Hero's Blood
Chapter One
(Author's notes: This story assumes that Batman is roughly 55 years old at the time of publication, setting his birth around 1947. Just some frame of reference information, enjoy!)
For over two hundred years, the name Wayne had sat proudly atop the low hills outside Gotham City. Mounted firmly on gates of iron, the scrolling letters had withstood the test of time, endured the hardships of war, and watched the growth of what had once been a sleepy hamlet into the sprawling urban mass that was Gotham City. From their castle on the hills, the Wayne family had always been modern knights of a sort, guardians of Gotham throughout its existence. The manor had been Gotham's first hotel, founded by a Wayne, a Wayne had been Gotham's first elected judge, and a Wayne had signed the city's charter. Centuries of tradition dictated that a Wayne had a responsibility to the people of Gotham City, that he was bound to protect them. Thomas Wayne had been reminded of this fact every day of his life, for as long as he could remember. You have a duty, son, his father had said. You have a calling to be a rock for this city.
"And what a city to be duty-bound to." Thomas murmered.
Gotham was a beautiful city, but it was a dark beauty. Where cities like Metropolis or New York gleamed in the day and sparkled at night, Gotham always seemed as if it were on the edge of collapse, even during the brightest light of day.
Thomas Wayne was a young man, just twenty-three years of age, but he felt as if he were twice that. The city in the distance seemed as a weight to him, something that tethered him to this place. When he had gone abroad he could feel it tugging at him, pulling him back from wherever he ventured. He'd discovered in the years since his aging father (who had sired him late in life) had left the Wayne fortunes to him that, no matter where he traveled, be it Rome, Paris, or London, something always drew him back to Gotham.
"Master Thomas?"
Thomas turned around and let a small smile cross his lips when his eyes fell on the thin frame of Winifred Pennyworth. Rail-thin and bespectacled, the doting old man had been a fixture at Wayne Manor for as long as Thomas could remember, always ready with a cup of tea or a word of wisdom. With both his parents lost to the hazards of life, Winifred had ever been the voice of fatherly wisdom to Thomas.
"Yes, Winifred?"
"You look troubled, sir. If I might inquire as to the cause?"
"I don't know, Winifred. Sadness? I see what's happening out there and it saddens me. So much pain. suffering. evil."
The butler puttered about the room a bit, though it was never anything but impeccably clean.
"Evil, sir?"
"Don't listen to the wireless much, do you?"
Thomas heard a disdainful sniff from where the butler was standing. Always a proponent of things old-fashioned, Winifred had all but openly refused to listen to the wireless radio that Thomas had purchased some years before.
"I'll stay true to my morning paper, thank you, sir."
"Even your paper should know what's going on out there. It's war."
There was a moment of silence. Memories of veterans crippled and mangled by the war machines of imperial Germany were fresh in the minds of both men. Winifred had brought his wife to America for a time when the war had broken out, and Thomas had served a year as a volunteer medic after college. The reference was a stark reminder of the violence that they both knew to be one of the ugly realities of life.
"I was under the impression that the war had ended, sir." The old man murmured.
Thomas shook his head sadly.
"Not here. Here it's just beginning."
Moonlight cast a dim glow on the woods between the manor and the city. From a distance, it almost seemed as if nothing were wrong. But to Wayne, things were far from right in Gotham. He could see the newly constructed Falcon Tower, home to the Falcones. They were recent arrivals to Gotham, making their presence known only over the last twenty years or so. They had, however, had a profound impact on the city, and not a positive one. The Falcones were making Gotham into just another gangland like Chicago, growing rich on bootlegging and racketeering. Black sedans threw fear into the hearts of Gotham's citizens, and not a night went by without the rattle of a Tommy gun echoing through the city streets. It grew worse with every day, with every politician that Falcone pocketed, with every cop that decided to supplement his paycheck with a little extra from the Falcone bankroll. Gotham was sinking into oblivion with each sunset.
"You are a young man yet, sir. Perhaps, in time, you may see that things are not quite as bad as they may seem."
"Or they may be worse."
"Perhaps. But what is there to be done?"
"I don't know. But something must."
What indeed, Thomas thought to himself. The people need something. They need hope. They need someone or something to remind them that they are not sheep ripe for the shearing. They need inspiration.
They need a Hero.
Thomas was taken aback for a moment by the intensity of the thought that had found its way into his mind. A Hero. A symbol of strength, a fighter for right.I'm no hero. I'm barely out of medical school. I should still be studying, for god's sake. And here I am thinking of. what? Something out of Scarlet Pimpernel. I'm a fool.
Turning away from the window and Winifred, Thomas gazed into the fireplace and tried to banish these thoughts from his mind. The seed was there, though. Somewhere within Thomas Wayne, something came alive.
Chapter One
(Author's notes: This story assumes that Batman is roughly 55 years old at the time of publication, setting his birth around 1947. Just some frame of reference information, enjoy!)
For over two hundred years, the name Wayne had sat proudly atop the low hills outside Gotham City. Mounted firmly on gates of iron, the scrolling letters had withstood the test of time, endured the hardships of war, and watched the growth of what had once been a sleepy hamlet into the sprawling urban mass that was Gotham City. From their castle on the hills, the Wayne family had always been modern knights of a sort, guardians of Gotham throughout its existence. The manor had been Gotham's first hotel, founded by a Wayne, a Wayne had been Gotham's first elected judge, and a Wayne had signed the city's charter. Centuries of tradition dictated that a Wayne had a responsibility to the people of Gotham City, that he was bound to protect them. Thomas Wayne had been reminded of this fact every day of his life, for as long as he could remember. You have a duty, son, his father had said. You have a calling to be a rock for this city.
"And what a city to be duty-bound to." Thomas murmered.
Gotham was a beautiful city, but it was a dark beauty. Where cities like Metropolis or New York gleamed in the day and sparkled at night, Gotham always seemed as if it were on the edge of collapse, even during the brightest light of day.
Thomas Wayne was a young man, just twenty-three years of age, but he felt as if he were twice that. The city in the distance seemed as a weight to him, something that tethered him to this place. When he had gone abroad he could feel it tugging at him, pulling him back from wherever he ventured. He'd discovered in the years since his aging father (who had sired him late in life) had left the Wayne fortunes to him that, no matter where he traveled, be it Rome, Paris, or London, something always drew him back to Gotham.
"Master Thomas?"
Thomas turned around and let a small smile cross his lips when his eyes fell on the thin frame of Winifred Pennyworth. Rail-thin and bespectacled, the doting old man had been a fixture at Wayne Manor for as long as Thomas could remember, always ready with a cup of tea or a word of wisdom. With both his parents lost to the hazards of life, Winifred had ever been the voice of fatherly wisdom to Thomas.
"Yes, Winifred?"
"You look troubled, sir. If I might inquire as to the cause?"
"I don't know, Winifred. Sadness? I see what's happening out there and it saddens me. So much pain. suffering. evil."
The butler puttered about the room a bit, though it was never anything but impeccably clean.
"Evil, sir?"
"Don't listen to the wireless much, do you?"
Thomas heard a disdainful sniff from where the butler was standing. Always a proponent of things old-fashioned, Winifred had all but openly refused to listen to the wireless radio that Thomas had purchased some years before.
"I'll stay true to my morning paper, thank you, sir."
"Even your paper should know what's going on out there. It's war."
There was a moment of silence. Memories of veterans crippled and mangled by the war machines of imperial Germany were fresh in the minds of both men. Winifred had brought his wife to America for a time when the war had broken out, and Thomas had served a year as a volunteer medic after college. The reference was a stark reminder of the violence that they both knew to be one of the ugly realities of life.
"I was under the impression that the war had ended, sir." The old man murmured.
Thomas shook his head sadly.
"Not here. Here it's just beginning."
Moonlight cast a dim glow on the woods between the manor and the city. From a distance, it almost seemed as if nothing were wrong. But to Wayne, things were far from right in Gotham. He could see the newly constructed Falcon Tower, home to the Falcones. They were recent arrivals to Gotham, making their presence known only over the last twenty years or so. They had, however, had a profound impact on the city, and not a positive one. The Falcones were making Gotham into just another gangland like Chicago, growing rich on bootlegging and racketeering. Black sedans threw fear into the hearts of Gotham's citizens, and not a night went by without the rattle of a Tommy gun echoing through the city streets. It grew worse with every day, with every politician that Falcone pocketed, with every cop that decided to supplement his paycheck with a little extra from the Falcone bankroll. Gotham was sinking into oblivion with each sunset.
"You are a young man yet, sir. Perhaps, in time, you may see that things are not quite as bad as they may seem."
"Or they may be worse."
"Perhaps. But what is there to be done?"
"I don't know. But something must."
What indeed, Thomas thought to himself. The people need something. They need hope. They need someone or something to remind them that they are not sheep ripe for the shearing. They need inspiration.
They need a Hero.
Thomas was taken aback for a moment by the intensity of the thought that had found its way into his mind. A Hero. A symbol of strength, a fighter for right.I'm no hero. I'm barely out of medical school. I should still be studying, for god's sake. And here I am thinking of. what? Something out of Scarlet Pimpernel. I'm a fool.
Turning away from the window and Winifred, Thomas gazed into the fireplace and tried to banish these thoughts from his mind. The seed was there, though. Somewhere within Thomas Wayne, something came alive.