Lucius Fox' limousine pulled up to the front door of the towering Wayne Manor.  As Bruce stepped out, a fairly old woman came running out of the house and hugged Bruce, almost knocking him over.

"Aunt Harriet!" He said, as soon as he recognized her.

"Oh, Bruce, it's so good to see you again," she exclaimed in a high, dripping voice.  "Why, it's been so long!"

"Yeah, it's been quite a long time.  So are you here just to welcome me back?"

"Why, no.  I've been housesitting for almost seven years now.  It's such a big house, and we couldn't bear just leaving it to grow dusty and dingy while nobody lived there.  I just knew you'd come back some time."

"Well, I'm here now," Bruce said, grabbing his computer case.  "Let's go on in."  Bruce walked inside, followed by Aunt Harriet, Alfred, Lucius, and the two men carrying their bags.  As he walked through the anteroom, into the large parlor, almost the first thing he saw was a large painted portrait of his parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne.  Bruce's mother had always thought it wasn't right to have the picture of them there, looming so large above everything.  She didn't like to look at it, but now, Bruce was glad it had stayed.  He looked hard at the painting, and remembered.

This day, fourteen years ago.  A day I'll never forget.  The last day my parents drew breath on this earth.  I remember it all clearly now; their faces looked just like the do in the portrait.  I was ten years old, then.  It was the first of the month, and we had a tradition in our family, where we did something special on the first of every month.  Almost like celebrating New Year's twelve times instead of just once.  That day Dad decided to take Mom and me to a movie.  We didn't go to movies much, not because we couldn't afford it, certainly that was no issue, but because Dad rarely had time.  He was a busy man, being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and besides that, he really didn't like sitting down for long periods of time and not doing anything.  I suppose it was a very great temptation not to take some papers and a flashlight into the theater.  But he resisted the urge, and we all watched the movie together.  I was delighted out of my mind at the movie my dad chose.  'The Sign of Zorro,' featured the usual good performance by Jack Nicholson as the evil Captain, but it was Michael Keaton as Zorro, and Don Diego De La Vega, that absolutely astonished me.  I was only ten years old, certainly very young in many people's minds, but I wasn't too young to be captivated by the way this actor smoothly, seamlessly transitioned between the dark, fierce Zorro, and the noble, yet boring Don Diego.

I wish I had had more time to enjoy that movie.  We walked out of the movie theater, laughing and enjoying ourselves, when a black sedan drove up, and the back window rolled down.  I heard an incredibly loud popping, rattling sound, as bullets poured out of a gun, held by a man in that car.  And I heard screaming, as many good people were murdered in that sudden instant.

I was shoved to the ground by one of Dad's bodyguards, and I looked up, hoping to see Dad and Mom standing there, unharmed.  I didn't; instead, I saw a small brown bat flying across the Gotham skyline.  Any other day I would have been mesmerized by the strange creature that had braved the twilight to explore the city.  But that day was different.  I closed my eyes and cried.

I wasn't like most people who grieved.  That was the last time I cried for my parents.  My thoughts turned to bitterness, and anger.  And like many others, my thoughts turned to revenge.  I put up with the dull life and fractured parenting that Lucius could offer for four years, letting the rage build up inside me.  After that I left; I don't know that Lucius was really sorry to see me go.  Whether he was or not, he let me go.  Alfred became my guardian then, and with his help, from the time I was only fourteen years old, I went all around the world.  I trained, and learned and practiced and worked my body and mind to perhaps an unhealthy level, but a tremendously powerful one.  I learned all the tricks of any trade that could help a crime fighter.  I learned criminology and psychology.  I studied martial arts, and any other form of fighting anyone would teach me.  I learned how to break locks, and tricks of escape artists.  I gained knowledge of science, chemistry and physics.  In ten years, instead of going through a normal teenager's life of high school and dating, I transformed myself into a weapon.  I had one goal; lofty as it seems, it had always been, and still was, the driving force behind my actions.  I had vowed, in the memory of my parents, to fight and eradicate all crime, and see that no child would ever again have to suffer what I went through.

 

Continued…

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