Chapter 1: Death of a Family
Bruce smiled as he looked out the window of the black limousine he rode in with his friends and family, all of them dressed in their best evening wear. Looking out the window, Bruce could see the approaching form of Gotham City, it's towering buildings of steel and concrete spread out across three large islands and a handful of smaller ones that all sat in Gotham Harbor, connected to the mainland by a series of bridges.
Tony slid over to Bruce's side as they crossed the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge to Gotham's northernmost island.
"Look," Tony said, pointing across the cityscape. Squinting his eyes, Bruce could just make out a tower of steel and glass standing amongst other such towers on the opposite side of the city. A white sign depicting a S overlaid on a W sat near the top of the tower, allowing all to see it.
"Wayne-Stark Tower," Tony said in wonderment as he looped one of his arms around Bruce's shoulders, "That'll be ours one day. I think we should talk about who gets top billing when that time comes."
"In your dreams, Tony," Bruce laughed as he gave his friend a playful shove.
Looking back out the window, Bruce watched as the limo entered the city, rolling under an elevated train rail as it went. As they passed under it, a monorail train whizzed by overhead, shooting off to another part of the city.
"Mr. Stark, did you design the trains?" Bruce questioned as he turned towards Howard, who had just finished making himself a drink from the limo mini-bar.
"The monorails?" Howard questioned as he took a sip of his drink while earning a nod from Bruce, "No, while they do use the repulsor technology my father invented and they run off the Arc reactor at Wayne-Stark Tower, the trains and rails themselves were designed and built by the Rand Corporation."
"You've met the Rands before, Bruce," Martha spoke up, "Their son Danny goes to Gotham Academy with you."
Bruce did know a Danny Rand, a quiet, blonde boy who mostly kept to himself.
"But why help?" Bruce questioned in confusion.
"Because we didn't build the trains for profit, Bruce," Thomas interjected, "We built them to help people."
Turning to Bruce, Thomas leaned down so that he could better look his son in the eye.
"Not everyone is as lucky as you, Bruce," Thomas explained, "Some people have it bad and other people are trying to make it worse for them. So Howard, Mr. Rand and I decided to try and make things easier for them. The monorail makes getting around the city much easier for people and we hope it make their lives better."
"Is that what you do at the company?" Bruce inquired, "Help people?"
"No," Thomas answered with a chuckle, "I help people at the hospital. I leave the running of the company to better people."
"Better?" Bruce questioned.
"Well….more interested people," Thomas replied with a smirk, earning a snort of laughter from Howard.
"Don't let Obadiah hear you say that," Howard chuckled as he took another sip of his drink.
It was at that point the limo slowed down in front of a theater with a number of people out in front of it. Spotlights shone into the sky while brightly illuminated sign displayed the name "The Monarch Theater." The limo came to a stop directly in front of the theater and a moment later Alfred, dressed in a tux and wearing a chauffeur's cap, stepped in front of the car door and opened it, allowing everyone to exit.
"I always love coming here," Martha sighed as she looked up at the sign while playing with the strand of pearls around her neck, "Do you remember when Mom used to bring you, Phil and I here, Jake?"
"I do," Jake nodded in reply, dressed in a military officer's uniform, "It hasn't changed a bit."
"Have you heard they might turn it into a movie theater?" Elaine questioned as Alfred helped her into an unfolding wheelchair he had setup by the car door, "Honestly, this whole neighborhood is going to hell. The Gotham Gazette has started calling it Crime Alley. They say it could be as bad as the Narrows if things keep going like they are."
"Well, I guess someone will have to do something about it then," Thomas mused.
As the adults talked, Bruce glanced around at the crowd gathered in front of the theater. As he did, he noticed a young girl moving through the crowd.
She was roughly Bruce's age with short, black hair and bright green eyes. She wore a ratty, black sweater that was much too big for her, black tights with runs in them and dirty, white sneakers.
As Bruce watched her, his eyes widened in surprise as he saw her deftly dip her hand into a woman's purse and pull out her wallet without the woman noticing. As Bruce continued watching the girl, he saw her begin walking towards his father and slip a hand into his jacket pocket.
"Hey!" Bruce exclaimed as he reached out and grabbed the girl's wrist as she pulled his father's wallet out of his jacket pocket.
"Ow!" the girl exclaimed as Bruce gripped her wrist hard, "Let go, jerk!"
The girl sent a quick kick at Bruce, hitting him in the shin, causing the boy to yelp in pain, continuing to hold on even as the girl shook her arm around in an effort to break free.
The girl stopped, however, as Thomas reached down and placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to freeze in place as she looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"That little pickpocket!" Elinor exclaimed from behind Thomas, "She tried to steal your wallet, Thomas! We should call the police and have her arrested!"
"I don't think that will be necessary, Elinor," Thomas argued as he gave the girl a friendly smile, "Clearly I dropped my wallet and this young lady was returning it to me. Right?"
"I….I…." the girl struggled for a moment before swallowing loudly, "I was….I also found this one."
Thomas smiled as he took both his and the woman's wallet from the girl.
"Thank you," Thomas said before turning to his son, who still held the girl's wrist, "Bruce?"
"But Dad!" Bruce argued.
"It's alright, Bruce," Thomas assured him gently.
Bruce sighed in defeat as he let her go, the girl immediately pulling her arm back and rubbing her wrist as she gave Bruce a small glare.
"What's your name, dear?" Thomas questioned.
"S-Selina," the girl answered hesitantly as she looked up at Thomas again.
"Well, Selina, I believe a good deed deserves a reward, don't you?" Thomas asked as he opened up his wallet and pulled out a fifty dollar bill before handing it to Selina, "Here you go."
Selina's wide green eyes darted between Thomas' face and the fifty in his hand.
"Seriously?" Selina questioned, looking at Thomas in disbelief.
"Seriously," Thomas answered as he lightly shook the fifty at Selina, urging her to take it.
Hesitantly, Selina reached out for the money, wary of a trap. Then, all at once she snatched the fifty from Thomas before spinning around and running away as fast as her legs could carry her, darting down a side alley and disappearing.
Thomas chuckled as he folded his wallet back up and stuck it back in his pocket before handing the stunned woman her wallet as well.
"Why did you do that, Dad?" Bruce questioned angrily, "She tried to steal your wallet. Why did you give her money for that?"
"Because she needed it more than me," Thomas answered simply as he turned back towards Bruce.
"But she's a criminal," Bruce argued in confusion, "Shouldn't she be punished?"
"People like her, they're forced to commit crime because they have no other way to survive," Thomas explained, "The people who should be punished are the people who put her in this situation. The criminals and crime lords who are trying to make this city worse."
"I guess I understand," Bruce said with a thoughtful nod.
"I knew you would," Thomas stated with a smil, "Now come on, we have a show to see."
Later,
Bruce sat hunkered down in his seat, the darkness of the theater hiding his expression of terror. Loud orchestral music blared as the actors on stage danced and pranced about, all of them dressed in black and a few wearing costumes that made them resemble bats.
Bruce began to whimper and shake as the performance went on, the sound of the blaring trumpets replaced with the shrieking of bats in his mind. Bruce tried to close his eyes to hid from the show, but behind his eyes the bat swarm waited, flying all around him in a living cloud of leather and teeth.
Whimpering again, Bruce instinctually reached out and grabbed his father's hand as it rested on the armrest next to him. Thomas looked down at his son, concern crossing his features as he saw the look of fear on the boy's face.
"Bruce, are you okay?" Thomas whispered.
"Can we leave, please?" Bruce pleaded with frightened eyes.
Thomas nodded before the two of them stood up and began making their way out of the aisle. Martha watched them go in confusion before standing up as well as Thomas and Bruce made their way out a back exit.
"I'm sorry," Bruce apologized, looking close to tears as they stepped out into a back alley. The alley ran towards the street with a few smaller alleys branching off near the middle.
"It's alright, Bruce," Thomas reassured him, "Was it the bats?"
"I feel so stupid," Bruce growled, "I said I was okay but…."
"It's okay," Thomas said, smiling at his son as he lay a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Everyone gets scared."
"Even the scary animals?" Bruce questioned.
"Especially the scary animals," Thomas answered with a chuckle.
"Is everything okay?" Martha questioned as she walked out into the alley, a look of concern on her face as she put on her coat.
"I just needed some fresh air," Thomas lied, smiling at his wife.
Martha gave Thomas a look, clearly not believing him but smiling all the same.
"Alright," Martha played along, nodding her head as she walked over to Bruce and Thomas, "It was a boring show anyway."
"Come on," Thomas said, taking Bruce and Martha's hands as he began leading them through the alley, "Let's go find Aldred, I bet we can grab some ice cream before the show is over."
Smiling, Bruce followed along as they made their way out of the alley. However, halfway through someone stepped out of the shadows and into their path.
He was roughly Thomas' age and looked like he had seen better days, his greasy hair clinging to his scalp and a patchy beard growing from his face. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his dirty jacket and he walked with his brown eyes focused on the ground in front of him.
It looked for a moment like the man was going to pass them by when he suddenly stopped in front of them and whipped his hand out of his pocket, producing a revolver that he leveled at Thomas.
"H-Hold it,"the man mumbled as he looked at Thomas with wide eyes while Martha gasped in shock and Bruce froze in fear.
"Whoa," Thomas said in surprise as he held up his hands, "Easy now."
"Give….Give me your money," the man demanded nervously as the gun began to shake in his hands.
"Sure, no problem," Thomas replied gently as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet before handing it to the man, "Take the whole thing."
Hesitantly the man reached out and grabbed the wallet from Thomas, keeping his gun trained on the other man the whole time as he stuffed the wallet into his pocket. Glancing over at Martha, the man turned the gun towards her, causing her to jump and shriek in fear.
"The pearls too," the man stated.
"No," Thomas replied nervously as he took a half step towards the man, "We can't do that."
"Get back!" the man shouted as he pointed the gun at Thomas again, causing Bruce's father to freeze in place before the mugger swung the revolver back towards Martha, "The pearls! Now!"
"Please!" Martha pleaded, tears running down her cheeks, "They belonged to my mother!"
"Now!" the man demanded, the gun shaking violently in his hand as he took a step towards Martha.
"Wait," Thomas began to say as he took a step towards the man, causing the mugger to whip back around to face him.
The gun went off with a bang like a firecracker, causing Bruce to jump in surprise.
The man and Thomas stared at each other with matching expressions of shock as smoke slowly rose from the revolver's barrel. Looking down, Thomas saw a hole in his white shirt, blood blossoming out from the wound in his chest. Abruptly, his strength left him and he collapsed to the ground.
"Thomas!" Martha shrieked, tears streaming down her face as she turned towards teh mugger, "What did you do!? What did you do!?"
She took a step towards the man, causing him to jump in surprise and spin towards Martha on instinct, the gun in his hand spitting fire with a roar.
The bullet caught Martha directly in the heart, causing her to let out a tiny gasp as it pierced her chest. She died before her body had finished falling to the ground.
The man looked down at Martha's dead body with an expression of pure horror. Slowly, he turned to look at Bruce as the boy stared down at his parents in complete shock.
"Oh God…." the man whispered, dropping the gun like it had bit him, the revolver clattering to the ground with smoke still rising from the barrel, "What have I….Oh God…."
Slowly, Bruce lifted his head up, his blue eyes meeting the man's brown ones.
"I.,,,I…." the man tried to say, looking like he was desperately fighting the urge to cry.
Whatever the man had wanted to say died in his throat and he said nothing more, fleeing down the alley towards the street.
"Bruce…." Thomas said weakly, bringing his sons attention down to him, "Bruce…."
Bruce kneeled down next to his father, taking Thomas' hand as he weakly reached out towards his son.
"Don't be afraid, Bruce…." Thomas coughed his voice barely above a whisper, "Don't be…."
Before Thomas could finish, he suddenly went still and the light seemed to leave his eyes. It took Bruce a few moments to realize that his father was dead.
As Bruce stared down at his parents' corpses, his father's hand growing cold in his own, the horror of what he had witnessed finally struck him. His parents had been murdered, cut down before his very eyes.
Bruce was now an orphan. Alone in the world.
The thought built in Bruce's heart and mind until he felt he was going to burst. And burst he did, letting out a painful and terrified scream that echoed off the walls that surrounded him, tears streaming down his cheeks.
At the same time, a young girl watched from the shadows, covering her mouth in horror as tears ran from her emerald eyes.
Later,
Blue and red lights flashed from the police car parked at the end of the alley, illuminating the the shadows in spurts and starts. Police tape had been set up along the end of the alley and patrolmen dressed in navy blue uniforms stood guard, making sure the crowd of gawkers that had gathered did not disturb the crime scene.
Bruce sat on the stares that led to the backdoor of the theater from which he and his parents had emerged a lifetime ago. Bruce stared down at his parents' bodies, covered with white sheets until the crime scene investigators and the detectives had fully documented the crime scene and they could be carried aways to the coroner's office.
As Bruce sat shivering in the cold, autumn air a patrolman paused as he walked by. He appeared to be in his late twenties with red hair and glasses that covered his brown eyes. Some unshaven hair grew from his upper lip. He looked at Bruce in confusion before glancing around.
"Hey," the patrolman said as he caught the attention of a passing detective, "Is anyone watching the kid?"
"Who cares?" the detective replied with a snort of contempt, "It's not like he's going anywhere."
The patrolman gave the detective a glare as the other man walked away. Turning back to Bruce, the patrolman's face softened and he made his way over to the boy.
"Hey," the patrolman greeted with a nervous, friendly smile, "You're Bruce, right?"
Bruce gave the smallest of nods, still staring at where his parent lay.
"Well, my name is James Gordon," the patrolman went on, glancing at the bodies before looking back at Bruce, "But my friends call me Jim."
If Bruce heard Jim, he made no indication of it.
"Do….Do you have anyone who might come and get you?" Jim asked.
Bruce slowly turned his gaze away from the corpses of his parents and looked towards the crowd gathered at the end of the alley. Following his gaze, Jim saw Alfred, Howard and Jake all arguing vehemently with the patrolmen stationed at the police tape. Jim couldn't hear what was being said, but he could tell the patrolmen were refusing to let the men into the crime scene, despite their protests.
"I see," Jim commented as he turned back to Bruce, "I'm sorry, these things are complicated and there's a lot of red tape to-"
Jim interrupted himself as he saw that Bruce had turned his attention back to his parent's bodies.
"What am I talking about?" Jim groaned as he removed his glasses so that he could rub his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "You don't care about red tape."
Putting his glasses back on, Jim caught sight of Bruce shivering against the cold, night air.
"You cold?" Jim questioned as he tooked off the navy blue patrolman's jacket he was wearing, "Here."
Leaning down, Jim placed his jacket round Bruce's shoulders. The boy blinked in surprise as he felt the jacket's comforting warmth surround him, turning to look at Jim for the first time as the patrolman sat down next to him.
"Thank you," Bruce whispered.
"No problem," Jim replied with a small smile.
Slowly, Bruce turned to look at his parent's again, a look of sorrow crossing his features as he did.
"It's not fair," Bruce muttered, tears welling up in his eyes.
"No, it's not," Jim agreed with a sigh and sad shake of his head, "Your parents did a lot of good for this city."
"And it did nothing," Bruce spat, "Everyone is saying the city is only getting worse and this proves it."
"You can't think like that," Jim half pleaded, half insisted, "Your parents did a lot of good. They helped a lot of people. You can't let what's happened to them and to this city make you forget that."
Jim reached out and lay a hand on Bruce's shoulder, prompting the boy to look up at him with watery blue eyes.
"There will always be bad people, bad things in the world," Jim explained, "That's why you can't lose sight of the good. If we do, then the bad guys win."
"Are you a good guy, Jim?" Bruce questioned hesitantly.
"I'd like to think so," Jim replied with a grin.
"Will you catch the man who did this?" Bruce asked.
"We…." Jim began to respond but paused as he saw the pleading look Bruce was giving him and a feeling of doubt swept over him. He was just a patrolman after all. What hope did he have of catching a murderer?
But as Jim looked into Bruce's tear-filled eyes, he felt all his doubts wash away. Jim gave Bruce's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as his brow furrowed in determination.
"I'll find the man who did this," Jim said seriously, looking directly into Bruce's eeys as he spoke, "I'll find him and bring him to justice."
In response, Bruce began to cry once more and threw himself at Jim, wrapping his arms around the offices torso and weeping into his chest. The move caught Jim off guard for a moment before a look of sadness crossed his face and he wrapped an arm around Bruce's shaking shoulders.
Unbeknownst to either if then, a young girl sat on the fire escape of a nearby building, her legs hanging over the side as she watched Jim Gordon with green eyes, a plan forming in her mind.
A/N: Thanks for all the great feedback on the last chapter guys! Really encouraged me to get this chapter out quick. Also, quick question for you guys. I never really thought that hard about social media and that sort of stuff, but would you guys like it if I set some up? Maybe let you guys know how progress is going or stuff like that? Let me know what you think! As always, feedback and critiques are always welcome, so please review! Later!