Set in 2006, prior to Bruce Wayne's transformation into Batman, the story revolves around Wayne's reclusive college life at Gotham University. As the heir to Wayne Enterprises, he grapples with social avoidance stemming from the trauma of his parent...
My eyes opened up within the cold walls and unforgiving bars of my jail cell. The air was thick with the stench of despair and injustice. Icouldn't shake the bitter taste of betrayal that lingered on my tongue, the result of Harvey Dent, the person I used to call my friend, who framed me for crimes I didn't commit. The conspiracy case behind the missing students, the involvement of the "Court Of Owls" and even my own father's murder had all been pinned on me.
As I lay on the narrow, uncomfortable bed in that dimly lit cell, my mind was restless, haunted by the nightmares that plagued my sleep. The dream started innocently enough – a garden wedding, a scene of joy and celebration. Iwas there, dressed in a black tuxedo, surrounded by well-wishers and smiling faces.But the tranquility of the moment was shattered when Selina Kyle, the love of my life, entered the scene in a breathtaking wedding dress.
The dream took a dark turn as the atmosphere shifted, a sinister undercurrent replacing the joyous occasion. In the midst of the ceremony, a deafening gunshot echoed through the air. Time seemed to freeze as I watched in horror, unable to comprehend the unfolding tragedy. Selina crumpled to the ground, the white of her dress stained with crimson.
Before I could react, the shadows seemed to come alive, revealing the ominous figures of the "Court of Owls." These masked, enigmatic individuals emerged from the darkness, their sinister intent palpable. Panic and chaos ensued as they methodically began ending the lives of everyone in attendance. The once serene garden became a nightmarish tableau of death and destruction.
I shot upright in bed, my body drenched in sweat, and a scream caught in my throat. The nightmare had released its grip on me, but its echoes still reverberated through my mind. Before I could fully collect my thoughts, the harsh sound of a ringing phone pierced the air, and the voice on the other end belonged to none other than Officer Renee Montoya.
"Wayne," she said, her tone carrying a mix of sympathy and urgency, "someone's here to bail you out."
Relief washed over me as I stumbled out of the cold cell, my eyes adjusting to the harsh lighting of the police station. As I made my way to the front, uncertainty gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. Who would come to my aid in this desperate hour?
The answer revealed itself as I stepped into the reception area. There, standing tall and resolute, was Alfred. He looked different from the man I knew – the lines of worry etched deeper into his face, a weariness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. In his back, I saw my luggage and boxes filled with my belongings from my college dorm.
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