The wind howled down the empty streets of Gothem City. At least, they appeared to be empty.
Around the corner, young Kyle listened intently to his father's instructions. 17-year-old Kyle always aimed to please his father. Actually, he wanted to be his father. Grown men trembled in fear when his father passed by; he could get whatever he wanted by simply looking at the shop-owner. And today was Kyle's rite of passage into becoming his father.
"So all you gotta do is shoot down two civilians, you got that? It's a simple, quick, and easy job, Kyle. If you can't do that, my gang can't accept you and neither can I." His father ended this statement with a somewhat menacing stare directed towards him.
"I won't let you down."
"You better not. I got me a reputation to uphold here, son. Do you know how that would look if the boss's son couldn't get the job done?"
"I understand." Kyle shifted uncomfortably in place and accepted his father's gun. I can do this, he thought; I'm going to make Dad proud.
He slinked down the street, waiting for anyone to walk by. He began to give up hope when he heard two people— it sounded like a man and a woman— walking towards him. He ducked behind a garbage bin and listened as they approached.
"Darling, I'm worried about our little Bruce. He's so shy; he doesn't talk to anyone." This was a woman's voice. Kyle could see that dark brown, wavy locks cascaded over her fur coat.
"Every child goes through that phase. He'll grow out of it. I didn't have any friends until the 9th grade!" A man said this. He had dark, spiky hair and a mischievous grin.
"I don't know—"
"Besides, he has you! If anyone could help him out with his social skills, it would be you! In my opinion, he's in good hands." Kyle couldn't stand to listen to this drabble anymore. The couple had passed a few yards in front of him now: it was time to strike. He pulled the trigger and fired two shots. The man and woman were gone.
As he sauntered away in triumph, his confidence faltered slightly. The little boy, Bruce, they had mentioned, what was he to do now? He quickly erased that thought from his mind.
Somebody did the exact same thing to my mom. I survived; Bruce will, too.
Kyle's father embraced him in an accepting hug when he told him the news.
"I believed in you, son. I knew you could do it," he smiled. "Let's celebrate! What do you want? I'll get you anything you like."
"I don't know—I guess some candy would be nice…"
"Ha! My son and his sweet tooth—"
"Yeah, sweet tooth…"
"You know, Kyle, you're going to grow up to be a great man. I know it. You're going to make me proud—be exactly the kind of man I am."
A devious grin spread across Kyle's face, "I know."