I was coming up with ideas for this story, and was liking where it was going, even setting it all up in the last chapter, but then realized that the plot in my head is basically just Batman Begins. Heck, you all have probably already noticed the similarities! So, my solution? Change what I can, because right now, a lot of the plot has been set up all nice and neat.

Also, I just wanted to say that my updating schedule will be the most lax it's ever been. I'll probably just update on the weekends. This story isn't my top priority right now.

On another note, I have seen the Snyder Cut, and DAM, IT'S AMAZING. I'd rank it up there with the first Avengers movie, and maybe a bit more, because it has Batman. Heck, at the moment, I have it as my fourth favorite movie of all time. If you have HBO Max and felt discontented with the theatrical cut, check this out. It's four hours of pure awesomeness with just a few drawbacks.

Song of the Chapter: Barbastella by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard

I own nothing but the story.

Batman was in the cave, studying the knife.

"What is that?" Alfred asked him, setting down a plate of food.

"A knife I picked up from somebody," Batman said. "Whoever this guy is, he isn't messing around. The blade's made of volatile promethium."

"What did he want?" Alfred asked.

"A piece of the Serum Disperser," he said.

He looked at the symbol, which was what he struggled with the most. What did it mean? He ran it through the computer, but got no results.

"Well," Alfred said, "when you're done, don't forget that you need to attend - "

"I don't need to attend anything," Batman said.

"You may not, but Bruce Wayne does."

Batman sighed. "What's it for?"

"It's a charity dinner for the orphanage," Alfred said, "and you might want to remember that if you're going to hide your identity, you're also going to have to go out sometimes as Bruce Wayne."

Batman put the knife down. He was right. "Fine."

He got up and left the cave, getting ready.

Once he was dressed up, he walked out to the front where he saw Alfred ready to drive him there. He went in, and the ride was mostly silent, with him thinking about how many criminals were probably getting away because he wasn't out there.

"Sir," Alfred said, breaking the silence, "don't you think that you could help Gotham with more … legal methods? Perhaps you could help finance a program to make the city safer? It'd certainly cost less than your current methods."

He didn't respond to that.

"Sir?"

"Alfred, legal or not, what I'm doing is right. I have to fight the scum on these streets."

"Why? Because one killed your parents?"

The car stopped at a red light, and Alfred turned around to look at him. "Listen, I loved your parents. I miss them just as much as you do. But they wouldn't want you to be putting yourself down this path that will hurt you in the long run."

He turned his head to look outside the window. Alfred was wrong.

The light turned green, and they continued driving to the event. When they finally got there, he stepped out of the car and was met with an overwhelming amount of flashing lights and sounds as reporters took pictures and asked questions that he didn't answer. He simply walked inside and started acting like they wanted him to. Or, as they expected him to.

So, he started acting like a smooth billionaire who people would continue to suck up to. Needless to say, it was tiresome.

"Hey, Bruce!" someone said. "What do you think of that bat man the thugs said they saw at your building last night?"

He flashed a smile at them. "Well, I just hope he didn't leave any viruses."

They laughed, even though they had no reason to, and left.

He hated it.

He hated this whole act he had to keep up just to maintain his identity. It was only because of the benefits of being Bruce Wayne that he didn't put the mask away forever. There was no other reason for him to be Bruce Wayne.

He had nobody.

It hurt a bit inside, but he put that feeling away, as he always did.

This chapter might seem confusing at times, but I can assure you, the words and phrasing is absolutely intentional, even if it doesn't seem like it.

I really enjoy hearing what people think of my stories, be it good or bad, so it'd be nice if you left a review.

PlipplopPlipplopPlipplopPlipplop