Bruce crouched on an old musty gargoyle, which lay atop a building in the Narrows, the worst part of the God forsaken city which was Gotham. While he may be protected in his Kevlar infused body armour, he still felt vulnerable as he looked to the horizon. There stood the gleaming and glistening city of Metropolis just lying there next to the shadowy hell hole he was in, the apathy amongst the city is made worse due to it.
It gave off a feeling, a feeling of hope.
A blip popped up on the display attached to his left gauntlet, grabbing his attention. Bruce stood up sharply and grabbed either side of his cape and proceeded to glide down towards the location that was marked by the beacon.
He found himself at a grocery store which seemed to be closed on this cold winter's night. However upon further inspection he noticed a smashed window which had set off a silent alarm. Stealthily creeping into the establishment he found four thugs rummaging through the cash register and back room. Each of them were armed with sub machine guns and had their fingers tapping on the triggers.
He hid behind a shelf surveying the men and taking in his surroundings to make sure he doesn't make any mistakes. The thugs abruptly smashed open the register and started emptying it out into a duffle bag. Just as the last thug sealed the bag Bruce threw a batarang, cutting the strap on it making it fall to the floor.
The band of thieves distracted themselves by checking where the projectile had landed instead of realising that Bruce had silently sprinted up to the group of them. Bruce kicked one of the men over the desk into another on the other side. He subsequently turned to stun the man behind him with his cape and then kicked him down into a shelf then moving on to use another batarang to knock the gun out of the final thug. He finished him by vaulting over the desk and beating him up into the store room and slamming the door in his face.
He looked around and admired his accomplishment whilst checking that neither of them would be getting up any time soon. However, something that he didn't foresee occurred, a fifth thug. He must have been keeping watch by the main door, regardless of which he had caught The Dark Knight by surprise and considering the fact that he relies heavily on theatricality and deception, this wasn't a good thing.
The thug unleashed a swarm of bullets out of his gun, which viciously teared through Bruce's armour leaving him bombarded by shockwaves resulting in him falling into the back room and collapsing on bags of flower. Bruce slipped into unconsciousness fully knowing that it was over.
Whilst in his dream world he could feel some rumbling and the pitter-patter of rain drops on glass. As his vision slowly returned he dragged his husk of a body to turn and look at where he was. He had found himself sprawled out over the backseat of an expensive car. The cream coloured, leather seats created an unfathomable contrast between them and his bruised carcass.
"Well this reminds of your high school emo days kid." Came the voice of Bruce's surrogate father Alfred who was driving the car. He didn't pay him any eye contact, not that he didn't care or even had to focus on the road but he had instead adjusted to the fact that Bruce wasn't the man he was driving. It was Batman in the backseat.
"Alfred?" Bruce muttered amongst the pain in his chest.
"I would suggest not speaking kid, the sedative I gave you isn't the strongest on the market. Also because I'd like to listen to Billy Joel and I'd rather not have you interrupt." His sarcastic but somewhat sincere tone didn't waiver despite Bruce almost being in mortal peril and surely would have died if not for his help.
"Oh by the way, I put Dick to bed before coming here, the medicine that Leslie prescribed should help with his nightmares." Alfred interjected before turning on the radio to We didn't start the fire.
Bruce lay down on the seat with his knees up in the air, a sombre expression came to his face as he drifted off to sleep.
Once at the manor's garage Alfred assisted Bruce in getting to the Cave underneath the property. Inside lay a steal platform where Bruce had set up a multiscreen computer, workbench, make shift lab and a small armoury. His meagre but substantial base of operations needed some sprucing up but it had served him well for the past year. As Alfred treated his wounds Bruce looked up at the stalactites on the ceiling and the hundreds of bats erringly staring back down at him. His childhood fear of bats still seemed to be haunting him, well other than the fact he dressed up as one to fight criminals.
Once Alfred had finished he smiled at Bruce whilst removing his glasses and packed up his medical supplies. Bruce sat up and strolled to his lab bench whilst being careful of his bandages. He removed his eye makeup and contact lenses and stared at himself in the mirror with a look of disappointment, almost as if he was punishing himself.
"So you do practise the scowl in the mirror." Alfred interjected whilst putting on his waistcoat and smirking at Bruce.
Bruce rolled his eyes and put on some clothes before taking to the elevator to go upstairs. Alfred's face fell as he looked at the grief stricken man with insurmountable sympathy.
Bruce walked through the halls of his mansion and stared at his forefathers and foremothers whom had portraits on the walls leading out of the entrance to the cave or to everyone else, the wine cellar. He took to another staircase and headed down the wide hallway towards the bedrooms. He came to that of his ward Dick Grayson.
He crept into his room, doing his best to not make a sound as he didn't want to wake up the little boy. Looking on from the edge of the room, the small boy looked peaceful and content amongst the soft sheets. The room itself was a mess, which actually made him happy knowing that the child could escape the torment of the tragedy that took his parents by reading comics, playing with toys and games and watching whatever TV shows children did these days. There was apparently a Grey Ghost reboot and it was, according to one of workers in the orphanage Bruce funded "absolutely awful".
All of a sudden a whimper came from Dick which drew Bruce over immediately to his side. He looked at nine year old who's hair was beginning to cover his eyes and his arms were wrapped around his pillow. He was even wearing the red shirt his mother made for him with an "R" on the chest standing for his name. Dick seemed to have a look of fear across his face. His eyes were closed but they were tense as if he were trying to trap something under his eye lids.
"Shhhh" Bruce whispered as he rested his arm on the boys shoulder feeling his tensing muscles. "It's ok Richard you're not alone." He whispered calming him down.
He stroked the kid's hair and left the room slowly. He didn't know what to do, raising a child wasn't something he considered when he started this, but now it was. Upon closing the door behind him and taking a deep breath Alfred placed his hand on his shoulder, taking him by surprise.
"We need to talk." Alfred told him in a firm manner, abandoning his trademark sarcastic tone.
The two sat on a bench in the field behind the mansion which overlooked the sparkling ocean. Alfred opened up a bottle of bear and took a sip, subsequently letting out a deep breath and then handing another bottle to Bruce. Once he witnessed the bottle he gave a look of wonderment and need but then closed his eyes and turned away, Alfred just nodded and placed it on the ground next to him.
"There's something bothering you Bruce, what is it?" Alfred asked in a tone that could only be born from being an agent of MI6 for as long as he had.
Bruce looked down and contemplated lying, telling some sob story about his parents or something from his years of training but ultimately decided to tell the truth to the one man who deserved it, the one who had raised him since he was ten.
"Every time that I go out as Batman I am fully content with it being the last day of my life. I have gotten to a state where I can desync my two lives to the point where I don't come off as suicidal to everyone that I talk to. But I'm wondering if it's all worth it, all the training, the stimulation, the pain. What can I do, fight the same four or five thieves over and over again? I've spent almost a year doing this and I'm just some guy in a costume." Bruce explained staring at his hands as if they weren't his.
"You've saved dozens of lives, and inspired many more." Alfred told him reassuringly.
"Maybe but what's the point if all I do is go out on some vendetta against every criminal for what happened to my mom and dad?"
Alfred couldn't reply, ever since Bruce had returned he had never acted this way. He was speechless.
"And then there's Dick. I have to raise a child Alfred, yes I have you, Leslie and my other friends to help me but how am I meant to guide him if I'm not there to?" Bruce said, finally turning to him.
"Are you thinking of letting him go?"
"No, that would destroy him. I have to do this." Bruce said taking a pause upon realising his situation. "I have to make sure he doesn't grow up to be me.
"Bruce. Those are the same questions I asked myself when you're parents passed. Every parent fears for the path that they are putting their child on." He said reassuringly. He then put his arm around him and brought him into a hug.
"Alfred, could I be on my own please?" Bruce asked as if he were a child again.
Alfred stood up with his beer and nodded at Bruce, then proceeding to turn away.
"Oh and Alfred." Bruce said getting his attention before he walked away. "You and Leslie are amazing parents." Bruce said looking up at the old man who then smiled and walked away.
An hour or so passed and Bruce found himself waking up on the bench and looked out over the ocean. He slowly got up and strolled on back towards the manor. However as he turned to leave he noticed a man wearing a red hoodie standing by the cliffs about a hundred or so meters away from him. He crept forward silently being extra careful not to alert the man. Upon closer inspection he could see what he looked like. He wore a tight black tracksuit with a red hoodie hanging loosely around his chest. His shoes were extremely futuristic looking, he had never seen anything like them but from what he could gather they were running shoes. His hood was pulled down so he could make out that he was a Caucasian male around his mid twenties with short ginger hair which seemed to have been dyed.
"This is so crash!" The man said in an almost child like voice as he pulled out a weird device which gave off a mysterious blue light that surveyed the entire coastline.
Bruce kicked the man in the back of the knee and got him in a headlock.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Bruce shouted at the man while struggling to hold him in the headlock.
"Crap I thought you would still be sleeping. But you know what they say time flies." The man said while pulling Bruce over his head and kicking him down on his back.
"Woah, I totally took down the Batman! And the real one, granted he's barely Batman but still!" The man boasted to himself.
Whilst distracted by his own accomplishment Bruce got up and grabbed onto him. The man struggled with him but then decided to sprint away. The man accelerated at beyond human speeds, by the time they had reached the gates to the manor he had crossed the sound barrier. He then tried to fling Bruce off of him but he had underestimated his own momentum and had actually flung him across the entire manor and into the suburbs.
The man bolted towards the suburbs, keeping track of Bruce in the air, he started to give off yellow then eventually blue lightning as he ran, he approached extremely high speeds and finally managed to catch Bruce but just as he was about to fall into a moving truck. Upon catching him the man he continued to accelerate to the point where his body began to vibrate. Because of this he phased right through the truck but also gave off a massive amount of energy causing him and Bruce to be engulfed by it resulting in the two of them to disappear in a flash of light.
When Bruce awoke he found himself lying on a pavement during the day in the middle of the city centre. He stood up and surveyed the environment to discover the city to be cleaner and to have an overall better atmosphere. The buildings themselves seemed to be more vibrant and stronger. Not to mention the fact that many of the buildings seemed unrecognisable to what he remembered, despite mainly operating in Old Gotham.
The people around him were wearing different clothes to what was usually socially acceptable and the cars were beautiful and glistening. But probably the most significant change was the air, it felt beautiful and fresh, no Carbon Dioxide and with that the cars weren't making any noise, the engines were completely silent. A million possibilities went through his head, but only one for as preposterous as it seemed came off as the most likely scenario. His suspicions were confirmed when he turned around to bare witness to a thirty foot tall stone statue of Batman, and written on the plinth were the words "In memory of Gotham's first Caped Crusader."
He had time travelled to the future.