The Only One
By Liam Goncet
Gotham City, the city without hope, the place where dreams go to die, smothered by the unrelenting darkness and tragedy that seemed to choke the town like the skyscrapers do to the sky.
At least that was how Detective James Gordon had come to view the area, one that he had been living in for the past nine years of his life. He had first come to Gotham from Detroit, looking to help those in need and put away the scum that populated the streets. Gordon discovered quickly that the Gotham Police were just as corrupt, maybe even more so, than the cops in Detroit. Gordon was the only cop on the force who gave a damn, who actually remembered what it meant to be a cop. That's why he had taken the call that him and his partner, Arnold Flass, were currently on.
They were both looking for the killer of a chemical engineer and so far had had no luck. Not that Flass was helping very much. Flass, like the rest of the Gotham City Police, didn't care about the law, only about what it could do for him, and how he could bend it to his will.
"That was Shelly, says there's some rambler in the alley near Sam's Tavern. I think we should check it out." Gordon lit a cigarette as he spoke, bringing light to the dark police car and illuminating his face. His short, yet still mangy, top of brown hair came down over his forehead; his rectangular glasses and bushy mustache filling out his face. Gordon was tall and thin, wearing his usual work "uniform" of a brown trench coat with a white dress shirt and black tie underneath and black dress pants as well.
Flass merely nodded, continuing to look out the window. Flass, like Gordon, was tall, but also much bulkier than his partner, most likely stemming from his Green Beret training. Flass had short blonde hair put into a buzz-cut. He was wearing a tan sports coat with a beige shirt underneath and tan dress pants to complete the ensemble, although he looked and felt slightly out of place in them.
Gordon ignored Flass' lack of response and kept driving, going through the East End. In most cities, when a cop car drives through the "bad side" of town, the prostitutes, the junkies, the dealers, they all disappear. Not in Gotham. They all stood on opposite sides of the street staring, some of the prostitutes asking if they wanted a thrill. Gordon ignored them, just like he ignored Flass. He had become used to it, immune almost.
They parked the car near Sam's Tavern and went into the alley next to it. There, waiting for them like a badly wrapped gift, was a bald man, his knees against his chest, mumbling to himself. He was a chubby man, but still seemed rather agile, he was wearing a plain white shirt and jeans both covered in dirt, there were bruises all over his battered face. Someone had beaten this man up, not just physically, but mentally too, it would seem.
Gordon knelt down beside him flicking away his cigarette as Flass stood at the entrance of the alleyway, tapping his foot.
"What happened here, who did this to you?" Gordon asked concern showing across his weary face.
"It was…a-a bat," the man stammered, bruised eyes looking around in terrified paranoia "A batman!"
Wayne Manor, many years ago
"And so, Lee surrendered, bringing an end to the Civil War," spoke a clearly middle aged man with a definite British accent. He was tall, wearing a black suit, white underneath, with a matching bowtie. He had a head of short black hair that was slowly receding and a pencil thin mustache across his upper lip. Alfred was the butler of the Wayne Manor, inheriting the title after his father had past away a few years earlier. He was teaching a boy, no older than six, who looked utterly bored. "Master Bruce, it seems to me that you aren't paying much attention to my words, has the lack of killing in this part of the story bored you?"
"I said before Alfred, I don't like the killing, I like the reasons why they were fighting," the young boy spoke.
"Yes, very true, you had mentioned that before, silly of me to have forgotten," Alfred was always amazed at the boy, he was a prodigy, to say the least, already understanding how to multiply and divide, as well as with the basic workings of the human body, and he hadn't even turned ten yet.
They soon heard the echo of a door opening downstairs. Bruce's father was home. Before Alfred could say a word, Bruce was out of the room and racing towards the steps. Alfred sighed and began putting away the book he had been teaching out of, class was over.
Thomas Wayne was the head of Wayne Enterprises, the biggest company in Gotham City. Thomas made it his life's duty to not just provide help to Gotham but to the entire world. Thomas kissed his wife as he entered the manor and it wasn't long until his son came running down the stairs jumping into his arms.
"Well, hello Bruce how was your day?" Thomas asked hugging his son before letting him down onto the floor.
"It was alright, although you should let Alfred know that we can move on to other things in math."
"I'll be sure to," Thomas said with a laugh, "but first, I've got a surprise for you."
Bruce's eyes lit up with excitement, "what is it?" His thoughts took off like a whirlwind, was it a new toy, a new book? Maybe he was able to get the people that made his favorite TV show to come over to the house.
Thomas dug inside his pocket and took out three tickets, handing one to Bruce. It was a ticket to the showing of "The Mask of Zorro" tonight at the theater.
Immediately, Bruce's face was overcome with joy, it was better than a toy or a book. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Bruce shouted as he wrapped his arms around his father. Zorro was his favorite character and he had wanted to see the new movie ever since he first caught glimpse of the commercial.
Thomas laughed as his son clung onto his neck, never once losing his grip. "Well, it's a reward for how well you've been doing in school. Now go get ready for dinner, we'll leave after we eat."
Wayne Manor, present
Alfred Pennyworth stood at the entrance of the Wayne Manor, waiting for the limo that had entered the estate to drop off its passenger. Swarms of reporters and different media outlets were outside the front gates looking to catch a glimpse of Bruce Wayne, Gotham City's prodigal son, who had finally returned after ten years away. In the time since then Alfred had lost his hair, only a few strands remaining on his head, he had always thought it funny that he didn't lose his hair until after Bruce had grown up and despite enjoying these last ten years, he was happy to see Bruce return.
Bruce stepped out of the limo and at that exact second the sound of cameras taking pictures and reporters breaking their stories began to fill the surrounding area. Bruce stepped out of the vehicle and on both of his sides were clearly South American woman, dressed in matching gold dresses coming down to their thighs. "Alfred, it's so good to see you, this is Camille and Lucia, they're models," Bruce said shaking the man's hand before heading inside the manor.
"They certainly are, Master Bruce," Alfred said as he took the man's luggage and carried it into the manor.
"The old place hasn't changed much has it," Bruce said showing the two ladies to the living room before heading back to talk to Alfred.
"No sir, I've kept it very up to date in your time away," Alfred said moving Bruce's luggage up the stairs.
"And I'm very thankful for that," Bruce said stopping Alfred before he walked away, "And Alfred, I don't blame you. You did what you thought was right, and you raised me the best that you could."
Alfred's expression didn't change but Bruce could tell he was touched by his words. The elderly butler simply shook his head before speaking again. "I take it you plan on going out tonight, Master Bruce?"
A smile spread across Bruce's face. "Yes, but not in the way you're thinking, Alfred."
Gotham City Police Department
Arnold Flass stood outside of the interrogation room, staring in at the hopeless efforts of his partner. Jim Gordon tried to wring some information from their suspect, Alfred Stryker. Next to him was Commissioner Gillian Loeb, a pudgy, elderly man whose rectangular glasses hung underneath his eyes; the air around him smelling like the cough drop that he had been sucking on for the last half hour.
Soon, Gordon stepped out of the room, having clearly given up on the thought of getting anything relevant from Stryker.
"What did you get, Gordon?" Loeb asked his raspy voice sounding like it could collapse at any moment.
Gordon paused before responding, this was an odd situation. Loeb was almost never interested in a case unless it involved someone working for his dear friends, Falcone and Maroni. Stryker seemed like nothing more than a petty crook, so what had Loeb so worried? Finally, Gordon responded, "he keeps talking about something attacking him, some 'Batman.' We should check it out."
Loeb's grin, which was usually all show anyway, faded away and Gordon braced himself for the rant that was about to come. "I will not have my officers going around chasing myths, Gordon. What's next, a man walks in claiming to see a dinosaur and we send in the Army!"
Gordon shook his head, as the officers around snickered, including Flass, who made as little effort as possible to hide it.
"I suggest we do the sane thing and call Arkham and inform them that they have a new patient coming in, the man is clearly delusional, and I won't have my officers hopping on the same train." Loeb made his way back to his office murmuring to himself, "Batman, next you'll be telling me a man can fly."
"Don't worry, Jim. I'll go ahead and call Arkham, you just take it easy for a bit," Flass said, faux kindness emanating from his toothy grin.
Jim simply nodded and went to his desk to let his pride recuperate; a week later Gordon would learn that before he and Flass had arrived with Stryker, two other cases of a "Batman" attack had already been reported. Loeb was indeed worried about something.
Alfred Stryker was out of luck. After several chances of finding a job he was still unemployed. Most of those opportunities had been with various mobs, which rejected him due to his portly disposition. That was what had led Stryker to the house of Bing Filler, a famous chemical engineer who had created the weapon known as "Laughing Gas," which caused its victims to laugh uncontrollably until their lungs could no longer receive oxygen. Stryker was going to show the mobs what he could do by robbing Filler. Of course, it had never occurred to Stryker that the mobs wouldn't care about some petty thief and that the gas he was also planning to steal had been out of production for over twenty years. Regardless, Stryker walked up to the residence, pulling out the gun from his pocket as he knocked on the door.
Filler answered almost immediately. From the look on his face, which went from a wrinkled smile into a look of utter fear, he had clearly been expecting someone else.
"Gimme, your money, your jewels, everything you've got!" Stryker shouted as he waved the gun in Filler's face.
"Sir, I-I have nothing to give you!" Filler seemed desperate and it was obvious to Stryker that he was telling the truth, but that wasn't good enough.
"Don't lie to me old man, where's your damn money?" Stryker hit the man over the head with his gun, watching him fall to the floor, semi-conscious and bleeding.
"Please, there is nothing here!" Filler stammered feebly.
"Sorry, grandpa, wrong answer!" Before Stryker could comprehend his actions, he had shot the man in the head. The remains of the man's body, as well as Stryker's feet, were soon covered in blood. Stryker disregarded this as best he could, decide to search the various rooms for any money or valuables. Even though he had known the man was right and there was nothing here. Stryker did not get very far, as he heard a rustle from the doorway. He turned quickly, his mouth openly gapping at what was before him.
The figure in the doorway looked like that of a normal man, but Stryker could see it had pointy ears and wings that seemed to sprout from its back. The figure was enveloped in darkness, hiding all but the most obvious features from Stryker's view. The figure began to walk towards him, a low growl escaping from it.
Without a moment's hesitation, Stryker fired his gun at the beast, but it was not impeded. Fear beginning to enter him, Stryker made a dash for the back door of the house; he had noticed it in the little bit of searching he had done before the creature's arrival and now was the perfect time to utilize it. Not willing to spend time messing with the handle, Stryker simply kicked open the door, running to alleyway outside as fast as his legs could take him.
He ran in a zigzag pattern through the various maze-like alleyways that made up the apartments of downtown Gotham, constantly checking behind him to see if the creature was following him. Soon, Stryker grew tired. He could only run for so long, and the beast was nowhere in sight. He decided that he had outran the animal and went back to a walking pace, panting and sweating heavily.
It was then that Stryker began to think about his actions, he had killed a man. Instead of feeling ashamed or feeling remorse, Stryker's thoughts drifted to what the mobs would think of his actions. They would have no choice but to accept him.
Suddenly, a rustling was heard from the rooftops, a sound almost identical to the flapping of wings. Stryker looked up and the fear that had so quickly left him immediately returned.
The creature had returned and was seemingly flying towards him. Stryker attempted to outrun him but he never got the chance. The beast had tackled him before he could even make his first step. The monster, this hodgepodge mixture of bat and human, was right in Stryker's face, growling intently as if ready to eat him. Then, the creature picked the large man up and threw him against one of the walls of the alleyway, speaking to him for the first time.
"I saw what you did."
If Stryker had to pick a voice for the devil it would be this one. Maybe that's who this was.
"You killed that man without a moment's hesitation, I won't let you walk away from that."
Stryker was thrown back onto the ground and immediately began sobbing, "don't kill me! Please, I'm sorry! Just don-don't kill me!"
The creature simply walked over to the man picking him up and beginning to deliver blow after blow to him, a punch to the face, a kick to the ribs. And yet the man didn't fight back, he seemed completely and totally out of it. Had he gone too far? The creature, the Batman, wasn't sure, but he couldn't wait around, there were other areas to patrol, other criminals to stop. The Batman had come to Gotham, and every criminal was soon going to fear that name.
Gotham Theater, many years ago
The theater began to empty out as the credits rolled, naming the hundreds of people involved in the process of making a movie. Among the throngs of people leaving, were Thomas and Martha Wayne, along with their son, Bruce, holding their hands in his.
"So what did you think of the movie, Bruce?" Thomas asked smiling down at his son.
"I loved it, it was so cool! Especially the end where the Zorros beat the bad guys, that was my favorite part!" Bruce said, with such enthusiasm that those around them couldn't help but smile.
Thomas laughed, smiling back at his son, "that was my favorite moment too."
The Waynes continued the trek back to their limo, Thomas always told their drivers to park a block away, as both he and Martha enjoyed taking in the tranquil scenery of Gotham at night.
The peaceful scene was soon interrupted, however, as an unkempt man approached the happy family, brandishing a gun.
"Give me everything you got, money, jewelry, I don't care, just give it to me!" the man screamed.
Instinctively, Martha pulled Bruce towards her but he was still able to hear what came next.
"I'm afraid we don't have anything to give you, sir," Thomas spoke in a calm voice. They had always left their money in the limo, only taking what they needed for the movie.
"Not good enough, man!" Without a moment's hesitation the disheveled man shot Thomas in the head.
Martha screamed, holding Bruce closer to her. Bruce hadn't seen, but he heard a gunshot for a moment he thought his father had shot the man. But those hopes were quickly dashed when another shot rang out.
He felt the warm blood slowly flow down to his hands, Martha fell backwards onto the ground, and Bruce whirled around. And what happened next would be a moment that Bruce would mull over for the rest of his life.
He stared at the murderer, the man who killed his parents, and the man stared back briefly, before running away. Bruce dropped to his knees. Why was he spared? Why kill both of them but leave him? Bruce continued to sob as the blood flowed from the lifeless bodies of Thomas and Martha Wayne.
People continued to walk by, not one of them bothering to help. Bruce's parents were dead; they had left the Earth in a matter of seconds, leaving behind one frightened and alone boy who would dedicate the rest of his life to vengeance.
Wayne Manor, present
"Are you sure about this Master Wayne?" Alfred asked, looking skeptically at Bruce Wayne, dressed in a gray and black uniform with a bat symbol on the chest and a flowing black cape. His mask, with its pointed ears and pupil-less eyes, was off, hanging around his neck.
"Doubting my skills Alfred? I didn't spend ten years traveling around the world to sleep with exotic woman, I've been learning every fighting style known to man, and at least three that aren't," Bruce said smiling, as he put on the mask that would hide his features, as well as complete the costume.
"It's not your skills I'm doubting sir, more your sanity," Alfred replied, his expression, as always, changing very little.
"While I appreciate the concern, I have everything covered the suit will keep me more than protected, if it doesn't cause the criminals to wet their pants first."
"I sure hope so sir, now explain to me again why you feel this is so necessary?"
Bruce's expression quickly turned serious, his face becoming like stone. "Because Alfred, if there's one thing Gotham needs, its hope. Hope that there's still good people in this world, hope that there is justice. I intend to be that hope, because right now, I'm the only one who can be."
NEXT: Batman has made his debut in Gotham and now he's setting his sights on the top mob boss, Vincent Falcone!