The First Bat Man

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Eight Years Ago


Bruce knelt at his bedroom window, a single lit candle on the nightstand beside him.  With his hands clasped together, he felt silly.

"Bruce, are you done yet?"
It was his mother.  Bruce turned around and frowned. "I never know what to say."
His mother smiled.  "It's okay. Just—"
"Martha! Bruce! It's time!"
Martha looked back towards the doorway.  Downstairs, her husband was calling. "Alright Bruce, we'd better hurry and get downstairs. You can finish your prayers later tonight."

It was Halloween night, and the Waynes were throwing a costume party at their manor in Gotham.  No one was actually required to wear a costume—a fact that Martha and Bruce took advantage of—but Thomas Wayne was more than happy to put on garish clothes for the night.
As Bruce walked down the stairway into Wayne Manor's large foyer, he looked around and saw the party decorations.  Notably, he saw the large banner across the ceiling with the theme of the party written across it: "Creatures of the Night."
As he reached the ground floor, Bruce saw his father's costume for the first time.  It was a light gray one-piece bodysuit, with thick black briefs worn over it.  It had a huge dark blue cape, the edges of which were propped up behind Thomas like giant bat wings.  It reminded Bruce of the fairy wings that half the girls in his class wore today at school.  Finally, a black cowl sat on Thomas's head.  It had pointed "bat ears" on its sides, and eye-holes that were cut into a friendly-looking round shape—as though Thomas were actually worried that someone could possibly be afraid of such a silly-looking costume.

"So, what do you think?" Thomas asked his son cheerfully.  Bruce was normally his father's biggest admirer, but tonight it was all he could do not to just roll his eyes.


A few minutes later, the guests began to show up.  The crowd was made up of the families of local businessmen, politicians, and family friends.  Thomas and Martha were greatly enjoying themselves.  Despite being only one man, Alfred was actually managing to keep up with serving all the guests.  Bruce was bored out of his mind.  He didn't know most of the other kids at the party, and the few he did know were snotty brats that he didn't want to play with anyway.  Until the Zataras showed up, that is.
Bruce's eyes lit up when he saw Zatanna, and he ran to greet her.  "Hey!" she said, smiling from behind her butterfly-shaped mask.  Bruce looked at the pink wings she had attached to her back.  "You're dressed as a butterfly?" he asked.
"No, I'm dressed as a fairy," she replied.
"Fairies aren't real. And they're not creatures of the night."
"Yes they are, and I'm a Night Fairy."  She stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

As the night stretched on, all types of silliness came about.  At some point, wine got spilled on Thomas's costume, and he had to change into his usual tuxedo.  When he got back downstairs after this, however, he was greeted by a rather unpleasant guest: Lionel Luthor.
"Ah, Thomas, it's good to see you."
Thomas gave Lionel a questioning look. "Lionel. It's funny; I don't remember writing your name on the guest list."
Lionel lightly chuckled once to himself. "Yes, well, I'm not staying.  I was just driving by, and I wanted to wish you and your family well this evening."
"Wish us well?  You'll forgive me if I don't believe that for a second."
"Heh. I'd expected that from you, Thomas.  Your company has been seemingly waging an economic war on Luthorcorp and its goals.  Now, for a company that's supposedly dedicated to family values, that's rather... violent, don't you think?"
Thomas's eyes narrowed.  "Your 'company' supports the corruption that's eating away at this city."
Lionel mock-chuckled again. "Now, Thomas, you seem to be suggesting that... that Luthorcorp is some kind of evil empire..."
Thomas's face was completely serious.  "That's not far from the truth."
Lionel narrowed his eyes back at Thomas.  He leaned forward, speaking quiet, venomous words.
"Be careful, Thomas.  Or you, your wife, and your son may soon regret it."

Lionel turned to walk to the front door, and stopped for a moment when he saw little Bruce staring up at him.  The boy had probably heard the whole thing.  No matter, Lionel thought.  He walked away, the eyes of Bruce and Thomas staring into his back as he left.

The party started at six o'clock, but it was already winding down by nine.  The guests' children were all getting tired, and needed to go to bed.  When it was time for Zatanna to leave, Bruce kept calm, but was obviously sad.  When the house was finally empty, Bruce wasn't yet tired.  His parents knew that he was somewhat of a night owl, and he'd probably be miserable until he could finally fall asleep in a few hours' time.
"I've got an idea," Thomas said gently.  "Let's go to the movies!"
Bruce's and Martha's eyes shot open with surprise, both for entirely different reasons.
"The movies?!" Martha asked incredulously.  "But it's nine fifteen!"
"So?" Thomas said cheerfully. "It's a holiday; why not have a little fun?"
Reluctantly, Martha agreed.

Martha had been worried that since they'd gone to an old-time movie theater—which only showed black-and-white films—that Bruce would be bored.  But he'd loved it.  The adventure, the excitement, the mystery... it made his head spin with glee.  As they left the theater, Bruce turned his head to look at the sign above the front doors, with the movie's title printed across white glowing lights: The Mark of Zorro.
Thomas bought a poster from the gift shop on the way out; Bruce would love to have it hanging in his room.  At the moment, however, Bruce was swinging the rolled poster like a sword, stabbing at invisible foes in the night.  Thomas and Martha looked at their son with pride, smiling as they walked.
They'd parked the car a block away, and decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway.
It was dark, but the three of them moved on, nonetheless.  Wayne Manor was often dark at night, and they'd learned not to fear shadows.  Perhaps they should have been afraid, after all.
Bruce suddenly halted in his tracks.  His parents, unaware of why he'd stopped walking, peered forward into the darkness.
A single gun barrel slipped into the pale moonlight, followed by a gruff voice.  "C'mon! Wallet! Jewelry! Give it to me!"
Thomas slowly reached inside his jacket and took out his wallet, gently handing it forward.  A dirty hand snatched it, pulling it back into the shadows.
"The necklace!" the man said, pointing the gun at Martha's throat.
Thomas quickly stepped in front of his wife.
*BLAM*
Thomas slowly fell to the ground.  The gun barrel was smoking.  Before Martha could let out a scream, a second bullet hit her throat.
*BLAM*
Martha's body fell down beside her husband's.

The mugger didn't say another word.  He glanced at Bruce, then turned and ran into the night.

Bruce sat on his knees, his mother's body on one side and his father's on the other.  His mother's pearl necklace was shattered, the beads strewn about the concrete.  His father's coat jacket was stained with blood.  Neither one of them moved in the slightest.  They were dead.
Bruce didn't move.
He didn't say a word.
He sat alone in the moonlit alley and cried.