The Batman: Spirit Of Vengeance

CHAPTER 1: A FRIEND IN NEED

"Never must one mistake grief for anger. One of them builds a person, the other mangles."

BLAM!

Crows and vultures scattered in all directions as the rifle smoke made itself one with the atmosphere. "Can you please put that away, Alfred?" Bruce spoke in his ever-so stony tone. "Apologies, Master Wayne. I thought that a little connection with the African wildlife might cheer you up. Help distract you, I supposed." "Well, it certainly is not amusing to me." Alfred sighed. "I see..." he rubbed the mouth of the rifle with a napkin and set it aside. "....Well, I suppose it is time to conclude this trip of ours. I believe Gotham needs you now." "What Gotham needs is a nuclear missile in the heart of the city." Alfred banged the side of the jeep. "I recommend you choose your words wisely." Bruce sacrificed his kingly lean. "Finish it. Finish the sentence." "Not in this regard, I will not." Alfred grabbed the rifle and began to aim again. "Alright. I will finish for you. You were going to say that my father would be oh-so very disappointed. That if he was here, he would question his upbringing but he isn't here, now is he, Alfred? Because last I checked, he is lying still and lifeless beside my mother!" Alfred figured it would be best to vow silence as Bruce scoffed and looked away. However, this phase of collective agony and frustration remained short-lived as Alfred noticed a leopard, ready to pounce on a deer nearby. He quickly switched his aim from the innocent beer bottles and took the shot! Bruce's eyes widened as he shuffled towards Alfred. The deer rushed away, fearing for its life, but so did the leopard. Bruce stared at Alfred who was seemingly collected yet unnerved as the million-dollar question graced his ears, "Why did you not kill it?" Alfred wiped the sweat off of his face and set the rifle down saying, "In the predator-prey relationship, exists an unspoken rule of the jungle......" he placed his hand firmly on Bruce's shoulder. "....Fear comes for the lone deer as well as the lion's pride."

24 YEARS LATER....

"Panicked breathing in the video tape. Not a very experienced guy." "Probably just looking for cash to buy more drugs." "Drophead." "Exactly. Look at the sweat on his forehead. Wears a mask and is still being read like an open book." "What are his demands?" "Him and four others. They have taken seventeen hostages. From what I figure, they just want to walk away with the money." "And we obviously cannot let that happen." Commissioner James Gordon sighed, not in exhaustion but in relief. "Pull your men back." "Sir?" "That's an order." "But we have this under control." "No. You don't." spoke a third voice from the shadows. All the snipers surrounding the Bank Of Gotham rotated instinctively to point at the pitch black darkness. "Lower your damn weapons!" Gordon yelled at his subordinates. "They have bombs strapped to their chests. You take one shot, they all collectively explode." The shadows spoke. "So, someone's sending Gotham what? A message? Well, we've had enough of those." "I suppose it's time we send them one of our own." Gordon smirked at the suggestion.

Inside, the modulated voices whispered amongst themselves, oblivious to the red and yellow glimmer floating above them. The men continued their rounds of hitting hostages and leaving trails of sweat behind, until one of them dropped his weapon. He started hurrying towards the rest, cowering with fear, running around frantically but he was too late to react as he crashed into a flying boot and collapsed on the floor. Being dragged away to some corner, where he will be soon reunited with his friends, his distorted vision painted a pitch perfect image, of a bat in the sky. A signal. A warning.

In some other corner of the building, one of the goons ran haphazardly. He made sure to constantly survey the yellow cape chasing him like a ghost. A yellow cape that was wrapped around his unconscious friend's head just a second ago. He bumped into a warm yet steely chest. He ran his fingers along the edges of the engraved symbol and saw his worst nightmare tower before him. "The Bat-" he whispered before his throat caved in. Brutal, but not lethal. He'll live, but the criminal element won't.