Author Note: Well, I honestly did not expect this story to receive so much love considering how half-*ssed the prologue is. Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites.
Personally, I am not entirely happy with this chapter, but I figured I have left you guys waiting long enough. I'm actually starting to get back into writing again, so all my stories should be receiving an update eventually. What story do you think I should update next?
The waxing moon remained hidden from prying eyes as the darkness of night overtook daylight. This winter night was like many others. Deep grey clouds loomed over Gotham City like a foreboding warning, fog ominously shrouded the empty streets and alleyways below. A sharp chill attacked all those foolish enough to be outside without proper clothing. The threat of ice and snow intimidated the homeless and abandoned. Crimes, both petty and grand, were being committed by thieves and villains alike. But over the past year they had gained someone to fear. A myth. A legend. A hero. The fabled hell bat that dwells in umbrae underneath the moon's brilliant light. All criminals cowered at the sight of Gotham's personal protector - the resident wraith of shadows: Batman.
The world thought the hero to be nothing more than a tall tale. A wish concocted by the desperate, suffering citizens of a crime infested city. Everyone believed the city's people heard stories of other grand superheroes - Superman of Metropolis, Flash of Central City, Green Arrow of Star City, and so on - and decided they needed their own. A symbol they could be proud of. A being that would always prevail over those with malicious intent and protect the innocent. However, the citizens of that special hellhole knew the truth. Batman was very real, and currently on the prowl. In fact, the dark knight in question just stopped his fourth robbery.
The elusive vigilante roughly tied three masked men to a flickering lamppost outside of a popular clothing store. The fiends had been trying to get away with stealing a plethora of expensive, warm winter clothing. While Batman felt some sympathy for the freezing homeless men, he also knew plenty of non-illegal options were available. Homeless shelters and soup kitchens had received a hardy donation from him, in hopes of aiding those in need. And in order to lower this winter's clothing and blanket related crimes. Alas, it appears his non-vigilante efforts were not enough…
Once the sound of police sirens blaring in the distance reached his ears, Batman knew he had over stayed his welcome. The vigilante and the local law enforcement had a rocky relationship. Some policemen and policewomen thought he was no better than the criminals he caught; others thought he was a hero that protects the civilians of their cesspool of a city. Sometimes, Batman agreed with the former. While Batman had done a lot of good for the city, he had also inadvertently caused a decent amount of bad. For example, the creation of the Joker - one of his greatest mistakes - was an unfortunate consequence of his actions. In other words, his fault.
Batman reached down and grabbed the grappling hook off his belt, carefully aiming for the store's roof. One of the braver men hissed and spat obscenities at him as he flew onto the rooftop. Upon his landing the comm in his ear sprung to life. He stopped to listen, in case a dire situation had arose.
"Master Br-" Alfred - his surrogate father and butler - started before Batman quickly interrupted.
"No names in the field." It was very important that no one discover his secret identity: Bruce Wayne - Gotham's richest citizen and local white knight. While his tech was as secure as possible, it could still be hacked if a skilled enough hacker set their sights on it. And he had no intention of his identity being compromised because of a careless mistake.
The British man replied with a polite kind of sass only he was capable of, "Ah, yes. Please forgive my rudeness, Batman. An old soul such as myself still has issues getting use to your nightly expeditions, and your insistence of code names."
"Any police reports or crimes?" he asked, the typical rough growl present in his voice.
"No, the city is quiet for the time being." There was a brief pause before the butler continued. "Perhaps you would benefit from returning home early. Crime has been slow tonight, surely the GCPD can handle any other incidents." One year into crime fighting and Alfred had yet to give up on getting Bruce home early. I'm not sure if I should be happy he cares or offend because he still treats me like a child… While Bruce could drink alcohol if he wanted to, he wasn't any older than the legal age. Meaning he was at the ripe age of twenty-one.
Batman countered Alfred's reasoning with his own, "True, but theft rates are at an all-time high in winter due to the cold weather. All the robberies I stopped tonight were at major clothing stores."
"That may be the case. However, if I remember correctly you only slept for three hours last night, and have a very important business meeting tomorrow."
A meeting… Of course. Both the Bruce and Batman persona loathed meetings, but they were a necessary evil.
"Just reschedule it." A necessary evil that he would rather avoid for as long as possible.
"No. You have left them waiting long enough. I will give you one hour to get home before I come find you myself." Batman sighed. Alfred always knew what to say in order to convince him to quit patrol early. Fortunately, the man did not pull the 'I will come find you' card often. The first time Alfred made that threat Bruce thought he was bluffing, but that could not be further from the truth. The butler went above and beyond to drag him home. Batman really did not want a repeat of that incident.
"Okay, Agent A. I'll return to the cave soon." 'Soon' translated into about thirty to forty-five minutes, and Alfred was aware of that.
Batman continued his journey with a new purpose: To watch over the city from the Wayne Enterprise building before retiring for the night. Though he would never admit it, he enjoyed standing atop the tallest structure in Gotham and looking over the streets. It made him feel powerful. Feared. Like he was an unstoppable force of nature that put evildoers in their place.
As he flew across the rooftops two police cruisers sped down the street, heading for the location where the criminals were tied. Other than that, nothing noteworthy happened during his travels. Batman reached the towering building rather quickly as no attempted thefts, rapes, or muggings caught his attention. He proudly stood atop his building, staring down at the streets below. Suddenly, he was overcome with the desire to look up. Upon inspecting the sky on a whim, Batman noticed something - someone falling towards him. He instinctively held out his arms to catch the person. They landed gracelessly in his arms, and, thankfully, not on the ground with a sickening crunch. The person was a teenage boy no older than fifteen - that inexplicably fell right out of the sky.
This was certainly an interesting turn of events. And that was saying a lot considering he battles a killer clown, a mutant crocodile, an odd man obsessed with condiments, and et cetera on a daily basis. But nothing like this has ever occurred during his time as Batman…
Immediately after catching the teen, a duffel bag that he could only assume belonged to the boy landed a few inches away from them. Batman carefully shifted the teen in his grasp to a more comfortable position, while staring up at the sky in suspicion. When nothing else threatened to barrel down toward the Earth he began to examine the unconscious raven-haired boy. A torn, ratty black T-shirt barely covered the kid's stomach, revealing gruesome scars no child should have. Batman winced at the sight of a few scar that were most likely not fun to obtain. From burns to simple cuts, the kid had a scar for almost everything. The teen's pants weren't all that better than his shirt. In fact they were worse. A questionable brown substance clung to the jean fabric and a number of holes littered every inch of it. The dark colored sneakers were worse for wear as well.
As Batman moved to place the teen on the ground, he realized that the boy was far, far too light for a child his age. The kid was skinnier than he should be; every single rib could be counted. Even the rise and fall of the child's chest was worrisome - practically nonexistent. Batman hastily checked the boy's vitals. After five excruciatingly long minutes passed, Batman could say for certain that the boy was indeed breathing, as well as extremely malnourished and in dire need of a real doctor.
The next, more prominent, issue was that god awful smell. It was painfully obvious that the teen had not taken a proper shower or bath in months. Maybe years. Dirt and grim coated the boy's skin like a disgusting black armor. His long black hair was tangled, and filthy enough that Batman would not be surprised if black was not the boy's true hair color. But the smell. Oh, that ungodly smell. The dreadful stink of the sewers: No problem. The horrifying scent of burning bodies: Disgusting, but manageable. The disturbing aroma of ten to twenty rotten corpses: Barely tolerable. However, the scent penetrating the air almost made him lose his dinner. Batman fought away the urge to gag. I should start creating a design for a nontoxic industrial strength air freshener… An ominous odor reminiscent of a dead skunk that had been marinated in dumpster water for a month, and then had a coyote urinate on it emanated from the poor kid. If it wasn't for the shallow rise and fall of the teen's chest, Batman would have assumed a corpse landed in his arms. It wouldn't be the first time someone accidentally threw a dead body at him.
The only problem with that is the fact he was currently on top of the city's tallest building. No aircraft of any kind in sight. No strange flying people/aliens. Not even an odd mysterious portal. Just a vast, clouded sky with nothing that could give Batman any kind of indication of how the child ended up falling toward this roof. He was thoroughly baffled as to how such an event happened not even ten minutes into his 'brooding' as Alfred called it. But Batman was certain about one thing. This child desperately needs help.
Author Note: Sorry about the change in writing style. I plan on changing the prologue later so the switch between styles is less awkward.
