The silent figure crept towards the edge of the building's ledge, raising one foot onto it. With the eyes hidden behind his dark mask, Raze Landon-Wayne searched for the tiniest thing out of place in the dark streets of Gotham. Nothing came out in the open, so he began to think.
Often, when he was alone—which was quite a bit of the time—Raze wondered where his adopted father, Bruce Wayne, was. Ever since he was seven, Raze had been taken in by Bruce and made a member of the Wayne family. When he was twelve, Raze learned of Bruce's alter ego and for two years trained and, when he was fourteen, took the identity of the Bat Teen.
He himself didn't think it was that bad for the time being, but he could tell from the scowl on Bruce's face when he heard the name mentioned that he wanted it changed. When Raze was sixteen, Bruce came out and flatly told him, "Change the damn name." So, Raze did as he was told.
He became the Blue Bat.
Bruce had been gone on a business meeting—or so he had told Alfred to tell Gotham. Raze was pretty sure that it had to do with his identity as the Batman, but he didn't let on. Now, after three months of Bruce's departure, Raze wished that he had found out the real reason that Bruce had left.
Raze lifted his head, gazing out at the moon's dim light as it shined through the night sky. The seventeen-year-old slowly gulped. It had dawned on him before that at the moment, he was Gotham's only hero. Now, he thought of it again.
And back to the time when his life changed forever.
"Raze!"
The voice of Rain Hills rang throughout the house. It wasn't necessarily a yell, but it was the loudest whisper that Raze had ever heard before. The young, African-American boy turned the corner, an action figure clasped in his hand.
"Yes, Daddy?" Raze asked quietly. He could tell by the look on his father's face that something was wrong.
"Raze—you know the secret room, in my study?"
Raze quickly nodded. It was pretty much a safe; the valuables of the Hills family were hidden inside. "Good. Get in there, and stay there until I come get you."
"Where's Mommy? And Sun?" Images of his mother and five-year-old brother shot through Raze's mind.
Rain's eyes glanced to the stairs. "They're coming down. Just get in the room."
That's when Raze heard what had been troubling Rain; banging sounded upstairs, then a loud crash as the upstairs' window broke. Lilly Hills's scream echoed throughout the house, and then a gunshot quickly followed. Both Rain and Raze stood, frozen in awe as Sun, Raze's brother, yelled out, "Mommy!"
Another gunshot, another scream.
Rain got down quickly, shaking Raze back into life. "Raze! Listen to me. Get to the room. Now."
Raze nodded and took off down the hallway towards the study where the room was. He turned to look over his shoulder as Rain went to an end table near the front door, where his father's pistol was waiting, loaded. As Rain pulled it out, Raze ducked into the study. He moved to the back of the room, where a six foot painting stood against the wall. He pulled it back slowly, revealing the metal door to the secret room. Raze turned the lock into the combination his father had told him.
A ping told him that the combination was right. As the door swung open, Raze ducked inside and cut on the dim light inside, just as another gunshot sounded. This one was different. It was his father firing this time.
Bang! Bang!
Two more shots. A grunt sounded from outside the secret room, outside the study. It was Raze's father.
He had been shot.
Footsteps sounded as the man—whoever he was—entered the hallway. Three more shots, in rapid succession. Rain screamed out in pain as Raze heard his limp body thud against the ground. For safety, Raze tugged the action figure he held tightly to his chest.
The man moved around quietly. Suddenly, Raze heard him rummaging through drawers in the hallway. More shuffling steps. The man was in the study.
As he looked in the drawers there, a loud bang sounded from the other end of the house. Raze thought it might be the police. But no; the cop shows on TV always had the cops yelling, "Hold it! Police!"
There was no voice sounding besides the intruder uttering a curse.
The man took more steps closer to the doorway of the study, when all of a sudden he screamed and fired the rest of the clip in his gun. A clatter sounded, and Raze figured he must've dropped the gun. Then, a loud thud.
A grunt escaped the man's lips. Then a punch sounded, followed by another. "No, please—" the man pleaded, but another punch was heard.
"Shut up," a gruff voice muttered. Raze's eyes widened as he heard the voice. It wasn't like one he had heard before. There was a growl and a certain fierce edge behind it. The intruder yelled something at whoever had punched him and a few wisps were heard in the air as he threw his own fists. But he was no match for his opponent; another pair of punches, and the man thudded against the floor.
Raze heard his breath catch up in his throat when the footsteps of whoever had beaten up the intruder moved closer to the secret room's door.
The young boy gulped when, all of a sudden, a snap sounded. Whoever it was had tore the picture apart and flung it aside. That's when Raze realized he hadn't fully closed the door. He raised his hand up, but he was too late. It slowly opened up and, standing there before Raze, was a legend.
It was the Batman.
Raze's jaw dropped open and he let his figure fall to the floor. Batman simply narrowed his eyes. They weren't like normal eyes; no pupils were seen, just two shining white blocks that squinted when his eyes should've. Slowly, he bent down and grasped the toy and handed it to him.
Raze took it, his lip quivering. Something suddenly crossed Batman's face. His mouth twisted up in a look of emotion, sorrow, regret.
Maybe remembrance.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his gruff tone lighter now. The cloaked figure, in full black body armor, turned and moved away as sirens sounded in the distance from police cars and ambulances. With that, the Batman was gone and the first responders were rushing in, checking up on Raze. They were upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, searching for evidence.
Raze cradled his action figure closely. Even if no one knew who had saved him, he knew. He would always know.
Slowly, he looked down to the Batman action figure he held in his arms. "Thank you," he mouthed to the inanimate object. He only wished that he could have said it in person.
Raze sighed. He was able to say it in person, but now the one who had saved him was gone. The Blue Bat rested his hands on the sides of his utility belt, where twin pistols were hooked. He knew that Bruce had disliked his initial choice of carrying two guns and two swords.
"Weapons always lead to death," Bruce had told him once in a training exercise. "I don't do what I do to get revenge on those who have wronged me or others. I'm no final authority. The fate of the perpetrator is to be decided by the judge, jury, and executioner."
"Sometimes you need to become the judge, jury, and executioner," Raze had shot back. Bruce narrowed his eyes.
"You also need to learn perception and not to do what your emotions immediately tell you," he replied coolly. "You don't think I want to get revenge on my parents' killer for what he did to me? I spent the first three years of my career hunting him down. I was eighteen when I started this, Raze. When I was twenty-two, I realized how much that thirst for revenge had drained my life. I wasted what I had of my childhood. From the ages of thirteen to sixteen I was in a dark, brooding time. At seventeen, I tried to fit in with those who I went to school with. But I had become such a loner, such an outcast, I wasn't like everyone else. So when I was eighteen, I took it upon myself to become a hero. And I spent the rest of my life as a teenager to hunt down the man who killed my family. And where did I end up in that hunt? Nowhere, that's where."
When Bruce had told him that, Raze began to think of how close they really were to one another. They both lost all of their family at a young age. Bruce was only thirty-one, so he wasn't all that much older than Raze was, anyways.
Suddenly, a scream sounded down in the alley to the left of the building Raze was standing upon. Quickly, he turned to the left and gazed down to the darkness where he could see them: two brutes, one with a club and another with a chain, cornering a young woman against a corner against a dumpster.
Scowling, Raze took a few steps back, then he ran to the ledge, diving off. When he was just ten feet from the ground, he brought his blue-and-black cloak back, letting himself drift down to the asphalt ground, landing with a thud on his knees.
The two thugs turned around. The one with the chain twirled it around his arm. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. It was clear, however, that he didn't care.
Raze stood up to his full, six-one height. The blue spikes of his hair glimmered in the moonlight. "I'm the Blue Bat."
The one with the club snickered. "You'll be the Red Bat soon enough, dipshit," he muttered, raising his club. "Come on, punk. Show us if you're as bad as the ol' papers say ya are."
"With pleasure," Raze muttered, reaching behind the folds of his cape to grab one of the blue batarangs he had clasped to his utility belt. Quickly, he unfurled one from the small disc shape it was in into its full bat shape. Just as fast, he spun around, giving it a quick toss towards the club-bearer.
The man had just enough time to bring up his bat. The batarang embedded itself into the stick, and a small patch of it froze into an icy blue. The man looked at it in shock before snarling at him. Quickly, he charged his foe. "Get the girl!" he yelled at his companion, swinging his club wildly.
The man with the chain smiled wickedly, turning to face the young woman. A horrified look crept upon her face as she read what was written across the man's face. "No," she whispered softly. "Please don't."
Raze jumped into the air as the man swung his club, the batarang now a deadly sharp piece that could deal some damage to the young hero. As the first strike missed, Raze reached to one of the twin swords on his back, tearing it from its sheath. A white tip gleamed in the dim light as he pointed it at his foe. "Show me what you've got."
The club swung quickly at the sword, sparks flying as the batarang connected with the sharp point. Raze spun the blade around, gripping it with both hands as he swung it up, tearing it through the club. It split in half, narrowly above the man's fingers. His face flushed and he dropped the remainder of the club, backing up.
Raze brought his sword against the man's throat. "Beg mercy," he ordered, "or suffer the consequences of your crimes."
The man wrapped his hands together. "P-please," he muttered. Raze didn't do anything except bring up the weapon, smashing its hilt into the man's head, knocking him out. Quickly, he spun around, lowering his sword. He saw the man with the chain trapping the young woman against the filthy wall, a hand on the belt at his waist. Snarling a curse upon the man and his family, Raze darted for him.
Raising his chain, the man turned as he heard Raze's curse. He swung the metal links at Raze, but the young man batted it away with his blade. The man slugged out with a fist, but Raze ducked down and dodged it, jabbing out with an elbow into the man's hip. He grunted in pain, slamming into the brick wall beside him.
As he fell, Raze raised his sword, pressing the tip of it into the back of the man's neck. "Don't. Move," he ordered, the icy tone clear in his voice.
The man didn't move—for a moment. Quickly, he slung up with the chain, smashing it into the fingers that wrapped around the blade's grip. Raze cried out in pain, a searing burn flaring through his fingers. The sword flung away from his hand as the man climbed to his feet, swinging out with the chain. It smashed into Raze's chin, sending him to the dirty ground.
As Raze reeled in pain, the man moved back to the girl, who was cowering in fear. Before he could do anything, however, he sent a hand for one of his pistols, drawing it from its holster. Before the man could turn around, Raze fired the weapon, sending a burst of ice over the man's foot, trapping it in a thick coat to the cement.
As he turned around, Raze climbed to his feet, rushing the man. He sent out a foot, which connected with the man's chin. The man collapsed to the ground, crying in pain as a snap sounded from his ankle. Clearly, he was in a bad position, flying back with his foot stuck to the ground. Raze could only imagine the pain in the man's leg now.
It was his choice, he thought as he turned to the woman.
"Are you okay?" he asked, returning the pistol to its holster. She slowly nodded. "Y-yes. T-thank you," she muttered, a tear running down her cheek. Raze offered a simple smile, resting a palm on her shoulder. "Don't bother."
She leaned in slowly, giving Raze a quick peck on the cheek. Then, she turned and took off down the street. Raze turned to the injured man on the ground. "Now," he addressed him, "it's time to get you and your friend here booked in prison."
Here's the first "real" chapter, introducing Raze Landon-Wayne—also known as the Blue Bat. Can you guess yet which team he's going to join? This character was submitted by user JJ55. Let me know how you thought of the chapter, and what you thought of Raze's introduction and the character himself. Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll stay tuned for more action from the characters YOU'VE created!