Bruce opened his eyes, his head feeling like it had been beaten with baseball bat. He quickly surveyed his surroundings, noticing that it was still night, and he was still in his costume. He was laying on the pavement of a street, the rain pouring violently. As he got up, he realized he recognized his surroundings. He had committed them memory. Bruce took a deep breath. He was in the place where his parents were murdered, Crime Alley.

This place causes his anxiety to reach dangerous levels. Which is why he had avoided it for the past twenty years. He had only stood in Crime Alley two separate times since that fateful night. Once as Batman and once as Bruce on a night where he planned to end it all. He felt uneasy and a small sense of panic began to build up inside of him.

All of a sudden, he heard a gunshot. Three gunshots. Three gunshots, just like that night. Bruce started running towards the sound, looking for the assailant who had fired the gun. Turning the corner, Bruce found a sight he knew all too well.

The misty rain poured down on the dark alley as Bruce was met with the sight of two dead bodies. Bruce felt his body shaking. The way the two victims had fell…it was an exact recreation of how his parents were after they had been murdered. Bruce slowly walked up to the bodies, inspecting them. Bruce stops immediately, his face going white. It... can't be…Bruce thinks to himself.

The dead bodies are his parents. It was impossible, but here they were. Bruce could see their cold and lifeless bodies every time he closed his eyes, but this was different. His eyes weren't closed, and he could…he could see them laying right in front of him.

Bruce got down to his knees, eyes glued to the bodies. He crouched down next to his mother's body; the smell of blood mixed with her perfume overloading his senses. He was all too familiar with the smell. Bruce closed his eyes, feeling the tears stinging.

"Bruce", a soft voice said.

Bruce opened his eyes, seeing his Mother standing right before him. This was impossible, but here she was. She still looked the same as the day he had stared at her lifeless body for what felt like hours. Her hair still soaked in the blood; her pearl necklace strewn across the floor.

"Mo-Mom?", Bruce chokes out, overtaken with emotion.

She smiles at him, but it's not the kind smile he remembers from when he was a child. Her smile has no warmth to it, it's a taunting grin.

"Are you pleased with yourself?", She says in a mocking tone.

Bruce looked at her in confusion. Her eyes lacked any kind of warmth and her tone sounded mocking. Their reunion didn't seem to bring her any joy whatsoever. She didn't seem…happy to see him.

"I don't…I don't understand. Why aren't you…", Bruce chokes out, unable to finish the last part of that sentence.

His mother laughs, looking at him with disdain. "Why would I be happy to see you, Bruce? My son has turned into a monster and is determined to destroy our family name."

Bruce just stared at her, unable to speak. His own mother, the person who tucked him in at night and who would color with him for hours, called him a monster. That…he couldn't handle that. It didn't make any sense. She…

"What? You thought going out at night dressed up like a Bat and beat up criminals would make me and your father proud? You think this is what I wanted for you? You think I wanted you to become this?", she spits out with disdain.

"I…", Bruce says, feeling a massive wright build inside of him, "I'm doing this for you. For both of you."

"After everything you've become, you are no son of mine. Not anymore."

Bruce felt the tears begin to fall at moment, as he audibly and pathetically cried. He couldn't contain it; the pain was just too much. He felt like a child again, praying out to God to take his pain away. He had felt that pain every day since then and he couldn't escape it, no matter how desperately he tried. Bruce Wayne couldn't escape it. Batman couldn't escape it.

Bruce opened his tears begin to fall at moment, as he audibly and pathetically cried. He couldn't contain it; the pain was just too much. He felt like a child again, praying out to God to take his pain away. He had felt that pain every day since then and he couldn't escape it, no matter how desperately he tried. Bruce Wayne couldn't escape it. Batman couldn't escape it.

Bruce opened his tear-stained eyes to see his mother hand him a…a gun. Except, it wasn't just any gun…it was THE gun. In the years since that night, Bruce's memory of the gun had grown even more vivid. A Colt .45 automatic Model MI911 with a "series 90 Colt Mark IV" label written on the barrel in embossed lettering and a small image of a horse right next to the lettering. Sometimes he forgot what his parents looked like or how long his mother's hair was, but he never forgot a single detail about the gun. Not a single one.

Bruce took the gun in hand, the object feeling foreign in his grasp. His mother smiled encouragingly at him, egging him on to…kill himself.

And maybe she was right. His entire mission, his crusade, was to honor his parents' memory. To make sure what happened to them didn't happen for someone else. But his mother was…ashamed of him. Ashamed of the man he became. He felt his hand begin to shake. His heart was beating in his chest.

Bruce threw the gun to the ground violently. This was not his Mother. He had gotten distracted by seeing his mother again, and seeing her like he last saw her, but he knew what this was now. He was here to get Zatanna and this, was what Jason Blood had been warning him about. Nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him. His fears becoming reality in his head. He closed his eyes.

"You're not her. I love my mother more than life itself, you aren't her. You're just a poor imitation", Batman says, his voice still sounding broken.

Bruce opened his eyes, seeing that he was alone. The chill of the night burning his face, as he stared silently at the silent vision of Crime Alley. And just like always, his mother was gone.