The large and strangely-dressed man began to sing. I couldn't understand his words at all, but I continued to act amused by this act, so that I would look more adult to others.
People in frivolous costumes of vibrant colors and strange patterns danced around the fat man as he went an octave higher.
I took a quick glance at my parents sitting to my left. They were comfortably seated, well dressed, and very focused on the event. Their dedication surprised me. This wasn't very entertaining at all.
Then, to my dismay, loud shrieking filled the golden-bronze auditorium. It wasn't human. My heart slowed down for a moment, then came to a stop as the music crescendoed to a halt. The room was silent. The dancers and singers stood paralyzed, unblinking, and from this distance, appeared not breathing.
I looked to my parents, my eyes as big as dinner plates and glassy,
"Mom? D-Dad?"
They didn't respond. Nor anyone else in the audience. Everyone was frozen stiff as ice.
Then the shrieking, it came back.
The fat man began to mechanically jerk his arm back and forth striking a drum over and over.
He struck it faster and faster, slowly building speed. So did my heart.
thud thud thud thud
The inhuman shriek returned, but louder; closer.
thudthudthudthudthudthud
A massive swarm of bats came sweeping through the rear curtains of the stage, out into the still paralyzed crowd.
I jumped up grabbed my mom's arm and tried to pull her out of her seat.
"Mom! Move! Move!"
I quickly gave up and reached for my father, but before my grasp was even upon him, the bats swarmed us.
I let out a scream but it was inaudible over the bats' constant shriek. My arms flailed everywhere, trying to swat the bats away. My hand never came into contact with anything. All I could feel was them sweeping past me, just nanometers from my skin. Avoiding me but still coming into close contact.
Still flailing and screaming, I ran out of my isle and mindlessly sprinted for the doors. It came upon my mind that I had no idea where the door was. Then, a frightening chill ran up and down my back, because I had expected my foot to touch the ground. Instead, I was falling.
The bats still clouded my eyes still, even though I was in a quick and cold fall. My vision was still stripped from me by the bats. Oddly, the animals had followed me down whatever hole I had fallen into.
Then, an impact. Sharp pain shot up my legs, both legs snapped from the fall. Then, the bats dispersed and flew back into the darkness, leaving me alone.
I was in a cave.
The cave wasn't small, but not large either. Either way I felt claustrophobic. The cave's walls were grey and slightly moist, which made it all the more real feeling. The only sound that I heard was my own helpless screaming as the pain in my legs worsened.
In my panic screaming, another scream materialized. It wasn't human. My mouth closed quickly, in an attempt to hear that sound more clearly.
Then it came again. It sounded like a bat, but bigger; more sinister. This shriek was closer, and louder.
Two red dots appeared from the dark corner of the cave. As they grew closer, I realized those were eyes.
Then, the flapping of massive wings became more apparent. It sounded as if a dark eagle was zooming at me, to pick me up with it's claws and take me away. Of course, it wasn't an Eagle, but a bat. Even worse. A bloodsucking vampire bat that would pick me up with its sharp knife-like claws and carry me down to the darkest park of the cave, where no-one would hear my cries. The bat would suck all the blood from me, until I was pale and lifeless, then he would call his smaller bat colleagues to come and eat me whole with their sharp small teeth. Eat me whole.
I then snapped out of my fantasy and faced the present. Just as suspected, the sinister bat came out from the shadows, into the small light that came from a small hole in the cave. I began to try to crawl away, but this would not save me, surely not.
The bat came, and took me away.
The cave darkened to the point to where I was blind again. I couldn't see a thing, but I had the feeling that I was rising up into the sky. A bright light shone down upon my face, hurting my eyes because they were so used to the dark. It was the sun.
The bat still had a hold on me and was carrying me over a corn field. The field was grey and dead, all of the corn rotted and long gone. The sun was bright, but didn't affect the land below. Grey clouds dominated the skies, and made me feel hopeless.
I blinked, then I was down in the corn field. There was no sound except for my slight movements. I tried to stand up, but my body refused to let me. My legs were far too damaged.
Then I heard a laugh.
Just one laugh. Ha. Just one small laugh. It came from behind me, only a few yards away. Just loud enough for me to hear.
I turned myself around and tried to look through the dead corn. All of the sudden, the wind picked up. The corn began to sway back and forth against the wind. As it swayed, it revealed what I had heard.
A tall, lanky figure was standing a few yards away with a scythe in hand. His face was hidden by a ripped up, brown leather farmer hat.
Then the wind stopped, and the corn plants froze. I couldn't see the man anymore.
The disturbing silence was broken by the sound of dead plants being crushed under the feet of a slowly approaching man. The farmer was coming.
The footfalls became louder and louder as he approached, then he spoke.
"Bruce."
My heart leaped at the realization that he knew my name, and that his voice was incredibly close.
The footfalls stopped. Absolute silence.
"You've been a bad boy."
Then, the man jumped out from behind the corn plants. He was dressed as a scarecrow, wearing torn up rags and leather. He wore a ripped up sack over his face, which had holes for the eyes to look through. There was nothing but pure black behind that mask.
His scythe swung through the air, and struck me straight in the chest.
...
"This just in, terror has struck during the Mark of Zorro play at the Royal Gotham Theater tonight. Reports say that some kind of gas was released onto the crowd and caused mass hallucinations. This event is still ongoing, but most of the toxins have worn off. So far, we have 67 wounded and 12 confirmed dead. Among the dead are GNN photographer Jerry Carly, Jane Winston, millionaire Tho-"
James snapped the television off and threw on his police jacket quickly. Why wasn't he notified? He wondered. He then realized that he had his communication device off, and that he had missed thirty phone calls to his homephone. He cursed at himself quietly, unlocked the apartment door, and ran out of the apartment complex like the world was ending.
People stared at him with an incredibly judgmental glance as he loudly sprinted out of the lobby into the street. James didn't really care about that at the moment, though.
He took a left turn and ran down the street, passing and nearly hitting everyone that he went by on the sidewalk. He took a sharp turn to the left again and went down a dark alley.
People walking past the dark alley he had run down watched James curiously, wondering why a police officer would run down there. Then James disappeared into the shadows, leaving the watching citizens staring at nothing.
Then a bright light came from the very back of the alley, then followed by the loud roar of an engine, then followed by the sound of a car horn. The people watching yelled and ran out of the way of the police car barreling out of the alley.
James's car spilled into the street, he thanked God that he hadn't run into another car when he drove out of the alley, and sharply turned right and headed for the Royal Gotham Theater.
He noticed that the cars around him weren't making way for him. He started to curse at the ignorant cars, but then realized he hadn't turned his siren on.
Another police siren joined the collection frantic sounds.
...
"Eyes are opening up, they're opening-"
An adult voice said.
As I came to my senses, the hard wooden floor against my back felt a lot more aggravating. A man looked down at me, but I couldn't make out his facial features because of the light shining down on my face. I could hear people screaming and panicking all around me.
"Can you hear me?" The man asked slowly.
My head naturally nodded yes in response.
"Who are you? What's your name?"
I managed to move my mouth even though it felt as if my lips were stitched together and responded,
"Bruce Wayne."
The man backed away from me and began to whisper to another men for a moment, then he returned.
"Can you walk?" He questioned.
I almost said yes until I remembered that my legs were broken. I glanced down at them and said,
"No. My legs... They're broken."
"Did you fall?"
I remembered the horrible bat in the cave.
"Yes. I fell into the cave."
I said as my eyes started to water at the thought of the sinister creature that attacked me.
"Cave? Wh-... What cave?" The man was obviously confused.
I felt the footsteps of another person approaching as they hit the hardwood floor.
They began to whisper to each other.
"Just get him out of here, okay? Get him to the police station." The other man said.
"He says his legs are broken."
"The gas, Mark! The gas causes hallucinations."
"Oh God, you're right."
They then picked me up and carried me out of the theater. I fainted as soon as we passed through the theater doors.
...
James's eyes were wide open and shocked when he saw the Royal Gotham Theater.
He had pulled his car up right next to another police car, basically parking in the middle of the street. He didn't have time to find a better spot.
James quickly fumbled through his car looking for his gun. He found it and held it up as he checked the chamber to see if it was loaded.
A loud gunshot rang through the street and made James jump. His heat hit the top of his car and his glasses fell off. He speedily thrust his hands down to where he thought they had fallen, picked them back up, and put them back on.
No more delays, he thought to himself.
James then threw his car door open and ran across the street to the theater. It was a horrible sight to behold, just in the front of the theater there were ambulances and police cars parked in front of the entrance, dozens of people running around frantically, sirens of all kinds blaring, and the worst of all: body bags lying on the grey pavement. James counted those body bags and shivered. He had counted twenty. Eight more had died during the time that he was driving down the street.
The red glow emitting from the bright lights of the theater cast a hellish atmosphere upon the already twisted sight. This was a new evil, a new kind of crime. Pure lunacy.
"Where's my parents?" The voice of a child said.
James spun around and saw a well-dressed young boy surrounded by police officers. He recognized the boy as Bruce Wayne. James had heard of this boy before, appearing randomly at WayneTech events and broadcasts.
He speed-walked over to Bruce and the police officers to find out what was wrong.
"Where are this boy's parents?" He asked.
One of the officers looked at James and tried to find the right words. He then looked down at James's name tag imprinted on his jacket.
"Officer Gordon... It's complicated." The officer said.
The officer turned back to his colleagues and told them to watch the boy, then motioned for James to follow him as he walked away from the crowd.
The man stopped James's when they were at a distance where no-one could really hear them.
"Okay, here's the deal," the man started.
James's took of his glasses and wiped the fog off of them.
"The kid's parents... Well... They're dead."
James paused for a moment, then put his glasses back on.
"We don't know what to do with the kid." The man stated.
"Has anyone told him?" James asked.
The officer nodded no.
James glanced back at the child and imagined what the boy would do when he was notified of his parent's death.
"We should take him to the police station." James suggested.
"Yeah, I think that's what we were planning on doing." The man responded.
"Okay. Let's get it done then." James's said as he turned back and started for the boy.
James then quickly muttered to himself,
"This definitely isn't a night to wait around..."
...
I was placed into a police car, I studied it thoroughly, for I had never been inside a police car before.
It had begun to rain, so the widows were fogged up. If I tried to look outside all I would be able to see would be smudges and deformities of the true outside world.
"Mister Wayne, do you have any legal guardians besides your parents? Like a Godfather or a butler-servant guy, anything like that?" The man who was driving said.
"I have a butler." I answered.
"Okay, I'm guessing we'll be able to reach him through the Wayne Manor house phone?" The driver asked.
"Yeah, probably."
The driver turned to the other officer sitting in the passenger seat.
"Look up the Wayne Manor phone number, and get his butler down to the GCPD building."
The man in the passenger seat opened the passenger compartment and pulled out an incredibly thick book that Bruce assumed to be a phonebook. The officer began to flip through the pages quickly.
There was silence for a little while, but then the driver reached over to his small "walkie-talkie" that was mounted next to the radio. He flipped it on, and what seemed like thousands of voices came over the airwaves.
"Another one down. That makes the total twenty-one."
"We got a hostile in the dressing room, backstage-"
"How is that kid gonna handle that?"
"We have thirty-four in the hospital, but we still have thirty-three lying on the freakin' pavement-"
The driver snapped the radio off and seemingly sunk farther into his seat.
The silence returned once more, and I began to stare out the foggy window. The window was just as foggy as before, so I was practically staring at nothing. The blotched up lights passing by were pleasing to look at. I then turned back to speak to my mother about it, but she wasn't there.
"Where are my parents?" I asked.
The man in the passenger seat responded,
"We don't know, exactly. Don't you worry though, we'll find them."
I looked out the front window of the car, which wasn't smudged because of the windshield wipers, and saw a massive four story tall building with a glowing sign on top that read GCPD.
"And... We're here. Have you ever been inside a police station before?" The driver asked.
"Is this where you keep the bad guys?" I said.
The pulled us into a parking spot and turned his head towards me.
"Not exactly. We take the bad guys to a place called Blackgate prison. But we do keep some bad guys here for interrogation." He stated.
"Interrogation. That means, um... To ask someone questions, right?" I questioned.
"I suppose you're interrogating me now then." The driver said with a slight chuckle.
"Okay, lets go." He said as he exited the vehicle.
...
James sat down in a chair next to the check-in desk inside the GCPD building. Ever since the gas was released, the workers inside the building were engulfed with work. Paperwork, computer-work, and police-work.
James had been handed a folder a few minutes before by a man who's job was to keep track of all of the criminal events in the city. James knew that it wasn't required that he read all of the information, but he wanted to anyways. He wanted to know exactly everything that the police know.
He began to read the folder's contents.
GCPD FILE
Property of GCPD
Confiscated Information
James flipped past the cover page.
Date of Incident: October 30th, 1989
Time of Incident: 10:00
Location of Incident: Royal Gotham Theater
Incident: Unknown gas released on crowd
Casualties: 21 Confirmed Dead
Wounded: 72 Confirmed Injured
Extra Notes:
Identity of the man who unleashed gas unknown.
Considered a terrorist action.
Mother and Father, Thomas and Martha Wayne, were murdered at the crime scene by crazed civilians. Their son is alive and does not know of their death.
James sighed and closed the folder. He checked his watch; it was now 2:34. The accident had been cleared up and the city had quieted down, although the police office was still bustling with activity.
He looked through the window-wall into the Commissioner's office. Bruce Wayne was asleep on a leather couch with a blanket wrapped around him. James wondered if they had told him yet.
His colleagues were unable to find the Wayne Manor phone-number, so they decided that they would take him out to the Manor Tomorrow. They couldn't take him home tonight because of all the work they had to do.
James began to wonder how that kid was sleeping. The office was full of nonstop talking and chattering to the point that it gave James a few headaches. Yes, the boy was in a separate room, and the sounds were probably muffled. But not by much. It would still bother James if he was the kid. The answer was simple: Bruce wasn't sleeping. Who could sleep after what happened that night?
"James, we got a lead."
Another folder dropped into James's lap which made him snap out of his trance. His friend Bill John was standing in front of him, his eyes circled with black. He was obviously tired.
"Tomorrow at 4:00, be here. More information in the folder, and whatnot." Bill said.
Bill began to walk away back into the bustle of people but stopped and said,
"James, it's gonna be a rough week."