Disclaimer: Batman and all related characters and elements are trademarks of DC Comics Inc., a subsidiary of the Warner Bros. Global Brands and Experiences division of Warner Bros. I own nothing except the plot of this story.

Chapter 1: The Last of the Waynes

1981 A.D.

GOTHAM CITY
OCTOBER 24, 19:55 EDT

It was on a cold autumn night when a tragedy of the most nightmarish quality rocked Gotham City, New Jersey, to the core. In the mildest of terms, Gotham was not a safe place to live. Crime was the most serious problem, with thugs roaming the streets day and night, illegal gambling and rackets dragging economic values through the mud, and the numerous small-time gangs that were attempting to claim pieces of Gotham for themselves and preying upon hapless Gotham citizens. But not all citizens could see only the bad in their home city, for there was much to enjoy about Gotham which got everyone through the day.

One such individual, a boy, was on his way to a local theater with his mother and father for a movie he had been wanting to see for weeks, namely "The Mark of Zorro". His name was Bruce Wayne, the son and heir of Thomas and Martha Wayne, who were two of the wealthiest people in all of Gotham City for their work in philanthropy. Bruce had a fairly normal childhood for one with considerable wealth, but like his mother and father, the boy was not materialistic. He was well-mannered and diligent both at home and in school, and he was fond of heroes and adventure and a good story like most other eight year old children.

The film did not disappoint, and when it was all through, Bruce left the theater with boundless enthusiasm written on his young face. His parents were close to him as always, watching their son pretend he was a masked hero, waving a closed fist as though he were wielding a sword and imagining countless opponents fighting him and predictably losing.

"Stand aside, you varlets!" cried Bruce with excitable glee. "You would contest with me? Very well, you scoundrels! I will give you the honor of a quick and painless death!"

Thomas and Martha knew it was their boy's imagination being let out, and they smiled to see him so happy. "I suppose Zorro's your new hero, eh, Bruce?" said Thomas to his son.

"Not as much as you, Dad," replied Bruce with honesty. Then he asked, "Do you think I could ever sword-fight like Zorro?"

"I wouldn't recommend it, sweetheart," said his mother, even though she was smiling. "Wouldn't you rather go through life without having that face mussed up by a sharp blade?"

"Now, Martha, we both know that fencing isn't to the death these days," assured Mr. Wayne. "Maybe we'll see about getting Bruce some fencing and self-defense training when he's twelve."

Mrs. Wayne was uncomfortable with the idea of training her son to fight with a sword. There were times when she had to remind Bruce of the reality of life as it was, but she never dared get in the way of him enjoying his youth, so she put aside her motherly worries and simply kept her hand on Bruce's shoulder while he let his imagination guide him on.

At the moment, the Waynes were passing through Park Row, which was a very rundown and impoverished alley of Gotham City. Bruce's reverie came to an end as he looked around with anxiety building up in him, but he felt it ebb away when his father placed a hand on his right shoulder. They were almost to the walk where they had parked their family car when their path was blocked.

Standing before them was a scruffy-looking mugger holding a pistol to Mr. Wayne's chest. He was looking almost hungrily at the pearls around Mrs Wayne's neck unaware that these were fakes and only worn for family occasions, for Mr. Wayne was careful not to allow anything of real monetary value to fall into the hands of the thieves and pickpockets of Gotham's street.

"I'll take the pearls around the lady's neck to go," the thug said in an oily voice that made young Bruce's skin crawl.

Mrs. Wayne was the sort who hated confrontation, and so she attempted to dissuade the man. "Please, sir. They won't do you any good. These are fake pearls."

The mugger's eyes narrowed as if he couldn't decide whether to believe Mrs. Wayne. Then he took a step closer and said, "Then I'll take the whole package instead."

Mr. Wayne stood in front of his wife and son and said sternly, "Keep away from my wife!"

The thug said nothing this time, but his scowl made it clear what he was about to do. He shot Mr. Wayne in front of his wife and son, who watched in utter dread as the man of their household collapsed to the ground with a barely audible gasp of pain and shock.

Crying out in grief, Mrs. Wayne to her fallen husband, not caring that she felt blood pouring onto her hands. The mugger simply looked on in disgust at the weeping young woman and then grinned wickedly. A second later, he shot Bruce's mother as well.

Bruce could only stand still as his mother, the guardian angel he had known all his short life, slumped to the ground beside his father and lay unmoving with him. Everything he had known in his darkest dreams had become real because of some man with a firearm, and all he could do was watch in shock as the street thug casually walked away as if he had never met the Wayne family in the first place. Then after standing numb with shock for a minute, Bruce fell on his knees and let out a scream of anguish as hot tears rushed down his cheeks.

The funeral for Thomas and Martha Wayne was held on Friday of that week, only a few days before Halloween. Every employee of Wayne Enterprises attended along with the members of Gotham City Police Department who had known the Waynes best and every family who was friendly to the Wayne family from the wealthy families to the average citizens.

Bruce said nothing to anyone during the memorial service or the burial of his parents' bodies. At the reception, he was quiet and tearful, even to his family's butler and confidant Alfred J. Pennyworth. The only other person he wished he could speak to aside from Alfred was Vicki Vale, who had known Bruce since they met in first grade two years earlier. She said no words as she knew that a simple "I'm sorry this happened" would do nothing to ease Bruce's wounded soul. So Vicki did the only thing she could think of: she embraced him and let him cry upon her shoulder.

…

A few weeks later, Bruce had hardly spoken to anyone at his school. In fact, aside from Alfred and Vicki Vale, he spoke only to the pastor of his church and several others. Then in the middle of November, Alfred found Bruce sitting on his bed, looking at the portrait of his parents that he kept in his room. The master butler of the house came to sit by Bruce's side as his first act as Bruce's legal guardian.

"Alfred, why did he do it?" said Bruce with a choking voice. "He could've just put down his stupid gun and left my parents alone. But instead, he shot them, and then walked away like he had done nothing wrong!"

With an equally heartbroken sigh, Alfred replied, "I wish I knew the real reason, Master Bruce. But this much I can say: men who break the law do so because they either feel they have no other way to get by in the world, or because they feel powerful doing it, or because it gives them pleasure."

"It's no excuse!" spat Bruce. "I know that crime in this city is bad, but it shouldn't have to be! I heard the news reports all the time when Dad was here, Alfred! Gotham's leaders are accused of corruption, the police force is underfunded, mobs are trying to control Gotham, and nobody's doing anything to change it!"

"The enforcers of law can only do so much, Master Bruce," Alfred went on. "And while it is true that Gotham's legal system is swaying and the police have little resources with which to stop crime, we have to have hope that matters will get better here."

"They won't," scowled Bruce. "Not unless someone is able to make that change when those who can do it either can't or won't."

The young man stood up and faced Alfred with an edge to his voice that belonged to a much older man. "When I am able to make my way in the world, I will dedicate every resource I have to making Gotham a happier, healthier, and safer place to live. I know I'm not ready for that now, Alfred. I'm not big enough, old enough, or strong enough to do it. But that will change because I'm brave enough."

A/N: How was the beginning of this origin story of Batman, folks? Next chapter, we'll see our boy Bruce Wayne as he trains to become the world-class martial artist he needs to be to carry out his missions of justice. Stay tuned!