Okay, so here's the first chapter of the Redux of The Bat: Volume One: Origins. I actually used the original first chapter as my starting point here, with a few changes made, before beginning expanding the ending in a way that may go on for a few chapters, giving us Bruce's growing up. While my original version gave Batman by chapter three, well, don't expect him until a while after that this time. I hope you all enjoy this and would love to hear any constructive criticism you might have. B.
...
Bruce Wayne never wanted for anything in his early years. As the only son of Thomas and Martha Wayne and sole heir to the Wayne family fortune, he could always have what he wanted. He never really had anything to worry about either.
Until the day. It was August 12th, 1994. Bruce had been eight years old when he was out playing with his friend, Tommy. It was your usual kids game, hide and seek, and he had got the perfect spot; there was a boarded up well on the grounds of his home, Wayne Manor. He'd climbed into it, crouching so his eyes were just level with the top of the well. It wasn't until he moved that he heard it; the boards creaking under his weight.
He moved to climb out, but it was too late. The boards gave way underneath him, causing him to fall through into the well. Fortunately, the drop hadn't been a huge one, about seven or eight feet. Not enough to cause lasting damage since he'd been crouched, but enough to twist his ankle. As he moved his leg round to try and see it, the bats came, flying at him, circling but not attacking.
He cried out in a mixture of fear and pain before beginning to call for help. It was about ten minutes before Tommy found him and then another five before a rope ladder was thrown down. A moment later, his father descended down the ladder. He felt Bruce's leg, checking for any kind of break or fracture. Then, he picked Bruce up and climbed back up the rope ladder, Bruce hanging onto his neck.
That was the day Bruce Wayne's father also became his hero.
...
It had been four months since Bruce had fallen into the cave, and the day was his mother's 40th birthday, December 8th, they went to the theatre, to see a production of Zorro, which Bruce knew was more for him than her. Despite it being one of his favourites, Bruce ended up falling asleep. That was when he had the nightmare.
He was running down a corridor of some kind of hospital. The walls all had crumbling paintwork and there were a number of cells with people with a number of different deformities; some had only one eye, others had terrible scarring and others had missing limbs.
He realised then by the sound of foot steps behind him that he was being chased. He turned his head to look back and saw the thing chasing him.
It was an almost Human figure, only things were wrong with it that made it not Human. In fact, it made it terrifying, especially to him.
The figure had pointed ears on top of it's head and a leathery scalloped cloak, giving it the appearance of a humanoid bat. Bruce found himself screaming as he woke up.
"Bruce, what's wrong?" His mother said.
"N-nothing." Bruce said "Bad dream, that's all."
"Do you want to go home?" She asked him.
"No, I don't want to ruin your birthday." He replied.
"Don't be silly." She said "I've got my family and they're healthy, that's all I need. Come on Thomas, we're going."
"Okay." Thomas replied "Come on Bruce."
The three of them walked out of the theatre. They walked down a back alley, not paying attention to the tall, thin young man leant against the wall having a cigarette. He had a thin face and slicked back dark hair. He was wearing a black suit with white shirt and bowtie. There was a green flower on the jacket lapel.
As Bruce and his parents walked down the alleyway, he heard the sound of someone walking behind them. As he turned, he saw the young man was stood there. The man quickly moved around the three of them and stood in front of them, grinning maniacally.
"Why hello." He said, his voice slightly higher than Bruce would have expected "I see you're out enjoying this fine evening. How was the show?"
Before they could answer, he pulled a revolver out from inside his jacket, pointing it at the three of them.
"You all seem to be a little lost for words." He said, noticing the look of fear on Bruce's mother's face "My dear, don't worry. As long as you and your husband hand over your money, jewellery, watches and other valuables, this will all be over soon."
"Okay, just take it easy." Thomas said, pulling his wallet out from his inside pocket "There, now take it and go."
"Okay then." The man said, adding "Shame about those pearls."
"What?" Thomas asked, right before the man shot him with a maniacal laugh.
"Thomas!" Bruce's mother screamed before being shot as well.
The man pointed the gun at Bruce. As he did, there was the sound of sirens; the police had turned up. The man put the gun in his pocket and waved in a comedic manner.
"See you around, kid." He said before running off down the alley.
Bruce crouched beside his parents, sobbing. He looked at his mother, who had stopped breathing, and at his father, whose eyes were wide open, his breathing shallow.
"Bruce…" He said "Don't ever be afraid… of people like that…"
As he said that, his body fell limp. Bruce was left alone, beside his parent's lifeless bodies, crying. When the man in the grey suit with the moustache and red hair with flecks of grey came running and tried helping him up, he didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave them.
But there was no one there to leave. Bruce Wayne's parents were dead. And a part of him had died with them.
...
Bruce sat in the GCPD Station, his father's coat draped over him like a blanket. The building was freezing, and he was shivering, more than he ever had in his life. The Officer who'd brought him, a Detective James Gordon, had tried to get the information of what had happened out of him. Bruce hadn't been able to properly explain it. He couldn't bring himself to tell the Detective what had happened, about the man, or that it had been because of him he and his parents had left the theatre.
It was his fault his parents were dead. He wasn't a victim here. He was as guilty as the man who'd shot them, as far as he was concerned. Finally, someone he knew walked in. The man had short cropped black hair that showed signs of greying, a pair of thick rimmed glasses, and a pencil moustache. He wore a well fitted black tailored suit, with a white shirt and a black tie, a long grey overcoat slung over his arm and an umbrella in his hand.
"I'm Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne's butler." The man said to Gordon in a thick London accent "I've come to bring the boy home."
"Mr. Pennyworth, thank you for coming." Gordon said, shaking Alfred's hand "I'd love to let you take him home, but he's a witness to a double homicide. We need to know what he saw."
"He's an eight year old boy who just lost his parents!" Alfred snapped without warning, taking both Bruce and Gordon aback somewhat "I'm sorry, Detective. It's just... Thomas Wayne wasn't just my employer, he was my friend. With his parents gone, I'm all the lad has. Please, let me take him home, clean him up, give him a good meal and try to let him get some sleep. You can come by in the morning. I presume you know where Wayne Manor is?"
"Who in Gotham City doesn't..." Gordon murmured, looking at Alfred for a moment, then Bruce, then back to Alfred "Okay, Mr. Pennyworth. Take the boy home. I'll call tomorrow to set up an interview time at your earliest convenience."
"Thank you." Alfred said, moving over to Bruce and crouching down facing him "Master Bruce? Do you feel up to coming home?"
Bruce said nothing, shaking his head instead. Alfred paused for a moment, before hugging the boy slightly awkwardly, feeling Bruce begin to cry into his shoulder.
"There, there, lad." Alfred said "Everything's going to be alright."
"It's my fault." Bruce said quietly into Alfred's shoulder "If I hadn't made them leave, if I'd just been braver, if I'd-"
"Hey, it's nothing you did, sir." Alfred said, leaning back and smiling at Bruce "It was only him. Can you describe him for Detective..."
"Gordon. James Gordon." Gordon said, moving over towards Bruce, getting a nod in response "Thank you, Bruce. Now, my name's Jim, and I'd like to be your friend. As your friend, I'd like you to tell me who did this to your parents, so I can bring them to justice. Can you do that?"
Bruce swallowed hard, before nodding, being led to the Interview room by the hand by both Alfred and Gordon.
...
Bruce and Tommy sat in one of the living rooms of Wayne Manor, a fire burning in the fireplace whilst they sipped cocoa. Tommy's mother was in the kitchen with Alfred, who was re-applying a dressing on her leg; Tommy's parents had been in a severe car crash with Tommy in the back a couple of weeks before Bruce's parents had been murdered. It was only because of Bruce's father's work in surgery that Tommy's mother had survived. Now, on Christmas Eve, she'd offered to come over with Tommy for the Holiday, since it would be both boys' first Christmas without their fathers.
"Bruce, can I ask you something?" Tommy said, adding quickly "It's okay if you say no."
"Okay." Bruce said, apprehensively "What's up, Tommy?"
"Well, I lost my Dad, but yours saved my Mom." Tommy began "I just wanted to know, what's it like? To lose them both?"
"I didn't lose them. They were taken from me." Bruce said coldly "I'd like to change the subject, please."
"Sure..." Tommy said, noting the change in his friend's tone "Sorry..."
The two boys sat up well past midnight, continuing to discuss things, but Tommy could see that Bruce was different. He was less humorous, less filled with joy. It was almost like someone had removed his heart and replaced it with a dark void, that only seemed to allow the smallest glimmers of light through. He wasn't the same friend Tommy had known, and Tommy couldn't help but smile at that.
Bruce had been boring before anyway.
...
Bruce walked into the kitchen of Wayne Manor, grabbing a carton of juice from the fridge and taking a swig from it. He was glad Alfred wasn't there; over the five years since Bruce's parents' murder, Alfred had caught him doing that a dozen times, and each time, he gave Bruce a lecture on hygiene.
There'd been a couple of occasions recently where it had happened, where Bruce had responded to the quiet, polite chewing out Alfred had given him with loud shouting back. He never meant the words spoken in anger, but he always felt bad afterwards.
Alfred had been like a father to him since his parents' died, and at times, like a surrogate father even before that. He'd been the one who taught Bruce how to ride a bike, who'd taken him to school, and who'd taught him to cook, even if it was only a full English breakfast, or 'fry up' as Alfred called it.
Granted, his father did those things occasionally, and it had been his father who taught him how to fish, who'd taken him camping all those times and who had come with his mother to pick Bruce up from school as often as his work at the hospital allowed, but it was Alfred who was always there when Thomas or Martha were busy, with either business or philanthropic work.
He stood there thinking about it, before hearing footsteps outside. He quickly ran to the fridge, putting the juice back in the door and closing it as the door into the kitchen opened, Alfred, now having gone grey, stepping through, followed by now-Lieutenant Gordon.
"Oh good, he's in here." Alfred said, smirking at something Bruce was probably not aware of due to his age "Master Bruce, you remember-"
"Lieutenant Gordon, yes." Bruce said, shaking Gordon's hand "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"Please, call me Jim." Gordon replied, reaching into the brown overcoat he wore and withdrawing an envelope inside, handing it to Bruce "We recently apprehended a man named Jack Napier, alias Joe Chill. He's been leading a group of crooks called the Red Hood gang for the last three years. We caught him, and his description matches the description you gave us of the man who killed your parents. One of his Lieutenants, a William 'Willis' Todd, said Napier told him about killing a billionaire and his wife outside the Monarch Theatre, so we may have him dead to rights. That letter contains all the information on the trial date. I thought you might want to be there."
"Provided it won't be too dangerous." Alfred butted in before Bruce could respond "And it's not a school day."
"Alfred, this is my parents' killer." Bruce shot Alfred a stern look before turning to Gordon "I'll be there, thank you, Jim."
"No problem. There's a photo of him in there too, save you coming for a red herring." Gordon said "Have a nice day, Bruce. Alfred."
"Lieutenant." Alfred responded as Gordon walked out, waiting until he's gone "Master Bruce-"
"Don't start Alfred." Bruce cut him off, his tone aggressive "I'm going."
"No, sir, I wouldn't dream of stopping you from going. My comment about not if it's a school day was a joke." Alfred said, before smirking "But I thought you should know, you have a yellow upper lip."
...
Bruce sat in the court between Alfred and Gordon for the seventh day out of the last two weeks, having started two months after Gordon had informed Bruce of the trial, which began on February 20th, the day after Bruce's fourteenth Birthday. There'd been talk of Willis Todd having been the Wayne's killer, and of Todd being the real ringleader of the Red Hood gang, but it was Napier Bruce recognised from that night. He watched as the Judge, Christopher Dent, began to talk about his ruling.
"This case has been difficult. It first fell on my desk two and a half months ago, and to say it's taken me a long time to review all the facts that have been presented in this case would be an understatement." Dent began "Jack Napier, please rise."
Napier, positioned at the front with his hair slicked back and wearing a purple suit, stood up, putting his hands behind his back.
"Jack Napier, on the count of conspiracy to defraud and rob the people of Gotham, you are found guilty. On the count of the double murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne, two of this city's finest benefactors, you are found not guilty. The defendant is to be remanded in custody for six days until sentencing can be passed. Court is adjourned."
"No!" Bruce yelled, shooting up as Dent slammed his gavel "It was him! Jack Napier killed my parents, I was there!"
"Mr. Wayne, court is dismissed." Dent said "Now, please leave or I will have no choice but to find you in contempt of this court!"
"I find this court in contempt!" Bruce spat "This isn't justice. This is a farce! Everyone in Gotham knows the Red Hood gang was connected to-"
"Come on, Bruce. Apologies for the outburst, your honour" Gordon said, grabbing Bruce by the shoulder and beginning to walk out, waiting until they were outside before saying quietly "You're right, Bruce. Everyone does know the Red Hood gang works for Falcone. It was how I came onto them that night, investigating him. But you start yelling it in open court, you're going to get yourself killed."
"It's not fair." Bruce said, welling up "He did it, and now he's going to end up with, what, a few years in prison?"
"What would you prefer, the death penalty?" Gordon asked "Bruce, killing isn't justice. It doesn't make up for what they've done. They need to be put away, yes, but killing them is an empty gesture."
"And what about Willis Todd?" Bruce asked "We both know he's going to end up being killed for a crime he didn't commit."
"I won't let that happen." Gordon said, smiling at Bruce "He will stand trial for the crime he committed, and maybe he will go to prison for the murder of your parents, but he will be protected by the guards. They won't let Napier or Falcone get to him."
Bruce said nothing, just turning and walking out. He needed some air, to clear his head. He hadn't got justice that day, and it wasn't fair. The system was broken, and he needed to work out how to fix it.
...
A few hours later, just after eleven PM, Bruce stood on the top of the hillside on the grounds of Wayne Manor that his parents were buried on, looking at their graves. He came out here when he needed to think. The sounds of the bay over the cliff, and the view of the lighthouse on the old Arkham island, were relaxing to him. After that farce of a trial, he needed to relax.
"I'm sorry." He finally spoke to his parents' grave "I told myself after your funeral that I'd help them bring the man who killed you to justice. I failed. Because of some mob boss!"
Bruce moved over to the tree beside the graves, kicking the tree before rubbing his foot in pain as he sat down. He looked out over the bay, watching the lighthouse for a moment before turning back to the grave.
"Now I'm making you a new promise, one that I'll keep." He began "I promise you that this won't happen to anyone else. No one will lose their family to crime, no one will be a victim of a corrupt justice system. I'll bring them all to justice. No one else will become a victim."
He stood up, looking at the moon. As he did, he saw a silhouette in the moonlight; a bat, flying in the wind.
"That's it. One day, the criminals of this city will fear me. But not as Bruce Wayne. As the thing I fear, the thing that got you both killed." Bruce said "I will become a bat."
...
So, here's chapter one of the redone version of Volume one of the Bat. It's about three times longer than the original opening, and has a lot more depth regarding Bruce's early years. R&R, please, no flames. B.