Guest: I wouldn't say it like that. I mean Talia is a complete psycho, while Diana and Bruce merely drifted apart mainly because Bruce goes for the jugular when he's angry and when Diana reciprocated it was when Elissa walked in.
Riccardo: Thank you for trusting me.
This chapter heavily inspired by TDKR's animated movies and BTAS episode.
Making the Best of It
Chapter 43
Following the disastrous trip to Washington D.C., Bruce and Diana discussed what their other options were. Considering how willful their daughter was and how efficiently she could dodge her mother or barricade herself in her art room.
Considering all this, the two agreed that Diana would visit Elissa in Gotham instead of risking a repeat of her getting on a plane without permission again.
Unfortunately, Elissa continued to rebuff her mother's attempts to connect with her—to mend their strained relationship.
It disheartened the Amazon, but she persevered as she knew someday their relationship would be restored.
Bruce helped the best he could because he wanted to apologize to Diana regarding his behavior back when they were together. However, he refused to utter the words. Instead choosing that actions spoke louder than mere words.
Of course, Bruce sat his daughter down to discuss her behavior and the lack of respect towards her mother.
The man tried to be patient with her. Tried to be understanding and gentle. Because throughout Elissa's entire life he had never yelled at her.
But the girl had the combined stubbornness of both her parents which exceeded his own.
The aging man sighed, whilst his stubborn daughter pouted on the couch, arms crossed, and wasn't making eye contact with him.
"Elissa, you need to be more respectful towards your mother."
Silence.
He continued, "I know you're angry with her, but she does love you. And I know you love her." His words were gentle and reassuring that they started to crack Elissa's hard shell.
And then her shell crumbled completely with what her father said next.
"Look, Elissa. You're going to have your mother around a lot longer than you are going to have me or Alfred," he voiced softly, depressingly. The truth was no one knew if Elissa had also inherited her mother's longevity. He hoped she lived a long and good life.
A shocked Elissa uncrossed her arms and finally looked at her father in a panic. "Don't talk like that, Dad," she pleaded sadly. She inched closer to him worriedly. Terror reflected in her blue eyes.
"It's reality," the man intoned a bit harshly.
A meek Elissa no longer wished to discuss such a morbid topic. Instead, she chose to discuss something else.
"What happened between you and mom? I mean, really happened?" The teenager had the gist of what happened between her parents, but she still didn't understand what caused it.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, his hands squeezing his cane tightly. He mulled over her question until he finally settled on an answer.
"I treated your mother badly. I had my own problems going on and I took my frustrations out on her. It was something she didn't deserve," he explained. He paused, reflecting on those awful years. "And now we're where we are," he uttered finally.
Elissa had listened intently, having gotten some clarification on what happened between her parents. And what she had heard made her sad. Sad that her parents had ended so badly and how her father had mainly caused it. Maybe it wasn't all her mother's fault? She also sympathized that he was going through something that had profoundly affected him.
She knew it had to be because of his health. And why he wasn't Batman anymore.
A tiny part of her was happy that her father wasn't Batman anymore. She saw what it had done to him and to her family.
She reached over and hugged her father as tight as she could, to which, he returned wholeheartedly.
Wayne Enterprises
Bruce sat at the board meeting bored out of his skull. Lucius tended to go on and on about projections and the like. The dark-skinned man's hair was completely white and was receding. The lines on his face were prominent speaking of how long he had been working at the company.
While Lucius spoke of how well the company was doing, Bruce glanced over to the far-left side of the conference table. At the end sat Derek Powers, head of Powers Technologies. The man had gotten onto the board while Bruce was suffering from his depression. Buying shares left and right until he sat on the Board of Directors. The fact that he got onto the board instead of being CEO due to a hostile takeover was due to Lucius' steady and steadfast handling of Wayne Enterprises.
Something Bruce would forever be grateful for.
Because Derek Powers was a smug bastard.
Even worse, he had dirty dealings in how he went about business. Something that didn't belong to Wayne Enterprises.
Derek Powers was brown-haired man that was a rising star in the corporate world as he had absorbed several businesses took them apart and sold what he didn't want. Not that long ago he made a bid for Queen Industries.
When the meeting was over Bruce's knee started aching, which was never a good time to bother him. Unfortunately, Derek Powers had the uncanny knack of approaching him with ideas.
"Oh, Bruce!" Powers called with that smug grin on his face.
"What is it?" the older man grumbled.
"I was wondering if you've given the matter we discussed the other day any thought?"
Bruce darkened. "Yes, I have."
"Oh?" Powers piqued in eagerness.
"I'm not stepping down as CEO so you can run things," the man refused. He watched as the glimmer in Powers' eyes faded.
"I see," the younger man intoned. "But it's a young man's game these days. Are you sure you're up to the challenges? I mean your health alone…" he gestured to Bruce's cane with a hand.
"I'm fine," the older man countered flatly. "Goodbye," Bruce remarked and left Powers alone all while powering through his aching knee.
"Goodbye…" Powers uttered with an ominous glimmer in his unblinking eyes.
Wayne Manor
It was a regular day at the manor, Elissa was getting ready for school while Bruce was getting ready to head into the office. While Bruce was sipping his coffee, Elissa had just come down from her bedroom dressed in her Gotham Academy uniform.
"Did you take your medicine?" She asked, grabbing some waffles.
"When I'm done with my coffee," her father uttered, eyes on the newspaper.
That wasn't good enough for her. She left the dining room table and then came back with his plastic pill sorting box and a glass of water.
"Take them," she commanded him.
In response, the older man gave her a bewildered look.
A look that battled his daughter's expectant look.
Elissa had apparently taken over managing her father's medication. She made it a point to always be on top of it, because she knew her father always pushed against the doctor's orders. Of course, it helped when she was volunteering at Leslie's clinic. It wasn't that long ago when she told him she wanted to be a doctor.
He sighed resignedly. He knew that look his daughter was giving him. It was the same one her mother gave him. And it always made him buckle and go along with what they wanted.
It took the pills and gobbled them down with a sip of water.
"Happy?" He intoned sarcastically.
"Ecstatic," she deadpanned, taking a seat, and having her breakfast.
Bruce rolled his eyes and went back to his paper. And what he was reading didn't make him happy. Crime rates were on the rise. Specifically, violent crimes mainly committed by the hands of a new gang called the Mutants.
And the police seem to be having difficulty stopping them. While the Jokerz were pulling pranks or tagging buildings and cars with spray paint.
The name irked him. Bringing back bad memories of their namesake. They were nothing but kids playing a game they couldn't even comprehend. Yet, that didn't make it any better.
"Bye, Dad. Love you!"
Elissa suddenly said, pulling him from his thoughts.
She kissed his cheek and grabbed her school bag.
"Love you," the man uttered.
While Alfred took Elissa to school, Bruce remained at home a bit longer. He was pulled back into his thoughts by the medication box before him. Elissa was a sweet girl. Always eager to help wherever she could. He would always love his little girl for that. Thankfully, she didn't know what some of the pills were for. Mainly the one related to his slightly jaundiced eyes. It was almost undetectable, thankfully, due to the medication he was on.
But he could only hide it from Elissa for so long.
Later that night, he met Jim Gordon at a hotel bar to share a drink with an old friend.
"Cheers," the white-haired man exclaimed at the table he shared with Bruce.
Bruce humored the man and raised a glass. It had been a few years since he had met Gordon and neither one of them was getting any younger. The billionaire remained stoic as ever.
Bruce gingerly lowered his glass back atop the table. "How are things, Jim?"
Gordon responded, "Getting old," he grunted with a cynical chuckle. "But retirement's not that far away for me."
"Hmm," the billionaire merely grunted.
In the background of the bar a television playing the news was heard.
"Death threats leveled by the Mutants against soon-to retire police commissioner James Gordon."
"In response Gordon had this to say: I've got a few more months left at this job, and I'd love to spend it taking them on. Come get me!"
Bruce looked back at the man. "Problems, Jim?" he probed.
The older man shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle," he dismissed.
"The mysterious Mutant Leader has singled out James Gordon as a target."
Bruce's head whipped the television screen. His blood slowly simmered.
"Worried about me?" Gordon teasingly inquired.
"No more I am the rest of this city," Bruce replied. "People have given up, Jim. They're hiding. Turning a blind eye to the atrocities around them," the man recalled the news reports of all the deaths and violence that have quickly risen in the last year.
"These are scary times, Bruce." Gordon began. "And the Mutants aren't like the usual street gangs. Usually, it's about turf or money." The man shook his head in resignation, "But these kids—these animals are about random violence. Inflicting pain onto others, getting some savage delight out of it." In his mind's eye, he recalled the murder scene of a group of nuns just last night and the night before that the savage murder of a family of five. Those images left the aging man unable to sleep.
"Sounds like someone I used to deal with," Bruce uttered bitterly, finally taking a sip of his beverage.
"Thank God he's dead," a relieved Gordon said.
The two men were quiet for some time as the topic hung over them like a grim cloud.
Until Jim tried to change the subject. "Talk to Dick lately?"
"Not since he won his city councilmanship," Bruce curtly answered.
Jim quietly watched as Bruce downed his drink.
"How's Barbara?"
The question almost surprised the white-haired man but years of experience with Bruce made the conversation roll quickly.
"Just made detective first grade," he said with a hint of pride in his voice and puffed out chest.
"And how do you feel about that?" The cane wielding man inquired with a raised eyebrow.
He saw Jim lean back in the leather chair, "The cop in me is damn proud of her. The Father? Worried as hell," he explained firmly. "What about you?"
Bruce raised an eyebrow perplexed.
"Any chances of your little girl following in your footsteps?" He questioned with a knowing grin.
"Over my dead body," Bruce sneered bitterly.
His reaction provoked a dry chuckle from the other man. Feeling nostalgic, Gordon mentioned the past. "Remember how you had us going back then? With that ginger ale pretending it was champagne," he chuckled again at the good times.
"I figured you would be making up for lost time?" he wondered.
"I don't have the kidneys for it anymore," Bruce softly scoffed. "It's club soda. Although…"
"Oh?"
"It certainly would make it easier."
"Make what easier?"
"Staying retired," Bruce stated regrettably.
A sympathetic Jim could understand what his friend was talking about. Out of the two of them, he was in better shape than the guy that was jumping off rooftops.
"Things are different now, Bruce. The government, the public, they wouldn't stand for you anymore." It was a bitter pill to swallow as in just a few short years the city had enough of Batman and similar ilk. Mayor Nakano, a former GCPD officer ran on a platform of anti-masks. To finally put an end to the capes and costumes that plagued Gotham City.
And that included a shakeup of the GCPD getting better officers, better equipment, and putting the older cops out to pasture.
Nakano wanted results and he wanted them forthwith. Which explained the massive busts of Jokerz, which was a hollow victory as the Mutants were the real threat to the city these days and it felt like shoving the ocean with a spoon.
"Especially, Nakano. He's made his stance on you and all masks unequivocal. I'm just glad he's letting me stay on until I hit mandatory retirement age. He's no fan of mine. Even though he was former GCPD."
"Ingrate," the white-haired grumbled under his breath, and then taking a drink.
"In other news, Harvey Dent, also known as the criminal Two-Face has been released from Arkham Asylum following extensive psychotherapy and plastic surgery by renowned expert Dr. Marilyn Crane.
"I can't express enough gratitude for a second chance at life. I thank Dr. Crane for all her efforts at helping me heal. I don't expect to be forgiven for my crimes. I just hope that I can earn a second chance."
"Police Commissioner James Gordon had this to say: I'm glad to see Harvey's feeling better but that doesn't excuse his actions. And I hope it sticks this time."
"Harsh words, Jim?"
The two men resumed their conversations. "No. I feel for Harvey, I do. He was a good friend back in the beginning. But after everything that he's done I can't find it in my heart to forgive him. This is his sixth second chance; I hope he makes the best of it. Yet, I know it's going to turn out bad," Jim explained strongly.
"What about you? Think he has a chance?"
The man was silent for a bit thinking over the fate of Harvey, when suddenly he revealed, "We all deserve as many chances as it takes to battle our own private demons."
"We still talking about Dent?" Gordon couldn't help but ask. He had seen how Bruce was and appeared he wasn't taking his retirement very well. Inwardly, he seemed to be scratching at the walls, desperate to break out. The only thing that truly held him back was the cane.
Gordon could see that Bruce was becoming restless. Like a caged animal thrashing at its cage. He hoped Bruce wasn't thinking about making a comeback. The world was a different place, where the dinosaurs were discarded as the new changing world took over.
Aging eyes glanced at the object resting against the armrest of Bruce's chair.
As an aging cop, Gordon started putting the pieces together. The lack of drinking alcohol, the yellowing of the whites of his eyes…"
"Bruce, are you-?"
"Let's call it a night, Jim." Bruce abruptly interrupted the man. Rising from his chair with the help of his cane and went to pay the bill.
Jim suddenly found himself alone with his thoughts. He realized his friend was…
Along the filthy streets of Gotham, Bruce hobbled along deep in thought. The pain in his knee didn't seem to faze him. His eyes taking note of the frightened look upon the faces of Gotham's citizens.
He strolled down the street as people lowered their heads in fear, unable to meet the gazes of others on the street.
He seemed to walk around for hours lost in thought—lost in his memories. The streets seemed a tad different yet held the same feeling of despair.
Nothing.
Not a damn thing had changed.
Not since his first night out to his last. The mission was pointless which galled him to no end.
To his surprise, he had found himself back in Crime Alley. It seemed like fate called him back to the place of his rebirth and where his life irrevocably changed.
He stood beneath a streetlamp blazing above him, the cool night air gently blew, litter rolled along the street. The aging man glanced at the newspaper reading the frontpage regarding a family slaying by the Mutants all over some jewelry.
His mind was bombarded by images of his past of his parents' murder while he survived, all alone in that alley until someone came along to help him.
The yelling. The blast of the gun, the smell of blood and gunpowder permeated his senses that left him lost in an unjust world. The clatter of pearls bouncing off the ground like rain.
From his thoughts he heard the rattling of a cage within his mind.
He could hear him. He thought he had buried him away when he retired. That a damaged body would be enough to silence him.
He was wrong. He tightened his grip on his cane until his knuckle turned white, teeth gritting as he struggled to silence the voice in his head, while he was assaulted by his inescapable haunted past.
Senses that were still sharp as a razor's edge picked up two approaching people.
Through hazy shadows were two members of the Mutant gang, donned in their red visor sunglasses.
"Aces! He sees us!" One Mutant announced to his partner as they circled Bruce like he was prey.
"Slice and dice!" The other exclaimed, with sickening glee, a knife in hand.
"He's awful big," the other retorted in uncertainty.
Cool eyes scanned both hostilities, a fist clenched in deviance. "Come on," Bruce beckoned to the uncertain one, startling him.
The uncertain one glanced at his partner, whom was just as surprised.
"Can't do it when they into it," the uncertain one bailed, walking backwards until he sprinted away.
The remaining one shared a gaze with Bruce, putting up his best sneer that quickly crumbled in the face of Bruce's deviance.
He, too, took off running leaving Bruce alone under the streetlamp. When they were gone, Bruce exhaled urgently. Panting profusely, leaning against the streetlamp.
"You idiot. Where were you thinking?" He uttered to himself in admonishment.
Wayne Manor
"Alright, Dad, I'm leaving," Elissa informed her father. She was dressed professionally in suit pants and a nice blue blouse.
Her father looked up from some papers on his desk. "Ah, Elissa," he called.
She stuck her head back into his office with a curious look. "Yeah?"
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go to Leslie's clinic this late," he reasoned, the sun was beginning to set, the sky a reddish orange.
"But Dad, this the only time I can go after school and homework," she responded.
"I don't want you in that neighborhood late at night," he explained more forcefully. "Leslie will understand."
"I made Leslie a promise to volunteer at the clinic. She was doing me a favor by letting me see what medicine is like," she clarified. "I promised her," she reiterated. "And you always told me to honor my commitments," she fired back.
"I'm thinking about your safety," he argued, frowning.
"I have powers!" She reminded him exasperatedly. "I know how to defend myself. Mom saw to that," she argued. "Leslie's other volunteers had called in sick. If I don't show up, she'll be understaffed and then who knows what could happen?!" She protested.
"I want you stay home tonight," he told her, more like ordered her.
Unfortunately, that caused a poor reaction from his daughter.
"No." she said flatly, crossing her arms across her chest.
"No?" Bruce's eyebrow rose in bewilderment.
"No. I don't have time for this," she brushed him off and left his office.
"Elissa!" Bruce called out to her in annoyance. He was shocked that she disobeyed him so abundantly.
"We'll talk about it when I get home!" she hollered back. She hopped into an Uber and went to the clinic without another word. She knew what her father was doing. Trying to keep her close because of all the crime running rampant in the city. She understood the need but that didn't affect her. She was strong and powerful. Plus, she was trained by one of the best fighters in the world: her mother. She wouldn't let fear dictate her life.
Just because her father was frightened doesn't mean she was.
Bruce was in disbelief. He couldn't believe that Elissa disobeyed him so completely. He blamed it on the teenaged years. Or the fact that she was her mother's daughter. Refusing to be shackled down by anyone. Always doing what she wanted with her life no matter what anyone said.
He respected that. But that didn't change the fact she was his daughter—his little girl. He would always do what he had to so he could protect her.
In a dark secluded alley. Wicked business was being conducted. Business between the Mutants and their arms supplier.
However, instead of mere grunts greeting their benefactor, the Mutant Leader was present. A gray hulk of a man, bald, with filed claws and teeth, red visor sunglasses covering his eyes. A flimsy vest covered his torso, while pants and mid-calf boots covered his feet.
Their true benefactor was a mystery. All the Mutant Leader knew was the employee that arranged all the transactions. Tall and big, his hair gelled into fine lines exposing his scalp, a brown overcoated concealed his form. He went by the name of Mr. Fixx.
The Mutant Leader handed Fixx a duffle bag full of cash.
An expressionless Mr. Fixx opened the bag examining the cash until he was satisfied. When he was, he zipped the duffle bag and pulled it over his shoulder.
"It's all there," Fixx's voice was a deep baritone. He glanced to his man posted next to the truck and began unloading crates of a variety of weapons.
The Mutant Leader waved his guys over to start collecting the goods and filled up their truck.
"There is another piece of business to address," Mr. Fixx suddenly addressed.
"And what would that be?" The Mutant Leader responded with a raspy voice.
"My employer has a problem. One they were hoping you could solve," he proposed. Purposefully being vague to avoid giving away any information that could be used against his employer.
"And would do I get out of this favor?"
"A discount on your next purchase."
"Oh?" an intrigued gang leader uttered.
"My employer is having trouble with an acquaintance." He reached into his pocket, when suddenly some of the Mutant pulled their weapons on him.
Unfazed, Fixx held his gaze with the Mutant Leader awaiting his next move.
When the gang leader waved his guys off, Fixx produced a manila folder. To which he handed to the gray man. "We have her routine, habits, where she goes to school, places she goes to in the city."
"Hmm, pretty thing," the Mutant Leader smirked as he perused the file. "What do you want me to do about it?"
Fixx gave a phantom of grin. "Nothing hurts more than a death in the family," he worded carefully.
The Mutant Leader in response grinned knowingly.
Wayne Manor
The sun had set, night had fallen and according to weather reports it was expected for a thunderstorm to hit the city later tonight.
Bruce sat alone in the living room, flipping through channels on the television in the dark. In the distance he could hear the rumbling of thunder beginning to erupt over the city.
"Husband and wife found murdered in their sleep."
He changed the channel.
"Murder rates on the subways at an all-time high."
He flipped to another channel.
"Kidnapping and murder of two young children… a line even the Mutants hadn't crossed until today. Despite the parents paying the ransom, the Mutants still took the children's lives."
Bruce was solemnly listening to the news report while within, his heart was ablaze with outrage of the atrocities he had heard.
He suddenly hit the intercom. "Alfred."
"Sir?" The voice of his oldest friend replied through the intercom.
"Is Elissa home?"
"She said she was staying late to help Dr. Thompkins. She said she would have an Uber waiting to take her home," Alfred explained.
It wasn't what the man wanted to hear, but he accepted it grudgingly.
"I see," he uttered flatly.
He abandoned the intercom and turned back to the television.
"This marks a chilling escalation from a group many are calling the worst criminals to Gotham City since the Joker."
A sneering Bruce changed the channel abruptly, not wanting to hear anymore about him or anything else despicable.
"Tonight's presentation of Tyrone Power in The Mark of Zorro—"
He changed the channel quickly only this time it was of a better time—a time at the movies was fulfilling. A young boy with his parents leaving a rousing movie, the boy enacting some of the scenes before his parents as they walked to the car.
The alley was filled with the grunts and laughter of an enthusiastic young boy much to the parents' joy.
The aging man's eyes widened at the scene before him pulling him back to the worst night of his life.
No… No. Don't go down that alley.
His heart started to beat faster, a cold sweat ran down his brow, his throat had gone dry.
His dread grew to dramatic proportions as the family reached the mouth of the alley. And then the man came out of the darkness.
"Four killed in senseless attack—"
The mystery man pulled out a .45 caliber handgun, aimed it at the family.
"—The terror that young boy must have felt."
An agape Bruce watched in horror at what was about to happen.
"A storm coming in like the wrath of God, just minutes from hitting Gotham City."
The next time Bruce changed the channel, he saw himself watching television from the third person point of view.
He was instantly on his feet scanning behind him in alarm. Quickly, he was left surprised that there was no one there.
Thunder rumbled; a crackle of lightning provided a momentary illumination into the living room.
"You've held me back for a long time."
A deep baritone voice echoed in his head. An all too familiar voice.
"You buried me deep down inside and let your depression and heartache try to smother me."
"Fool. Those are my nourishment."
Bruce desperately tried to block out the voice, even going as far as covering his ears with his hands.
Not listening. I'm not listening to you!
He raced out of the room and onto the balcony, seemingly without any issue as his cane was left by his abandoned seat. He panted, knocking over a statue, racing to the edge of the balcony. It was difficult to breathe as haunting images flashed within his mind. He gripped the stone railing tightly.
No. I can't do this anymore. It'll kill me! Leave me alone!
"You know it in your bones."
BANG! BANG!
Two bodies recoiled backwards; blood splattered a young face before ending up as a lifeless heap on the dirty ground. Pure white pearls littered the small puddle before him as everything happened in slow motion to him.
"You are lifeless! You are nothing!"
"A weary body is nothing compared to a restless spirit."
A crackle of lighting split the cloudy night sky, the opening shot as rain began to belt down heavily.
Bruce's far-away stare continued as he found himself, a young boy before the lifeless bodies of his parents. He was alone and lost. His world torn asunder with no hope in sight.
Rain trickled down his face as if baptizing him, reawakening him from his dream-like state. A solemn expression held his face, blue eyes blazing with renewed resolve. He looked down at his damaged knee, and without preamble walked back inside out of the rain.
The cane that had been his crutch of stopping was no more.
"The time has come," the voice declared. "I am not finished with you just yet."
Bruce slowly turned back to the balcony just in time as the windows shattered with a terrifying screech as a demonic bat flew straight for him with chilling red eyes. Yet, he remained unfazed. He welcomed the bat home.
We turn to a grave resting alone in an unnamed forest. A single tombstone standing broadly, shaped like a bat.
It's epitaph: Here Lies Batman
Grass had grown over the dirt undisturbed until now. A mighty black fist burst through the consecrated ground, rising from the dead.
It would no longer deign to be buried and forgotten.
As the fist dragged its body out of the grave the black figure had reached the surface, tossing a naked man into the disturbed grave, and proceeded to bury him alive. He was no longer needed. There was work to be done.
And it knew exactly where to start.
The dark figure retreated from the grave, oblivious to the fact that the epitaph had changed.
Here Lies Bruce Wayne
Gotham City
Rain bombarded down hitting like pellets, thunder rumbled, lightning lit the night sky.
The woman hurried down the street her apartment just a few more steps. She knew she should have brought an umbrella, but like most people she thought she could beat the rain.
She used her arm to keep the falling rain from falling entirely on her head.
"Come in here where it's warm, Mommy." A chilling voice spoke over the pounding rain, that sent a chill down the woman's spine.
Menacing hands reached out from the darkness of a stoop, grabbing her tightly and pulling off the street. She bravely tried to fight back, but the man was too strong.
"No please!" She pleaded, terror pumping through her veins.
He silenced her with a hand over her mouth, her muffled pleading drowned out by the rain.
"I need you, Mommy. Make me feel safe," he continued to speak in an eerily calm tone.
And then the knife was pulled, she began to tear up as the inevitable was about to begin. The helpless woman silently prayed for help and then sent a pray to God for mercy.
Before the knife could carve into her flesh, the sound of glass breaking echoed through her ears followed by a bone-chilling scream by her attacker. And then she found herself alone, a bit dazed about what had transpired.
She turned to the broken door, wondering what had happened. She peered into the apartment lobby finding broken glass and blood smears on the floor and walls leading further into the building.
"Thank you," she whispered in relief and gratitude.
Across town, a gaudy woman was shoved into one of the last few cabs in the city. The woman obviously a prostitute was in tears as she pleaded with the man whom shoved her into the cab.
"Please, Daddy. Not the face!" she cried.
The flamboyantly dressed man, obviously her pimp, was unfazed. "You're hurtin' my feelings, Joy. Messing with my livelihood," he told her menacingly. "This is the sixth time this week you've come up short. I gotta send a message otherwise the other girls are gonna be getting' ideas." He pulled out a knife and leaned in closer to Joy.
"Not in my cab, buddy." The cabby interjected.
Although all it took was a handful of bills to silence his protests.
"Shut up and drive," the pimp declared.
"Ah!" The prostitute yelped as the knife started to cut her tender flesh.
The cabby obvious as he counted his money, the cab remaining frozen by the curb.
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed inside the cab, shaking from the impact startling the occupants.
"What the hell?!"
"Someone's gonna die," the pimp declared, pulling out his piece from his pocket and rolled the window down. He was about to start shooting from the open window, instead a large black boot slammed onto the pimp's wrist, disarming him.
"Ah!" He screamed, pulling his arm back in and nursing his aching wrist.
Then a black gloved hand breached the roof of the cab like it was paper and pulled the pimp right out of the car, widening the hole, illumination from a streetlamp shining inside.
Joy saw the opportunity and ran out of the cab and went as far as her legs could take her. Away from that cab, away from her pimp.
Her pimp's grunts of pain reverberated through the street as the mass of darkness pounded the life from him atop of the cab.
Each mighty blow walloped the cab.
BAM.
BAM.
BAM.
The cab driver tried to start the engine but stopped when the pimp was tossed onto the hood, shaking the hunk of metal, and then slid to the water ground with a grunt.
"Ah!" He screamed upon hearing someone knock on his window.
His eyes went wide at the sight of this black monster. A goliath of muscle and shadow. The man urgently lowered his window for fear of getting the same punishment.
Cold blank eyes down upon the cabby, disgust glared towards him.
A black hand plucked the crisp bills from the cabby's hands and tore them up right in front of him.
The cabby instantly felt shame loom over him, his head bowed in clear self-disgust.
He didn't deserve that money. He just counted it while a poor woman was being assaulted inside his own cab and he chose to let greet birth apathy.
The Thompkins Clinic
"I'm almost done, Dr. Thompkins." A helpful Elissa informed the aging doctor as she finished putting charts away.
"Good girl," the old medicine woman praised. "I'm sorry you had to stay late," she said regretfully.
"It's okay," the teenager assured. "I'm learning a lot," Elissa said with eagerness. She had helped grab bandages and medical equipment for the doctor. Along with even going as far as helping to bandage a patient following a cooking accident. She was grateful for the opportunity to learn about medicine, get a feel for it before she started taking steps to become a doctor.
The weary old woman took a seat next to the teenager as most of the staff tended to patients or were already gone for the night.
"Did you call your father?"
Elissa shook her head. "It's late I'm sure he's asleep right now," she reasoned.
The white-haired woman scoffed at the notion. "Young lady, no parent goes to sleep before knowing that their child is safely home," she reasoned almost amused by the teen's naivete.
An embarrassed Elissa merely continued her work in silence. When she finished her work, Leslie sent her home.
Elissa, not considering the bad neighborhood she was in, just walked out. Hoping for an Uber, she pulled out her phone only to be disappointed as her phone died just as she was requesting a ride home.
She sucked in a breath and blew it out, moving some of her hair out of her face in annoyance. She walked through the rain to the nearest bus stop.
Oblivious to the red shaded eyes following her movements like she was prey.
She took refuge under a bus stop. She sighed waiting for the bus. That was until she heard something—a chain.
She whipped her head to the sound seeing three Mutants approach her intimidatingly. However, she wasn't intimidated in the slightest. She had powers and she had been trained to defend herself. She was the daughter of Wonder Woman and Batman. She was no damsel in distress.
"Chick, chick, chick." One clucked with a toothy grin.
She noted one with a chain wrapped around his fist. Playing with it, twirling it around, pulling it taut between his hands. His red covered eyes never leaving her person.
"You don't want any of this, boys." She warned them, her eyes filled with fire, arms at the ready.
"Chicken legs," another said, pulling out a knife.
She instinctively took a step back, which only enticed the Mutants by her reaction. She was afraid. It only made this sweeter.
Elissa chided herself for such an action. It was purely reflexive. She didn't have bracelets that could block bullets. When she undid her mistake by taking a step forward it was too late as they were inching themselves closer to her.
She was nervous. A bundle of anxiety as to when she should attack and how much force to use on them.
The one with the knife got closer, she panicked and froze in fear. It was her first actual experience in a life and death situation. The practice drills were only drills not real-world experience that would have helped ease her into reacting properly.
The knife-wielding Mutant raised his arm about to slash at her when suddenly he screamed a chilling painful scream.
He doubled over, clutching his arm, the knife abandoned on the pavement. Blood leaked down from the wounded arm.
She could scarcely make out three projectile blades sticking out of his forearm.
"My arm! Something's stuck in my arm!" the thug whimpered.
The third Mutant pulled out his gun. Waving it around eyes trained all around the street. Darkness clad buildings gave him zero targets.
From the shadows, a rope burst through the darkness wrapping around the gunman's wrist. With an effective yank he was pulled into the dark alley with a horrified scream in his wake.
Elissa was terrified. Her heartbeat skyrocketed as she was worried if she was next.
The dark-haired teen and her remaining attackers could hear the Mutant being pummeled.
The chain carrying Mutant picked up the abandoned gun at aimed it at the darkness.
"Where are you?" he uttered with a shaky hand.
A flash of lightning gave him a target. A black mass crouching over his friend beating the hell out of him.
He fired in succession, the muzzle from the flash providing mild light. Dread rained down on him as the black mass effortlessly evaded each shot.
To his dismay, he ran out of ammo. Which the black monster used as an advantage.
It flew up into the air and then came down snatching him up carrying him away with a shrill scream left behind.
The first Mutant had started to get to his feet, poorly fighting through the pain. Elissa was at a loss for words watching the scene unfold before.
She barely noticed the Mutant get to his feet and approach her. She figured he was going to use her as a hostage or something. But she didn't have to think about it as the black monster returned.
Falling from above and landing right on top of the Mutant. Almost fluidly the monster rose to its' feet still standing atop the now unconscious Mutant.
Another stroke of lightning flashed about, giving Elissa a clearer look at her savior.
What was gratitude turned to befuddlement and then shock.
"Dad?"
The black monster vanished slipping back into the shadows leaving the teen alone.
Sirens blared as a police car chased a getaway car from a liquor store holdup leaving one dead.
The police car raced through the soaked streets chasing the getaway car, jerking the steering wheel narrowly evading traffic. The pouring rain pounded the windshield as the whippers were a blur clearing the police officer's vision.
"We're gonna lose 'em, sir." The rookie officer told his training officer.
"No kidding," the older officer grumbled. The police car jerked as they made a hard left, the rear drifting before the cop regained control of his car.
"Should I shoot the tires?" The rookie suggested.
"And give them a reason to start shooting? No thanks," the older man grunted. "Besides, civilians could get hit," he reminded the rookie.
"Yes, sir." The rookie uttered understandingly and kept the perp's getaway car in sight.
The rookie's eyes narrowed in puzzlement as he caught sight of something above them.
"What…? What is that?"
"What is what?" The veteran officer responded.
The rookie pointed above them with his finger. "That. Up there." Something was flying through the storm with giant wings.
The veteran took a quick peak for the rookie's sake or at least to get him to stop talking. His eyes widened in astonishment.
"Holy!" He exclaimed. Recognition in his eyes glowed within them.
He then took his foot off the accelerator with a content grin.
"You're slowing down?" The rookie wondered.
The veteran grinned at the rookie. "Yeah," he chuckled. "You're in for a show tonight, son."
He should be a heap of aching muscle and broken bones. A rubber band pulled too far with a snap imminent. But he wasn't. He didn't even feel the metal brace locked around his bad knee to keep him from limping. No, he felt like a young man again. A man of twenty again, fresh in the suit for the first time again. The rain washed away the rust from his joints and muscles.
He was renewed. And ready for the next fight.
He swept through the air; the raindrops were nothing to him. He released his hold on the grapple and left gravity and his trajectory do the rest. His knees pulled to his torso, his left arm bent almost like he was about to throw a punch and his right was straight just as his hand was.
A lightning bolt struck the sky highlighting his pose.
He landed square on the hood of the robbers' car, startling the occupants. They saw a mass of black and gray, a beast sneering at them with anger in its white eyes.
He used his cape to cover the windshield, blinding them. The car jerked from side to side, the rain messing with the tires making them skid.
One took a shot at him, missing him by inches. He glanced over his shoulder and noted they were about to crash into a wooden fence.
He leapt off the hood just in time for realization to hit them as they went right through the fence. Pieces of wood chips fumbled through the air. The car smashed into a half-demolished apartment complex. The hood looked like half-folded paper, windshield shattered, airbags deployed. And the robbers were left groaning and stumbling out of the ruined vehicle.
"That—That was the Batman," one robber declared to the others. The robbers stumbled out, keeping their guns trained at the open air around them. Knowing Batman struck from everywhere.
Further they went into the apartment building, scant seconds after they entered Batman leapt down from above. He slithered into the shadows just as the police car caught up to them.
The robbers went further into the apartment, traipsing up raggedy stairs as the silence and the dripping of rainwater poked at their nerves.
"Batman's got to be an old man by now, right?" A nervous gunman asked.
"I heard he was dead."
"Tell him that," another answered sarcastically.
As they roamed the open floor, a floorboard almost folded under a gunman's weight giving him pause.
"Maybe this place wasn't a good idea," he stated nervously.
"Live dangerously," another shrugged. The rest roamed hoping to get a bead on Batman and kill him.
From below, Batman struggled to pull himself up to the next floor. Okay, maybe he wasn't as young as he felt. He used his leg to help him pull himself up the rope. Unfortunately, his weight caused the metal beam the rope was tied to bend, making a noise.
"There!" the gunmen declared; they opened fire as Batman was making his way up through a large hole in the floor.
Instantly, the vigilante released his hold on the rope and dove to the floor below the shooting gunmen. Bullets littered the decrepit wood, making wood chips and dust rain down on him.
As the dark clad man transversed the area, the gunmen could hear his footfalls with every creaking floorboard. It would have been an advantage, but it only added to their anxiety.
They anxiously fired at the ceiling, all three nearly emptied their guns of ammo and found nothing for their effort.
A large black hand burst through the floorboards and grabbed hold of one's ankle. The gunman tried to shoot, but painfully discovered he was out of ammo. He felt himself pulled down into Hell and discovered pain.
His pals raced to him and unloaded down the hole without thinking. They would regret that decision. The other gunman found a rope wrapped around his neck and pulled down into the dark with a yelp.
The final one took off running. Racing down battered stairs with Batman watching him unsuspectingly.
As the lone gunman, agitated by what had happened, moved closer to the escape. He was oblivious to Batman darting about, hiding in the shadows as he drew closer to him.
Suddenly, everything went wrong. The rookie shined his flashlight into the entrance, weapon at the ready. "Freeze!"
Idiot.
Batman was forced to move from his position and tackle the rookie out of the way as the gunman instinctively opened fire at where the rookie once stood.
The gunman just started spraying the area with bullets hoping to get lucky. He started moving again, inching closer and closer to the rubble that once was an apartment building.
From his crouched position, Batman sent out a kick from the shadows that sent the gunman flying back with a grunt. As soon as the gunman landed on his back, Batman leapt up, almost flying, and landed right on top of the downed man, a bone breaking and a man crying out in agony. His cape fluttered in the mild wind, almost alive as he crouched over the man responsible for the death of another tonight.
"Freeze, mister! You're under arrest. You just crippled that man." The rookie held his service weapon on Batman, the flashlight shining on him.
"He's young, he'll walk again," his deep baritone voice dismissed the rookie's reasoning.
"But you'll stay scared, won't you?" Batman pressed the groaning man.
"Get away from him!" The rookie demanded. The rookie felt a hand on his shoulder.
"He's been as patient as he can with you, kid." The veteran addressed the younger officer. "Radio it in," he ordered, surprising the rookie.
"Are you…?"
"Do it," the veteran said firmly.
The rookie walked away to report it leaving his training officer with Batman.
Before the veteran could say anything else, Batman suddenly addressed him. "Tell Gordon we need to talk."
"Sure. How's he—" a flash of lightning blinded him for a second and when his vision cleared, he was left alone.
He chuckled. "Just like the good ol' days."
"Reports of a giant bat monster roaming the city last night."
"A group of burglars founded tied up and beaten…"
"A wild animal, no doubt. Fangs and claws."
"Two children rescued from members of the Mutant gang. When asked, the children described their rescuer looked like… Dracula." The reporter announced with a knowing look.
Then came a video of the Mutant Leader himself.
Only his silhouette was visible as he issued this threat. "We will kill the old man Gordon. We will bathe in his blood. I will kill the Batman. I will eat his flesh from his bones, gouge on his heart. We are not a gang. We are not criminals. We are the law. Gotham City belongs to the Mutants!"
Alfred tended to Bruce in Wayne Manor's gymnasium. Bruce lying prostrate atop the table as the older man gave him a rub down on his aching muscles.
"If it's suicide that you eager for, I'm sure I can find some of the most slow and painful kind," the butler's cutting wit criticized his master's actions last night.
Bruce merely grunted, as old hands massaged his large back. Muscles that hadn't been used in years started to burn and then cool as relaxation ran through his aging body.
"Okay. Just what the hell were you thinking last night?!" An irate Elissa stormed into the gym with an angry look on her face. Her face suddenly changed to disgust and looked away as she found her father in his shorts. "Ew."
The two men gingerly faced the teenager. While Bruce was beginning to sit up, Alfred had draped a robe around the man.
The father sighed at first and stood, tying his robe around him.
Elissa noted the metal brace around her father's knee as he hadn't stood to full height in years.
"This will kill you, Dad! Do you realize where this will lead?" She argued. She was angry for being helpless as her father was back in costume and trying to get himself killed again. "Your health can't take this abuse much longer," she said with worry.
"Elissa…" Bruce started carefully. "Nothing can change what I am. Not even myself as I tried to bury that part of myself when my knee was damaged," he replied solemnly. "I tried to change to be a better man for your mother. But it didn't work out. I realize now that you don't change for anyone but yourself. These last few years I had felt hollow. An empty shell just waiting for his time to come."
His words made his daughter tear up. She didn't know that her father was so unhappy. That all her efforts to try and soothe him following breaking out of his depression had been for naught.
"If I die tomorrow, it will be as myself, and a fist raised," he expressed earnestly and with renewed resolve to complete his mission of defending Gotham.
His daughter nervously swallowed at the prospect of his death. "But—But what if you do… die? I'll be alone," she uttered sadly.
The man's face softened. Wrapping his arm around her and drawing her close. "You will never be alone, baby girl. You'll have Alfred, your brothers. And you will have your mother," he assured her. "I know things are still tense between the two of you but someday things will get better."
Elissa buried her face into her father's chest, rubbing her tears into it. "I don't want you doing this, Dad. It's dangerous. You could get hurt again," she reasoned.
"I'll be careful," he promised. He pulled away from her to stare into her eyes. He gave her a sad look. "I'm sorry, Elissa. But you can't change my mind."
When he started to walk away from her, he imparted some needed advice. "And you hesitated to act last night. Never hesitate to defend yourself," he demanded of her.
And that was last the two would ever speak of the men who accosted her.
Mayor's Office
Mayor Nakano had summoned Commissioner Gordon to his office following the reports from last night.
Nakano, a Japanese American man with an eyepatch over his right eye had just one thing he wanted to make abundantly clear.
"This is not the old days. There is law and order in this city. And my office will enforce it. I want the Batman arrested and unmasked before his presence insights the Mutants to act more brazenly," he ordered. "And if you have problems following such simple orders, perhaps we should hasten your retirement and select your replacement," he threatened subtlety.
"I understand, Mr. Mayor."
The white-haired man merely nodded submissively, although he was anything but. He had no intention of arresting the one ally he could count on.
"I mean it, Gordon." Nakano snapped at him. Batman and all his masked ilk had no place in Gotham City anymore.
"Capturing the Batman will be our number one priority, sir. Just as soon as we arrest these vicious Mutant gang members," Gordon replied dryly.
Nakano scowled at the older man but dismissed him to get to work.
GCPD Headquarters
"Hit it," Gordon ordered his assistant to turn on the Bat signal.
Wordlessly, the officer flipped the switch and the symbol of the bat hung boldly over Gotham. Thousands of people looked out their windows to soak in the sight that hadn't been seen in the last few years. Assurance and safety welled up within the onlookers as they stared at the night sky watching for any signs of their champion.
Gordon never took the signal apart when Batman retired. He knew deep down inside that Batman would return. And the signal would light the night, proudly proclaiming the Caped Crusader's return.
Briefly, Gordon felt nostalgic. He felt younger, back to when he first came up with the signal.
"Jim."
The white-haired man smirked upon hearing that strong voice from behind him. He turned to see that tall dark silhouette of a force of nature.
Gordon's assistant had been given leave to return downstairs.
"You wanted to meet," Gordon stated, getting down to business. He witnessed Batman nod and to confer.
Mayor Office
"What the fuck?!" Nakano exploded at seeing the bat signal hanging over Gotham. He quickly called his driver and raced over to police headquarters.
GCPD HQ
"The Mutants are the priority right now," Gordon stated.
"Their leader is the main target," Batman added. "He seems to be the one giving them orders. Without him, the Mutants will splinter, making it easier to capture them," he reasoned.
"It's not just them. Nakano wants you gone, too."
"I'm here to stay," the vigilante said defiantly. "He's an annoyance. Nothing more," he reasoned.
Gordon didn't argue about that. "We still don't know where their gang congregates or where their leader holds up. Interrogating the Mutants we have in custody is pointless. They're not talking."
"They went after Elissa, Jim."
The older man's eyes widened in concern. "Is she okay?"
"Physically. But she was targeted," the dark clad man explained.
"She's the daughter of the richest man in Gotham, of course she would be a target," Jim figured.
Batman produced a folder and handed it to the man. As Gordon examined the contents, Batman elaborated. "She was being followed. Her routine, her school, where she hangs out after school," the man continued cooly. But Gordon could tell that he was barely holding himself back from really cutting loose on the animals that were hunting his daughter.
Hell, Gordon would be right where he was if it was Barbara.
"Whatever you need," Gordon stated firmly.
"I'm counting on you, Jim. One last time," Batman expressed strongly.
Gordon nodded his head confidently. After all these years, the trust between these two men were unbreakable.
The rooftop door opened abruptly, and Nakano came stomping through. "What the hell is going on here?!" he demanded furiously.
Gordon coolly turned to the approaching mayor. He didn't even have to turn around to know Batman was long gone. Had been for a few minutes now.
"Oh, just an old man feeling nostalgic," the older man uttered wistfully, grinning slightly.
A fuming Nakano doubted the older man. "Turn it off, Gordon. And get ready for your farewell party," he said snidely.
Gordon gingerly turned the signal off and headed for the stairs without saying a word to Nakano. His briskly brushing the mayor off rubbed the one-eyed man the wrong way, infuriating him further.
Gordon had no regrets. He did what he did for the good of Gotham and he wouldn't have it any other way.
It was all in his friends' hands now.
Gotham City
A group of Mutants were holed up in a debilitated apartment after they were just shooting people on the street from their car.
They were laughing it up about their kills.
"You see the way that guy screamed?" One male Mutant laughed.
"And hit the ground with a wet plop," another chuckled.
The third holding an M-60 was chuckling and counting bullets when two large black hands flanked him from behind through the decrepit wall and then yanked him backwards, a startled cry followed alarming his friends.
The two remaining Mutants shared a look and then slammed their backs together guns trained on the walls.
"Where's Spud?"
"Gone."
"See anything?"
"Nah."
They shifted their positions rotating in a circle, fingers on a trigger watching for a sign.
The ruined ceiling exploded into pieces as a black mass collapsed onto them. A mass of over two-hundred pounds of muscle.
One was unconscious, the other was moaning in pain as his shoulder was injured from the attack.
Batman rolled the groaning man over, hands clutching the sides of his head, terror and pain written on the Mutant's face.
Using his thumbs, Batman pushed the Mutant's sunglasses off his eyes. Sneering and leaning in close, Batman said two words.
"Your leader," he growled.
Unfortunately, the scare tactics worked too well, and the Mutant passed out.
On the upside, Batman got a chance to use one of his favorite scare tactics.
He wasn't as young as he used to be. He had to admit that as he struggled to pull the Mutant up to the top of the skyscraper.
And just about now, he should be waking up.
"Wha…? AH!" The gang member screamed as he was ten stories up and tangling upside down.
"Your leader," Batman repeated. For added measure he loosened his grip on the cable holding the Mutant and he jerked down a few feet.
"Ah! Please! Don't let me fall, man!" The Mutant squealed, hyperventilating.
"I want your boss. Tell me or prepare to be a stain on the pavement," the vigilante threatened.
"He'll kill me," the Mutant protested.
"Not if I get him first," Batman countered.
The Mutant jerked again going further down the skyscraper than previously.
"Okay! Okay! Miller's Junkyard!" He screamed, tears in his eyes. He pissed himself minutes ago.
'Good. Time to go to war.'
Batman thought in satisfaction.
Later
The restless night rumbled as a beast of a machine trailed down the road. The ground below it crumbled into dust beneath its mighty weight.
Batman drove his batmobile, it encompassed the entirety of the road. Any cars caught in its way turned tail and went back the way they came as it would certainly destroy them flat.
"Master Bruce?"
"Yes?" The vigilante responded, his hands manning the controls firmly, eyes on the monitors.
"Are you-?" Alfred started but was interrupted by his master.
"Been a while since I took her for a ride. Handles well. Just like it was yesterday," he mused, mostly to himself.
"Yes, but the transponder indicates you're using the battle tank," Alfred declared.
This batmobile was more tank than car. It was built for war. An invasion roughly fifteen years ago provided Batman with the excuse to finally take her out. It was a tank that defied all tanks. It was dark gray, its treads giant. Armed to the teeth with various weapons. A 'neck' allowing for the main cannon to move up or down with a bat-shaped face on the front. Its body wide filled with state-of-the-art equipment inside.
Various monitors hummed or beeped in Batman's ears; it was soothing in a way. A lull just before a major confrontation.
Miller's Junkyard
Atop a heap of scrap metal stood the Mutant Leader inspiring his gang of fellow killers to insight more violence upon the city.
"We are no gang. We are not kids. We are the future of Gotham!" he said in a raspy voice. He was surrounded by his army, armed to the teeth with various weapons of death.
The gang leader threw his fist into the air, "Take all our weapons and storm not just the city but police headquarters. Kill and kill until you are soaked in blood. Bring me Gordon's head!" He bellowed in a dazzling decree of carnage.
"The Batman will lie broken before me. I will tear his flesh from his bones with my teeth," he gave a sharp toothy grin filled with wickedness. "I am the law in Gotham. And the law is… Mutant's are the masters," he exclaimed.
The crowd roared boisterously, eager to carry out their leader's orders.
Suddenly, over the clamor of the crowd, a deafening rumbling was heard. A dust cloud in the distance approached.
The crowd grew silent watching as a black metal chariot came to a metallic grinding halt.
Some gang members were scared. Others were unimpressed. Yet, they were all silent even with all that metal in their hands.
Over a loudspeaker emanating from the black tank, Batman's voice ended the silence.
"Mutants, surrender or be destroyed. Only warning."
Without an order given the Mutant attacked. Hundreds of guns rained bullets on hull of the tank defiantly.
They answer plain as day, Batman stepped on the accelerator and the tank advanced on them.
The hull was nigh impenetrable by paltry mortars and grenades. Bullets were simply a waste.
"Kids today. No respect," Batman mused. With a tiny smirk, he flipped a few switches and returned fire. From the hull of the tank missiles fired out, colliding into metal heaps that flanked the gang. The explosion sent Mutants flying, pieces of metal flung by the explosion hit those that were on the edge of the epicenter.
Batman had to give his prey credit; they continued their assault even in the face of insurmountable odds. His hand grabbed what appeared to be the trigger of a gun and pulled it. The forward cannon blaster gang members in retaliation demonstrating real firepower.
In succession, they fell like dominoes. Weak and pitiful.
And Batman's tank never ceased its advance. He passed mounts of garbage unsuspecting the Mutants using it to board his tank.
The vigilante's head perked as he heard several pairs of feet atop his ride.
They attacked the tank with crowbars, pipes, even axes to try and break inside and see where the magic happened.
The cannon blaster the firing members, running over the fallen ones abandoned arms highlighting his contempt for guns. The cannon was more thunderous than the crescendo of a thousand guns.
The thudding continued atop his tank, and after humoring them for the scant moments that they didn't deserve the dark-clad man flipped a switch electrifying the hull. Bodies seized in pain and tumbled off, falling haphazardly into the garbage where they belonged.
Five Mutants charged the incoming tank, tossing several grenades hoping to destroy or damage the forward cannon.
The grenades exploded in perfect synch going off as one explosion and producing a cloud of smoke.
For a fraction of a second, satisfaction consumed them. Only for it to be dashed as Batman pressed forward blasting them away.
From the rear of the battle, the Mutant Leader growled in dissatisfaction. His men were being completely wiped out in a matter of minutes.
Soon the hailing of bullets and blasts of cannon fire ended. All that was left was the rumbling of the black tank's charge. Until that, too, ceased and metal beast came to halt before the leader of the defeated army.
Hundreds of downed Mutants littered the scrapyard, fires in the distance. The scent of heating metal and garbage pungent.
Through red-tinted visor sunglasses the Mutant Leader stared at the tank in contempt. He plucked something from the ground, a bullet. He squeezed it and realized it was rubber.
"Rubber bullets," the gray-skinned man huffed. He looked up to the tank, hate in his obscured eyes. "All that metal and you don't even have the balls to kill," he fired back. He leaned into the cannon's barrel. "Come on fight me!" He challenged.
Batman stared at the man with the scope, fingering the trigger. He was tempted to just shoot the animal now and be done with it.
"Come on, you pussy!" He goaded; his raspy voice inflamed. "Come on, man. You boring me. Prove you can fight like a man. Prove you can fight with your fists."
His words pricking Batman's common sense proved auspicious. The masked man started shutting down the weapons system and unstrapped himself from his seat.
"I will show you who rules Gotham!" The gang leader roared like a wild animal.
A flabbergasted Alfred, monitoring things from the cave, tried to dissuade his master. "Sir, you can't actually be…?"
"I am," Batman replied curtly, approaching the elevating platform.
"He's in his prime. He'll kill you," the older man tried to talk sense into the man, yet it fell on deaf ears.
"It's the only way I'll know," Batman responded somberly.
He needed to find out if he was back for good. That he was up to the task of protecting a city that had fallen so far in his absence. Or if he was just an old man trying to relive his glory days.
Tonight, he will have his answer.
He felt himself ascend as the lift rose to the top and the hidden door opened. Smoke fired out from the hatch, highlighted red and from below a bat-shaped silhouette covered the barking gang leader.
"Okay, son." The dark-clad man leapt from the tank, landing gracefully before the gray-skinned man. "Show me," he challenged, fists at the ready.
Batman started his attack, throwing a right straight punch to the gray man's face. To his surprise, the gang leader caught his fist, a smug toothy grin on his face.
The Mutant Leader countered with a backhanded smack to the side of the dark-clad man's face.
A grunt escaped him as he stumbled, struggling to keep his balance. The gang leader had released his hold on the man and attacked.
He shot a front hick to Batman's side, that made him stumble and turn his back to the enemy combatant, who performed another front kick to Batman's lower back that sent him forward stumbling once more.
The Mutant Leader seized the moment, wrapping his arms around Batman's body, trapping his arms. And then, he took a bite out of his left shoulder.
"Ah!" The vigilante cried out, as sharpened teeth dug through cape and kevlar, pricking into flesh.
Thinking quickly, Batman drove his elbow into the large-framed man's abdomen. Once. Twice. Three times until the gang leader released his hold after previously using the strikes as incentive to bite harder.
When the hold broke, Batman quickly turned and tackled the gray man to the ground, only to be thrown off by the man's feet.
Batman rolled back onto his feet and went on the attack. His fist smashed into the bald man's face, shattering his sunglasses to pieces, followed by another blow to the face.
He went for another blow to the face, only to be rebuffed as the Mutant Leader used his arm to guard, while he sent his other fist into Batman's abdomen knocking the air from his lungs.
A look of pain briefly appeared on the older man's masked face. Recovering quickly, he headbutted the other man, followed by a right hook, dazing the other man.
Continuing his assault Batman performed a high kick, only be deterred as the gray-skinned man caught his ankle in his firm grip.
The Mutant Leader grinned, delivering his own high kick to Batman, with a left hook swiftly following.
The Dark Knight was sent flying and landed on his back, pain seizing his aching body. Refusing to give in, he sat up witnessing the gray man charging him like a mad bull. He put his feet together and double kicked him in the face, a pained grunt leaving as he fell flat on his back.
To Batman's surprise, the man was back on his feet a look of excitement written on his face as he was enjoying the fight.
He charged again with laughter followed, tackling Batman in a mudhole. A mighty mud spout erupted from the tranquil pit, splattering mud everywhere.
Sounds of fists colliding with body parts echoed about. Remnants of the Mutant gang slowly encircled the pit to watch the battle between their leader and Batman.
Batman managed to shove the man off him and get back on his feet. Both circled the other, hands at the ready.
He was big and strong.
Batman mused, putting his arms up to guard against another of the Leader of the Mutants attacks. Arms aching from the impact.
Fast too.
The vigilante realized as the Mutant Leader performed a spinning kick to Batman's side, breaking his guard.
The Mutant Leader followed by a right cross, and then a left.
The dark clad man's head wobbled, vision blurry. He felt the gray man grab the back of his neck and pulled down, driving his knee into Batman's stomach. Again, and again.
Painful grunts spat out of him as he desperately tried to escape.
Through the pain, Batman drove his fist into the large man's right side, provoking a cry of pain.
With the high knees stopping, Batman pulled himself up, and slammed his hands onto the gang leader's ears.
"Ah!" He screamed, a high-pitched ringing blaring in his ears.
He was a brawler with no discernable fighting style. Just a street fighter.
Batman noted.
He could respect that. Street fighters only concentrated on one thing: victory.
The mudhole didn't seem to faze either man as Batman jumped up and slammed his combined fists into the Mutant Leader's left shoulder.
The gray-skinned man's left shoulder seemed to slump, indicating it was dislocated. Unfortunately, it was a faint to bring Batman in closer for the brawler to strike across his body with his right fist slamming into Batman's face.
The Mutant Leader began whaling on the vigilante with Batman struggling to defend or even counter and get his own licks in.
Can't keep this up. Not young anymore to take these devastating hits just to prove that I could and hopefully scare my opponents into making mistakes.
Must fight smarter.
Changing tactics, Batman narrowly evaded a right haymaker, and punched into his opponent's open side. A rib cracked under the mighty blow.
Angrily, the mutant Leader followed with a left haymaker, which Batman narrowly avoided by bobbing and weaving.
When the gang leader went to strike Batman, the vigilante evaded leaning backwards, and delivered concentrated jabs to the armpit to the outstretched arm, followed by a roundhouse kick to the man's side.
The blow sent the man to the mud, his side aching. Hate burning in his red eyes, the Mutant Leader growled and stood to his feet. He flailed wildly, his sharp nails cutting the air like small knives.
The Dark Knight backpedaled slightly, narrowly evading his enemy's talons. The gray man's bulky arms had incredible speed as they were blurs of gray.
Batman had to try to evade, unfortunately, movement within the mudhole was arduous. And the black bat symbol on his broad chest was slashed, claw marks marred his chest.
Bits of ebony stuck to the bald man's fingernails; a smug smirk morphed upon his face as he had gotten closer to tearing Batman apart.
"You're slow, old man." The Mutant Leader taunted, arrogantly.
Batman didn't respond. He merely blocked it out and powered on through. He sent a side kick out, connecting with gang leader's side.
The Mutant Leader retreated a bit to edge of the mudhole. Grabbing a drum filled with fire, he tossed it at Batman. Hitting the man left shoulder that left him stumbling into the mud.
In an instant, the gang leader was upon him, looming over him, jaws wide ready to take another bite out of the masked man.
Luckily, Batman had palmed some of the mud into his hand and tossed it into the gray man's face, blinding him.
Large hands fumbled with clearly his eyes, while Batman connected a powerful uppercut to his jaw, sending his head backwards. Several right and left hooks struck his face, his vision starting to become spotty. In his favor was that the time between each blow grew longer and longer, indicating that Batman was slowing down.
Before the next blow was struck by Batman, the Mutant Leader pushed off the ground with his feet, airborne, he doubled kicked Batman right in the chest that flung him back far, mud splashing everywhere, coating the man further.
As he struggled to stand, he was tackled back down by the gang leader. His large hand clutched his head and shoved him down under the mud, intent on drowning him.
Through clenched teeth, he resisted the gang leader's power, arms flailing outward.
"I'll kill you now and Gotham City is mine!" The gray-skinned man boasted as his combined hands held the downed man's head under the mud.
Bubbles belched in the fetid muck, as the dark flailing arms began to ebb.
Soon the bubbles ceased completely, signaling the end of the struggle.
Feeling victorious, the Mutant Leader bellowed in joy. Arms above his head almost like he won some championship. In a way, he had. With Batman dead Gotham City was his now. Nothing could stand in his way.
He turned to his followers, feeling his pride swelling, eager to hear the cheers of his success from them. Yet, they remained silent, observant.
Their eyes transfixed on the pit as the battle wasn't over.
Like Lazarus, Batman rose from the mudhole, caked head to toe in mud, the white lenses of his mask clear.
The old rope-a-dope works every time. He was a little worried there. He had been a long time since he had to hold his breath like that. Didn't break his seven-minute record, but he wasn't complaining.
A curious Mutant Leader turned his head just in time to take a devastating right hook to the face. The power behind it sent him down.
Batman leapt atop him pinning him down.
"You don't get it, son. This isn't a mudhole." Batman told him. He shoved the man's head down into the mud, giving a little payback for the mud bath.
He pulled him back up a few seconds later. "It's an operating table." He then grabbed the man's right arm, his limbs wrapping around it like a snake, "And I'm the surgeon," and pulled it back until he heard the…
SNAP!
"AH!
The Mutant Leader screamed in pain.
The Mutant merely observed without a sound nor grimace as they watched their leader be destroyed.
The vigilante delivered quick straight punches to the gray man's face, legs kicking up with every blow. Seeing this, Batman grabbed the right leg and evened out the side.
"AH!" The Mutant screamed in agony as his leg was now broken too.
Now defenseless, Batman simply wallowed on the man until the gang leader's face was nothing but a bloody and muddy mess.
With every punch, the Mutant's spirit shattered. Their respect for their leader crumbled as he was elevated to being invincible until he was toppled so effortlessly it was absurd.
Ashamed, one by one the Mutant's removed their visor sunglasses.
As Batman stood triumphant over this… pitiful animal.
A lone Mutant was recording the battle and uploaded it online for all the world to see.
The Next Day
The media blasts the footage from last night's fight. With the headline, 'THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS!'
Various reports indicate that about half the Mutant army had been arrested. Their spirit broken following the defeat of the leader, hospitalized and under constant police guard.
"In other news, Police Commissioner James Gordon has just retired this morning. It seemed he was content with the apprehension of the Mutants to be the last big case put to rest under his administration."
The news reporter commented.
In Metropolis, a mild-mannered reporter was watching the brutal actions of a vigilante beat a new type of gang leader within an inch of his life.
In Washington D.C. a raven-haired woman watched the footage. Worry welling up inside at how brutal the actions the man had taken. "Diana?" a man's voice called out to her. "Everything okay?"
"Fine. Everything's fine," Diana turned the screen off, forcing herself to dismiss her worry for the moment.
"Gordon's successor is to be named at the end of the week."
As Gordon returned home, he found a package on his doorstep. Always suspicious, he checked it to make sure it was a bomb or something fiendish.
When he finally decided to open it, he discovered a note.
I know you're practically blind without them.
-B
He found a new pair of glasses from an old friend hinting at their first meeting. The morning of when Batman saved his son's life.
The white-haired man mused that this was about the closest to a retirement gift as he would expect from the man. It was also a goodbye gift. He no longer factored into Bruce's plans anymore. He mused that Bruce never really understood how much he bent the rules for him. And what rules he broke for him to be what Gotham needed him to be. It was all going to change now. Especially with Nakano as mayor and the new commissioner.
But it had nothing to do with him anymore.
Bruce was on his own now.
God help him.
Wayne Manor
A bandaged Bruce stared out the window to the city beyond the safe hills of Wayne Manor, lost in thought.
At least Elissa had a chance to use what she had been learning from Leslie. Helping Alfred treat Bruce's wounds when he returned home.
It broke her heart to see her father hurt like that. Especially the bite mark on his shoulder.
"How are you feeling, sir?" Alfred approached.
How was he feeling?
A smirk slowly appeared on his aging face. One of danger and resolve.
"Like it was yesterday."
NEXT: The Dark Knight Returns PT 2
Sorry for the delay. I just wanted to put it out there that we are approaching the final chapters. I plan to end it at chapter 50. Lot of work to get but I hope you all enjoy it.