical reviews, be sure to tell me all about exactly what you did or didn't like about the fic. Seeya!
FAMAS
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