Gotham City, Wayne Tower
11: 33 AMIt comes at me out of nowhere.
I nearly drop the glass of water in my hands. I know in my heart that it's not real, but I lose myself to the moment for enough of an instant to where, if I can be honest with myself, it doesn't really matter where this ends and reality begins. I'm rendered 8 years old all over again, with a feeling of overwhelming protection and warmth that I haven't experienced in a very long time. It's practically intoxicating to take in all at once, despite the absurdity of the situation.
I see them. My... parents. Sitting in the living room area of the penthouse.
They're older, as though time has allowed them to continue on and age to a respective point of maturity. My father has gray in his temples, his mustache is entirely white, and he's wrinkled - but still boasting full of life, silently laughing along with a joke my mother must have just told. And she's as radiant and beautiful as ever, even if she appears to be entering her early-to-mid sixties. I know that this isn't possible, that what I'm seeing couldn't
actually happen. But I want it so much to be real that I just indulge the fantasy and... watch, taking it in. Imagining the possibilities if life had been different. Been kinder.
They look at me and smile. I smile back, and for that moment, I forget to even tell myself that this is an illusion. The moment is such that I just take for granted that they're my mother and father, and I never lost them that horrible night. But something's already wrong by the time my mother directs me to the couch to join them. A detail is horribly off, and I can't quite place it at first. Until her arm moves in just such a way...
There's a gaping wound in her chest. The same that she suffered on the night she died. My eyes go wide as blood suddenly starts to fill her mouth, her eyes start watering and she collapses from the couch, face-down on the ground. My father rushes to her side, frantic, unaware of what's happening. Ever the protective soul, trying to make sure that everything's alright. I reach out for a moment and stop myself, remembering where I am. What I'm
doing.
This is in your head, Bruce. This is not who you are.
But whenever he looks up at me for answers, I still recoil in horror at the sight of his forehead having been blown in by a gunshot. He speaks to me, but there are no words. No sounds reverberating out of his mouth. All that I hear are the ringing aftermath from the shots that took them from me. My father finally falls aswell, mimicking the way in which the police found them by the time that a mugger named Joe Chill had fled Park Row.
"Bruce? Bruce! Bruce, talk to me!"The light comes on and I feel the hard clasp of Alfred's hand on my shoulder. There are tears streaming down my face, but I'm not crying. I'm just left to my own confusion, looking at the spot where I just saw the corpses of my family. Pools of their blood seeping into the carpet are now gone, replaced with pristine marble floors and modern decorations. I gasp to myself as a jagged edge of glass cuts into the bottom of my foot. Seems as though I had dropped the glass of water and hadn't even realized it.
"Alfred?"He pushes the glass aside with his cane as he rushes over to me, looking me dead in the eyes. He's got that worried glare in them again. The kind that tells me that I lost sight of reality, again, and that he's done this all too many times. I almost don't want to tell him what I saw, but I know the question's coming.
"What did you see, lad? Was it them?"I wipe away the tears and sigh, trying to keep ahold of myself. Trying to shake off what this is undoubtedly going to do to me for the rest of the day. It's always like waking up from a horrible nightmare, but it's never actually that. It's something far worse. And I can't bring myself to say the words aloud.
"It's fine, Alfred. I..."
"I'm fine."Alfred sternly narrows his eyes.
"The bloody hell you are. Here, come sit down. Catch your breath for a moment."He directs me to the couch and I comply, not wishing to argue over this. These episodes generally don't end with me convincing him that I can take whatever I saw, nor do I ever feel as if it's ever completely resolved by the end. I've just grown tired of this. Tired of the visions, the waking dreams. The memories that never go away, even when I try to move on. My sanity has always been in question, at best. But it's getting worse. I'm starting to feel as if I don't have any control left.
"I heard the glass and feared you had passed out again from shock. Mercifully not the case, I see."I place my hands together and try to calm myself down.
"It was as vivid as ever. Maybe even moreso. They were actually... they aged, this time.""Aged?"My left hand clasps tightly into a fist out of frustration.
"As if they would've in my mind's eye. They appeared how I imagined they would look if they'd lived."Alfred kneels down to my level and grabs my shoulder again. His look of concern growing into a firm glare, as if I'm lost and he's trying to bring me back. If I were honest with myself, I'd say that he has to try harder than that. That I may be too far gone for him to reach. But I have to push all of that aside.
"But they didn't. And you know that. Whatever you just saw, Bruce, it wasn't real. This is real, I'm real. You're here in the penthouse. Do you understand me?"I look back up at him, unsure of what to say.
"Bruce. Do you?"I close my eyes and nod.
"Yes. I'm here, and you're right. They're gone. It's stopped, Alfred."He breathes a sigh of relief.
"Good. That's good, lad. You almost gave me a start, there."Handing me the morning newspaper, Alfred stands upright and tries not to stare. He's always just as shaken by these moments as I am, if not even moreso. He's just better at hiding it, or so he thinks. I try and occupy my mind with the present by opening the front page of The Gotham Herald and taking a look at the headline. My eyes carefully inspect the words, unable to register them.
"Sal Maroni...""Yes, I was to ask you about that before I knew you were already about. Seems as though Mr. Maroni's in the ICU this morning. Trauma to the knee, several lacerations to his face and hands. In a general state of shock. A considerable police presence guarding him."He glances at me from the side, turning towards the window.
"They're saying it was The Batman who put him there."At first, I'm surprised to hear that. Unsure of whether or not to believe it, almost. But then it all comes flooding back to me at once. I remember. I remember every last detail, as if I'm seeing it from another perspective entirely. And I crumple the newspaper shut, letting it fall onto the table infront of me.
What I remember the most is the look on Maroni's face.
Gotham City, Maroni's Penthouse Suite
12 Hours EarlierSalvatore "The Boss" Maroni screamed at the top of his lungs as he was thrust into the open air admist shattered glass. The masked lunatic that had thrown the gangster aswell as himself out of the top floor of the penthouse grabbed onto Maroni hard and produced that same grappling device that had sent them hurtling into an over 50 foot drop towards the pavement. Firing it again, this time managing to snag a stone gargoyle overlooking the adjacent building, The Batman pressed hard into Maroni's back so that they swung into an arch, heading directly for the building just across the street.
All that Salvatore could see was oncoming glass before a very large and leathery piece of fabric shielded him from the impact. He couldn't see them hit the window, but he could feel it, aswell as the hard landing that both men made. By the time the fabric unfurled itself off of his face, Maroni realized that he was on his back, staring directly at his shadowy assailant, who stood above him. Salvatore growled.
"ARE YOU OUTTA YOUR FUCKING MIND?! WE COULD'A BEEN KILLED JUST THEN, YOU---"The Batman's boot slammed down onto Maroni's chest, causing him to involuntarily keel and roll over in immense pain.
"Quiet."With his prey momentarily incapacitated, Batman searched the room ahead of them. A set of office cubicles greeted him in the darkness, evident of a local business. The employees had long since gone home, leaving no one but a janitor who had already ran for the emergency exit. But The Dark Knight sneered as the heat signature-detection feature of the lenses in his cowl picked up the image of an additional few men heading up the staircase, guns drawn. Evidently, Captain Flass had managed to round up some of his remaining men to pursue them.
Looking down at Maroni, Batman forcibly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.
"We're not done."Maroni wheezed in pain.
"What the hell are you talkin' about?!"Punching the mobster hard across the face with an executed right hook, Batman caught Maroni's body as it fell limp, immediately rendered unconscious. Letting him fall gently, Batman produced a pair of military-grade handcuffs from the back of his belt and dragged Maroni over to a support beam. Propping him up and placing his hands behind his back, the vigilante secured his captive in place, put something into the front of his jacket pocket, and looked towards the door to the spacious room they were in as the heat signatures immediately approached.
Retreating to the darkness on the opposite end of the room, Batman watched in cold silence as the door was slammed open from the outside with a kick. Several of Flass' dirty cops burst into the room, each holding weapons that were far above standard issue for the GCPD. Laser sights, automatic ammunition. The vigilante narrowed his eyes as they searched for any sign of him in vain. Someone had been outfitting Flass' men with the latest in high-tech ordinance. The other precincts didn't have the luxury of such treatment, and it wasn't hard to guess why. Salvatore Maroni had a good majority of the GCPD under his payroll, directly. It was how the mobster had kept himself one step ahead of his rival, The Roman.
"Look! Over there! There's Maroni!", one of them yelled, signaling two of the men to his opposite. "Get him out of here before The Bat comes back! We'll stay here and keep watch!"
As the two men approached, The Batman produced a detonator hidden within his gauntlet. Waiting precious seconds as the cops inched closer to Maroni's unconscious form, the vigilante waited for them to discover the handcuffs.
"Uh, Lieutenant? He's
bound to this thing. We're gonna need to..."
Hitting the detonator hard, Batman leaped forward with a roll as an explosion of smoke immediately hit the two cops from within Maroni's jacket. Seizing control of the situation as the smoke coated the entire room, The Dark Knight hit the side of his cowl and switched his cowl's surveillance mode so that the lenses could isolate the smoke and make the room clear to him alone. Immediately slamming his knee into the chest of one of the cops with a rising strike, The Batman spun mid-air and sent four projectiles directly into the hands of two of the other armed officers. He'd taken to calling them "bat-blades", though one of his associates had given them perhaps a more fitting moniker: batarangs.
Landing behind the officer he'd struck, Batman downed that one with a hard elbow and immediately followed that up with a brutal headbutt, knocking him into one of the cubicles. Shooting his right leg out, Batman spun for a hard sweep, sending a second one to the ground fast enough for the officer to hit the back of his head. Opting for a palm strike against an oncoming enemy's jaw, the vigilante simultaneously reigned a flying high kick down onto a fourth officer's face, knocking both to the ground. As he regained his footing, he looked down to his chest and noticed the red targeting lasers start to cross his path.
"THERE... *COUGH* THERE HE IS! SOUTHEAST CORNER OF THE ROOM! OPEN FIRE!"Dammit.Bullets sprayed the walls behind him as The Batman somersaulted forward, counting himself lucky as a bullet barely grazed the armor plating covering his right shoulder. Leaping into the air, he kicked off of the wall to the south of the room and produced his grapple gun yet again, firing a line directly into the northern wall. Directing a spin kick into an officer as he attempted to reload his weapon, Batman pulled at the line hard, catching the two leading figures of the group by the chest and waist as the steel cable slammed them into the adjacent wall. As another officer rose from the ground, still partially unconscious, the vigilante grabbed a stapler from one of the nearby cubicles and launched it directly into the man's head, sending him back to the ground.
One remained. And he was firing off into the distance, having already lost the trajectory of his target. A batarang flew from the smoke and forced the weapon from his hands, embedding it into the window with a spiderweb crack. The officer's eyes widened as he looked at his unreachable weapon, failing to notice the figure that approached him.
"Tell Commissioner Loeb. Tell your fellow men. Tell everyone..."
"I'm coming for them, too."Blocking a punch with his forearm that the officer attempted to make, The Batman ensnared the arm into his grip, spun, and pulled down hard enough to dislocate the officer's shoulder, causing him to scream out in pain. Slamming the back of his reinforced cowl into the man's nose, Batman simply stood in place as he heard the thud of another unconscious body hit the floor.
"What? What in..."Turning to Maroni, who had managed to slip out of unconsciousness, Batman silently approached the mobster as he attempted to get himself free from his binds. Without much success, of course. Salvatore looked up and saw who was standing over him once again, but with the added effect of several unconscious police officers lining the floor behind the masked figure, revealed by the dissipating cloud of smoke. Maroni recognized each of the officers and could identify them by name, given they were some of his direct informants. Sal stared at the scene in horror.
"Jesus fuck. You took the entire room apart...""Yes."Grabbing Maroni by the throat with one hand, Batman lifted him off of his feet and sneered.
"And I could have left with you, sparing these men any measure of discomfort. But I wanted to send you a message, Maroni."Maroni struggled, but was clearly scared out of his mind by now, the veneer of malice having long since left him. It seemed as though the message had already been received.
"I won't tolerate corruption in Gotham any longer.""Who the fuck do you think you are?! Some kinda friggin' Robin Hood?!", Maroni barked back.
"You think takin' out a couple of my guys is gonna prove anything to anybody?! This lone crusader act isn't shit compared to what the five families have in store for you! You think you're the only one who knows how to scare somebody?!"Batman pulled the mobster close, immediately shutting him up.
"Do I look scared?"Deciding to simply shake his head no, Sal groaned as he was dropped firmly on his ass as The Batman turned around. The mobster grew agitated, immediately trying to free himself again, despite knowing that he was handcuffed.
"This isn't over! Not for you, not for me, not for anybody you just hurt! We'll find out who you are and where you live! We'll kill your family first, and then we'll set fire to everything you hold dear! You hear me, you fucking psychopath?!"By the time he was done, Maroni immediately gasped as The Batman turned back around, holding a particular item in his hand that the mobster never expected: a loaded pistol. Directing it at Sal's head, Batman coldly watched as the tough head of Capo Italiana turned from defiant to subservient in an instant.
"Hey, I was just... I didn't mean anything by..."Batman lowered the gun to Maroni's knee.
"Sure you did."BLAM!"ARRRRGH!"With blood squirting out of a fresh gunshot wound in his knee, Salvatore violently shook back and forth in unimaginable pain. The Batman placed the pistol back into an unseen holster connected to a plate of kevlar that covered his back. What Maroni didn't know was that the bullet now lodged in his likely shattered kneecap wasn't made of lead, but of a special polymer that was designed to leak a chemical into the bloodstream. The chemical would act as a natural tracking beacon for up to three weeks, ensuring that the mobster wouldn't skip town anytime soon to shake off such a humiliation.
"FUCK! SHIT! FUCK!"Batman turned.
"Enjoy your evening, Maroni. I know I have."By the time Salvatore 'The Boss' Maroni's eyes opened up once more, watering from the immense trauma that had just been inflicted on him, The Batman was nowhere to be seen. All that was left was a crowd of useless, unconcious badge-wearing hitmen that Maroni had overpaid to keep him away from situations like this. And all that he could think as he waited for someone to arrive, hearing sirens in the distance, was the strangest thought.
Since when did Batman carry a gun?
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