(A/N: Someone asked me the question if they could do a story similar to mine when I started it. I am giving full permission to anyone that wants to base their own Batman Fanfics on all my Batman characters' origins and characteristics. But, only if you say your fic is based on Gotham 1945, mainly so your readers will understand which Batman universe you are using. Also please PM me your fic so I can read it, I'm interested to the fullest.)
World War 2 had taken too many. A six year war that had to end with the entire destruction of two Japanese cities, it was the last conflict America would want to see.
America was finally done with their Campaign on both theaters. The soldiers who fought all over the world can now enter their last journey back to the States. Some had to stay behind to keep things in order, but for the others it was a long sigh of relief. No more killing and fear of death. They just had to get on the ships heading home and leave all of their troubles for the past. The troops were more than happy to return home, eager to return to their families and lives.
Everyone will talk about the heroes made during the war. The war heroes are seen as the ones painted with medals, to put then up on the mantle and let their kids know of the great things they've done. A hero is known as someone who survived the worst and made it out in one piece, able tell everyone how important they were in battle. They are the ones that saved the day by being better than everyone else, setting themselves apart from the rest. But that is not what a real hero is.
The real heroes made it back in a casket to be given their well-deserved funerals.
Bruce Wayne looked out the mansion's window to see the parade outside. Confetti and balloons flew to the clouds as floats and marchers celebrated the return of the military troops. The docks farther into Gotham City held thousands of people, soldiers and family members alike. Loved ones embraced their sons and husbands after not seeing them in what seemed to be forever. The soldiers continued to pour out of the large transport ship. The multiple exits filled with anxious men tired of waiting to see their families.
Bruce felt happy for all those people, happy about the end of the war. It warmed his heart to see so many people finally able to get on with their lives. His family was happy about it too. His father had invested in the industrial factories created in the lower district of Gotham City to help keep up supplies and vehicles for the war effort. Now those war factories will be turned into civilian ones, further profiting the Wayne family far after the war is done with. His mother is more relieved than glad, not having to worry about her only child being drafted. If Bruce's father hadn't paid off the government to "skip" Bruce's name in the drawing, he might have gone into combat.
His mom entered his bedroom, smiling once she saw him perched at the open window.
"Mom, come over here! You have to see the people down there!" Bruce couldn't contain his excitement. It's been a long time since he's seen that many people all at once.
"Brucy, remember not to get too close to that window." She walked up and closed it, "You can fall out and hurt yourself."
"Mom, I don't have to worry about that. I'm a full grown man!"
"You just barely turned eighteen Brucy." She gave him a loving kiss on the forehead, "It's best to prevent accidents then provoke them. Now get dressed and ready for the party today. All of our friends are going to be here and you need to look sharp for your new wife.
Bruce groaned, "Mom, I do not need you to set up a blind date for me."
Martha swung open the large closet and looked about for some formal wear. "Don't worry honey; she is a very nice girl. And she is a good friend of ours, so you behave nicely with her."
Bruce sighed, "Yes mother."
Setting down a pressed and clean tuxedo by the wire hanger on the bed, Martha headed out the room. "Remember, the party starts at six o'clock. I want you to be there on time to greet most of our guest. You just have to say hello to a few of them and then you can go off to do your own things."
"Yes mother." Bruce picked up the tuxedo, "Well, nothing else to do but get ready."
The Wayne manor was one of the biggest estates inside of Gotham Heights. The large iron gate was down the large sloped front lawn guided by a winding road reaching up to the garage. The back yard held the pool located right outside of the back entrance, with a crochet field a little farther out. The groundskeepers were paid well enough to make sure the grass was trimmed and the pool was crystal clean.
The building had three stories. The first floor consisted of the main entrance hall, the dining room taking up the entire west side, a kitchen, and the living room on the east side. The second floor had most of the bedrooms for the family and the servants. They didn't have that many people working for them, but it was enough to need a few rooms to keep them in. They had the maids, the butlers, the chef, and the groundskeepers there at all times for when they are needed. The third floor was the rooms for the family and held the pull down staircase for the attic.
Most of the invited guest had arrived early. By the time Bruce had begun his descent down the tall stairway in the middle of the entrance hall, people were already at the door. His mother and father stood there, standing in front of the door to greet their friends. He adjusted the bowtie around his neck to see if it was in place, hand combed his hair back a little, and got down to the first floor.
His mother was wearing her fancy dress with her vast assortment of jewelry. The white dress matched with her silver earrings and pearl bracelets. The thin flowing fabric hanging from her arms swayed about whenever she moved her hand to greet a guest. She had her hair wrapped up in a hairstyle that kept a few wavy strands of hair to fall around the side of her face. She always looked younger then she was, many for her abstinence from smoking.
His father was wearing his usual suit, only his gold watch as an accessory. It stuck out of his pocket where he kept his left hand in every time his right hand held his ivory pipe. He didn't smoke that often, but seemed to have a habit of holding it without even knowing. His thick brown moustache covered his upper lip completely, making him look more old fashion. He seemed to be stuck in the 1920s, back from when he was a young adult rising up in the investment business.
The party was a pleasant bustle of Gotham City's residents of Gotham Heights. Everyone there was from the rich section, most of them friends with the Wayne family. The small orchestra played mellow music for people to enjoy during their small conversations. The place wasn't filled to the brim with guest, but it was enough to have everyone get to know each other better.
In the corner near the dining room, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot was surrounded by his friends that he brought along to the occasion. He wore his trademark tuxedo, only able to fit his tall and slim stature. His top hat was tilted a bit to the side to give room for his monocle over his right eye. His slightly long black hair was visibly greased back from the sides of his hat.
"So you would never believe what happened today." Oswald quipped in his Cockney accent as he accepted a glass of wine from the waiter. He just turned thirty two a few months ago, his voice and looks far from going away; the only fault on his face being his large beak-like nose. It was the main cause for his voice to sound a bit nasally at times.
"Just try us." The wife of one of his friends provoked.
"Well I was walking down the street, and I saw a young lady getting robbed by a man with a bandana around his face. It looked almost like a stickup in a western movie. Of course the police got him during the act, but the sheer thought of someone doing that in broad daylight is just astounding. He might as well have worn a searchlight on his head and have car horns on the bottom of his shoes!" Everyone around him laughed.
"Why do you think he did it?" Bruce asked. The laugher stopped from his question.
"Pardon me?"
Bruce walked up to the group of friends and settled within them, "I mean he must have had a motive to steal from someone, am I right?"
He put the right end of his long, black cigarette holder between his teeth, cocking his left eyebrow at Bruce as he did. "Why would I think of such a thing?"
"He could be stealing for a number of reasons. He could have been desperate for money, maybe needed to get rid of a bad debt fast. He could have been getting even with her, maybe having an old quarrel with her. Or, maybe it could have just been for sport."
The group laughed in a reprise.
Oswald blew a slim stream of smoke from between his teeth, "I assure you Bruce, the man was just a pitiful thief. They don't need a reason to commit a crime and even if they did, it doesn't matter. All we can do about them is let the Gotham City Police Department take care of them and keep their ill moral ways behind bars. As with all criminals, they are just the same, all people doing bad things. All needing to be brought to justice."
"So you're saying they don't have a reason for committing crime. That they just do it because they just do."
"I'm saying it is none of our business why they do anything. All we have to do is stay clear away from them and let the police handle them. That is why they are being paid for, is it not?"
"Oh Brucey," Martha Wayne interrupted, "I have someone that wants to see you!"
The young lady next to his mother, Barbara Gordon wore a basic black dress. It wasn't anything fancy, but it wasn't cheaply made either. Her welcoming face was partially covered by her long red hair that curled at the ends in individual bits. She had gentle hazel eyes that were surrounded by long eyelashes and lightly applied grey eye shadow. Her full red lips made a happy smile to begin her sentence.
"It's nice to finally meet you again, Mr. Wayne." She held out a hand covered with a long white glove.
Bruce smiled back, "Please, my father is Mr. Wayne. You can just call me Bruce." He chuckle, taking her hand and giving it a polite kiss.
"I will let you two get to know each other Brucey." Martha said patting Bruce on the shoulder, "I'm going to see how our other guests are doing."
"So how have you been Barbara? Still daddy's little princess?"
"As long as you're mommy's little baby."
They laughed together like old times. They didn't have much history in the past, but she always visiting once in a while during events and holidays.
"Is your father here, or is he with police duty?"
"He thought it was nice enough for your family to give everyone a celebration party for the end of the war. It only happens once, so he thought it shouldn't hurt to stop being Commissioner for a day." She peeked to her side to see Martha Wayne looking over at them, "I think it's silly how your mother is trying to get us together."
"Don't worry, you're not the only one. But I have to let her do this until she gets the hint that trying to get me a wife by forcing it on others isn't the way to do it."
Barbara nodded in agreement, "It's okay, I enjoy having fun once in a while. We can just pretend to have dates until you find the one, right?"
Bruce's face showed his interest, "You know, that's actually not a bad idea. It would only be for a little while, but we can just play it out and say it wasn't meant to be."
"It would be a great excuse for me to get out once in a while. Daddy won't let me go out with anyone that doesn't live in luxurious homes with mass of wealth. But I really can't blame him, he's seen the worst of Gotham and he has a good reason to worry about me."
"It's settled then. Just call me when you're free and we'll go somewhere you like. My mother will gladly pay for it, and we can have some fun in the town. Plus I think we need some time out of our homes, don't you agreed?"
Barbara hummed a chuckle and clicked her glass with Bruce's, "To the fullest." She drank her wine slowly to enjoy the taste.
"Ah Bruce!" A males voice called out next to him. His Cajun accent was fully recognizable. Bruce turned to its direction and smiled at the man in a fancy white suit and a white bowler derby. His left hand grasped onto a slim metal cane with a golden handle.
"Edward!" Bruce greeted happily as he shook the man's hand with excitement, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm in town for the month on a much needed vacation. All the stress of stocks and tracking investments does such wonders on the mind."
"It's so good to see you again." Bruce looked over at Barbara who seemed to feel left out, "Oh, Barbara, this is my old friend."
"My, my," Edward said with enthusiasm, "Bruce, you never told me you knew such a beautiful goddess!" He bowed to her and took off his hat, stretching his arms out to the sides, "Edward Nashton is the name. A Southern Bruce Wayne if you will. Although with the way my investments are going, I'll be richer than him in a matter of months."
"Charmed, I'm sure." Barbara said, a little peeved from his self-gloating.
"He takes some getting used to," Bruce told her, "He actually used to live right next to me when we were kids. He was a lot older than me though."
"I was about his age now when I had to leave for Louisiana," Edward added, "My family had most of their business there."
Barbara looked past them to see her father waving over to her, "Great," She groaned, "Daddy wants me to meet more political people. I can't stand those louts. I'll see you later Bruce." She leaned up to him and they exchanged kisses on the cheeks. She gave a waved goodbye on her way to her father.
From the other side, Thomas Wayne approached the two friends with his arms out wide, "Edward, my boy." He hugged him, laughing, "I didn't see you come in."
"I was a little late. The ride over here was a little longer then needed."
"I'm just glad you were able to make it to the party." Thomas said cheerfully, "You do have a place to stay on you rest here, don't you?"
"I was just planning on staying at a hotel in Gotham."
"Oh nonsense, you can stay here. We have plenty of room, right Bruce?"
"That's right; you can stay in the guest room. It's a lot better than any hotel around here."
"I don't want to be a burden on you guys."
"Oh no burden at all." Thomas patted Edward on the back, "That's what friends are for. It'll even get us a chance to catch up on old times."
"Well if you insist, I don't see why not."
"Good, good. Just have your assistant bring your things here in the hall and our servants will bring them to your room."
From the door to the dining room, a butler opened the double doors and stood at the side, "Dinner is ready."
"After dinner of course," Thomas continued, "Come now gentlemen."
Everyone had a seat at the long dinner table in the dining room. Servants walked about placing platters of food and filling glasses. Bruce and his parents sat at the far end of the table, with Thomas at the very end.
He stood up, holding his glass high. "Attention everyone." He said tapping the glass with a fork, "I would like to thank all of you for attending this evening get-together. This is a wonderful day that should be enjoyed by everyone. The war is over and our men have returned. I would like to start by saying how grateful I am for the brave men that fought for our right to live in America the way we do now. If it wasn't for them we'd be speaking German, or worse: Japanese."
The people laughed politely.
Thomas continued, "I would also like to give thanks for the police force for keeping our streets safe during those hard times. With the great depression and all that, I couldn't imagine an easy life for the people affected by it. I also give respect to all of my workers in the factories as they made our war effort possible, for victory wouldn't have been ours if it weren't for them. So in all, I would like to make a toast to the new world. May god bless us all with peace and prosperity, and have those Nazi bastards never show up again." He chuckled to himself, "Cheers!" He clanked his glass with his wife's and son's glass and drank a little to his wishes, as did everyone else.
The next day was a pleasant morning. The Wayne family ate their breakfast with the servants eating at the table with them. Thomas read the morning paper as he sipped his coffee. He set the cup down on the saucer and flipped the page.
"Get a load of this. Someone is going around Gotham and robbed a bank wearing a gas mask. What kind of nutcase goes ahead and does a thing like that?"
As his father talked, Bruce took off the flakes of crisp batter around his pancakes, making Martha stop and give him a look.
"Brucey, stop playing with your food." She told him.
Bruce stopped and started eating. "Hey dad?" He said after swallowing his food.
"Hmm?"
"Can we go to the store today and buy some boxing gloves?"
"Bruce," His mother interrupted, "how can you ask for those? Don't you know how dangerous they are?"
"Sure son, we can buy you those." His dad said readjusting his reading glasses.
His mother scoffed, "Thomas!"
He took his eyes off the newspaper, "Martha!"
"Bruce can't be fighting people, he might get hurt!"
"Now Martha, I think teaching Bruce how to box is a good idea. If someone ever tries to fight with him then he could defend himself."
"It would be better if he ran away. You should take him to the gym to get better at run instead of trying to fight."
"Martha, just look at the boy. He's able to run just fine. Besides, he needs to get a hobby. Being stuck in the house isn't easy on anyone at his age.
"I agree with dad!" Bruce added.
"Well I just don't like the idea of it. The thought of someone punch my little Brucey in the face. Our one and only child shouldn't be fighting; he should be looking for a wife. If he gets hurt, who's going to carry on the family name? We can't give him a brother or sister after your accident-"
Thomas cleared his throat and nervously chuckled, "Not in front of the servants honey." He said faking a smile.
Martha looked over to the far side of the table and put her hands on her lap. "Just be careful with him."
"Thanks mom." Bruce said finished with his meal. He got up and kissed her on the forehead, "I'm going to change. Just let me know when you guys are ready to head out."
"Oh, wear the new suit I bought you." She said as he left the room, "It's on your dresser."
The sun shined brightly through the small clouds in the sky. The Wayne family walked down the busy streets of West End on their way to the store. Bruce walked behind his mom and dad, watching the cars driving by and stopping at intersections. They had plenty of money to drive when they shopped, but when it was sunny they preferred to walk. Martha would always tell Bruce that be needed to get out at least once in a while for some fresh air.
From where they were, they could see the smoke rising into the clear blue sky from their factories in the industrial district. It was almost on the other side of the city, but the small black clouds were plainly visible against the light blue. Most of that district was owned by the Wayne family, the other factories being owned by lesser companies. Thomas would always tell the family that he will own the entire district soon enough, when the lesser ones start doing better. He didn't mind buying out companies, but he never wanted one that is doomed to fail.
The shops against the sidewalk were among the common types. Tailors available to make suits and dressed with a custom fit. Barber shops with the white uniformed barbers cut hair while the red and white striped signature tube spun around next to the door. A pawn shop filled with antique furniture and all sorts of small wares. Even the occasional small diners passed by with people filling the seats next to the counter.
After a short while, The Wayne family had made it to the sporting goods store. The bell above the door rang out as they entered. The smell of leather and wood filled the air of the large shop. The man behind the register was a slightly old man with all of his hair missing. He stopped stocking the small shelf behind him with different sport balls and smiled at the people walking in.
"Good morning Mr. Wayne," He greeted with a friendly voice, "What brings you here? Did you come for more golf equipment?"
"I got plenty of that Burt." Thomas said putting his hands on Bruce's shoulders, "I'm here to get some boxing stuff for my boy here."
Bruce just smiled at the clerk.
"Is that little Bruce? Why I haven't seen him in over a decade. He's a lot bigger now." He joked, "Let's see, we got some boxing gloves over here," He said walking over to the right side of the store.
"We'll need just one pair of gloves. I have most of my old boxing stuff in the attic, but anything else we would need."
"Honey," Martha protested, "You said you would just buy him the gloves."
"We don't want him getting hurt, now do we?"
"Let's see then. You will need some hand wraps just in case you hit the bag wrong and some sparring helmets to protect your ears." He took all the items from the walls and aisles, piling all of them on the counter.
While his father pulled out his wallet to pay, Bruce saw a something move around in a bird cage next to the clerk. It was small and furry with a dark brown color. Its short round ears wiggled as it readjusted its thin wings. He could see small pointy teeth in its mouth as it let out a little screech.
"My goodness Thomas," Martha said grabbing her husband's arm, "What on earth is that hideous thing?"
"Are you telling me you have never seen a bat before?" He asked.
"What's a bat doing in America? Aren't they from Transylvania or something?"
The clerk laughed, "I see you noticed my new pet here. The little bugger flew in a few nights ago while I was closing. I couldn't get him out of here so I set up some dead flies in the bird cage and he flew right in it. It was a rare sight to see a bat in these parts since most bats around here are way up north near Canada. I thought it would bring some customers around here and so far it hasn't worked. If only I can get him a real home."
"I'll take him." Bruce said, "I would actually like him for a pet."
"Brucey, you can't have that thing as a pet!" His mother disagreed, "What if it tries to suck your blood while you're sleeping!"
Thomas laughed, "Martha you're over exaggerating."
"He's right," The clerk said, "From the book I read at the library; it said this one's a small brown bat. They don't eat anything but flying insects like mosquitos, moths, flies, that sort of thing."
"Bruce, do you promise to feed it?"
"Yes, I do. I'll take care of it very well. Please?"
"The boy needs a friend, honey." Thomas whispered to Martha, "He's always talking to himself in his room. Maybe it's time we get him a pet to talk to instead."
"I don't like the idea," his mother grumbled, "having that filthy thing in the house. You better keep it in the cage, Brucey!"
"I will mom."
"They're very easy to take care of," The clerk informed as he took the cage off the stand and handed it to Bruce, "They only need a few flies here and there to keep themselves full and you can just get those from your fly traps. I think the pet store nearby even sells them for people that own frogs. Just remember to clean out the cage once in a while, but since he's so small, maybe once a week."
"Thank you Burt." Bruce said, "I really appreciate this."
"It's nothing. I should thank you since now I don't have to worry about the little fella."
After Thomas paid for the gloves and safety gear, the family left the store, waving goodbye to the clerk.
Bruce set up the bat's cage on top of his beautifully crafted wooden dresser. He didn't worry about the metal bottom of the cage scratching up the wood since he's already chipped up most of the sides with the door and when he was younger. The bat flapped it's wings as Bruce adjusted the cage to have the door face towards him. Their reflections were clearly visible in the corner of the large mirror attached to the dresser, the wooden outline on the mirror edged with some golden parts to add to it's elegance.
"There we are." Bruce said placing his hands on his knees to keep his balance as he stayed bent forward. "I hope you don't mind this spot. It's the only place to put you really." He stood up straight, walked over to his bed, and sat on it, "You're going to need a name."
Bruce looked over at the old picture of his grandfather, Alfred, that hanged on the wall on the shelf above his bed. He remembered how a few days ago he passed away, the letter still sitting on his parent's night stand. It was by natural causes, but the thought of him not being able to witness the war's end was what caused their sympathy. Alfred was a Great War veteran who just wanted peace to be brought on humanity. When World War 2 started, he wanted to join to help end that one to; only his age stopping him.
"How about Alfred, do you like that name?" He asked the bat.
The bat just hanged upside-down from the cage's top bars, sleeping.
"Okay then, Alfred it is." Bruce smiled happily. He looked towards the window at the city outside.
In Park Row, the tall buildings towered over the night covered streets below. Far away on the other side of town, beaten down apartments and shady corner stores were filled with all sorts of lowlifes. Rusted cars sat on dirty sidewalks with trash and paper scattered about. The only people that went out at night were the desperate and poverty-stricken. Everyone struggling to make ends meet the only way they know how.
Night clubs, bars, betting parlors; all with something to hide. If the law didn't know about it, nothing could stop it. The transfer of money was all too common in low Gotham, most of the time unwanted. People were always mugged behind the dark aisle, sometimes not able to see another day. Fear ran the streets, and it would be fear that would have to control them.
Gotham needed a hero to make the criminals fear for a change. It needed someone who can make the night bearable to live in. Someone who can make a person think twice before they break the law. They must thrive in the night, being able to overcome any adversary. They must be one with the shadows and live in the darkness.
Every criminal will soon know the name that will strike the chill of death into their hearts. The name that everyone will look up to in the search for a greater good. A name that will be remembered forever as the last true hope for society. The last flicker on the flame of progress. Soon, Gotham will hear the name that will save it from it's rotting core.
That name is: Batman.