Prince of Darkness ~ Gotham

~ Chapter Five: Gotham's Kids Snatched ~

Bruce's breathing trembled as he stared at the glowing candle in front of him. His need to conquer fear and explore pain was too great to ignore. Slightly rolling up the sleeve of his sweater, he brought the palm of his hand closer and closer to the flame. He could feel the heat rising into the air and touching his palm, but even that warning sign didn't deter him. As he brought his hand down, he winced as it burned his skin, burning a hole that grew larger the longer he kept his hand there. He bit the inside of his lip, trying to hold back the inevitable cry of pain that would escape when he couldn't take it anymore. Suddenly, footsteps approached the library and Bruce quickly snapped out of it, hiding his hand behind his back and hoping Alfred wouldn't see.

"Ah, there you are. Been all over the bloody house looking for you," Alfred sighed with relief. "I-I'm sorry I worried you," Bruce stammered, his burnt hand still aching from the pain he inflicted. Alfred noticed Bruce's hand behind his back and stepped closer to him. "What have you been doing?" He questioned. "Nothing," Bruce answered. Alfred could smell the sense of guilt from a mile away. "You, my old son, are a terrible liar. What have you got there?" Bruce stepped away, terrified of what Alfred would think once he made the discovery. "Come on, show me,"

Slowly, Bruce revealed the blistering red mark on his palm, and Alfred's eyes widened, and he became angry with himself for allowing this to happen under his nose. It was his job to protect and care for Bruce, and he neglected to keep him safe. "Oh my god, you stupid little boy!" Alfred exclaimed, grabbing Bruce by his sweater with such roughness he started shaking again. Seeing this made the butler feel guilty, and he pulled Bruce into his arms, assuring him that everything would be okay. 

"How about we go fix that up, yeah?" Alfred suggested. Slowly Bruce nodded, and Alfred led him into the nearby bathroom and fixed his wound.

~~~~~~~

It was approaching 10:30 that night, and as Holly and Barbara ran out to the store to grab a few odds and ends for tomorrow's dinner, Holly could feel a sense of unease, particularly because of where the shop was located. Why they didn't go somewhere that was more populated, she didn't know. All she could do was hope nothing would happen to them. As the first week in Gotham proved, nothing good happened after dark. She watched her mother scan every shelf, looking for the right spice, but no matter how many tiny plastic bottles she picked up, Barbara never seemed to find the right one. 

Holly looked around cautiously like she was waiting for someone to pop out of hiding and frighten them. Though she put on a brave face, she tightened her grip on her mother's hand and she took notice of this. "Just another minute, Hols," She whispered. A lot could happen in a minute, but Holly suppressed those thoughts to the back of her mind as her mother finally found what she was looking for, and they paid for their stuff. The unease only lingered as they stepped onto the murky and wet streets. Under the faint glow of the streetlights, she could see homeless men and women bundled in blankets, holding up signs that either asked for money or "Will work for food,"

She couldn't help but feel a pang of pity, not being able to imagine what it would be like to worry if they'd get their day's meal by a good Samaritan. Barbara gasped as the bag she was carrying ripped a hole, and one of the spices fell onto the ground. Holly quickly reached down to grab it, but as she went to stand up again, she saw the bright headlights of a van seemingly driving toward them. She and Barbara quickly crossed the rest of the street, only to see the van stop in front of a few teenagers standing around a trashcan fire.