Ultimate Batman - A Fan Fiction Serial by Gaff

Chapter 2 - Turmoil

The Waynes are a very old family in Gotham City, and their roots went deep. The first Gotham Waynes built most of the city. For this alone, they are regarded as royalty among the city's elite. The prodigious career of Thomas Wayne made him a pioneer in the medical field, and Martha Wayne was a fashion designer who boasted the most profitable line of clothing in the country. It was then inevitable that their death drew the wealthiest men and women in Gotham City, to pay their respects to the Waynes and their only son, Bruce.

It rained the whole day during the wake at Wayne Manor and at the cemetery where they were laid to rest. Bruce stood silent for four days straight after that night. He spent hours listening to the mourners offer their words of comfort and sorrow while his father's butler Alfred Pennyworth stood by him. In all that time, Alfred did not believe that Bruce was even aware of them. The boy never so much as cried in all this time. He knew how much Bruce loved his mother and father, and his continued silence concerned him.

Alfred blamed himself for what had happened, in a way. True, Mr. Wayne had insisted that he take the night off, but that did not ease his guilt for spending the night at the pub. If he had stayed behind and driven them home, none of this would have happened. Perhaps Bruce blamed him for leaving them at the theater? Thomas and Martha Wayne were buried on the hill in Gotham cemetery, their tombstone was a monument. Bruce stood silently at the foot of the marble statue in the heavy rain when all others had left.

The two nights that followed were filled with lawyers, policemen, accountants, and piles of paperwork. Bruce Wayne had no living relatives, so he was placed under Alfred's custody until the age of twenty-one. Alfred had served under the Wayne family since Bruce's grandfather, and had been good friends with Thomas Wayne. He had an obligation to take care of Bruce, and Alfred was never the kind of man who shirked his responsibilities.

One week after the murder, things began to calm down. Alfred had sent off the last attorneys and started up the stairs to check up on Bruce. He still wasn't speaking, and there hadn't been a quiet moment since it happened. Alfred stepped up to Bruce's room door and knocked gently. Meeting with no reply, Alfred opened the door gently and looked around. All the lights were out, and Bruce was sitting quietly on his bed.

"Master Bruce," he said at last, "Are you alright, sir?" Alfred knew it was a stupid question, but what else could he say?

Bruce hardly moved in response. Alfred was beginning to think he was ill, but then he stood up and walked to the window. "They're dead. Mother and Father are dead. And the men responsible got away clean. They haven't been caught. No one else even saw them."

Alfred stood silent. He was certain that Bruce was punishing him for leaving them behind that night, until the boy spoke up once more.

"It was all my fault."

Alfred was absolutely stunned. "What did you say?"

Slowly, Bruce turned and looked the old butler straight in the eyes. "We almost didn't go. Father had an important business meeting, and he told me we couldn't go. I remember I was just so angry at him. He said before that he was taking us to see Zorro that night. He had made a promise and he was about to break it. I didn't care about what he had planned, all I could think about was what I wanted, what I expected of him. I didn't talk to him after that, and I didn't wait to hear him explain. I wanted to punish him for letting me down. I was only thinking of myself. He gave in and we went out like he promised. I was just too selfish. If I just let it go, they wouldn't have died. I killed them."

At first, Alfred was at a loss for words. "You did nothing of the sort. Mr. Wayne already blamed himself for that. I am sure he would have put his plans off in the end regardless."

"It doesn't matter now. My parents are dead, and for what? A few credit cards and a pearl necklace? Shot by some faceless thug for the crime of walking down the street at night? It doesn't matter how. They're gone, and I'm still here. I'm alone now."

Bruce left the room in a hurry. Alfred stood still, unsure if the boy really needed his company. He wanted to speak up, to tell the boy that he was wrong, and that he was not alone, but he was afraid.

Bruce flew out the door, cracking one of the glass doors on his way out. It was still raining heavily, but he didn't care about that anymore. He just wanted to get away. From the house, the men in suits, the memory. He wanted to forget his rage for the man who killed his parents. He wanted to escape the grief that welled up inside his heart. He just wanted to make it all go away.

In his mad dash, Bruce didn't notice the ground had weakened beneath his feet, and the heavy pounding of his tread was too much for the soil. In the middle of his step, the earth fell away and sucked the boy in. He reached out for something to break his fall, but caught only rainwater and mud. He fell, struggling against empty air, before landing on solid ground.

He felt the rough, cold stone against his face and hands before he pushed himself up. Bruce strained to see where he was, but there was not but one dim light, coming through the hole he'd entered. The rest was darkness. But Bruce could hear the sound of his fall echoing around him, and he realized that he'd fallen into an underground cavern.

He began to hear other sounds as well, from deep down underground, the likes of which he had never known before. Bruce could hear a thousand voices shrieking in terror and anguish. But they were not human. They were followed by a sound, like leather wings, rustling in the wind. It began deep underground, but then slowly grew louder and louder, and Bruce began to realize what it was he was hearing.

Bats. They began to swarm out from underground, first by tens, then millions came exploding from out the depths. Bruce threw his arms up to shield himself from them, but it was no good. His eyes were closed tightly, but he could feel them brushing against him, and he screamed in terror, hoping to drive them away with his voice.

The flapping stopped, and Bruce forced himself to open his eyes. The flock was gone, but there was still one bat, perched on a stone precipice right above him. It was facing Bruce, almost looking him square in the eyes, screeching urgently.

Bruce was scared for a moment, but only a moment. He could not describe his thoughts at that moment, but he knew, with an ominous clarity, what he had to do.

To be continued soon...

News

It seems my little story has accumulated popularity a bit sooner than I expected, and I haven't even gotten to the good parts yet. Naturally, I am happy about this, but there is one question I wanted to address. Some have commented that the differences from the original Batman aren't immediately apparent. I do feel obligated to remind everyone that it is difficult to improve on an already ultimate superhero. But rest assured, as the the series gets rolling, these differences will become much more apparent, especially as I start assembling the rogues gallery. Thanks for reading, and enjoy the upcoming chapters.

-Gaff