Batman: Bruce Wayne in Crime Alley

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I was angry. I wanted a fight. I wasn't even sure why I was angry. The day I was released from Arkham Asylum, I thought Dr. Pennyworth was going to give me a ride home. As usual, something came up, another life to save. So, I took a cab. Half way through the ride, I changed the destination. He didn't say anything about it. 

The place hadn’t changed much. I heard it was dubbed Crime Alley after my parent’s death. In a lot of ways, I still blamed myself. I know there was nothing I could have done, but we were in that alley because of me, because I couldn’t handle some anxiety.

I walked over the to spot. The image of their bodies flashed through my head. I could feel the anger build up inside of me. There was no stopping it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to let it out. I wouldn’t have to wait long to release it.

“Hey, whacha doin’ here?” 

I hadn't even seen them approach me. The voice came from behind me. I turned to look at them. Four men wearing dark clothing. It was dark enough that I couldn’t see their faces.

“Nothing. Look, I don’t want any trouble.” It was a lie.

“This guy doesn’t want any trouble. You came to the wrong place.”

They kept coming closer to me. The leader pulled a knife from his pocket, a switchblade. He flipped it open.

“I don’t have any money or credit cards on me or anything.” That was true.

“We hear that all the time. It’s never true.”

They were 20 feet away, then 10. I was waiting for the opportunity. The leader was five feet from me, then three. I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and started to hand it over. I dropped it at his feet. He didn’t fall for the trick.

“Pick it up.”

The other goons didn’t appear to be armed. I picked up the wallet and threw it into his chest. He used both hands to grab it. I followed the throw with a punch to his face. It was the best punch I had landed up to that point in my life. The leader tumbled backward and flipped head over heels. His buddies just watched while I side kicked one in the face and front kicked another in the kidney and the face. They were down, so I moved onto the last attacker.

“Hey, this is the police. FREEZE!”

I looked at the noise and saw the flashing lights. I threw my hands up and stood where I was. The perpetrators took off, bruised and beaten. A plainclothes cop got out of the car. He had a mustache as many cops do.

“What are you, crazy? I saw you walk down here. You’re lucky I showed up when I did. Those guys…”

He steps closer to me and sees the blood on the street.

“Never stood a chance. Who are you?”

“My name is Bruce Wayne. My parents were murdered here. I was just paying my respects.”

“Wayne of Wayne Enterprises? Well, I wouldn’t come here alone, and I’m a cop. Next time you want to visit, I recommend buying some security or at least giving the GPD a call.”

“Sorry, officer. I thought I could handle myself. Thank for your help Officer.. I didn’t catch your name.”

“No, I’m sorry. I never gave it. The name’s Gordon, Jim Gordon. I’m a Sargent in Homicide or, well, I used to be. I’m just on my home if you’d like a ride.”

“I’m out of your way.”

“My wife can cook you dinner, and I can take you home after.”

“Is she a good cook?”

“Not really, but don’t tell her I said that.”

“Alright, that sounds pretty good.”

I got in his car, and we went to his house. His wife, Sarah, cooked an amazing meatloaf. I saw a picture of his son, but he wasn't at the house. I decided not to inquire. His daughter joined us for dinner. She was ten at the time. Dinner was quiet, mostly. I didn’t have much to say anyway. After a while, Jim took me home.

“Mr. Wayne, what are you going to do now?”

“Now?”

“Now, that you’ve overcome your issues.”

“I’ve been in and out of Arkham for a decade. I don’t think it’s the last time I’ll leave.”

“Oh.”

“What happened to Gotham? It’s worse than I remember. It only seems to get worse.”

“Four mafia families and a corrupt police force.”

“There are good cops, too? Like you?”

“They are few and far between. It’s so bad that I’ve thought about going back to Chicago. There’s no room for advancement here. Well, I'm not even in homicide anymore.”

“Why is that?”

“A few years ago, I solved a murder involving a mafia hit man. I was told not to solve it. The guy who did it, killed this guy and got high in the scene of the crime and passes out. The dead guy’s wife comes home, calls the cops, and we arrest him. They wanted me to destroy evidence. I said no, and the rest is history.”

“You don’t work homicide anymore?”

“Nope.”

“Where do you work?”

“The pawn shop unit.”

“There’s a pawn shop unit?”

“Yep.”

“That has to be terrible.”

“Yep.”

“What would it take to get Gotham back?”

"Back to what?"

"To where Crime Alley is just Park Row again."

“Bruce, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Say you had the help of a multi-billionaire. What would you do then?”

"Well, in that case, I have some ideas. Do you think Wayen Enterprises would have anything to offer?"

Batman: Arkham Asylum attack

In and out of Arkham Asylum for 11 years, I was finally starting to overcome my fears. Bats were nothing after some exposure therapy, and the darkness was starting to become normal, even comforting. Sudden loud noises and the nightmares were other problems that still needed fixing.   

The attack was unexpected. I was 21 at the time and lifting weights. There wasn't much else to do other than some cardio. I’d become strong physically, and I’d learn plenty from the fights that’d broken out and from the constant beatings. Once I moved to the adult floor, I was usually left alone. I finished a set and started to take the weights off when I heard a loud bang behind me. I froze and dropped the 45lb weight. I barely avoided crushing my foot. I stared in shock at the weight on the floor and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Way to go Bruce. You could have broken your foot.” I said under my breathe

Embarrassed, I looked around, but I didn’t notice anyone else except for two men. I put the rest of my weights back and waited for the recess to end. The orderlies disappeared for a few minutes. I did some pull-ups while I waited. The orderlies still weren’t back. I picked up a 10lb weight and swung my arm around. Sometimes, the scar tissue still hurt. I thought of it as more of a psychological than a physical wound.

The other two guys started fighting. I looked around for the orderlies, but they weren’t anywhere to be found. I don't know why I got involved. I guess it's just in my nature. I kept holding the weight and used it to work my way between them. One of them hit me in the face. I didn't expect it at all. The man behind me grabbed me around the neck and waist. The other man pulled out a shiv. Then, I realized, this was no accident. I couldn’t explain what happened inside me. In that moment, I changed…forever. I used the weight to crush the hand around my waist. I dropped down and smashed the weight into his elbow. He let go of me. I hit the shiv as it was lunged toward my eye, just in time, but I found I wasn’t scared. I was exhilarated. I snapped back up and crashed the back of my head into my restrainer’s face. The other man lunged again. The impromptu blade nicked my side, but I backhanded the weight into his nose. He was dazed. I raised the weight above my head and slammed it into his head as hard I could. I heard something crack. The man crumbled to the ground, bleeding from the head.

I turned around and a fist rearranged my face. I swung at him with the weight, but it was a clumsy, stupid attempt. He threw a left hook into my nose. I didn’t know someone could hit so hard. The force knocked out a tooth or two. It was enough for me to drop the weight. I fell to one knee with my hands on the ground. A sharp pain ripped through my side as he kicked me as hard as he could. I rolled on my side and looked at him. My eyes begged “make it quick,” but I had different plans.

The guy was a mountain, but he was bruised and slow. I was beat up too, but I was young and fast. Everyone has a weakness. His was the same as everyone else’s. He stomped down on my face. I caught his foot inches from my face. He had all of his weight on it. I brought my leg up to my face and kicked into his other ankle as hard I could. Something snapped in his leg as he started to do the splits. I twisted his other ankle as he fell on top of me. 

The man didn’t give up. He kept wailing on my body. My left arm was pinned under him. I could barely breathe. I focused on his eyes. I poked at them until he finally got off of me. He stood up and went for the shiv of his friend. Why they only had one, I’ll never know, but I wasn’t going to let him get it. I stood and sprinted toward his hobbling frame and kicked him in the back just as he picked it up.

The force dropped him to the floor. I stood standing behind him. I could see he was bleeding. The man turned toward me. The shiv was buried in his chest, right over his heart. He pulled the shiv out. Blood started spurting from the wound. I thought he’d go down, but the crazy fucker charged at me, limping. I had enough time to pick up a weight. I avoided the shiv lunge and hit him in the face with the weight. I grabbed his arm holding the shiv and smashed the weight into it above his wrist. Still, he held onto the blade. I slammed the weight into his temple. The guy was finally done. He fell like a ton of bricks. Magically, that was when the guards walked back in.

“Where the fuck were you when those fucks were trying to kill me? What the fuck?!”

After the cameras confirmed my story, I didn’t spend much more time at Arkham Asylum.


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