"The End and the Beginning"
Part 5 of 6
Nick Gourley
7 years ago.
They both stood under the tree gazing at the tombstones of their beloved parents.
Bruce looked at Jason, both were solemn and quiet. Neither one of them wanted to disturb the peace of this place that they both held so sacred. It had been 13 years since that dreadful night, one of which neither would forget.
Jason was definately different from what Bruce remembered. The young, somewhat immature, young boy that he had known for so long vanished. Now stood a responsible, but troubled, young man. Both of them were so alike, that the thought scared both of them.
Bruce had always followed the rules, Jason liked to be rebellious, that was the way they had lived their lives. Not anymore. Now they were one in the same. In more ways, than either would know or admit.
Jason spoke quietly and softly,"What will you do now?"
"I'm going away. I don't know how long I'll be gone."
Jason turned to Bruce. "But you've only just arrived."
"There's still things I feel that I need to do."
"Well, that's alright, I honestly didn't plan on staying either."
Bruce gave him a puzzled, and concerned look. "Where are you going?"
"I dunno. Just, anywhere really. Get out of this city, get out of this country probably. I've always wanted to go to France. You?"
"I'm not really sure either. Just, wherever fate will take me."
"You're a lot different bro, a lot different. The Bruce I know would be waiting for that kid to give him a push in the right direction."
"I was pushed a long time ago Jason. A long time ago."
"When are you leaving big bro?"
"Tomorrow. I'm flying out on a private jet, don't really want the press to be hounding me down."
"You're gonna cause quite a stir with your sudden disappearance."
"It'll be no different with you."
"According to the press, I'm dead. I don't matter to them. As far as they're concerned, Thomas and Martha had only one child."
"Come on, let's get inside, it's getting kind of cold."
Bruce, accompanied by his younger brother, walked into the sanctum of Wayne Manor.
--
"Take care of yourself Jason."
"Eh, what's there to worry about?"
"That's why I said that."
Bruce entered into his private jet. Jason stood in his brown leather trench coat, listening to the soft hum of the engines. Bruce walked to his comfortable seat and peered outside of his side window. With a salute, returned by Jason, the plane was off of the runway, soaring into the sunset.
"Al?"
"Yes Master Jason?"
"Get me a plane, willya bud?"
"Of course sir."
Jason had made a vow, a secret and solemn one. He made it 13 years ago, on a rainy and dreadful night. One that would be revealed in due time. All in due time.
--
7 years later.
It had been a long night, and Gordon still wasn't finished.
The 5 goons that they had taken in only an hour earlier fessed up to being thrashed by some giant bat demon. While, unheard of, Gordon wasn't sure what to think. He had had reports of sightings all over Gotham in a matter of days. Whoever this winged vigilante was, Gordon hoped he kept the thugs off of the streets.
While, this was of course against the law, he couldn't help but feel happy. This man, or creature, was protecting this city. While his methods may seem radical and illegal, he was still doing it. He was doing what these so called "police officers" were supposed to be doing. As far as Gordon was concerned, Batman deserved a badge.
Commissioner Loeb wanted the Batman dead, that was plain and simple. No matter how he said it, it flowed out of his lips, that he wanted the Bat dead. Plain and simple, no ifs ands or buts about it.
The windowsil creeked. Gordon spun in his chair and pulled out his .9mm. Nothing, but the window was open. Creepy, way too creepy. He walked to the window and glanced upwards, downwards, sideways, and any other direction he could think of. There was nothing. He slid the window down and sat back down in his seat.
"JEEZ . . !"
Crouching on the desk was not a creature, but a very muscular man passing for a creature. This guy was good, real good.
"It's you . . ."
"It's me," the man-creature growled. It almost seemed that it pained the man to even speak.
"What do you want?"
"Information."
"Why me?"
"I can trust you."
"How do you know?"
"Ex-Ranger. Best known cop in all of Chicago's history. Only cop in Gotham's entire force, minus Dick, to not have any kind of criminal record. Take your pick."
"I see you know how to research, now, why should I help you?"
"You know exactly why."
This guy was really good. "Refresh my memory."
"Together, we can save Gotham."
"From what?"
"Itself." From its gloved hand, it floated a piece of red cloth towards Gordon. "This was at the first bank. His name is Joe, he goes by Red Hood. This is your man."
"What do I need to do?"
"Do you know anything about a Joe who worked at AXIS Chemicals and lost his job recently?"
Something clicked in Gordon's mind. "Yeah, Joe Kerr, his pregnant wife was killed only a week ago. Evidence points to Maroni, but nothing has been proven."
The creature, or was it a man, Gordon still wasn't sure, threw a cassette tape onto the table. "Here's your proof. From Maroni's own mouth."
"So, what do we do? You want me to go knock on Maroni's door and arrest him?"
"He and a band of his thugs will be at AXIS tonight. The Red Hood will be there along with Selina."
"Selina? Selina Falcone?"
"He's kidnapped her."
"Why?" The realization hit Gordon only after he asked.
"Hood wants revenge. He wants blood. The best way to get that, is war."
"He'd have just as good a chance of getting killed as the others."
"You'd be surprised what people would do."
Gordon wasn't going to question this last statement. "When?"
"Midnight. Bring your best."
Gordon looked down at his desk. "What if my best . . ." Gordon managed another quick glance up. The man-creature was gone. ". . . isn't good enough."
--
Dick stared at his roast beef and mashed potatoes. It had been so long since he had had his mother's food.
"How's work been son?" His father was as inquisitive as always.
"It's been alright. Pays well."
"You sound as if you don't like it."
"Not a whole lot has been going on."
"What about this 'Red Hood' the newspaper is babbling about?"
"Don't really know. Nothing is concrete so far."
"You gonna hang out with me after school Dick?" Tim called to him from across the table. He had forgotten how big he was growing. He was bigger than Dick was at his age.
"We'll see little buddy, we'll see."
"You shot anybody yet?"
"Tim!" Dick's mother yelled from inside the kitchen.
"No little bro, no I haven't. Hopefully, I'll never have to."
The phone rang. Tim sprang from his chair and ran into the kitchen. Yanking the phone off of the receiver he answered. "Yeah . . . Yeah hold on."
Tim, apparently defeated, trudged back into the dining room. "It's Jimmy."
By Jimmy, Tim meant Jim Gordon. Dick touched the phone to his ear. "Hey . . ." A look of worry and focus entered Dick's face. "Yeah . . . Yeah I'll be right there."
--
All she could hear was the sound of bubbling and churning.
"We're here my dear. We're here."
The black cloud was lifted and she had to take a few seconds to readjust to the light. The smell of the place was rank and horrible.
They were standing on a catwalk overlooking some massive facility. There were all different sights and smells that Selina didn't rightly know exactly what to do with them all. She wanted to hurl. That felt like the right thing to do.
"Aren't these fumes just absolutely atrocious?"
The man was trying to be a comedian. It wasn't working, nor would anyone be able to make her laugh at the moment.
"What will you do with me now?"
"Now, we wait my dear. Oh yes, we wait."