Today's February 13th. It's raining. The city looks beautiful in the rain. Like in those tourist brochures at the train station. The smell of diesel engines hangs thick in the air. Just as it always has. The music of the city seems louder than usual. It gives me a sort of euphoria. It reminds me of what I'm fighting for. To hear the music. To feel the energy of the hustle and bustle. Lightning strikes the train station. Causes an energy surge. That means the trains will be late several seconds. I look down from my rooftop. Thieves mugging an old lady. I swoop down and land behind them. My boots make a loud thumping noise. They turn their attention to me. They figure out they entered a whole world of pain. They're right. I leave them with broken bones. But very alive. The old lady thanks me. I wordlessly accept her kind words. I disappear into the shadows. All criminals from here to Metropolis know my name.
The mere mention of my name encites fear into the hearts of criminals and hope into the hearts of citizens. But there are people who think they can best me.Who think that I'm as just as crazy as them. They may be right. But it takes a certain kind of crazy to stand for what you believe in. Truth. Justice. Criminal punishment. I do the things that law enforcement can't. I teach criminals a lesson in fear. But even then, there are some that are fearless. Those who treat fear as a joke. Those who live on fear. These men and women are formitable opponents. Though nothing a little cunning and tactical know how can't help.
I return to my home. The Batcave. Lovely place. To me anyway. Everyone says it smells like isolation and bat guano. I'll give them the bat guano part. But I'm far from isolated. I can see what goes on around the world from my computer. On top of that, I can contact anyone with just a press of a button. But even then, maybe they have a point. Maybe there is a certain sense of isolation. But I tend not to let it bug me. As Batman or Bruce Wayne. Speaking of. Bruce Wayne has an important meeting to go to.
. . .
I arrive at the Wayne Enterprises building. The headquarters of my company. It feels almost like a second home. It's a large spire. Piercing the sky like a mighty spear stabbing through the heavens. My father designed it. Thomas Wayne. The greatest man that ever lived. He was a rich man. Young too. Thirty- five, self made millionaire. Sold munitions to the US military. The government paid him top dollar for his services. He used the money to become the forerunner in the field of energy. Became a hero of the world with synthesized diesel. With all that fame came enemies. Powerful enemies. Powerful enemies like Hugo Strange. Strange had a majority of shares in a competing company's stock for nearly thirty years going. When Wayne Enterprises rose to power and all but dominated the market. Strange lost a large sum of money. Sad. He made a lot of money in the automotive industry with close bonds to the competition of Wayne Enterprises. Never had any faith in Thomas Wayne. Ended is career in automotives.