Bruce Wayne walked the streets he had never walked before. His parents drove six blocks out of their way to avoid this area. He tells himself he's doing it for his parents. It's what...they would want, he tells himself. He doesn't want to sweat too much, or his makeup and scar will wash off. He ignores all of them. The whores, the junkies, all of them. He walks straight into the bar. Flashing neon signs and all.
The bar is rough and grimy. Two men sit in a corner with the "dates" they had picked up. As Bruce walked in, talking stopped. All eyes were on him. Most were looking at the scar. Bruce was not sure if they were afraid or not. He would soon find out. He sat down on a stool and a man walked up. "Welcome to 'My Alibi' What can I get ya?" One man chimed in, "A new scar! He needs a new one to match" His freinds laughed. Bruce knew nobody thought it was funny...
"How'd you get it,man?" Another chimed in. Bruce found his opportunity. "I don't know, go ask your Mom" With a sudden rage a fury, the man pulled out his knife and threw himself at him. Bruce dodged the blow, and threw his knee into the man's chest. The man cried in pain. "Ooh" Bruce whispered to the man. "Mommas boy."
Suddenly a huge frenzy a men attacked. The women left the bar screaming. Bruce sent a blow with the force of a hammer into one man's face. Unfortunatley, he did not see the crowbar coming at him. He judged by the blow that he had at least broken his nose. He was on the floor. He struggled to stay conscious. As he regained his stance, someone smashed his face with his foot. He went to do it again. Bruce was prepared. He grabbed the mans foot, and twisted it in such a way that we fell backwards and hit his head on a table. He then legsweeped another man, while on the floor, he mounted him and beat him unconscious. Another thug tried to slash Bruce with a knife, it only grazed the back of his neck. He turned around and slammed his elbow into the thug's midsection. (A crowbar of his own.) Bruce ade the decision to quit while he was (somewhat) ahead and walked out of the bar. Men jeered an laughed. Only Bruce knew he had been shot.
He knew he wouldn't die from it. He spent years learning the human anatomy. He would take any advantage he could. He walked past them all. the whores, the junkies, all of them. Until he arrived at his home. Wayne Manor.
Whilst spilling blood over his floor, he managed to crawl into a chair and waited. His butler, Alfred could patch him up. He was a medical expert, after all. No...he felt something...as if a prescence were telling him to stay there, undisturbed.
He saw it....
A huge bat came flying through the window. It was wounded but not dead.
...Like Bruce.
He needed to put the fear of God into them.
and now he had his weapon...
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