Bruce Wayne

Chapter 02: Pathways of Life

"What are you going to do, kid?" Winston asked. "You can't run. You can only fight or die. Which is it? Come on, take the gun. Take it!"

"Alfred!" Bruce screamed.

"He can't help you," Winston told him sternly. He switched targets, pointing the gun toward Alfred before shouting, "Bang!"

Returning the aim to Bruce, Winston continued, his voice and manner becoming louder and more aggressive. "Alfred can't help; he's dead. The only one who can do anything here is you. Now, take the gun!"

Bruce still failed to take action, so Winston slid his grip on Bruce's arm down to the wrist, forcibly moving Bruce's hand over to rest on the cold metal of the weapon.

"There are two initial parts to any fight where the enemy has a weapon and you don't," Winston explained, his voice becoming slightly more civil and instructional. "First, you want to keep the weapon from harming you. In this case, you'll need to stop the gun from firing. You can do that by taking a hold here."

He pushed Bruce's fingers to the rear of the gun's slide near the hammer.

"If the hammer is pulled back and locked, you'll want to grip here," he told Bruce, adjusting the child's grip accordingly. "If the hammer can't move forward, the gun is useless. You might get your fingers pinched in there if they slip off the hammer, but injured fingers are better than getting your head blown off."

He shifted Bruce's fingers again, wrapping them around the rear of the hammer.

"If the hammer isn't back, you can hold it here, and it won't be able to fire either," Winston explained. "Now that you know how to stop a gun from shooting, you can move into the next step of the fight, removing the weapon from your enemy's possession."

Bruce's resistance to the hard lesson was decreasing as the moments passed, but having to stand back and watch was wreaking havoc on Alfred's blood pressure. He wanted to step in, but he knew he had to stay out of it for Bruce's sake.

"Hold here," Winston instructed, releasing his grip on Bruce in order to position the kid's opposing hand on the gun. "Once you have your hands like this, twist over and pull."

Bruce did as he was told and ended up with the gun in his own hands, separated from its former owner.

"Very good," Winston praised. "With practice, you'll get faster and more expert at it. No one will ever be able to use a gun on you at close range again. You up for a little training?"

Alfred fought back the tears of joy threatening to well up in his eyes as he saw something he thought he might never see again; the corners of Bruce's mouth turned up ever so slightly in the faintest glimmering of a smile.

                                                                                             ***

"Come on!" Winston shouted. "You can hit harder than that!"

The early morning light bathed the back lawn of Wayne Manor in golden rays, but its warmth had not yet grown to its full proportion, leaving the air slightly cool. Three days had passed since Winston had first begun training Bruce, and the young Wayne was already showing great promise, taking to his lessons quickly and with ever increasing proficiency.

Bruce yelled as he swung his gloved fist toward the square pad worn on Winston's left hand. The impact made a loud slap against the leather material. Winston retaliated, and smacked Bruce in the back of the head with the pad on his right hand.

"Hold up for a minute," Winston said. "You're using good power, but you're letting your rage drive your attacks. It makes you blind to what's around you and leaves you unprotected. Do you know the difference between a bomb and a rocket?"