Batman: GENESIS
Chapter 1: The Untold Beginning
It was a late dark night, with the moon held up high and gleaming in full color, letting the subtle glow off the surface be a beacon to those in the dark. The glow even mixed well with the hustle and bustling lights of the city below. This very city was an open season ground for the slimiest and scummiest of humanity to walk in the streets or stand up high to look down upon, either of these just as dim as the time of day itself.
This city is known…as Gotham.
There was once a time where the city thrived well such as those of Metropolis, Keystone and even the highest populated like New York City. But due to its wide range of size, its police reach was very limited, giving the upper hand for the simple criminals to reach out higher and bigger for goals. It even attracted some dominating business families, who gained their wealth from earning the most revenue on such things like fishing, boat docks, restaurants and many others, even earning favors from surviving mob families from other parts of the world. Some of these have used this power of business for hidden agendas and shady deeds. And there were some who used their wealth for better and heartfelt reasons.
One of these families was the Wayne family.
The Waynes were very fortunate that their involvement in progression and health had taken effect and had allowed the fortune to keep growing and growing due to a VERY strong stock gamble in certain business that showed promise and ingenuity in doing the impossible, such as automobiles to even more recently in well known web search engines.
Thomas Wayne and his wife, Martha, had recently achieved the greatest treasure that the Wayne family line cherished more than the stocks and welfare…a child. And it was this very night that would determine the fate of this young boy's future.
A baby's cry let out, letting the parental instincts of the now mother and father to rush in to their child's immediate need. Martha went to calm the young infant while Thomas noticed what it was that startled him.
A bat. A bat that flew in to an open window in the baby's room. It had somehow gotten in, but the father wasn't giving a thought on the how at the moment, because he had figured out what it was that had scared the little baby from his quiet slumber.
"Shoo! Go on get you!" he said, waving the bat towards the window to shoo it away for good. The bat was frazzled at first, but was forced to flee out the window, getting cornered to it. Thomas then closed the window, the deed being done.
Martha finished the work of calming her young son, as the family's butler and VERY close proud friend had prepared some calming milk in a bottle and given it to Martha without hesitation.
"Quite a shocking wake up, wasn't it young one?" Alfred said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
"Indeed. It'll be all over deary. It's gone. It won't hurt you ever again. I promise Bruce. Now just sleep and dream my baby boy," the endearing mother cooed to her tired bundle.
Bruce closed his eyes, safe and happy with his new family and just slept away again…
Years passed since that night, as young Bruce grew to be a young bustling boy. He wasn't swayed in with the treatments of being a billionaire as his family raised him to have as much a fulfilling childhood as any other child would have. They loved him so very, very much.
Bruce however did form a fear of bats, ever since the incident. It even took full effect one Halloween night at the age of 6.
"I gotta say Bruce, you definitely make one great looking Gray Ghost," his dad said, giving Bruce the satisfaction of being his favorite TV series crime fighter.
"Hehe. Thanks dad! I can't wait to get all the yummy treats tonight!" Bruce said excited.
"now now, don't try to get a belly ache from too much sugar, my little super hero," his mother smiled, hugging her little boy, "Now keep that flashlight close and don't wander off too much ok?"
"Ok mom! I won't!" Bruce then ran to the nearest houses and apartment buildings in the smaller part of Gotham. Halloween in Gotham always brought out the most creative and colorful costumes the city ever saw. But not many would know that someday, the creative identities would exist outside of hallow's eve.
As Bruce gained more and more delicious sweets, he stumbled upon a curious cat who was picking out spare candy that few kids had dropped not aware in their dazed happy enjoyment of the night. This cat was of course a young girl that Bruce couldn't help but notice had a creative way to dress up as a cat with a mix of various fabrics that was done by hand.
"Hey that's a cool costume you got," her voice said, snapping Bruce out of the gaze hidden behind his outfit's shades.
"Oh?"
"yeah. The gray ghost. He's kinda cool. How'd you make it?" she asked.
"Oh uh..My mom and dad got it for me," Bruce said, feeling embarrassed he was talking to a girl, especially at his age.
"Oh? They got a lot of money? I thought that those costumes were a lot of money."
"Well it's nice but your costume's pretty cool looking too."
"really? You think so?" she said, giving a smile.
"Yeah," he said, giving a light laugh. He wasn't aware that he got the young girl's interest, who rarely liked to talk to boys period, but she was impressed by his honesty and innocence.
"Awww…ain't this cute now?" a smug young voice gave out, walking out of the dark alley. Both Bruce and the young girl looked to see a slightly older boy, completely covering by a cheap clown masked strapped around his head. "So what're you supposed to be? The Gray ghost?"
"Y-yeah. I am," Bruce said, watching this boy lean against the alley.
"Please! You couldn't punch a guy as that lame old fart!"
"hey leave him alone now!" the girl said.
"Ha! A little girlie going to save the day? With what? pieces of candy she takes from the dirt?" he said, kicking her bag.
"Hey! You can't do that!" Bruce said, pushing him.
"Oh! Ha! A fighter huh you little runt?"
"I'm not afraid of you!" Bruce said.
"Oh? Not me? You SHOULD be afraid you little punk pipsqueak!" The rude punk smacked poor Bruce down, starting to gather attention. "Aww you're not worth it. Go on home then rich boy. See if you can get some candy by the bucket load get delivered to your house like all rich boys do."
"I said I'm not afraid," Bruce said getting up, only to be stopped by the squeaking of a bat that sent him shivering. The clown masked boy looked at this and then smiled behind that cheap knockoff mask.
"Oh? The Gray ghost boy not afraid of anything huh? Not even…" he paused, pulling in his little jacket, "BATS!" he tossed out some phony gag bats that he saved for some little girls to pull a trick on, but it made it much more fun to him to use it on a scared little boy. Poor Bruce flinched and screamed out as the tethered little rubber bats stuck on him. He let out a huge laugh, taking in how funny it was to him. But his fun was cut short when a cop on watch for Halloween night noticed what was going on and rushed in saying, "Hey! Stop!"
"huh? Aww Bummer! I'm out. Trick or treat!" and like that, the twisted little boy ran off, giving the police officer the slip.
Thomas and Martha came in, hearing Bruce's scream and found him red eyed and puffy faced. Crying. His Halloween was ruined by a little scare, as he thought.
"Oh Bruce..honey…c'mon, let's get you home," Martha said, picking up her scared little one and holding him tight in her arms.
"Thank you for keeping him safe, officer," Thomas said. Bruce only picked out a few pieces of candy and gave it to the young cat that he stood up for. She only accepted it, seeing that he chose to help her when no one else ever did that for her before. The Waynes left into their car and made it back home.
"It's ok Master Bruce. It's nothing to be sad about. You had a scary Halloween is all. But tomorrow will be better," Alfred said, helping to prepare him for a good night's rest.
"But he..he scared me…with toy bats…I just wish I was braver," Bruce said.
"Bravery isn't about being afraid of nothing. Being brave is finding the courage to stand up. And that's what you did for that little girl. You were Brave, Master Bruce."
"It's getting late. You should get to bed now," Thomas said, sitting next to Bruce to help tuck him in.
"Dad…why are bats so scary?" he asked. Thomas took a while to think.
"Well bats are usually the ones scared themselves too. They just look scary to keep the bigger meaner creatures from eating them. They don't mean to be scary. But others get scared by them. Others that don't know them or understand them," he explained.
"I wish I knew them so I don't get scared anymore…I hate being scared," Bruce said
"Maybe someday...you will. But everyone gets scared Bruce; it's nothing to be ashamed of. Even heroes like the Grey Ghost have a sense of being scared at something. It's just knowing how to handle the fear is the key. You'll handle it Bruce, I know you will. You're a strong boy Bruce…now get to sleep. You've had a long night."
"Ok dad…good night."
Little did Bruce know that in a few years, those words would be put to the test…especially on that tragic night.
It was a late summer night, with the heat of the sun still lingering in the shadows after dark. It was late, with the moon high up in the sky. The towering skyscrapers looked as if they could pierce the moon as it looked so massive and close. The humid linger of a storm nearby rumbled in the air. The neon lights glowed brightly amidst the movie posters of the Monarch Theater. Genres of all kind pasted on the walls from Animated family films to the R rated Horror thrillers. The smell of popcorn and pretzels mixed to make an irrisistible smell in the lobby as people started to travel into the assigned theater rooms or leaving them, pleasantly enjoyed of their time watching the big screen.
The Waynes slowly walked out of the theater showing the amazing movie adaptation of Bruce's longtime favorite hero, the Gray Ghost. He had a smile on his face, as did his parents who smiled only to see Bruce be happy. It was a late hour and Thomas was about to call in Alfred to pick them up at the theater. However, Bruce noticed there was something nearby that startled him and he clutched his mother's hand tightly, giving her notice along with his dad's.
There were bats nearby.
They weren't doing anything alarming, just hanging off a few wires and lampposts but poor Bruce looked like he was going to have a panic just being in their presence. Just as Alfred answered the call, Thomas had another idea.
"Alfred can you pick us up at the building behind the theater?" he asked.
"Very well, sir. I'll be there in a moment."
"Thanks. See you soon," and like that, the deed was done. He took motioned his family towards the alley that would lead them to the otherside, away from the bats. Bruce felt a big sigh of relief being far away from those shadowy things, but the musk in the alley seemed off to him. Even Martha knew that the alley was eerie looking, but she didn't doubt her husband's idea. Besides she didn't want to see Bruce be scared this late at night, he'd have horrible nightmares.
"Don't worry. We're almost there now," Thomas said, but soon the walk was cut short as suddenly, like lightning, a man appeared aiming a revolver at them. Martha gasped as she clutched her boy close, but Bruce just stared at the man, aiming the gun at his own father.
"Not a sound, not a peep. Just hand the goods. Cash. Jewels. Just make it quick!" he said, looking tense. There was a hint of desperation, yet menace in his voice. Like he was scared of someone, but now wasn't the time to question that as Thomas tried to ease the situation.
"Ok. Ok. Easy now," he said, pulling out his wallet. The man just immeadiately grabbed it then stepped back, aiming again.
"Jewels too. Pearls!" he said, nearly lashing out at Martha to grab the white treasure beads off her neck, but Thomas flinched, not wanting his wife harmed-
BAM!
"AHHHH!" Martha screamed as her husband fell to the ground. "Oh god! No!"
"DAD!" Bruce shouted, scared and terrified and shocked. His father shot.
"Shut up!" the man screamed.
BAM!
Martha fell down, clutching her stomach and laid near her husband. The pearls and wallet in his hand, Joe Chill wanted to beat it…but not before tying a loose end.
"Sorry kid, but you'll need to go too," he said, clutching the back tip to move the chamber. Bruce looked up in shock, tears starting to form in his face.
"What?"
"See ya."
CLI-"AHHH!" suddenly out of nowhere, a bat swooped in, near his face. He fired his third shot, shooting the sky. The bat came down frightened from the gunshots earlier and was blindly attacking Chill from the piercing sound that it gave. He was frightened. Shocked. He tried to get it off, stop it flapping. He fired more shots, but only caused attention to be draw, specifically a walk by cop who heard the shot nearby and rushed in.
Bruce was shocked at watching what was happening. He was saved. A bat saved him. The very thing he was afraid of just spared him the death of gunfire.
The bat was flown off, letting Joe breathe in panting sounds. He tried to finish the job but found he wasted his bullets with a winged rodent. He didn't have time to waste. He just took off running, leaving poor young Bruce to look down at his parents.
They were bleeding bad, but were breathing. For now. They started to sound like they were about to flicker out. Bruce was tearing up.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! Please? Anybody!"
"Bruce…" his mother said,, reaching out painfully to him, "Its…gonna be ok…we love you….be…good…"
"You're strong…I know you are…its gonna be ok…" his father said. Both he and Martha clutched on to each other for one last time. Bruce reached out to join his hand with them, but as soon as he did, he felt the last warmth of life dwindle. The breathing stopped and their eyes closed.
Martha and Thomas Wayne….were dead.
Bruce heard the car door shutting as Alfred rushed in, having heard gunfire driving nearby and feared the worst. His fears were right, but hope restored when he saw that Bruce was alive.
"Master wayne! Oh god…oh Bruce…" he said. Bruce suddenly clutched Alfred tight, needing any and all comfort to try to tell him it was all a nightmare. The cop that heard the shots came in too, but he was too late. He saw the damage. The death. The scarred loved ones.
"All units this is Jim Gordon, I have a murder in Park Row. Two deaths. It's the Waynes…I repeat…" he said just as a nearby woman came to the scene, hearing the cries Bruce gave. Dr. Leslie Thompkins looked on in horror at what had happened. She knelt down to Bruce to comfort him as well.
"I'm so sorry what happened...are you going to be ok?" she asked. Bruce was just shocked. She then told Alfred that she wanted to give Bruce a quick checkup on him to make sure he wasn't too scarred. She helped as much as she could, even as the sirens came in.
Moments later…in the police office, poor Bruce sat with a large overhung coat on him, keeping him warm. It was Gordon's duty coat, with the badge of the law addressed on the sleeves. Alfred stood nearby, keeping Bruce company to help him. The phones were ringing like crazy, with the deaths of two entrepreneurs that were like saints to this very city was becoming the biggest news break in Gotham.
Officer Gordon came in, after Bruce helped identify the killer.
"We got him."
Those were words Bruce wanted to hear. That they could catch him. Put him away…but it wouldn't bring them back.
"It'll be ok. You sure you can get him home?" he asked Alfred.
"Yes. Thank you very much Officer," he said.
"Call me Jim," he responded, as Bruce gave him his jacket and went with Alfred, stone quiet, shock still in his eyes.
"Don't worry Bruce, you'll be ok. You're safe," Dr. Thompkins said, parting ways, holding her notes to give to her professional colleague.
The press were kept at bay by the police. The Commissioner wanted to keep them from taking pictures of the shocked young boy. Alfred got him into the car and helped drive back to the Manor.
That night, Bruce never slept a wink. He just couldn't. He felt that the entire house got cold and empty. He was afraid to go to sleep, and right now he hated being scared now. It was because he was scared that caused his family to walk into that alley. Walk into him and the gun…
And they're gone.
He clutched his pillow tighter to his chest. He just hated feeling this. Hated everything right now. He hated that he was starting to break into tears. But he couldn't stop them. He let them fall and gave in to his grief.
Poor Alfred heard the sounds echo in the now hallowed halls of the Manor.
The Next Day…
The funeral hearing for Thomas and Martha came and many people listened to the passing partings and laid down their wishes. All the while, Bruce just stared out at the denizens of people wearing black…nothing but black. It was depressing. He felt like this was it, but he didn't want to believe that, even after seeing their tombstones planted in the personel wayne cemetary near the manor.
"Excuse me, Bruce?" a man said, approaching him, "Hi, my name's Dr. Jonathon Crane. I've worked with your father before. I'm very sorry about what happened. My assisstant, Dr. Thompkins, said that you had a shock and asked if I could help further. My main specialty is in fear, but I do have psychological know-how. Would you like that or…you need time to yourself?"
Bruce understood what he said, but he didn't want to say anything right now.
"It's ok. I can understand. Here, take this," he said, handing bruce a calling card, "Whenever you feel ready just be sure to use the number. Its up to you. Take care, Bruce."
Soon the people drove away, just in time for the storm to roll in, seeping into the fresh hallowed dirt.
The night went dark fast as the storm went in rough. The lightning shone bright, whipping into Bruce's room. His bed was riddled from tossed sheets and clutched mattress spots. Bruce was having never ending nightmares. They kept coming everytime his eyes closed. The cramped brickwalls of the slimey alley. The dim street lights. The smell of fresh gunpowder. The heat of the bullet.
"NOO!" he cried out. The thunder rolled in to wake him back to reality.
Alfred awoke feeling the cool breeze rushing into the house oddly. He slipped his feet into his slippers and pulled on his robe, hearing wet water run into the entrance hall. He saw the door hung wide open. He pulled the umbrella from the coatrack and raced out.
"Master Wayne? Master Wayne!"
He searched, not looking too far off, making his way to the graves. He found him. Crying. Hugging the shared Gravestone bearing his parents name, birth…and death.
"Please…Please let me wake up….wake up in your arms…please…I need you!" he cried, sobbing, heaving breaths. He was soaked to the brim, but it didn't matter to him. Alfred knelt down, holding Bruce closely.
"Bruce…just let it all out. You can be strong…be strong for them…" Alfred said. He felt Bruce shiver from the cold. "Come along now…we best get you inside before you get sick." He pulled off his robe and wrapped it around Bruce, helping him walk away from the graves. But Bruce looked back…missing them awfully..and couldn't help but feel it was his fault somehow…his fear. His fear. He wanted it gone.
Two days later…
Bruce sat in the reclined seat, waiting for the doctor to come in. He heard the footsteps reach the door and twist the knob to open. Crane came inside, closing the door.
"Hello Bruce. How are you today?" he asked.
"I'm..ok."
"you don't have to worry about me. I really want to help you out. Fear is a fickle thing. Its not something a normal doctor can take a shot and put a bandage on to heal it. But that doesn't mean it can't be fixed or handled." He sat down, putting his case down and grabbing his notes.
"I want to stop being afraid. Being afraid killed my mom and dad…I..killed them.." he said, somberly, nearing breaking a tear.
"Bruce, don't ever think that. It wasn't your fault. Nor was it your fears. It was that killer's choice to do that. No one could predict what would happen. As for your fears, there's no way to stop being afraid, Bruce. Everyone's scared of something. It doesn't always has to be one thing, it could be other things, like sounds in darkness or being near danger. It's a natural reaction. But what I CAN do is help you control that fear. Help you handle it. Ok?" Crane said. Bruce slowly nodded.
"Ok.."
"Good. Alright. So tell me Bruce..what is it you're scared of?"
"..bats…"
"Ahh. Chiroptophobia. I know how you feel Bruce. I had that too. I also had a fear of scarecrows, but that was only when I was REALLY little, but bats…they got to me much stronger. I always thought they would suck my blood when I was a kid. I found out later on that only 3 types of bats do that and they're all in Latin America. That's a BIG distance if you ask me, right? Heh. But do tell me..why are YOU afraid of them?" he asked.
"I..I don't know…I've been scared when I was little..I guess its because they jump out of the darkness and make awful noise."
"well you can't blame them for it Bruce. That's their way of seeing the world. They're blind, but they use sound to see for them in the dark. And really they jump out of the dark only when they're startled. See? Even the things you're afraid of are scared easily too," Crane said, scribbling in his notes.
"Like that night…" bruce said, thinking.
"Pardon?"
"When my..parents were killed. He was about to shoot me too…I was scared…then the..the bat came in…and scared him."
"Well thugs like Joe chill don't like to be surprised in the rush of the moment. Especially in the dark. But, if I may, I find it fascinating Bruce.." Crane said, thinking.
"What?" Bruce asked.
"The thing you feared…spared you your life…almost poetic. Like it must have a meaning. Hopefully, it's the meaning of the beginning of coping with them."
Bruce thought a moment. He did seem to be less scared of the bat when it flew in and stopped the shooter.
"Well, anyways Bruce, let's continue," Crane said, listening in to his young patient.
Bruce sat in his room, thinking for awhile. He still couldn't shake the fact that his mom and dad were gone…just like that. He also had another thought in his mind. The fact that this city had a lot of trouble just like Joe Chill. More people in danger everyday. He always heard his dad talk about how he wanted to help the city get better from that. Now he's gone.
He first had thoughts to run away from home, from this pain, from the graves…from this hellish city. He caught himself trying to leave one night…but he stopped before he could reach the main door. Why run? Running doesn't help the pain. He'd still have the nightmares in some way. Those don't stay behind with the graves that easily.
He then thought he could take it out on the one that did it. Give him a taste of his medicine. See how he'd like it. It gave Bruce a slight gleam of pleasure at the idea of that. Revenge….but he stopped thinking that too. He remembered his mom once telling him that 'Two wrongs don't make a right'. Not only did he not want to spoil his mom's lesson, but he didn't want to be like the killer. He doesn't want more death. He's already had enough of that already right now.
He wanted to do something. Call it revenge, call it justice, call it whatever you want. He just wanted to make sure that no one would ever feel this kind of pain. But what could he do? He was just a little kid…
He burrowed his frown at that. He wanted this. He was kept alive for a reason, and he believed that giving Gotham a fighting chance was that reason. He sat up and looked in the family portrait. His mom's gleaming frozen smile and his dad's charismatic smirk.
"I'll do this for you Mom..Dad…I won't stop. I promise…" he said softly to them, as if they listened.
2 weeks later…
Alfred walked by, making his rounds to check up on the state of the manor. He stopped when he heard some thumping noises near the old workout room that Thomas once set up. He made his way to the room and looked in.
"Master Wayne?" he asked, seeing the young boy punching a sand bag. Bruce punted and pounded the bag as much as he could. He was getting sore and tired out, but he didn't want to quit.
"Master Wayne, what are you doing?"
"Punching."
"well I can obviously see that. My next question is why?"
"Get stronger. UGH! OW! Nnnggh.." Bruce shook his hand, really sore and numb.
"Well I know that people vent greatly when engaging a soft object. Don't you think a pillow could suffice without bruising your hand?" Alfred asked. Bruce turned, holding his hand around his knuckle.
"Alfred, I wanna get stronger so that I can fight back next time."
"Next time?" Alfred raised his brow, questioning the logic,
"when I come across another killer that wants to hurt somebody else."
"Master Wayne…I lost a great and old friend…two of them in fact. I was only blessed that what they left behind..the very thing they loved and wanted to keep safe was alive. I just couldn't handle what would happen if something happened to you too. So I will not stand for you just going out, using straight forward force," Alfred said adamantly. Bruce looked away, closing his eyes. Alfred saw his determination in how he was still wanting to fight the bag after being hurt. He had determination to do things right for his family. Alfred wanted to help.
"But…if you were to plan ahead…think first..get a straight clear head to out think them…maybe I might help you."
Bruce opened his eyes and turned to see Alfred. He was being serious.
"You..you mean that Alfred?"
"Well it won't be easy, you of all people know that. But if you're willing to see this to the end, Master Wayne…then I could provide some ideas on getting prepared."
For once, Bruce let a smile, even though small, grow on his face as he knew he had Alfred to help back him up.
"Thanks Alfred….oww..ngh.." bruce hissed at the pain.
"First things first, let's bandage those knuckles before you try to set more punches in."
Over time as he grew slowly, Bruce practiced his body and agility. He was getting stronger as time went on. He climbed up the rope many times, getting better and faster to grip and beating his record time. Then he decided one day to try to add more weight wrapped around him and practiced climbing again, handling his grip for increased weight. Like Alfred said, he has to plan ahead.
He pushed his body to the limit in track and field training, running long distances, aiming different firearms at targets for precision, and training around obstacles when he was 10 and exercised his body's flexibility strength in gymnastics and studied different martial arts techniques around 11. Day by day, it looked like his promise was going to be fulfilled. As he got to being 12, Alfred decided to give him a challenge to his mind.
"Alfred, what're all these books for?" Bruce asked, about to practice more.
"Well you're not really going to rely on your training. You need to be smarter than your enemy as well." Bruce picked up a couple of books and furrowed his brow at books like biology and chemistry.
"How's learning this stuff going to help fight back?"
"Certain conditions are going to arise, Master Bruce. Knowledge is power too. Don't forget that." Alfred walked off, leaving Bruce to the books. Bruce was reluctant at first, but maybe he was right. In his sessions with Dr. Crane, Crane has told him that certain criminals are prone to do something completely different from the rest. So he decided to balance his mental training as much as he does with physical.
He noticed he had great recollection after looking and re-looking through the pages. He was greatly interested in the detective techniques books. He realized that this could help track down slippery criminals that have left their marks without anyone to stop them. If he could, he could probably be a really great detective just as much as he could as a defender. Alfred was right, once again.
He then started to read up on computer and technology workings. These were the most daunting to go through, as reading books like these from cover to cover would seem cryptic at first to many people. But he's gotten this far, why stop? But he got the hang of it eventually, even when learning how to investigate and disassemble and reassemble different electronic equipment. Since he knew the workings of these devices, he knew how to handle locks and safes. He was reaching great potential in his mind soon, even to the point of writing out scenarios that could happen that he had to accommodate for when the day came that he was ready.
Though Bruce spent months training, he always stopped on one day to travel to Park Row, to visit the spot. It was Leslie Thompkins's idea on one of his visits to Crane. She was there, waiting for him to watch out for him as he visited the hallowed site. He carried two lone roses to place gently on the ground, in memory of his parents. He has done this since he was 10, though at first he never wanted anything to do with that alley. But Thompkins made it a point that "you can't turn away from it. You have to accept it and confront the site to feel peace." Eventually, it was like instinct to him to visit that site on that hallowed day.
One thought that occurred on his mind was how was he going to make a difference in the city? Most of the thugs he can handle are one thing, but gangsters? He didn't want to believe that there are still such things, but there were. In fact, Gotham City was basically a fresh ground for them. It has everything. Money, technology, goods shipped in and out, and dark corners and limited police interception. His history readings on people who have stood up to such gangsters, like Elliot Ness and his untouchable team as they were dubbed, were successful in taking down organized crime, they were always targeted, especially around their loved ones.
"No matter how strong or smart I am, they'll always try to hurt me internally. They'll try to hurt the people I know. People like Dr. Thompkins, Dr. Crane, Alfred…anybody I know. Maybe if I could hide myself so they don't know who I am. Yeah. I could be a mystery to them," Bruce said to himself. But then he just thought a bit more and realized that, "Just hiding who I am won't do…they'll think I'm just a guy playing the hero and getting himself killed. But…but what if I'm not a man?...what if I look like something horrible, monstrous, something that could scare them stiff to make it easier to handle and get question and answers out of… But what?"
Bruce walked to the office of Crane and Thompkins, making his next appointment. He was getting better and better at handling it, but Crane said there was one more thing he wanted to do and he felt Bruce was ready.
"Excuse me, Dr. Thompkins? Is Dr. Crane in?" he asked her at the desk.
"Oh! Bruce! Uh yes he is, you can go in," she said.
"Thanks."
"Oh and Bruce, Happy Birthday," she said.
"heh. Thanks," he said, walking in to the office.
"Ahh Bruce! Excellent! Please sit down," Crane said, closing the door.
"So um, Dr. Crane..what is it that you need me to do? I think I've got a good handle on my fear."
"Yes, but we're going to put that to the test today. There's a technique that fear therapists do is called 'exposure'. Its when, in a controlled and safe environment, you face your fear to overcome them. Now..bruce, I have developed something that can help you face your fear. It's a fragrance I created that when inhaled very gently, can send your nerves in your mind thinking that its seeing something you fear the most. Now don't worry Bruce, I wouldn't do this if it wasn't safe, and I have the counter agent with me in case ok? You trust me?" he asked. Bruce was wary right now. Messing with the mind was very dangerous stuff, but he's known Crane for a good long time. He wouldn't try to scare him just to hurt him. This was a test. And in a way, it was a test he wanted.
"Ok. I'm ready."
"Good. Ok..here it is," he said, holding a small thin strip of paper, "just slowly and lightly sniff it…that'll do the trick."
Bruce sniffed it carefully, noting that it had the weirdest smell he ever acquired, but slowly the room looked distorted. He heard the doctor's voice saying "I'll be right here. Just listen to my words to help you and tell me what you're seeing…"
Bruce felt the room get darker.
"Its getting dark..but its daylight isn't it?" he asked.
"its ok. You're not far off on that….keep going. I have the antidote on my hand…"Crane said in a hazey voice.
Bruce seemed to stand up looking around…he heard the flapping sounds.
"What was that?" he asked.
"What was what?"
"Flapping…they're getting closer and closer…" bruce said getting tense. He slowly breathed to calm, like Crane's techniques taught him. His heart was nearly pacing faster but soon he saw a swarm of bats fester the room. They flew around him and screeched. He had flashes of his fear of bats. When he was a baby, when that clown kid pranked him, when Bruce accidentally fell into a hole near the manor before his father helped him out of there…the bats the hung near monarch theatre…
"Ahh! No!" Bruce screamed.
"Fight it Bruce. Stand up to them…you're afraid but you can face them…" Crane said, seeing it working and seeing Bruce struggle. He knew what he was doing and was rooting for Bruce to fight back.
For awhile, Bruce just laid on the floor, crouching….then he heard his parents voices.
"Mom?...dad?..." he asked. Crane noticed this was a different response. His parents was getting involved now? Something must be going on.
Suddenly, Bruce found himself, standing behind his young 8 year old self, standing before the killer with a gun aimed at him. The parents were dead, but he saw that the killer was about to shoot young bruce.
"No! Stop! AUGH!" he cried, suddenly a wall of bats stood in his way. He lingered back, but looked again, seeing the killer pull back the gun's loading trigger. He was gonna kill him!
"No…No..I won't..let you." He growled, slowly, walking forward against the bats. They fought back at first, but slowly, they leaned toward his destination, as if his fear wanted him to go. Soon as he breached the wall of bats, he ran, with the bats following him, forming a HUGE bat like shadow over the shooter before he could act. The killer screamed as Bruce seemed to loom at him, scaring him away…almost as if he became the bat that saved him years ago… then suddenly it stopped…the killer was gone…the bats flew off and he looked at the younger self….suddenly, a weird smell emitted and everything began to distort again, but going to reality.
"There there Bruce…its ok. You're good now," Crane said, helping him up. Bruce looked around, amazed at how he handled that.
"That…was intense…but…it worked. I faced my fear. Thanks Dr. Crane," he said.
"Thank YOU for being very brave, Bruce…I was rooting for you all the way," Crane said, shaking his hand and smiling, "and Happy Birthday Bruce."
"Thank you. You helped me out more than you know." Bruce then left with Alfred to head home.
Later, after Bruce had birthday cake and opened some small thoughtful gifts, he wandered around the hall, thinking about that exposure he went through. He saw the fear in the killer's eyes as he leapt..and he also remembered seeing a HUGE shadow shaped like a bat…like he became something else.
In his deep thinking, he accidentally bumped into a closet of sorts and heard something fall off. He opened the door and looked in, seeing a bagged up costume with zipper and a hanger. It must've been hanging against the door. He decided to look into it and slowly unzipped it. His eyes widened with confusion at what he was holding. It looked like an old costume, but it had long pointed ears sticking out against the sides of the head and looked bat-ish. He pulled it out more and saw a cape that had wings attatched to them and a silver dress piece and gloves with pointed sidings on them.
He went down, carrying the costume with him to Alfred.
"Alfred? What's this?" he asked. Alfred turned to look.
"Ohh. I nearly forgot about that. It belonged to your father. He used it in a Halloween masquerade ball when he was young. A Teenager perhaps. It was the very same costume he had when he met your mother," he said, going to find the scrapbook. He pulled it out and found an old photo of his parents, very young together and his father wearing the costume, and next to it was a piece of paper that read
'Martha,
The night is young and beautiful, like you. I hope to be with you and love you forever. Your winged mystery, Thomas'
And next to his name was a sketching of a bat shape in a unique style.
Bruce thought it was symbolic. Something that his enemies would dread if they saw it.
He had his answer.
"Alfred. I know what I'm going to do now….and I know the place to set up," Bruce said.
His answer to strike fear into his enemies was to become the thing he once feared…
He would become..
A Bat.
To Be Continued…