A/N: I gotta say I really enjoyed that last part, despite how short it was. I liked the sorta mystery behind it, how I didn't actually come out and say who any of them were, you just had to figure it our for yourself. That was also the last chapter of the first episode, Realm of Shadows (What the previous chapter is called). Now we move on to the second episode, Children of Arkham. I'm going to continue with the same them, now making the chapters all Something of Arkham. Also, just an FYI, you'll know when this episode ends when I have a chapter pretty much just like the last one. Very anonymous and mysterious, no one's being truly revealed.
Thx!
AMM
I stand before the golden plaque in the ground, In Memory of Thomas and Martha Wayne engraved on it. I ignore the rain. I ignore the downpour of rain that's soaked my clothes. I ignore the sirens blaring in the background. I wish I could ignore it all.
You….You don't have to do this….I hear before a gunshot sounds.
Only you now, Master Bruce….Alfred's words echo in my head.
A car pulls into the entrance of the alley and I glance over to see an umbrella open out. A moment later, Alfred hesitantly steps out and closes the door, beginning to walk towards me. I ran after he went silent earlier. My parents were good people. How could they possibly have been gangsters? And then for Alfred to keep this from me and not tell me. I just had to get out of there. My world's crashing and burning in front of my eyes.
"I thought I might find you here." He says as he comes to stand next to me. "The news was upsetting-for both of us-but….you should see this." My head is in such a fog that I hadn't noticed Alfred holding a newspaper in his hand.
Mob Money Behind Wayne Fortune?
There on the cover is a picture of me standing defiantly at the press conference. "I know you come here for solitude, Bruce. More allegations about his ties to the underworld. This isn't going away." Alfred stresses. "It's all so public and messy."
I scan over the paper before looking up at Alfred, the hurt from his secret clear in my eyes, my defenses torn to pieces at my feet. Everything I've known has been revealed as a lie and the one man I knew I could rely on for anything hid it from me, allowed me to continue living this fantasy, this delusion.
"Then tell me all of this is a lie," I plead.
"I wish I could! There are no angels in Gotham, Bruce." Alfred's tone softens as I close my eyes and turn my head away from him, trying to keep myself together. "Maybe there never were."
I turn and walk away, looking back at the newspaper. "I've been dreading this day for nearly two decades," Alfred admits. "I….I hoped it would never come."
"Forget the papers!" I snarl, tossing the newspaper to the side and turning back towards Alfred, stalking back towards him. "I want to hear it from you," I point harshly at him, almost jabbing his chest as he leans back slightly.
"The truth is, they were billionaires, Bruce. You can't amass that kind of wealth without making certain moral compromises." I brush past Alfred, not wanting to believe anything he's saying. "It's just not possible. That kind of money taints you."
"You kept their secrets for them!" I accuse as I turn back to him.
"I'm trying to help you understand!" He claims.
"Then try harder!" I order harshly, using a tone I've never dared use towards Alfred. My posture is rigid and tense, my back rim-rod straight and my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Alfred's eyebrows are raised way above his glasses rims, nearly to the middle of his forehead.
But then I seem to lose all the wind in my chest and my posture slackens as I fold my arms over my chest.
"Hill greased the wheels of politics," Alfred begins quietly. "Falcone was the muscle. Thomas….legitimized the whole thing with his name." I look to Alfred hopelessly, feeling so lost. "Your father, Hamilton Hill, and Falcone….they were partners." Alfred's face is set in determination. Whether it's for me to understand or for him to continue telling me, I don't know. I look away as he continues talking. "Nothing happened in Gotham without them knowing."
"Working with Falcone? And Hill?" I ask disbelievingly as I uncross my arms. "I expected irregular accounting. Not a pact with the devil," I say angrily as I turn towards Alfred once more.
This image of my father, the perfect man, is tainted-no, ruined. To learn that my father wasn't the amazing man that supported Gotham and loved his family, but instead was a gangster, making dirty money with two terrible people-it makes me want to go home and hide myself away forever, never allow anyone to see me again in fear that they'll reveal to be the complete opposite of what I've always believed them to be.
"Your father was a good man in many ways," Alfred insists. "But this was his undoing. I want you to know, I had my suitcases ready." Alfred states defiantly, boldly, telling me that he was so unhappy he was willing to leave. "I couldn't stand to be around your father anymore. But then they were killed." Alfred says quietly, glancing to the plaque.
"And you were all alone and I just couldn't walk out that door." I feel a brief pause in my anger and hurt, the feeling of betrayal as Alfred reminds me that he's always been here for me, he's always been my family, all I've ever truly needed. He and Diana, but Alfred's been with me since before I can remember.
"Everything I did-everything I've ever done-was out of love for you," Alfred tells me as he approaches, his eyes pleading for me to understand. His voice nearly breaks as he speaks again. "I hope you can forgive me."
I remain silent for a moment before saying, "How can I hold this against you? You and Diana are all I've got, Alfred. And you've been here; stuck with me far longer then Diana's been around.
"Thank you," Alfred says sincerely. "I won't let you down again," He says determinedly before he looks at the alley.
"This is the first time I've been back since that night." He tells me. "When the police called me to collect you, I thought they'd finally arrested your father. I couldn't believe a lowlife thug like Joe Chill would have the audacity to rob and kill Thomas Wayne. He was simply too well known. Too….too big. Yet, there it was." I walk in front of Alfred and stare down the alley. What if I was so stuck in the story I wanted to believe, that I overlooked what really happened? With all that's come to light, did someone actually kill my parents for more then a robbery?
"If my father was that deep in crime, he would have had enemies." I say as I lean down in front of the plaque.
"Well, it's a fair assumption. You don't think…." Alfred trails off when I don't respond. "You always said it was a simple mugging. In twenty years, you've never wavered from that story."
"I can recall every moment of that night in vivid detail. But maybe that's wrong," I say as I stand up.
"Sometimes we block out things we don't want to face," Alfred suggests, seeming to have read my mind.
"Maybe there was some detail I overlooked." I step around the plaque before glancing at the Wayne Memorial Auditorium across the street.
"I loved that movie. Saw it countless times at that theater. How long did it play there?"
"Only when you wanted to see it, Bruce. Your mother arranged the special screenings personally." A small smile graces my lips. My mother spoiled me rotten, providing the best and loving me as much as she possibly could. Her passion and love reminds me of Diana. That's probably why I'm so drawn to Diana. She's just like mom. God, I miss her.
"I never knew that. She was always so good to me." I then look back down the alley and to the small little entrance Joe Chill must've come from.
"I want him standing here. Right now." I say aloud as I imagine the man walking towards the entrance of the alley my parents and I were just about to enter.
"And what would the Batman do with his parents' killer?" Alfred asks curiously. "The possibilities are frightening."
"I'd only want to ask him one question. Why? My parents could've given him anything. Why would he just shoot them?"
"He was stabbed to death in prison," Alfred reminds me. "No one mourns Joe Chill, Bruce," I approach Alfred. "Think back to that night-as hard as it might be to do so." I nod before seeing the defiling graffiti on the surrounding walls.
I then see dueling guns and remember those being there the night my parents were killed. The image of my father jumping in front of my mom and I to protect us illuminates my mind. "He just wanted to protect us." I murmur, though loud enough that Alfred hears.
"He thought he was invincible," Alfred agrees gently.
"I always wanted to be brave. Just like him." I admit.
"And you are," Alfred insists. "He would be so proud to see that you took a different path."
As I approach the plaque once more, Alfred moves to stand slightly behind me. "Where exactly does the memory end?" he asks.
"With my father pleading-'you don't have to do this.' Then the gun fires."
"And after that?"
I shake my head and walk away. "Huh, there are considerable gaps in that recollection." Alfred points out.
"Maybe, but do I really want to know?" I think back to that night. I hear my fathers pleas, my mother agreeing to give anything Chill wanted. And then the gunshots. But I force myself to think back to between mom's cries and the gunshots.
Bruce, stay back! Dad orders as he moves to be in front of my mother and I even more.
Take whatever you want! Mom cried.
Nothing personal, just business. Chill says cruelly. He told me you had it coming.
You….you don't have to do this! Dad pleads when Chill cocks his gun. I can see it all before me. Dad begins to run at Chill but Chill doesn't hesitate to unload two bullets into my father's chest.
Thomas! Mom cries as blood splattered on me from dad's gunshot wounds.
Tell Falcone….he's making a mistake. Dad says as he fights for air. But Chill heartlessly puts a bullet in Dad's head, straight through his eye. More blood sprays onto my clothes. Mom dodges around me but Chill immediately empties his gun into her chest and stomach. She falls over beside dad as I drop to my knees.
Bruce….Bruce. She muttered as her and dad's tickets floated to the ground.
Mom? I ask as she stops moving. Chill approaches my father and pulls out his wallet before coming to mom and yanking the pearls off from around her neck. Many of them scatter to the ground around me.
I break down sobbing between my two dead parents as Chill comes to stand in front of me, one last bullet in his gun, which is aimed at my face. Having just lost everything, I look up at him and my eyes show fear of dying but the longing to die and join my parents wherever they went. I didn't want to live without them. There are still days that I wish I'd never survived that night. Chill had left at the sound of sirens, leaving me traumatized and haunted for the rest of my life.
"Bruce?" Alfred's voice shakes me out of it. "Are you all right?"
"It wasn't a mugging." I tell him. "They were assassinated. And Carmine Falcone knows why." I growl as I turn and leave the alley.
A/N: Woowee! Wasn't that fun?!
P.S. I've started working on the next chapter and Diana's back since some of you were missing her:P Anyways, I wasn't intending on adding lemons to this story, but I'm not objected to it. The thing is, right now, how I have the next chapter going, I could easily slip one in. Do you guys want that or no? Because I can do it, I can not do it, it's really up to you guys so let me know!
Thx!
AMM
