"Seeds of War"

Part 3 of 3

by Steave

"May I inquire as to why you haven't had any rest, master Bruce?"

Alfred was distraught, maybe even as much as Bruce, when the Waynes were gunned down in Crime Alley. But, he had to be strong for they young Bruce Wayne, and help him in any way possible. Seven years ago, Bruce vanished from the world, gone to find something. When he returned only weeks earlier, Alfred was ecstatic. But, something was very different about Bruce. The way he presented himself, the way he walked, it was not the little boy he had known. It was something else. Darker.

"Selina says that Falcone left town."

"And, I presume that you do not believe the young woman?"

Bruce turned his head towards Alfred. "No, I don't."

"I suppose you believe that he has had a hand in these assassinations?"

"I don't suppose Alfred. I know."

Why Master Bruce had to keep himself down here, in this . . . dungeon was beyond Alfred. He supposed it gave him the solitude and sanctity a parentless-child needed. But, it only reflected the darkness and loneliness that dwelled inside Master Bruce. Alfred was willing to go along with Bruce's plans of "saving Gotham," even if it meant killing him as well.

The telephone could be heard in the background, and without saying a word, Alfred left to answer it. Bruce had been staying in the cave a lot more than Alfred would've liked him to. It seemed that every millenia or so Bruce would decide to go out into Gotham. He always seemed to be "at work," and Alfred couldn't necessarily agree with Bruce's being down there, but if that is what he wants, than he could have it.

He lifted to phone off of the receiver, "The Wayne residence."

"Hello . . . Al?"

"Ah, Mr. Roman! It is certainly a delight to hear your voice again. How are you doing?"

"Just fine Al. Is Bruce around?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not sir. He appears to be sleeping or . . . otherwise occupied at the moment."

"Well, could you wake him up for me?"

"Out of the question sir. I think you and I both know how Master Bruce loves his beauty sleep."

"Very well then. Just . . ."

"What is it Roman?"

"It is really urgent Al."

"Well, I suppose I could give him a nudge or two."

"Thanks Al. Tell him to meet me at Wayne Enterprises in the Board Room."

"I will relay the message immediately sir."

"Thanks Al."

Alfred placed the phone back on the receiver and descended once again into the cave.

"Who was it?"

"That was Roman Falcone sir, he wishes to speak with you at Wayne Enterprises."

"Now?"

"I believe so sir."

"That's just what this 'billionaire murderer' wants. Roman could be in on this too."

"Sir, have I ever told you about your trust issues?"

"More than once Alfred."

"Then may I suggest something. Let the police take care of this."

"They're too slow Alfred. If this killer is going to be there tonight, no one will be able to stop him. And I can't do anything too revealing."

"Understandable. But, how about I'll take care of it."

". . . You're going to the GCPD and tell them that you're afraid that I might be killed tonight."

"Precisely sir. You're quite smarter than those boys at Harvard gave you credit for."

Bruce lifted himself from his leather chair and proceeded to the entrance of the cave. "Come on Alfred, we have work to do."

--

"You're not to harm my son, understood?"

Carmine felt like he was staring right into the eyes of a wild animal. They were blood red, and seemed as if blood would begin rushing straight out of his eyes any second. After a long while, the man nodded.

"Good, now I'll give you the cash as soon as you return with Wayne's head."

". . . what if your ssson interferes?"

"What did I tell you Zsasz?"

". . . he isss not to be harmed."

"Gooood. Now then, if you'll excuse me, I must return to my home or else Gotham will start getting suspicious."

"Yesss."

Victor Zsasz watched his employer leave their dank and dark chamber. The subway was always soothing to him, thats why he decided to build a little home a ways down from the station. Granted, it had been previously occupied by some homeless, and the janitor. But not now. Their bodies propped up in the corner of the room gave him company.

"Tonight," he told them. "we finish thisss."

--

"I just don't understand Bruce . . ."

They both stood there, in the dark Board Room. They were almost mirror images of each other. Both had word the same suit, same shoes, everything. The only difference between them was Bruce was bigger than Roman. Both had had troubled backgrounds. Both had been turned into something else because of them.

"What don't you understand Roman?"

"Why won't you do business with Falcone Imports?"

"Roman, is this why you called me here? After some of our members on the Board die, are mecilessly killed, you call me here not to grieve with me for their loss but to ask me why I won't do business with your family? You have some nerve Roman."

Bruce's face began to burn with anger, it almost seemed like Roman didn't give a rat's ass about the employees.

"And you have some nerve talking to me like that Bruce. After everything our family has done for yours . . ."

"Whoa, wait right there Roman. You haven't done anything for us. It was us that did things for you. If it wasn't for my father, you wouldn't be here right now and neither would your sister, or your father."

He remembered that rainy day only months before his parents were murdered. Carmine's father brought him into the Wayne's own house to have Thomas save him. He had been shot, and they couldn't take him to a hospital. If they did, they might as well have put themselves in an electric chair. Thomas reluctantly saved Carmine's life, and the Falcones have been in the Wayne's debt ever since.

"Bruce . . ."

"You want to know the truth Roman?! The real reason why I won't do business with your family? I don't do business with crimelords, and I will not allow you to corrupt our business with your money."

Bruce's veins were popping in his neck, he could feel his heart begin to race. The nerve of Roman . . . the nerve.

"Bruce . . ."

Roman was fast, but Bruce never remembered him being this fast. Quicker than most of the henchman Bruce had taken down in the last few weeks, Roman pulled a Colt Single Action Army, one of the most elegantly made revolvers Bruce had ever seen. The metal was a cobalt blue with intricate gold carvings and designs. It was beautiful, until he realized that he was the one staring down the barrel of it.

"So much has happened since you were gone. You talk about nerve! YOU TALK ABOUT NERVE!!! You were the one who upped and disappeared. Not me and Selina. I had to watch her cry night after night hoping you hadn't gone and killed yourself. I had to comfort her. And on top of that, I have to carry on the legacy of our family. Don't talk to me like you know what's going on!!! I'm under so much pressure right now from my father that if I don't do this for him . . . I don't know what he'll do to me."

Bruce was astonished. He had never seen Roman cry before, but he was witnessing it right now. All of the feelings that had been inside of Roman for the past seven years came flushing out. Bruce felt that he was on the wrong . . . but he wasn't sure.

"Roman . . . I'm sorry I didn't know. But I just cant do it."

The gun cocked, and Bruce was ready to take him out. But then, Roman's face so full of emotion and anger turned into shock and alarm.

"BRUCE GET DOWN!!!"

Bruce fell to the floor and heard the deafening BLAM of the revolver.

--

That no good bastard Roman.

When Zsasz raised his knife, the blade caught the moonlight's glare and Roman spotted him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Almost like a pro, the kid fired his fancy revolver and caught Zsasz square in the shoulder. The good thing about Zsasz though, is that the more you hurt him . . . the angrier he gets.

He fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder, but then his rage began to take over. He released his hand from his naked shoulder and licked his hand clean of blood. He could feel Roman's shutter all the way from here. He got back to his feet, blood dripping from his wound down his exposed chest. Some of it falling to the floor, some getting caught in many scars or "tallys" on his body.

"W-who are you?"

Roman was frightened, his gun was shaking all over the place. This was going to be all too easy, was all that Zsasz could think. But then he remembered Falcone's voice . . . about his son.

Zsasz shook himself out of his trance and focused only on Bruce's body. He was lying on his back, his eyes staring intently on Zsasz, and he looked for some kind of emotion to spring out of Zsasz's face. He only found one . . . blood hungry.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!!!"

Roman fired another shot into Zsasz's side, this one tearing right through his body. The pain was almost soothing, it fed his rage. His eyes started to go into a hazy red. Blood red. He shook himself free and rose his knife to end Wayne's life. But then Roman did the dumbest thing he could have . . . he ran right into Zsasz.

The two doubled over, Roman's voice screaming with fury and he mounted onto Zsasz. His flurry of fists found their marks with every blow. Roman's knuckles were covered with crimson just as Zsasz's face was. When Zsasz stopped moving, Roman let out a sigh of relief it was over.

Not.

With a sudden jolt Zsasz stabbed his knife right into Roman's hip. Roman let out a yelp of pain and fell off of Zsasz. Zsasz's breath became twisted and scraped along the back of his throat. His eyes were full of blood, whether from the massive beating or out of some transformation no one was sure. But he knew there was one thing to do and one thing only . . .

Kill.

He now mounted Roman out of instince and gave him an even more savage beating than the one he recently received. Roman coughed and gagged, tears formed from the pain. He was screaming in agony, and Bruce looked on. Then, he couldn't take it anymore.

Bruce charged at Zsasz with the speed of a linebacker ready to make the big hit of the game. He drilled him to the floor, and Zsasz was shocked. Bruce could feel one of Zsasz's ribs break upon impact. But much to his suprise, Zsasz recovered quickly, and both were on their feet.

Zsasz was panting like some kind of animal, ready to make the kill. Bruce straightened his back, and seemed to transform in front of Zsasz's own eyes. His posture was more menacing, but it was his eyes that really changed. Zsasz, for the first time since he could remember, was terrified.

Bruce Wayne was no more, he was now staring at Batman.

He cocked his head to look at Roman's broken and battered body, then resumed his awful gaze upon Zsasz. "No more."

Zsasz's hand was trembling.

"No one else dies today."

Zsasz raced out of fear, and crashed into Bruce's fist. Zsasz recovered and went for another stab, but Bruce parried with the palm of his hand and with the same hand quickly brought it backwards, smashing into Zsasz's cheekbone. Zsasz went to strike Bruce with his elbow, but Bruce was too fast. He ducked brought his own elbow into Zsasz's abdomen. He staggered back towards the entrance and Bruce returned to his stature of dominance.

"W-what the hell are you?"

Bruce opened his mouth, but was unaware of how intelligent Zsasz really was. He had asked not to hear a response, but to catch him off guard. Bruce wasn't fast enough, and Zsasz threw his knife across the room into Bruce's shoulder. Bruce was knocked from sheer momentum, off of his feet to the floor.

"Didn't think a crazy man could be smart . . . did ya Wayne?"

Bruce grunted, trying to pull the knife free from his shoulder.

"Need some help? Here, allow me."

Bruce screamed as Zsasz ripped it from his shoulder, and blood came flowing forth.

"Now then, shall we finish this?"

Zsasz raised the knife and Bruce's mind began to race. It couldn't be over . . . could it? All of his hard work, only to be bested by a deranged knife-throwing lunatic?

Father . . . I failed you.

BLAM!

Zsasz's face was full bewilderment and he stiffened up. He let out a breath of pain as he crashed to the floor in a heap. Bruce glanced up and saw a silhouette of a young man holding a flashlight and .9mm.

"Jim! You guys need to get in here now . . . these guys need some serious medical attention!"

--

The lights were out again . . .

Sal tossed and turned in his bed, goddamn Dent. It sickened him that that asshole could just come in here and spit in his face like that. The nerve . . . the goddamn nerve.

He was in the slammer for no damn good reason and now Falcone was free to muscle him out. Oh, hell no. It wasn't gonna be like that. He'd get out of here . . . he had to get out of here.

The laugh. It starts up again. That crazy laugh . . . but this time, it's closer. Sal glanced over his shoulder and could swear he saw something right in front of his cell. Some tall, lanky bastard, but he couldn't get a good look since the lights were out. The laughing stopped, and now there was a dark, cynical chuckle.

"Oh Saaaaaaaaaaaally! Sally boy . . . is that you?"

This crazy bastard's voice crescendoed and decrescendoed like some stupid opera piece.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Ooooooh, so you don't remember hmm?"

Sal started to get a little worried.

"Oh, don't look so disappointed in yourself Sally. After all, I hardly expect an important business man like yourself to remember anyone's name at all. Why, you have so much on your plate."

"What the hell do you want clown?"

"Hehehe, clown. If you only knew the half of it Sally."

"Your crazy, you know that?"

"It takes one to know one."

"Get the hell out of here."

"But wait Sally, I'm not finished. Oh no, not yet. I can help you."

Sal was intrigued, "How?"

"It is Falcone you want . . . isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's his fault I'm in here."

"And I can get you out."

". . . What's the catch"

"Excuuuuuuuse me?"

"There's gotta be a catch."

"Oh no Sal, you'll come to find that I'm alot like Sandy Claws. I give things for free and don't expect anything in return."

"So . . . how do I get . . ."

Before Sal could finish, the wall behind him exploded in a burst of fire and ash. The smoke was overwhelming and the moon was shining through. He started to make his way, but turned. The light revealed only a pale jaw and red lips pressed against the bars of his cell. The lips opened to reveal his nasty teeth, and the widest smile he'd ever seen. But also, the most evil and malevolent one.

"You won't regret this."

Sal ran out of the hole, and the sound of sirens and dogs followed his passing.

"Oh, I know Sally . . . I know. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

The laugh started again, and filled Gotham's heart with fear.

THE END