AN/ Hey guys! So this is my first attempt at Fanfiction (fist pound into the air)! I've always hated long and exaggerated Author's Notes, so here it is, chapter one! Hope you guys enjoy! (P.s. If some parts don't make sense, have no fear, all will be explained in the long run!)

Disclaimer: Batman wouldn't be Batman without Bob Kane and Bill Finger and the character of John Blake wouldn't exist without Christopher Nolan :D That leaves my O/C and everything about her my own creation.


Darkest Before the Dawn

CH 1 ~ Once Again~

I have dreams.

Dreams where horrible events occur but there is nothing I can do about it.

I dream that I'm drowning, falling further and further into the deepest crevices of the ocean. I dream that I am tied down to something, something that I cannot see. It gets heavier with each passing second, the salted water burning through my throat and lungs as I gasp into the open water. I don't bother yelling, it's never proved useful before. Albeit there is a quiet serenity to the scenery; multiple hues of deep blue reflecting in the sun above me, one bright yellow light that keeps me from being entirely consumed by darkness. It's peaceful in a sort of way…until I hear the screaming. Ear-splitting shrieks of terror that resonate with perfect clarity throughout the entire ocean, sending complete numbness into my body. They're cries of pain, a young girl wailing in agony over something that is foreign to me. I try to move, to save this lost soul, but the pull downwards is too strong and I am left powerless.

It's then that I see her.

I close my eyes as images come crashing down in huge tidal waves, or perhaps more like daggers, each one digging deeper into my heart. Horrible, mangled pictures flash through my mind; death, greediness, devastation, agony and rage, yet there's one that triumphs for the position of most terrifying; the blood. Endless scenarios of congealed crimson paint plastered mercilessly on lifeless bodies. When I open my eyes again I can barely see anything. The water that once seemed so elegant and clear, like a diamond glass, was now murky with dark blotches of the cerise liquid. I panic, my arms now forced behind my back as I struggle, trying to free myself of my invisible captor. She reappears, only this time her angelic, white night gown is replaced with a bloodied and tattered one. Shredded holes in the fabric revealing multiple jagged scars that seemed long healed over. "Why weren't you there? Why weren't you there, Elizabeth?"

The girl cried, tears running down her colorless cheeks and welling in her translucent cerulean eyes. I want to comfort her, to tell her she is okay and protect her no matter the consequences. But my voice could not be heard, my shouting lost within the torrent of water spinning around me at a hurried pace. The girl begins to fade back into the darkness behind her, only a whisper of her soft voice remaining in the reverberating scenery, "Why did you let me die?"

I woke up with a start; jerking upright from my formal fetal position, I felt my heart racing through my chest and a cold, clammy sensation etching its way across my forehead. Taking deep, exaggerated breaths, I attempted to steady the erratic pulsing beneath my skin, my entire body on hyper-alert. It wasn't until I reached up to brush the hair back from my face that I noticed I was trembling; I pressed my eyes closed as I took my final breath, counting to five inside my head- regaining control. Images of the night surrounded me once again, foisting themselves in front of the darkness behind my eye-lids, there was no escape. I thought of different things about my immediate plans that would distract me from the horror I had been so graciously dealt with; going to work, then the grocery store,…I needed another box of paperclips…After opening my eyes again I noticed that the room had stopped spinning around me in a turmoil of constant motion, the same empty cream-colored walls greeting me once more. It was with a little effort that I was able to untangle myself from the disheveled mess of the bed sheets and make my way towards the bathroom. Cold tiles assaulted my bare feet as I stood in front of the mirror, splashing water just as freezing onto my face. Those dreams…nightmares…I wished that was all they truly were, just random imaginings that had formed unconsciously in the back of my mind; a terrifying horror movie, or perhaps a result of a constant submersion into violence that seemed to echo in every crevice of a God-forsaken city such as this. But they weren't just nightmares….

They were memories.


Looking straight at the mirror I found myself staring back into an empty soul. Iridescent blue orbs, once bright and cheerful with flecks of green surrounding the pupil had somehow transformed into a steely gray. Chocolate brown locks with a natural wave that sat on top of my chest in cascading layers had become a shield from the rest of the outside world. A five-foot-six frame with a slim figure now toned under strict self-discipline of training; though with slightly hunched shoulders as if to ward off numerous insecurities. Somewhere in there was a twenty-seven year old woman named Elizabeth Carter, with an optimistic outlook on life and a bright smile. Honestly, I barely recognized her.

I hurried down the wooden staircase as I zipped up my light-weight rain jacket and slung my work bag over my shoulder, padding down the steps as softly as I could. Trying to not make so much noise that the other tenants would wake up; albeit Gotham was not a city known for accommodating the light sleepers. The normal mid-morning sounds of the city greeted me when the door was finally slung open, small flakes of chipped, maroon-colored paint floating down from the chaffed edges of the door as it did so. As usual the air was frigid and crisp, keeping you on your toes as you traveled along one of Gotham's many avenues. It wasn't until I ventured out from the entrance way that I was able to encompass the full experience of Gotham's daily adventures; loud scuffles in the alleyways, the wailing of sirens off in the distance, honking and profanity rising from the escalating bumper-to-bumper traffic down the street- all a part of a much larger picture.

Recently the criminal activity rate in Gotham had been as astronomical as the rapidly declining economy. For the past few weeks mob-related murders, corrupted law practices, and drug trafficking had seen an astonishing escalation. From what I've gathered it hasn't been reduced to this state of chaos in years…four years to be exact. Four years since the masked terrorist made his final debut in Gotham City, effectively destroying the order of society and the morals of the people. Four years since Batman gave his life for the ungrateful citizens of this city, a parting gift to the people he unconditionally vowed to protect. With this memorable act the people had found something, something as dangerous as it was uplifting. Hope. And it was within that hope that the city had pulled itself up by its bootstraps and started working towards something together. I thought it a strange concept at first, a rather wishy-washy sentiment, which was precisely the reason I wasn't surprised when that hope had recently been shot out of the starts and was sent spiraling back down into reality.

Batman had fought with unyielding determination to save a city that had no future. A strange concept for someone who supposedly avoided praise and glory for his triumphs; perhaps another vigilant acting martyr, simply out for the publicity. Although from the stories that had been plastered on every news stand in the country, I had gathered that the Batman was more than a man in a suit. He seemed to even rise above a mere symbol of hope; he was good. A man who took the fate of the entire city into his hands, never once pausing for praise and without a fleck of gratitude to his name. All of a sudden the circulating rumors accumulating from the television reporters did not seem justified. I saw a man, one who was just as broken as I was, with determination that showed such emotion which only one who had gone through hell and back could display. I had seen the reality of his choice, the consequences, and the endless search for justice in this seemingly unhinged world. That was the moment I had begun questioning myself…perhaps I had been wrong, perhaps there really was such a thing as selflessness in humanity.

Even more shamefully, I was a bit jealous.

Through everything I had encountered and everything that had been stolen out from under me, admittedly, I was angry. Angry at society, life and fate, people and their obliviousness, the dirt beneath my feet…I can even recall a time not so long ago when a much more livid version of myself yelled to the heavens in a drunk stupor of annoyance, eyes brimming with hot angry tears in the dead of night, screaming to the injustice of it all, to the pain… to the stars burning bright and safe in the misty sky, taunting me with their security. Even they had their place in the world. A perfect, functioning system of consistency and purpose- something I could never have…. I had held an all-consuming rage that led me with regrets, dark shadows that have been hunting me down for years. My anger had cost me dearly, trapping me, running me ragged. It was during this time that I had first heard of the mysterious Dark Knight. I had taken a cue from him, emulating a closer view of his fervent determination. If anyone, Batman would have been the one to understand my past, a simple phrase to sum it all; that it was always the darkest just before the dawn.


I kept my head down as I made my way across the block, facing the ground and maintaining my glance at my somewhat worse-for-wear converse. I hadn't noticed where I was headed until I bumped into a large figure, standing in the middle of the walkway yet seemingly preoccupied. Before he could turn around and make a scene I mumbled a hasty apology, quick reflexes were an acquired asset in a climate such as this. Lately tensions have been so high that even a simple misunderstanding could end up with a body lying lifeless and bloodied in an alleyway. I looked up when the man didn't turn around to utter a vulgar phrase in my general direction, and noticed for the first time how quiet the entire block was. Everyone was still, not even a breath could be seen being exhaled out into the frosty morning. A large group of people had gathered in front of an electric appliance store. Men and women stood silently in awe, forgetting for a moment their scheduled appointment or meeting. Their children clutched their hands and pant legs, completely unaware of the world around them and mulling on their bottom lips in boredom. Yet every single pair of eyes was glued to the multiple different-sized television screens.

As if I were a shadow melting into my surroundings, I slipped past the stunned bodies, making my way towards the front. I wasn't one to keep up on every grizzly detail of Gotham's latest murders and scandals, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me. When my eyes finally caught a sacred glimpse of one of the flat-screens in the middle, I froze, catching myself in a slight gasp. It was there that I saw it, the reason for the chock and awe that illuminated from the cores of every being that surrounded me.

"We are here today, live on GBC, at 54th Fox and Gardener," the breathy and slightly winded reporter started.

She was the normal news agent for the early mornings, her heavily made up brown eyes and bottle-blonde hair an attempt to compensate for the deeper than average voice. But it was the dark figure moving quickly in the distance behind her that got my attention. The blurry, black-clad shadow that made my eyes widen fractionally and eyebrows rise marginally.

"My name is Carrie Salvador-" the woman on the tiny screen continued proudly, feeling lucky enough to catch a story that would most likely result in all of Gotham's attentive gaze on her, "-And this is an enormous moment in Gotham City history. Today we witness a miracle. Today, we see the return of Batman."


At first I was skeptical; a simple copycat of the Batman- nothing more. I had seen the footage of the hovercraft going off into the distance and explode into a giant mushroom cloud. It was impossible; he died. No one could have survived that, not even Batman.

And yet there he was, gliding across the building with only the ease that someone as skilled as him could have accomplished. The camera had gotten a closer shot of the mysterious vigilante's armor, and I acknowledged that it wasn't the attire of an average citizen. It was beautiful, a sleek, black metallic suit that covered his entire body with a protective fortress against the evils he faced. Although it looked as if Batman was carrying his own weight in armor, he still ran across the rooftops with skill, using his surroundings as instruments of escape. But there was something…off. He seemed slightly more acrobatic and fluid in his movements than before, a different technique…a completely new syncretic form and style- and that was my key in. He was not the same man from four years ago; perhaps a crazed fan that somehow got a hold of Batman's armor, masquerading as the Dark Knight in an attempt to assimilate his previous stature as Gotham's hero? Or was he something entirely other, hoping to rejuvenate the legend of his father? His trainer? A Friend? Was that someone even a man? Though the possibility that it was a woman seemed highly unlikely due to the fact that they would require the physique of Arnold Schwarzenegger to even raise a hand in that Kevlar.

A voice in the back of my head was nagging for attention, a constant murmur growing louder with each passing second, and as soon as I recognized it, I felt a miniscule tingle of adrenaline pulse through me. I hadn't realized that my feet had started moving without my permission, guiding me back down the street as I let my mind wander. Could this be a mistake? What if it was a corrupt and vicious, attempt on tipping the scale in favor of the recent statistically-astonishing death rate, using their skills against Gotham? I wasn't sure of the answer, worrying my lower lip as I thought over the possibilities. I allowed myself to remember for a moment of a time where a similar scenario had occurred and I had made the wrong choice.

It was within a fresh wave of determination that I quickly resolved my plans for this evening. It was by chance that I had previously deliberated on my options when I first arrived here, internally battling myself over this decision- a silent civil war raging in my head for weeks. But my resolve had strengthened as I considered the alternatives to not taking action, and my decision had finally been made.

It was time for me to put my skills to the test; to become something more than a name in the criminal database.

I had red in my ledger, and I needed it erased.


Ooooo….so what do you guys think? I apologize for some of the rambling-ons but I really needed to give this story a little pretext, I promise you more action in chapter two, no worries J. I really hope you guys liked it! Please please please review! I would love to hear any questions/comments/ or constructive criticisms you may have about the story; I love new challenges!J. As for Elizabeth's character, since there's an entire finagled and strange backstory, it may seem confusing but I'm trying my best to explain how I see her, please hang on there! Thank you for reading! Next chapter is coming along fine so we'll see about that update ;).

P.S. As for the last sentence, I attributed it as a homage to that wonderful,charismatic movie- The Avengers :D.