Origins: A DC Comics Fanfiction

1 Bruce

ORIGINS

Mckenan16

BRUCE

"And I swear by the spirits of my parents to avenge their deaths by spending the rest of my life waring on all criminals."

-Detective Comics #33

Bruce put his hands in his sweater pockets. The harsh wind nipped at his nose, and blew his raven hair back.

Suddenly, he felt an arm loop through his own. He turned to see Julie smiling at him. He decided to smile back. It was something he learned to do over the years: smile. Even if it was though his teeth. They didn't need to know that he could still hear the gun-shot. That he could still smell the smoke. That he could still feel his heart racing, and the tears trickle down his cheeks, and their blood on his fingertips. That he was still falling...

"Hey, you," Julie said cheerfully.

"Hey," Bruce said. People said he was charming. But, he never felt that way. Maybe it was because he was never really focused on girls. Because ever since his parents were killed, he couldn't let it go. For some reason, he still felt like he was falling farther and father into blackness. Every time he thought he almost felt actually happy, their lifeless bodies flashed through his mind and brought him back down again. And he felt like he was falling into the well all over again.

"You know," Julie said, "Harvey asked me to the school dance next Friday."

"Really?" Bruce replied, "That's nice."

He was only nine when it happened. Nine years old. What kind of evil creature kills a nine-year old boy's parents in front of him? What kind of creature kills at all?

"I said 'no'," Julie piped, her face only slightly nearing Bruce's own.

"Why?" Bruce stopped.

"Well, I just thought maybe someone else wanted to ask me." She stared at Bruce deep in the eyes.

"What do you- oh." Bruce stopped. "You mean me."

"Maybe," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, I'm not going to the dance," Bruce said, looking down at his feet. "Too crowded."

"I think so too," Julie said, "But, I like movies..."

Movies. Bruce hadn't been to a movie theatre since that night. He had insisted they take him to see a new Zorro remake. His mother was reluctant to let him see such a violent picture, but he was insistent. He saw a hero in a mask, fighting for justice and vengeance. To him, it was awesome. When the movie was over, there was an old fashioned ice-cream store across the block. Bruce's father decided that they had enough time before their driver came back to get Bruce some ice-cream, something Bruce begged for. They went through the ally. A shortcut, his father told them. As they walked through the alley which was covered in litter, and reeked of drugs, Bruce pretended to fight imaginary bad guys with an imaginary sword, defending his parents from danger. His mother was nervous, though Bruce never noticed. His father had his arm around Bruce's mother and laughed as Bruce valiantly fought off foes.

Then, Bruce saw him. The man had a gruff face, like he hadn't shaved in days, and had a muddy scarf around his neck, and fingerless gloves on his hands. He smoked a cigarette and rubbed his hands together to warm them. Bruce stopped pretending to fight imaginary bad guys for a moment and grabbed his father's hand. Though, his father squeezed his hands back, Bruce could tell he was still trying to act casual as though there was no danger. His father always tried to see the best in people. He thought all people were good.

The man must have seen the pearl necklace wrapped around his mother's neck because he stood up, and Bruce's father tightened his arm around his wife, but kept walking. The man begged them for some money, talking about how his wife was having a baby, and how he needed money.

Bruce's father stopped. He always talked to Bruce about how life had given them much. They were the Wayne's, the wealthiest in Gotham City. Because much was given, his father always said, much was required. That they were always supposed to help others in need. That was his weakness. His father turned around, and pulled out his wallet, and handed the man some money. But, the man's eyes were on the pearls.

Out of his coat pocket, the man pulled out a revolver, and pointed it at Bruce's father. He told him to give him the wallet, and then told his mother to give him the pearls.

Bruce put his arms around his mother's waist. He knew the man was bad. He was thinking about fighting him off, like Zorro. His mother was shaking. She was always so confident, never afraid. Here, however, she was trembling with terror for her husband and her son.

Thomas Wayne handed the man his wallet, and told him to wait for just a moment as he reached for his wife's pearls... and the man pulled the trigger! The gun fired and the noise hurt Bruce's hears. His mother screamed as his father fell to the ground.

The man looked shocked, at first. His eyes were wide and his hand was shaking. But, Bruce's mother kept screaming. He looked up at her. Panicking, he shot again... at Bruce's mother. The shot of the gun burst through Bruce's ears and he covered them as quick as he could. Tears streamed down his face. Time seemed to slow down as his mother's body crumpled to the ground. Her screams had stopped.

Bruce fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He looked up at the man, still shocked, still confused. The man looked at the gun in his hand, and ran into the shadows. Bruce looked into his father's eyes. The shock was beginning to leave. He couldn't be dead. His father couldn't be dead. The man that raised him, that taught him to be good to others, was dead. He realized they would never take him to the movies again. That his mother would never sing him to sleep again. They would never sit around the table and eat dinner, or celebrate Christmas, or go on a family vacation ever again.

It felt like a huge weight had been thrown into Bruce, and crushing his insides. Then, he felt anger. Intense rage. He would find the man who did this. He was only nine-years old, but he vowed to kill the man who did this. To kill him. And his family. He would pay. Bruce's arms shook with rage; he squeezed his fists shut until his knuckles were white.

"I don't really feel like the movies, Julie," Bruce said, trying to still force himself to smile. "Let's go somewhere else."

"So you will take me?" Julie said.

"Sure," Bruce said. Not that he cared. "How about we just go get something to eat on Saturday? Something simple?"

Julie looked a little disappointed, but quickly cheered up. She'd had a crush on Bruce since the 6th grade. "Great! So its a date?"

Bruce nodded, still smiling. "Its a date."

(Please, don't be afraid to comment. I want to know what I need to improve on, and what was good about the stories. There are more chapters to come. Thanks!)