A/N: So currently I'm experiencing writer's block with my other stories, but this idea popped into my head so I wrote it. Both the Evolution of Batman and Robin and the Evolution of Batman and Batgirl should hopefully be getting updates by the end of the week. This chapter is just a trial to see if you guys like it. Please leave feedback and let me know what you think of the concept.
Bruce still remembers the fateful night. He was eight. Walking out of the theatre, smell of fresh popcorn taking away from scent of the smog filled sky. He swung his hand through the air, as if he was the hero who he just saw on the screen.
His father told him that he knew a shortcut to their car, so they cut through a back alley. Martha seemed unsure of the choice her husband made, and voiced her disagreement of the decision, though went along with it nonetheless.
As they stepped into the dark, shadowy alleyway, a man walked out, looking harmless enough. Until he pulled the gun from his jacket.
The next few seconds felt as though they took an eternity. He aimed the gun at the Waynes. Not demanding money, not saying anything. As if he had no reason to even kill them. There was no reason.
Thomas charged at the man trying to strike him. The man pulled the trigger aiming at Thomas. Thomas narrowly dodged the bullet, his fist connecting with the gunman's face.
Then he hears the shrill, high pitched scream. He looks towards him son and wife, finding his wife lying bleeding on the ground. He walked over applying pressure on her wound, praying that she'd pull through. Though with all the medical experience he had, he knew that she wouldn't. Her body was shutting down. She went into shock.
Thomas got ready to begin performing CPR and that's when the second shot rang out. Bruce sat there motionless, as he watched his dad's brains splatter over his mother dying body.
The killer smiled and devilish grin, and proceeded to walk away.
Up until the cops arriving is a blur to him. He does remember when the first cop came onto the scene though. James Gordon appeared in front of him, inspecting him for injury.
Bruce wasn't injured. Not physically anyway. Mentally? Definitely. Emotionally? More than anyone would ever know. In some ways he never really healed. Even now, he still bares the scars.
The next person to arrive on the scene is an old friend of his dad. He recognizes him as Uncle Alfred. He and his father worked together for years. Though doing what Bruce didn't know, but he would soon find out.
"Bruce!" Alfred shouted to his 'nephew'. The police stopped him from entering the crime scene, but he showed them a piece of paper from within his wallet, and they stepped aside. He walked over to Bruce and brought him into a tight embrace. "I know that you don't understand what's going on, but I promise you, justice will be served."
Bruce didn't respond, just leaned deeper into Alfred, letting tears drip from his eyes. Bruce looked up at Alfred, his eyes filled with water and asked, "Uncle Alfred, what will happen to the man who did this.
Alfred looked at him sternly before responding, "He will be severely punished."
Bruce lived with Alfred, not that he saw him much. Alfred was always working, but Bruce didn't care. Bruce had begun training himself. Physically and mentally. Alfred never told them whether they caught the man or not, so he assumed the latter.
He was training for the day he would go out looking for the man who wronged his family and as he looked into his begging eyes, end him. Bruce fantasized about it or years before he even got close to his goals.
When he turned fifteen, Bruce was told the reason that his parent were murdered. He didn't talk to Alfred for a month after he told him. Furious that his father figure withheld such information from him. He tried to grasp the fact that his father was actually a spy for America. Like a spy that you would see in movies. The kind that wore a tuxedo and carried a silenced pistol.
What stung worse was the fact that Alfred was also a part of this agency. This JL6 as Alfred referred to it. Though it was more commonly referred to as the Justice League. His father was agent 007. Alfred was 004, before being promoted to the position of M. One of the highest positions in the Justice League.
Bruce desperately wanted to become a part of the Justice League, if only so that he acquired the means to track and kill his parents killer.
When he turned 18 he received an official letter from Alfred offering him a spot in the organization. He almost immediately accepted, prepared for anything that they threw at him.
The first several months consisted of physical and mental examinations and tests. He passed his physical tests with flying colors, and faked his mental state so he could join.
By the time he turned 19 he officially had his 'license to kill'. The first thing on his agenda was to track down the man who killed his parent. He was only half surprised that the organization didn't get the guy yet. After all, the organization has been running low on members for years now, and it would take much more effort and money to try to track down the guy.
Bruce was actually generally surprised when Alfred handed him his first case file. It displayed a mugshot of a Joe Chill. "This," Alfred told Bruce, "is the man that ruined your life. We have had him captured for quite some time. We've been waiting for you to be ready. You will interrogate him, and then you will kill him."
Bruce nodded and walked off to the designated room. In the room laid Joe Chill. He was lying on a cold metal observation table, strapped down. Bruce stepped towards the man being restrained. As soon as Chill saw Bruce's eyes, he knew who he was. A cold sensation tingled down his spine, making him shiver.
"Who hired you?" Bruce asked, eyes filled with rage. Joe tried to play off his fear with his devilish grin. This only reminded Bruce of that night. Bruce grabbed a scalpel off of the table next to Chill. Chill looked into the dark void that was Bruce's eyes. He jabbed the scalpel into Chill's collarbone. He slowly began slitting Chill's skin with the tool. Not too deep, but deep enough that it drew blood.
Chill felt the pain, though acted as though he felt nothing. This only further motivated Bruce. He applied more pressure on the scalpel, forcing it down deeper. The scalpel lyed imbedded in Chill's skin, as Bruce grabbed a new 'tool' off the table.
A throwing knife shaped like a bat. God, his father really did love bats. He took the tool and without warning, stabbed Chill straight in the bicep. Chill shouted in agonized pain.
Bruce pulled the bat shaped weapon from Chill's worthless body. He then stabbed one of Chill's fingers, making it ooze blood, as the appendage was basically chopped clean off. Chill let out a bloodcurdling scream. "Who hired you to kill them?" Bruce asked once again, sounding… calm?
Chill's fear filled eyes stared at him. "He'll kill me."
Bruce smiled. "It's funny." Bruce chuckled, "You ACTUALLY THINK that you will be released after killing them? No. You see what's going to happen is you telling us who hired you, then I will put you out of your misery and end your damn life. Though until you tell us, you will continue to be tortured."
Chill's eyes betrayed him. Bruce knew that if he pushed a little harder he was going to be able to break him. He knew that he only had to dial it up one. But he wanted Chill to suffer. So he dialed it up three. Bruce took the bat and repeatedly jabbed it violently into Chill's stomach.
Leaving the knife in the stomach, Bruce began punching Chill again and again in the face. Chill spat blood and teeth at Bruce. "It was…" Chill began. Bruce slapped him while simultaneously shoving the knife deeper into the man's stomach. "Cobblepot!" He screamed out in agony.
"Thank you," Bruce told him. Bruce reached towards the table and picked up a gun, putting it up to Chill's head. He pulled the trigger without hesitation, then proceeded to walk out of the room.
