The dream is always the same.
He sees the pavement slick with rain, coated with tattered wrappers and posters that had come off the wall. Overhead, the elevated tracks rattle as a train makes a beeline for the other side of town. He sees the zeppelin floating in the night sky above him, the beam of light moving constantly. The smell of popcorn is fresh and tantalizing, and echoes of the movie remain fresh in his young mind.
His father looks down at him and smiles. He is tall and broad, a strong man. His large hand rests on his shoulder and the boy can't help but smile back. His father doesn't smile too much. His father is severe, with a constant frown on his chiselled features. The moustache adds to the fearsome aura. But there is no need for fear now. He's smiling. All is right. All is well.
His mother squeezes his hand and laughs at something his father said. She is beautiful and kind. Her soft voice slithers into his ears, and the boy can't help but be at ease. This is how she always is - soft, kind and warm. Her red hair tumbles past her shoulders and her green eyes shine with something that fills the boy with delight. On her neck shines the pearls, those beautiful shining pearls. All is right. All is well.
Father's happy. Mother's happy. Bruce is happy.
Then he steps out of the alleyway, the man with the hidden face and the brown coat. He steps out and the boy feels the thumping of his heart in his head as his throat dries up. The gun is aimed at father, mother and boy. He tries to move, but he can't. He tries to fight, but he can't. The boy... The man tries to move, tries to use the skills that turn him into a weapon. He knows the nerves, the tendons, the pressure needed to cripple the hand holding the gun. He can save them, mother and father. He can save them. So close, so close...
BANG.
Father falls like a chopped tree, a hand over his chest. His eyes are wide, warm blood trickling down his fingers... like a pierced can of paint. The boy hears the breath leaving his father as he collapses on the pavement. His head makes contact with the cement. The eyes roll back in his head. He is dead.
BANG.
Mother tries to scream, but she can't. Her hands come to her neck and come away bloody. Boy feels drops of blood on his face and it feels too warm. The shattered pearls fall, and they scatter all over the pavement. The pale orbs are stained now, covered in flecks of blood. Her green dress is ruined down, coated in blood. She falls near father, still clutching her neck as the man with the gun runs away. In the night, he is alone. Father's corpse is near his feet. Mother's dying slow, and there's nothing he can do. She tries to speak, blood drips from her mouth. She croaks and wheezes, and dies.
Boy's ears are ringing. He blinks to clear his gaze, blinded by the flash of the gun. The acrid smell of gunpowder makes him sniffle as he stares. He could not save them. No, he could not. He could not.
Just like that, it is over.
Father's dead. Mommy's dead. Bruce is dead.
He wakes up.
It's a slow process, letting the memories fade away as logic and reason break through the dreary membrane of sleep. The boy - the man sits up in his bed, a physical specimen of twenty five years. He waits for one minute. Two minutes. Three minutes.
He turns, and his feet touch the cold wooden floor. He looks out through the glass of his window, at the green grounds that unfold forever... and the mist that lingers on the edges. The fog that comes with the night, the fog that stays with the day.
He gets up, and the dream is forgotten. Until he rests his eyes once more, until he chooses to rest once again - the dream is forgotten. But it waits for him patiently. It waits. But for now, it is forgotten.
There is work to be done.
A/N : After giving it some thought, I decided to do this story over from scratch. So I deleted everything I did before, and now here we are - starting all over again.
Next chapter will be up soon, if life doesn't get in the way. Life has way of being stubborn and interrupting you, so yeah.
Y'all know the drill - read, review and comment. And if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I don't mind.
Until next time.
Peace.