CHAPTER II

It started with a scouring of the public records. Since I already knew who Harvey Dent and Jonathan Crane were, all I needed to know was the identities of Bane and Solomon Grundy. Bane seemed like he might be more significant. I looked him up. He wasn't from Gotham. That made the search harder. It took a lot of digging, but I found that Bane was a guy who was born in a Mexican prison. His mother was a guard, and she was raped. She died giving birth. Before she died, she named him Perdición. That translates to Bane. The funny thing was, there was no last name. They had a current picture of Bane. He was a skinny guy, not at all what you'd expect someone named Bane to look like. He can't be a big threat, I thought. He had no record. He had good grades. I couldn't see why these people would want him. Then again, looks could be deceiving.

After that, it was child's play to find Solomon Grundy. This one was even more puzzling than Bane. Why? Because ol' Solomon died in '94 at the age of 68. The only other things they had on him were a couple of D.U.I.s, but that didn't seem to be of any consequence. I got wrapped up in this whole thing, wondering what any of these guys had to do with the people who killed my parents. Maybe they wanted Crane to use my past against me. Maybe he wanted Dent to wage some kind of propaganda war. Any motives they could have for wanting Bane or Grundy escaped me.

Eventually I decided that if this wasn't getting me anywhere, I should find a job. That's why I went to the HQ of the Gotham Police Department. After getting through all the hurdles involved with getting into a police force, I finally began my stay at the academy.

I graduated top of my class. I was excited to start police work. It started out great. We stopped a few thefts here, solved a couple homicides there. But then, one event changed everything.

It was a hostage situation. The guy had people inside his house, threatening to kill them if his demands weren't met. I saw that the guy was obviously nervous. There were two possible outcomes if we went inside the house: he would either start firing immediately, or the shock would be enough to stop him from doing so for a few seconds. Neither one occurred, because the captain on duty didn't want to take any chances. We got the guy with no casualties, but I figure that it could've been over faster.

So I quit. Their methods were too cautious. I wanted to take chances. That's the only way I would stop these people. I went back to discovering all I could about the people on the list. Dent was spotless. Crane only had one small point of interest. According to his students, he was also an amateur chemist.

I started to despair. The police didn't work, the info on the names didn't work. I fell into a slight depression. It got worse when I saw something on the news: another kid had seen his parents killed. The victims were Frank and Mary Grayson. They left behind a son, Dick. He was only sixteen when it happened. Apparently, his parents were beaten to death by a crime boss after Frank and Mary refused to pay them money. Dick said he hid behind a sign, and saw the whole thing. On the news, he looked like me, all those years ago, a kid who just lost his parents to the evil in this city. And the story after that didn't do me any favors, either.

The night before, a jewelry store had been robbed by some guy calling himself the Red Hood. The name was scarier than the man himself. The only thing that seemed to indicate such a name was a red ski mask he wore. What a nuisance, I thought.

Alfred had just entered the room. I asked him, "Alfred, why do you think this city is so broken?" Alfred thought about it. He sighed and said, "I can tell you honestly, Master Wayne, that I've no earthly idea. I suppose there wouldn't be any point to us learning, would there?" "Yeah, I guess not," I said. Then I had a thought. "Alfred," I said, "the police didn't work out for me, so…what if I…with all my training…protected the city myself?" Alfred was taken aback. "I don't see why you should endanger yourself, Master Wayne," said Alfred. I laughed. "But Alfred," I said, "I'm OK with that. If I have to give my life trying to save this city, then I will." Alfred seemed flustered. "Bruce," he said, "if you do this, don't expect any help from me." I looked straight at him and grinned. "Alfred," I said, "I'm not sure I'd want such an old man fighting crime. It might not be good for your joints." Alfred rolled his eyes. "You should be glad I'm your butler," he said.

I searched on eBay for anything that would help me wage a war on the crime in this city. Of course, the list had to include some kind of disguise, so I bought a black ski mask. Along with that, I bought climbing gloves, combat boots, cargo pants, and a tactical vest, all in black. I went to town on any training dummy I could find.

One day while I was training on one of these said dummies, Alfred came to me with a suggestion that would change the course of my little crusade. "Master Wayne," he said, "Although I'd rather you not do this, shouldn't you come up with some kind of name?" "A name?" I asked.

Alfred sighed. "Well," he said, as if I was a blithering idiot, "you can't very well just jump out at these rogues and say, 'I'm Bruce Wayne!'" I stopped hitting the dummy for a few seconds. "That's actually a valid point," I said. "Good thinking, Alfred." I went back to hitting the dummy. "How about, uh…the Crusader," I said. Alfred shook his head. "I don't think that'll work at all," said Alfred. "The name has to make the criminal fear you. What about Batman, Master Bruce?" I stopped hitting the dummy again, this time regarding Alfred as the blithering idiot. "Batman? OK, Alfred, seriously, what the heck kind of name is that? I know I can't tell them my name, but I wouldn't feel any better saying, 'I am the Batman! Fear me! Urrrrrr!'" I laughed. "Sorry, Alfred, but I don't think that would work. Besides, you know I hate them." "Alright, fine," said Alfred as he left the room, "But I just thought that since they were your childhood fear, maybe you could find a way to turn that fear onto your enemies. What would you like for dinner, Master Wayne?" I thought about it. "I haven't had a good pizza in a while," I responded. As Alfred walked away, I was deep in thought. Batman. Meh.

Two weeks later, I went out into the streets of Gotham for the first time in my…uh…costume, we'll go with costume. But this wasn't a mission to find a criminal. I still had a lot to prepare before I started attempting anything like that. This was to hone my skills with a grappling hook (courtesy of Lucius Fox. When asked, I said it was for rock climbing. Did he believe me?). I found a nice warehouse where I could swing from the rafters. "Alrighty then," I said while swinging the grappling hook. It took me several tries to get it to one of the rafters. The warehouse had a lot of crates, giving me materials to build a place to swing from and to swing to.

After building these makeshift staircases, I got up on the first one, tugged on the rope to make sure it was secure, and swung. The adrenaline rush was glorious, better than Halcyon could ever have been. It was this moment that I knew this was the right choice.

Unfortunately, I missing the landing, and swung back and forth for a few minutes (just in case you're wondering why Kirigi didn't teach me anything on this subject, he didn't believe in such things). Frustrated, I started yelling in gibberish, along with a few curses.

I stopped when I heard someone outside. I checked, but I didn't see anyone. After that I realized I should be more careful. I tried again, this time restraining my urge to yell.

I mounted up on the crates and swung. This time I made it, but I had too much forward momentum and fell off, breaking my wrist and almost my face. I pulled out my phone. "Alfred," I said, "Can you pick me up? I can't feel the right side of my face."

After getting home and getting bandages, I decided I should do something entertaining to take my mind off of things. At first I attempted to play Halo, but despite my frequent bragging, it turns out I can't take out a Brute Chieftain playing with one hand. "Why do you play that silly game, Master Wayne?" asked Alfred when he walked in. "I personally believe Call of Duty is better." "Are we really going to start this?" I asked. I saw Alfred smile. "Oh, I see what you're doing, you sly dog, psyching me out, huh?" I said, also smiling. "Ah, whatever, I guess I'll see if there's anything good on TV."

I turned the TV on to the news. There wasn't that much, apparently. One of the first bits, though, was a guy who claimed to hear a ghost yelling and cursing in a warehouse. I suppose I can't ever train there again. Of course, there was more news of the Red Hood. This time he broke into some city official's house. I'm going after this guy first, I thought. But then, the news anchor announced a headline that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end: "GOTHAM PRISONER JOE CHILL MURDERED." I kept watching in grim fascination. The anchor came back up and said, "The next few images should NOT be seen by our more sensitive viewers." The sight that followed made my stomach lurch: Chill's neck had been slashed, and his blood was used to write this on the cell wall: "STOP LOOKING".