Chapter 2: The Discovery
Bruce Wayne fell onto the bed. He was finally home after a long night of drinking, parties and women. His head felt like it had been smashed in by a professional wrestler, and then stitched back together by a bad doctor. He groaned loudly.
“Back a bit late tonight sir!” Alfred entered the room, holding a silver tray with a glass of orange juice on it.
“Juice Alfred! Really?”
“Well I thought that after your busy night that you needed a refreshing, non-alcoholic drink.”
“Thanks.” He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes very fast. “But I would rather just get some sleep at the moment. Put it in the fridge if you want.” Alfred placed the tray down on the settee.
“Sir, why do you drink?” Bruce seemed puzzled by this statement.
“Because it fills a hole.”
“And what hole would that be? Who left the hole?”
“My parents. And Joe Chill. I stand by the statement I made when I was younger. That he should be locked away forever.”
“Some people can’t be locked away. It would be an inconvenience to everyone.”
“How Alfred.”
“You are a good man. You use your money to protect the city you love. And that is one of your goals in life. But your main goal is to defeat the man who killed your parents. My point is that if you succeed in your goal then you will have no purpose in life, and fall so far.” Bruce’s head slowly made its way up to face Alfred. He nodded slowly. Chill was more than just some punk with a gun, he knew it. The way he had to get away from the scene of the crime so fast. He wasn’t scared of anybody. But if Chill was stopped then he would have no purpose in life and he would live long enough so he would become what he had fought to defeat.
The silver Mercedes raced down the dark road. He was being pursued by the Batmobile, firing bullets at every chance he got. It drove through a building, damaging it severely. It was a make-up factory, Gotham’s finest. A bald man leapt out of the front seat, as the Batmobile crashed into the back of it, causing the Mercedes to be on the verge of falling apart. The man’s name was Roman Sionis, the main Crime Lord of Gotham. Batman jumped out of his stylish car and ran towards Roman. The Batmobile was sleek black, with vague strips of light blue occasionally racing across the sides. It had 2 metal bat-shaped wings like arcs attached to the roof of the car, and a glass, rocket shaped dome attached to it that had been pushed upright so that Batman could get out. He chased after Sionis, as they both ran up the stairs to where the real factory was. Roman whipped out a gun and fired at Batman. It missed and hit the wall. In retaliation, he thrust a battarang at him, and it landed in his shoulder. Roman screamed in pain. They were standing on a bridge of sorts, and below them were many vats of new types of make-up. The company were developing a make-up where you put it on like face paint. It still hadn’t been tested, but it was about to. Batman ran up to Sionis and started to punch and kick him. His bladed on his wrists slashed across his face, but Roman’s fist hit his chin, so that Batman fell backwards. He leapt onto him, holding a gun to his neck.
“So, Bats. It boils down to this. You see that make-up down there? Well, my sources tell me that it’s a tad faulty! And it stays on your face! Would you like me to try it out on you? You would be a real batman, covered in black from head to toe!” He spoke with a slight shake in his voice, every word seemed like it had been spoken in laughter.
“Do you wanna know how to become truly dark?”
“Ha-ha, by making oneself dark, they give in to their colours and bring out what they feel inside bats!”
“Well then this should jus be another layer!” Batman kicked with his feet into Roman’s chest, and he flew over the bars, into the dark make-up. An almighty splash was made, with black liquid flying everywhere. Roman Sionis screamed as loud as his lungs would allow him, his face burning and becoming a new colour: jet black. Batman made his way down the stairs and into the Batmobile to make his getaway, as the sound of police sirens drew closer.
Bruce Wayne stumbled home one night, after a long night of partying. He was out in the front garden of Wayne Manor, feeling very drunk. Next to the giant house is a medium sized hump in the grass, about 10 feet tall. It was long, and he had never been told how it got there or what its purpose was. He smiled, and thought that it was time to find out what it was. He slowly walked towards it, but collapsed half way there. He managed to get back on his feet, and finally reached the hump. Bruce put his hand on it, and it was either he was more drunk than he suspected, or his hand was reaching through the grass. He tried another hand, and it did the same.
“What the hell...?”
He tripped over his other foot, and fell through the floor. Bruce was flying through the air, towards a hard ground, and he hit it. The pain shot through his head like a clever idea. “Ah, damn.” He moaned. Bruce looked up and forward, and saw that at the end was some sort of cave. The billionaire edged closer to the cave, and could see metal bars, walkways and glass. He reached it at last, and an amazing sight met his eyes. Hundreds of bat-related items hanging on the walls, a gleaming black car and in the far right corner, in a glass case, was a suit in the shape of a bat. He suddenly remembered his experience as a child when Batman fought Joe Chill on the train in front of his mother. The truth suddenly came to him. His father was the Batman. The masked vigilante who would do anything to protect the city he loved. And it was time for Bruce to resume his father’s actions. It was time for the Batman to return.