Batman: The Fallen

Prologue

"Give me those pearls, bitch! Jewellery too!" The mugger edged his way closer to the woman, her husband shaking with fear as the light reflected off of the mugger's handgun. "P-please don't hurt us!" the woman asked, terrified. As the mugger eased his way into the light, he noticed a small child, no more than 10 years old, hiding behind his father. He recoiled, ashamed at himself. "Oh, damn..." he muttered. As he backed away, the father took his chance and swung at the mugger's head, barely missing. "You sonovabitch!" the mugger shouted, as he raised his pistol towards the man's head. The whole family closed their eyes as a gunshot echoed through the alleyway.

Screams filled the street, but the father's voice joined his wife's and son's. They slowly opened their eyes and were frightened by a shadowy figure standing a small distance away. A gruff voice greeted them, not looking away from the motionless unconscious body...

"Don't come down alleys like this anymore. This city's full of lowlifes and criminals nowadays." The family stood silent, in both fear and appreciation. The boy was the first to speak, with an expected question. "Who are you?" The cloaked figure turned towards them. He hesitated for a moment, before looking down at the child and answered his question. "I'm the Batman." That's all that needed to be said. The vigilante looked up between the narrow rooftops and raised a firearm-like object, fired it, and another loud bang filled the backstreet. Within a second the silhouette shot up onto the rooftop, leaving the family in a state of shock, disbelief and amazement. They slowly backed up into the light of the high street once again, leaving to remember this moment for the rest of their lives.

"Master Bruce, there's a burglary at Fifth and Adam's, a simple smash-and-grab, should be easy work." Alfred instructed. "That's part of Two-Face's territory, whoever the burglar is, he's got some trouble coming." Bruce replied, leaping and jumping over alleyways and streets. "Indeed, sir. Dent is volatile at the best of times. You'd better stop the robber before Two-Face gets to him, or it'll be a bloodbath." Alfred knew the super-criminals almost as good as Bruce, from the hours and hours of reading and re-reading the many case files he had accumulated over the past 2 years. But that is nothing compared to the first-hand experience Bruce had.

"Alfred, I'm approaching the scene, I hear gunshots. I'm suspecting the worst." Bruce informed, making his final bounds on the rooftops of the Narrows. "I'm picking it up on the police scanners too, sir. Let's hope it's not related, I would be hesitant to call you popular among either the GCPD or the gangs." his butler replied, with a bit more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

The vigilante slowed his approach as the gunshots grew nearer and nearer with each step. As he reached the final building before the market square, he raised his head over the edge to view the carnage below him. A mass amount of bodies and spent cartridges were strewn across the grass and asphalt. "Oh my God." he whispered to himself. "What is it Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, afraid to know the answer. "Alfred, its a massacre. A gang war, between Two-Face and Penguin's crews." Bruce said. "Oh my, can you stop it, sir?" Alfred questioned. "Not a chance, Alfred. At least 100 on each side. I'd be ripped to shreds in seconds." The gunshots never reined in. Blood and bullets were flying in all directions. "I need to find that robbery, maybe he'll know what's going on."

The shaded figure edged his way around a conflict, avoiding stray gunfire and the gaze of the 200-odd fighters a single story below him. He finally made it to the opposite side of the market square, and leaped down into an alleyway and sprinted towards Fifth and Adam's. He spotted a broken window in a house that looked almost as run down as an insane man's psyche. "Why did they break into this house, Alfred? It looks abandoned." Bruce asked his mentor, confused and curious. "Maybe it's an old abode? Drugs stashed under some floorboards or behind some drywall." The mentor replied, also confused and curious.

Bruce entered the shack, watching for traps and intruders. He heard a low whispering, perhaps Latin or some other ancient language. He rounded a corner and looked into the living room, bare of any furniture or decoration, like the rest of the house. A hooded figure kneeled in the middle of the room, chanting phrases in a rhythmic pattern, in front of a collage of pictures and newspaper clippings. He slowly edged towards the shadowed man, ready to take him down unawares. He put his foot down slowly, but a slow creak leaked out of the floorboard, spooking the intruder, who no longer seemed like an intruder, but an inhabitant. The hooded man jerked his head around, interrupting himself mid-chant. The figure flung multiple knives at Bruce's head, which were subsequently dodged, to no-one's surprise. The hooded shadow broke the short silence, "Dark Knight, your end is coming...", before throwing a smoke grenade at his feet and disappearing before Bruce's eyes.

"Alfred, I greeted the intruder. He knew about The Batman, and he said my end is coming. He... disappeared." Alfred took a second to respond, trying to think it through. "Sir, are there any clues as to who this gentleman is?" Bruce looked around the room, focusing on the mosaic of images making up a Bat-symbol. There were Polaroids of Batman on the rooftops of Gotham, stalking his would-be prey, as well as newspaper clippings showing journalist snaps of the Caped Crusader on his nightly escapades. "No. Just some pictures of me. I'll take them back to the 'Cave and we can work from there." Alfred typed some keys on the newly-installed Bat-computer, and brought up security cameras from around Wayne Manor. "There's no-one around, if you want to retire early tonight, sir." Alfred said as he flicked through the CCTV footage. "Thanks, Alfred. I think I will." Bruce took a final look at the Bat-symbol built up of pictures of himself, before ripping the pictures off the wall and stuffing them into a pocket on his utility belt. "Alfred, how's that search for an apprentice coming along?"