Tuesday 8.00 PM Wayne Manor
Bruce Wayne was in his bedroom, a large room with gold print wallpaper and wood-paneled flooring. In the center was a king sized bed covered in a thick navy blue comforter and beneath it were white linen sheets. Sprawled in the middle of a tangled mess of sheets and comforter lay Bruce Wayne, "Gotham's favourite son." He was a deeply handsome man, muscularly built with dark brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. His lips were thin, nose long and narrow with a chiseled face. He had inherited a large sum of money along with a successful company, Wayne Enterprises, from his parents who had been murdered when Bruce was young. The young boy had been left without relatives and no one to care for him except his butler, Alfred, and Alfred did just fine by the boy. However, much Alfred loved and cared for Bruce he could not tame that deep anger and need for vengeance that had all but consumed the boy since the murder. Bruce had traveled far and wide, learning of the criminal mind and all that he needed to know to defeat it and eradicate the evil that consumed Gotham. Most nights, however, Bruce Wayne was an entirely different persona…Batman, the costumed avenger who did his best to catch the common criminals on the street and at the same time build his way up to catching those criminals who ran the city.
Bruce lifted his left arm and groaned, feeling pain jolting up his shoulder. He glanced down and saw a large bruise almost covering it's entirety, a "gift" from a particularly large thug. He reached out with another hand and groped around the bedsheets and pulled out a remote, which he pointed at the large flat screened television which was mounted on the wall opposite the bed. He flipped through the television channels, "You could win-" "Sexy ladies o-" "Spongebob Squa-" and finally settled on Channel 23, Gotham's news station. On the screen a newscaster was shuffling through a stack of papers and then looked up at the camera, "As you know, Gotham has recently suffered a large number of crimes ranging from robbery of expensive paintings from the Gotham Fine Arts Museum to murder of several important officials. The police didn't have any leads until about an hour ago, when they spotted a figure clad in black leaving the scene of several of the different crimes." The picture of the figure filled the screen. The person looked like a man with a broad chest but was still rather slight looking, he was clad in all black with a black hood covering his face. "The police have dubbed the him 'X' and he is considered extremely dangerous and witnesses claimed to have seen 'X' disappear in midair. Well, I don't know what I can say about that but I would advise the inhabitants of Gotham to either stay inside or travel in large groups. Now onto sport-" The television became blank and Bruce Wayne sat up, "I'll have to go out tonight, then," he murmered to himself. He swung himself out of bed, wincing at the pain and gingerly began to massage his shoulder. He pulled a pair of olive pajama pants to cover his himself and began to rummage through his drawers, finally pulled out a white t-shirt to cover his taut, muscular chest.
He thrust open his oak bedroom door and strolled down the hallway to the staircase, taking the steps quickly. He was met in the living room by Alfred, who appeared rather suddenly, causing Bruce to nearly knock him down. "Christ! I almost hit you," said Bruce. Alfred nodded pleasantly, "Indeed, sir." He nodded to the piano and the glass cabinet behind it, "Headed out, are you Master Bruce?" Bruce nodded and walked over to the piano, tapping the correct 3 keys. No sooner had the notes been played then the cabinet behind the piano moved in a circular pattern, revealing a long tunnel which Bruce walked down. The cabinet whirled again, closing Bruce from sight.