(I do not own these characters, they are property of DC Comics, only the idea and work is mine, personal views and concepts in this Fanfic are not necessarily my own and are merely created for entertainment purposes, I rate this 18: swearing and racial slurs some may find offensive... feel free to comment and enjoy)
Prologue: "Getting too Old"
Gotham groaned under its savior, and above Gotham it's savior groaned, as the Dark Knight thought to himself 'I'm getting too old for this' however he would never be able to stop, even if it killed him, even if it meant he was the last good brick standing between the Earth and it's destruction. He had been doing this a long time, and he was one of the few that remained. Despite wanting to inspire others to do better, even if that simply meant a young boy helping a woman in with her shopping, Batman feared that he was the last thread of hope and once he's gone the Earth will not see another shred of light. Of course maybe that was vein. There was always the Flash. Or the Green Lantern. Or the Atom, oh wait he was dead, right? Batman could never keep up these days. These long days, so cold and dark. Nothing compared to the Golden age, when, 'superhero' was a fresh term. Oh god, he was getting too old.
Gotham's rooftops crumbled under the heavy footsteps of the Batman, who was panting now, he had been following this kid for a while now, he was a teenager, Caucasian, six foot, low life, stealing the purse of helpless little old lady like that, no respect. He leaped from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit, the kid was not agile, always bumping into people, this was not a clean getaway, however Batman was not very agile either, he preferred the straight lines, no zigzag bullshit, when he was younger it was fine, he could tolerate it, but now he just likes it straight to the point. He had just jumped from an erotic video store to a liquor store, not a particularly high building, nor was it particularly low, but it was his only shot, the pavement was at a clear stretch no one else but Batman and the thief, this was his chance. So he leaped.
The mugger turned his head just in time to see a black mound come crushing down upon him, which knocked the wind clean out of him, Batman weighed a ton, which was all the more impressive considering the old man had hunk the armour around almost constantly. The teenager was in tears, but Batman was relentless he raised a black clad fist and bought it down repeatedly into the boys face, harsh he knew, but if that was the only way to teach these punks a lesson he would continue to do. The Dark Knight only stopped when his hand was red and the boys nose looked more like potato mash than anything, if not everyone was a scumbag in Gotham Batman might have felt sorry for the doctor who would have to piece it together. But as far as the shit that happened in Gotham, the doctors were up to their noses in it. If anybody wanted you dead you better know how to fix yourself up, because the surgeons would sooner slice your neck than help cure cancer.
Batman stood, his knees shook with distinct disposition, but he held himself together, the boy lay in a puddle of blood and tears, Batman snarled, "Scum." hissed through his teeth. No respect these days. He took the old ladies bag and looked up to see a crowd had gathered. He hated being seen. Then one African American stepped forward, "Yo! Honky! Get your old white trash piece of ass out of here man" he shouted, flicking out a knife from his hoody pocket. Batman just watched as the group of six boys surrounding their leader did the same, "Yeah get your motherfucking cracker ass outta here man!" they all chipped in, Batman snarled. He hated being seen. "Look man you want to get cut?" Batman let the scene sink in and decided that it was not worth the effort, though not before he recounted the face of each boy there, the block they lived around and the symbols they wore. Part of the 'Black Hand', a group that Batman found rather irritating, an organization which believed some 'black god' would arise and take back the world with his infinite power.
Batman would indefinitely remember the leaders face. However it was time for hm to leave, he pulled loose from his belt a gun, causing the crowd to step back and gasp. He spun from the body of the crying white boy, who seemed to have soothed himself into sleep, or was pounded into a coma, cape quick at his heels he stopped at sight of the building behind him. Batman fired into the darkness and followed suit. No respect. No fear. Batman jumped a few houses making sure he was clear of the scene, before slumping against a wall and coming to sit on the roof. He was breathing heavy again. Pulling off his mask revealed a wary but wise, charming and familiar old face, rugged and handsome, it was obvious he had faced many battles, which most took to assuming was merely alcohol and drug abuse. Beads of sweat dropped from his grey brow, whilst strands of white hair was plastered to his forehead. Breathing hard, he tried to cool himself, but he could feel the blood trickling down his nostrils. Reaching to his utility belt he pulled free a syringe, which he plunged into his neck and released the refreshing liquid. He took a sharp, sucking intake of breath and wiped his nose before pulling the mask back up covering his identity. His name was Thomas Wayne, and he had been alone ever since his wife and son were shot down dead in crime alley.
Log in to comment