Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any other DC material here. This fic is purely for entertainment purposes.
Prologue:
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The sight of a man wearing a mask made from tattered clothes raising his gun to Bruce's head, was the last sight he saw before the bullet struck his forehead and knocked him backwards.
The next thing Bruce was aware of was a feeling of emptiness in him. Then he saw only darkness until…
Bruce was floating in an air of darkness where he could see hundreds of meters in front of him a massive Dragon which was beneath an image of Gotham's with himself directly beneath its centre, which had glowing mostly white figures of people that all had two male figures, one was a shadow with a round head with yellow shades in place of eyes, the other was made of sheer white light. The shadow in the figures was faint in many, but it was opaque as obsidian in many other, especially those in a huge concrete prison twelve miles from Gotham's centre on the coats, and a huge old building that looked like something out of a horror comic on an Island. The figure which was shining pure white was shining at its brightest in those who had the shadow at its faintest, and was almost not shining at all in those the shadow was at its darkest in. The dragon had tendrils of darkness connecting it to a few figures that glowed pale orange with owl-shaped masks on them.
The dragon turned its head towards Bruce. "No, not you, you are not the one. You are not ready yet, but you will be." Its voice was thunderous."
"Who are you? Ready for what?" Bruce wailed at him.
"I am Barbatos. Your destiny." It quietly growled at him.
Memories of the movie he'd watched with his parents' minutes before their deaths entered his head. He could hear a quote from that movie that echoed in his heart "That which is beyond your control may decide your fate, but no-one and nothing besides yourself can decide your destiny. There's always a choice."
The hero of that movie had been a detective.
Bruce willed his flesh to feel like stone and his nerves to feel like steel in his grip of them. He stared the Dragon in its eyes. He swam through the air as if he were in water trying to will himself back into his body.
"NO! I REFUSE TO ABANDON THOSE THAT NEED ME! I DEDUCE THAT YOU ARE JUST ANOTHER BULLY TRYING TO GET VICTIMS TO ABANDON HOPE! I DECIDE MY DESTINY!"
Beep…beep…
Bruce awoke to find himself in a hospital surgery table.
"Master Bruce!"
Alfred's voice came to him as if it were sung by saints.
The aged butler's face was lined with worry and relief.
"How are you feeling?" Alfred asked him while hunched over his bed.
As Bruce's mind pondered the question the memory of the gunning down in crime alley sliced through him as if it were a sword.
Tears and wails burst through him as if a dam had burst. His body quaked as if in an earthquake.
Alfred immediately hugged him. Eyes closed as the closest feeling he'd ever felt to fatherhood flapped its wings inside him.
"Let the pain out Master Bruce. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Just remember that there's always hope that things may get better."
When Bruce finished trembling, he took several tests to indicate how his mental health was. The doctors were impressed. They whispered to Alfred that his cognitive skills were far above the average nine-year old's. He had taken several mathematics tests that would have ordinarily taken half a minute and some writing down to solve, without needing to draw any calculations and in three seconds. When asked to draw copies of shapes his copies were flawless.
When scans of his brain showed there was no sign of any damage they saw that all had been repaired.
As he looked at his own brain, a wide smile that glinted like the scalpels next to him crossed Bruce's face, and his eyes shone like the lenses of microscopes.
Bruce asked the doctors question after question about the human brain. Eventually the doctors ran out of time because they had other patients to attend to. But Bruce as soon as he got home raced to the Wayne Manor library and found books on the brain and the human anatomy.
Alfred walked into the library. He was so perplexed by what he saw that he fell to the wall behind him. "Goodness Master Bruce. Whatever are you doing?"
Bruce was sprawled over several books which were open on the pages about the materials in the brain, skin, hands, and the skull.
"The shooter was between 1.7 and 1.8 meters high. His eyes were blue. He was wearing a beige coat. His shoes were black and rectangular shaped with rimmed ends, not points. The killer was right-handed. The bullet's trajectory was exactly as aimed, meaning that there was little effect of recoil on the killer's hand, so an expert marksman then. The killer shot wearing gloves that were elastic and fit his hand perfectly, meaning that the minimum size of the hand would've had to have been the minimum size of those gloves. The gun wasn't trembling so neither was he. The shooter was male. The shooter's mask was made using a t-shirt that had a sign of something on them that I haven't identified yet. The shooting took place after the movie, so it would've been a little after 9pm. The killer couldn't have known it was my parents who would be there before the shooting, so it'd had to be just a mugging that went bad for us, not a planned killing. What was stolen from my parents after they were killed?"
Alfred, stricken by Bruce's energy, took a few breaths before answering.
"Both of your parents' wallets and your mother's pearl necklace."
"How much money were those pearls worth Alfred?"
"When bought about three-thousand dollars sir."
"How many jewellers are there in Gotham?"
"A few."
"What of Dad's phone?"
"It was untouched."
"What besides money was in the wallets?"
"I would imagine a few cards, photographs and keys sir."
"What did the wallets look like?"
"They were both brown leather and fat."
"We were in that alley because the car was on the other side of it. Did you see anyone going into or out of the alley Alfred?"
"No sir."
"If he'd climbed out of the alley, he'd have woken everyone else up. It's very unlikely that he'd live in one of the nearby houses. If he was a mugger, it's unlikely he had a car. He's have exited by the side we came through on foot. It would've taken him at least ten seconds to rummage through mum and dad's pockets and take the necklace. So…what about traffic cameras? CCTV that some shops, houses, bank areas and other areas use?"
"BRUCE!"
Alfred took a deep shuddering breath before continuing, weariness carving itself into his face.
"I promise you these questions you are asking yourself and more besides, have been asked by the police and I guarantee you the police will find your parents' killer, but before you go trying to transform yourself into some Sherlock Holmes figure I wish to make something absolutely clear: YOU ARE NOT READY FOR WHAT YOU WANT TO BECOME!
For one thing you are a child: a very wealthy and in my view very clever child, but still a child. And let us remember as Dale Carneige observed "When dealing with people we are not dealing with creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, bristling with prejudices, and motivated by pride and vanity." You may be smart enough to solve this case, and perhaps others, by yourself but I promise you, the police's pride and vanity will never allow them to take advice of a child. Even with a brain like yours, to catch criminals legally requires authority and equipment, both of which you will need other people's help for.
And for another thing…Your parents' killer was the work of someone working alone of course. But most criminal in Gotham? Most of Gotham's criminals work as part of gangs, with international connections. Large organisations get by via fear of retaliation and profit. Hunting down criminals who work alone is one thing. But in Gotham you either steer clear of the big bunches of criminals or you kick the hornets nest."
Alfred's face was downcast.
Bruce's head shook in wide-eyed disbelief "What about the police, the army, the CIA, the FBI? Can't they do anything to minimize the risk?"
Alfred barely managed to contain his snort.
"I'm sure most of the authorities outside of Gotham certainly would. But they don't have enough evidence and the permission to acquire it has been denied by corrupt judges, politicians and other authority figures in Gotham who aren't accountable to authorities outside of Gotham."
Rage ripped through Bruce's face.
"BUT THAT'S-"
"Unfair? Awful? Despicable? Obviously Master Bruce. But we must accept it. There's nothing now that we can do about it. Nothing lasts forever though. Maybe one day more willing to do what's best people will take their places. But for now, please content yourself with the knowledge your parents' killer will be brought to justice and you are the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune and a company that specializes in making the world a better place in ways which with have nothing to do with crime. You are a clever boy and I've no doubt that you'll grow into an even more clever man, but there are ways you can make the world better without having to focus on crime."
Bruce waited a few seconds before replying, grief for his dreams paralysing him.
Alfred waited no more before engulfing him in a hug.
"I understand you're angry and you want to prove yourself. But obsessing over crime isn't the way to do so."
"What if the evidence for locking them up came and the man-power needed to arrest them was allowed?"
"That would require either lots of witnesses or lots of tech which would require warrants to use legally. Neither are likely to occur, and you have no power to get the needed cooperation from others. At least not today."
"But aren't the politicians, judges and so on, not accountable to the people of Gotham? Isn't this a democracy? Do the people want crime in this city?"
"Of course they don't Master Bruce, but without evidence for the criminals to be brought to light, they will remain unaccountable, and the people will vote for whoever it is that promises peace. Of course, Gotham isn't at peace, but the people want to ignore that, because they either think there's nothing that can be done about it on a large scale, or they are simply too selfish."
As Bruce hugged him tightly back, he pondered over what Alfred was saying…no he wasn't ready.
Hours later he went to his bed and curled up in a ball and wept. Before going to sleep though he saw something at his window in the moonlight, black as a night-time cloud screeching. For a moment, he thought it was the gunman who killed his parents.
"ALFRED!"
As he screamed, he threw the blankets he was wrapped up in at the window and fled to the door, slamming it shut behind him before flying down the hallway.
"What is it master Bruce?"
"There's something at the window!" he pointed a trembling finger at the door he'd slammed.
Alfred gently put his right hand on Bruce's shoulder,
"Master Bruce the windows are all bullet-proof, the house is surrounded by an electric fence atop a wall, with spikes, there are night-vision cameras covering all the grounds, and motion detectors, all programmed to alert me if any unauthorized person is coming. It's safe. What you saw is probably just a bat Master Wayne, they nest in a cave in the grounds. Please do yourself a favour and get yourself to sleep master Bruce."
Bruce took a deep breath of relief and went to sleep, but not before wondering how big that cave was…
When he woke up the next morning he found out...