The Dark Saint.

Volume 1: The Shadow of the Bat.

Something in the Way.

The tombstone is performative. That's all it is. Elizabeth and Abner look at me as I step up to the cold marble, gently touching it and imagining her here. I didn't show up to the funeral. I didn't feel worthy. Pamela's gone, one more round, Pamela's gone. Of course that morbid thought plagues my mind. Just the idea that she's gone from my life not long after we got here and I got beaten up by the Owlman to the point where she had to try to run him down makes it feel like it wasn't a coincidence.

Her parents came after the funeral too. I guess they needed time to process it too.

"Grayson…" Elizabeth starts, setting her hand on my shoulder, "We both know Pamela was-"

I look back at her, "I failed her, Mrs. Isley. I failed her." my voice hitches and my throat stuffs with a lump, "Every time I woke up next to her I knew… I knew I had something worth living for."

"Now what do I do?"

Tears sting my eyes and Abner steps forward, hugging me. It surprises me at first, but I wrap my arms around the father of the love of my life and close my eyes. Sometimes I just needed the support.

"It ain't yer fault, Grayson." he says, and I break down. She's gone. She's gone and I wasn't there to help her. I tried. Abner lets me go and I walk out of the graveyard and get on my motorcycle.

There's only one way I can go on. Pulling into the tower, I park the bike and pass by the workbenches full of equipment Dad used to work on, bits and bobs of gadgets to be. I grab my own utility belt and set to work.

Grapnel guns, Batarangs, explosive gel, a Cryptographic sequencer, a sonic Batarang, a ton of other gadgets. All set and assembled. Days and weeks, old computers booting up, files organized. Midnight oil long since burnt.

All I am… is something else.

All I am…

Is the Bat.

The rain falls in drenching sheets, cutting into the stone and marble of the city's gothic spires. It sloughs off my suit, my claws clicking out and cape billowing ragged and torn at the ends. My goal is simple.

Find whoever killed Pamela. It had to be someone from the Botany department at GCU. Even through my suit I can still feel her warm arms around me. Her smile is still in my mind. I loom high above the streets, the sepia toned lights and steaming pavement sheen into me, my lenses flick down tinting everything a little darker. Her lips still press to my neck, her soft breathing still in my mind. The love she showed me is still fresh in my life. Still fresh in my every thought and waking moment. I grab the edges of my cape.

My mask flicks down a face guard, and all I can feel are her hands on my cheeks, the teasing laugh, the soft push away but then the pull right back into her arms with a giggly kiss. My cape spreads and I catch the wind, hot and heavy with the Old Gotham heat. All I can see is Pamela stretching her arms out, a coy smile on her lips and her glasses a little fogged up.

I jump. Flying towards the factory with all the purpose I need. Gothcorp has the leading cause of all this acid rain, not only that but their emissions are choking people. Old Gotham, or Outer Gotham, is full of the poorest of the city.

Landing, I scope out things from above. There's a bunch of guards patrolling the catwalks and walkways, all of them weaving through it like the maze it is. I enter through the window, the old sills broken open and cracked.

I slip in like a shadow, the steps I make are silent. Flowing from shadow to shadow I hear.

"See, the thing is… The Boss's got us covered with the GCPD. All we gotta do is our jobs."

"Is it that easy?"

I smile, so they have a boss? Well, I just need one to stay awake long enough to ask. I make my move, pouncing and knocking one of them out, darting to a catwalk above the other one. The guy still turns around.

"Donnie? What the fuck?"

I sweep through the upper levels, claws gouging and ripping, checking on our boy down in the lower levels. The upper level guys don't have much in the way of firepower. Mostly just melee weapons.

My batarangs flash into the lights, putting them out one by one. The one guy left raises his gun, shaking and quivering.

"Joe?! Alphonse?! The hell are you guys doin'?!" I sweep towards him, the last light swinging above him madly. He gulps and trains his weapon.

"Guys?! Please, answer! C'mon I'm fuckin' serious here!" I lash out a batarang, and in a rain of sparks the final light goes out. He bolts right for the door, his fists pounding against it. I got out another new toy of mine.

"LEMME OUT! LEMME GO! PLEASE! I'M FUCKING LOSING IT!"

I move my arm, my whip lashes the ground, and the guy turns, "HWAAAAHHHHH!" he fires his weapon and I lash it out of his hands, it skitters and fires on the ground before dying out. He screws his eyes shut.

"Look! Look! I won't do nothin'! Just lemme go! I promise I won't do anythin' wrong again!"

I just walk forward, my red lenses glowing in the darkness, the guy backs up against the wall, helpless.

"What are you?!" his voice screams out as my hands seize his shirt and drag him forward towards me.

"I'm Batman." I state, seeing him tear the door open and run out into the night, leaving the others bound together and returning back into the night. I move fast, move smart. Muzzle flashes color my advances, shattered glass rains down on the world below.

Fast. Smart. Decisive. A living terror, red-eyed and bowed in the corners and alleyways of Gotham, a nightmare born into the new world of the modern age. So others can sleep without worrying about tomorrow. Pamela's death still shrouds around me. Motivating me, pushing me further and further. Whip and claws, blood red eyes, tattered cape. I was nothing less than a terror. A demon born from the darkness of this new, more brutal Gotham.

I loom over the city, rain falling and cape billowing. It's all spread out before me, the lights reflecting off my dark suit. Each light is a small ember of hope in a greater darkness. Families, children, innocents and potential victims.

I have a long night ahead. Running from rooftop to rooftop, cape billowing behind me like a shadow. Using my whip to swing from building to building. Landing near my second location. A bank the Sionis crime syndicate ran. Of course these were just warning shots, nothing too bad. Scare them into giving up and lining up for jail time. I get in through the vents, keeping quiet, my hand landing on a smoke bomb. I didn't have a lot of them so I had to move fast.

I ease open a vent and drop it down, it sits and spins rapidly, spewing smoke everywhere and I launch myself out of there, taking down two of the guys in one fell swoop. Quick as lightning I move from room to room. Striking hard, fast, anyone with a gun. But then I hear a heavy cock and shells spatter my back, the armor and cape barely able to stop them from tearing into me. I stumble and slide to my knees, the goon shoving his gun muzzle into the back of my head.

"Looks like we got ourselves a bat, boys!" one of them whoops.

I look at them all surrounding me, being cocky. All I need is for them to get into position five of them. Two in front, two on the sides, one in the back. Once they do I snap into action. Muzzle flashes spit bullets at me, but I take them from the front, brutality surging through me as I take them down, spinning out my foot and dislocating Shotgun Goon's shoulder as he fumbles for shells.

One and Two Siders get pummeled, and the last guy gets out a knife.

My arm takes the brunt of the last guy's knife attack. Jamming my fist into his free side, I manage to make him crumple, but not before he slashes me in a softer part of my armor. I wince as I lurch out towards the entrance of the bank, their bodies lying everywhere. Shotgun looks up at me from the exit, holding his arm.

"Guh… wha… what the fuck are you doin'?! Do you know who you're-"

I grab his arm, making him cry out in pain, "Yes. I do. I will come for him, I will make him hurt. I will make you all a distant memory…"

I relocated his shoulder, "Gather up your men and head to the nearest precinct, don't leave a single thing out of your testimonies."

"If I tell 'em, they'll-" I grab his shoulder again and he squeals out, "OKAY! OKAY!" I smile and he looks almost ready to shit his pants.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

The next morning dawns with the news broadcasting the shutdown of the factory I raided, bruised and battered, bloody even. I sink down onto my couch, wishing that Pamela was here to see it.

"Reports of the incident outline a horrific Demon Bat-"

"Does Gotham have a new Batman?"

"What's next? Is Owlman going to have to stop him?"

Cracking open my journal, I write this down:

Wednesday.

So, we're here in Gotham. The first night I couldn't sleep in months. Listening to the rain and the thunder, the breathing of Pamela too. I know it's hard to think about what happened… I don't know what to say anymore…

She's gone.

Just remembering hurts.

That one moment I thought I'd be fine. Where I thought we were okay. Nothing was scary, nothing was going to get me. And now…

Gotham took her. And now…

I'm… I'm alone.

The news sloughs off my skin like the acid rain off my suit, Gotham's heavy air and streaming rain still here to stay. Sitting here, watching it all go down, I'm already having an effect and it's barely been a week.

Then, my elevator door opens, and I hear a soft clunk of a cane before I know who it is. Dad comes in with concern in his blue eyes. His suit is immaculate. Almost like he came right from a board meeting.

"Grayson." he greets, his gaze softens at the bruises, cuts, the abuse my body went through still throbbing and he sits down, "Bad night?"

"What are you doing here?" I snarl, "I thought you'd be busy at work." Glaring at him, he just sighs and looks at the picture of her and I on my lock screen. I can't stand it anymore. Just the 'care' he shows. He could've fixed this. He could've handled everything bad that happened.

"I'm worried about you. The reports from the hospital-"

"Oh, so NOW you're worried. Once I put on the cowl you're all in my business?" I stand up despite the pulling and yanking, constant pain, "I lost the best thing that ever happened to me! I lost the love of my life!"

Pacing. Glaring at him like a murderer, "Do you have any idea what it's doing to me?" He looks down at himself.

"Yes. I do." he says, "You're grieving and turning to the Bat to try to gain back-" No, he couldn't be more wrong. This was wrong. All of it.

"Stop trying to put words in my mouth!" my voice thunders, "Stop trying to psychoanalyze me and just BE HERE."

He stops and I continue to pace, frustration burning in my chest. Trying to find the words to say is hard enough and I can barely even keep it together. Why is he here now when I needed him years ago? Why now?

"If you're here to lecture me about how I dismantled some fuckers who regrew under your watch, just remember the little boy who used to want to be like you." I swallow down a heavy lump of emotion.

Dad grabs my shoulder, "What happened years ago was my fault." he says, "I understand that. I took the blame to protect you."

"Blame?! No one was blaming you!" I thunder, smiling, "I died and you did what you had to do, but I should've never been taken in the first place!"

I gesture to my chest, the scar still there, "Now I have to look at this and remember it over and over."

"So that gives you free license to be brutal?"

"It's the only way to be in Gotham. It's killing everyone!" I sit back down, "I'm just trying to give everyone a little bit more hope. Trying to do what you gave up on."

Even if I'm hurt I gesture to the new scars and new wounds, "Every wound is a small price to pay for a better Gotham."

Dad sighs, "Grayson, son this isn't what I wanted for you."

"Then what did you want? Huh? What did you want?! Tell me because I sure as shit didn't get the memo as I brained the Joker with a chair leg!" I loom over him, "Tell me, because I didn't want to put on that cowl for you."

"I wanted… I wanted a normal life. But no, my girlfriend, the love and light of my life. The one woman I'd follow into Hell itself is dead! All I wanted was to marry her, help her get to be a botanist, and live away from here!"

Dad stays silent.

"And now… now I can't even have that. I can't hold her in my arms ever again. I can't wake up next to her anymore, I can't listen to her ramble on about how plants are different, I can't… I can't live without her." Tears stream down my cheeks, everything about me became interlinked with her.

Everything about me became a part of her. Dad sits silent, listening. Giving me the time to vent. I grit my teeth and shake my head.

"But I can't die. I don't want to or need to. I just… need to muscle through it all." Yawning, I go towards my room, "I hope you understand, Dad."

"Grayson!" Dad says just before I close the door, "Don't let the cowl become you."

I shut the door with a soft click, falling onto my bed with the only thought being rest. Slowly, ever so slowly, I drift into slumber. The night calls to me more than the day does.

I wake up with the sun streaming in through the windows, the rain dripping gently onto the window. My body is aching. My back was raw and my arm was cut into by the knife. There's a bandage on my face. But I feel someone over me. Gently humming and running her soft hand through my hair. I smile and chuckle. Pamela forgot to text me again. Sometimes she loses track of time when she works with her plants and all that.

Sometimes she forgets to text that she's coming home so it's always a nice surprise to see her again.

"Babe… why didn't you say you were…"

I open my eyes and sit up, seeing no one there. The sun behind clouds, rain starting again. There's the crushing feeling in my chest again. My phone lies dejected on the bed where she used to sleep. My phone call history was open. I think I stayed up listening to her messages again. I resist the urge to cry. I'm done with that now.

"Home." I finish to the dead air. There's my eye paint and some blood smeared on the sheets. I groan and sit up gingerly. My entire body hurts and my back stings harsh and new. I hear the doorbell and I slide the sheets aside, washing my face and looking at the blackened water and how I wipe off the makeup.

The door opens and I hear, "Grayson? Honey?" somehow I feel a shot of hope in my chest that it's Pamela. I almost hurry out if it wasn't for my beaten and raw body. My wet hair smacks into my face and there's… Mom. Silvering blonde hair and green eyes taking me in. Mom's wearing just a white blouse and black slacks, heels too. She doesn't smile but rushes forward. She cups my face with her hands and studies my eyes.

"Oh baby…" she sighs, "I knew it."

"Wait…" I yelp as my body screams in pain.

"The eye make up, Kitten." she huffs, "I kept telling your father it was a bad idea." she takes in the rest of my injuries, "Oh Grayson…" she has tears in her eyes.

"I lost her, Mom…" I warble, "Does… does it always hurt this much?"

Mom pulls me into her arms, "Grayson, Grayson… shhh…"

I cry against my mother, my arms wrapped around her. Wishing I could cry at the funeral, wishing against wishes that I could just let go there instead of after I became Batman. Pamela would never come home, never lay my head in her lap and hum that same song, petting my hair. She would never smile or laugh or hold me again. Never call, never text, never… be in my life. Never again. And no matter how many goons I take down, no matter how much money I pour into this city there's going to be nothing done because nobody is pure.

Nobody.

And the last thing I had that felt like that was gone.

All I could hold onto is the Bat, my Mother, and just the knowledge that this is endless. This is my life now. Endless nights, endless fighting, a war I never signed up for but my father did without hesitation the moment he decided that his life should be in the dark. He kept pushing and shoving and never stopping until he was an old man in a rotted mansion, clinging onto the hope that I'd return wholly unbroken. But the thing is… I was broken long ago, picking up the pieces of my life.

Mom and I sit on the couch, crying together. Her for my choice, me for the fact that I'm here. That I lost her. I have no idea where to start. Mom dries her tears and mine too, smiling sadly.

"Lemme get a look at your stuff." she sniffles a little, "You need some serious help with this. Picking a fight with Sionis just because you want to make a splash isn't the way to go…"

"Okay? How would you-" she cuts me off with her finger on my lips.

"I would start with what happened with the lab accident." she says, "Then go from there. I'll do my best to draw the heat off, you just focus on the investigation into what happened."

"Right," I say, "Just be careful."

I get the code in for my Batcave, "This cave is a little lower tech than Dad's… and empty."

"Every hero has to start somewhere honey." Mom states, patting me on the head, "Besides, you're doing your best with what you have."

"Am I?" I wonder, "I mean… am I really?"

"You are." Mom bumps me a little, "So get cracking."

I watch her go through my Batcomputer, sighing almost nostalgically as I work on my Batmobile. It's a camaro with a jet engine on the back, armored and having the glass for the windshields replaced with bulletproof glass. Of course I work on the engine itself with Where is my Mind? Playing on the speakers.

Mom watches me and sighs.

"What?" I ask.

"You remind me of your dad…" she watches me work way closer, "Just… in the good way." she smiles sadly and rests her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm not him and never will be." I tighten a few nuts and bolts, "Thanks for your compliment, Mom."

Mom and I step back to admire my work. She hugs me with one arm and nuzzles me.

"Good job, Gray!" she laughs.

My cheeks heat up, "Tch… Just uh… wait until I get it going."

Mom steers me towards the elevator, "Breakfast first." she and I go upstairs. All I can say is that I'm lucky to have her in my corner at least.