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Batman: The Frightening (Part3)
By Crisco
It was 3 A.M. Bruce had his boxing gloves on and was working on the punching bag. He was silent except for the grunts he gave when he punched the bag. Perspiration beamed down his face and his metal chain slapped against his chest and he moved back and forth.
He left the punching bag alone for awhile and walked over to his water glass. After a sip he put it back down and ran full speed back to the bag. He punched it and it broke. Sand started falling to the ground mixed with blood from Bruce’s hand.
“AHHHHHHH!” he yelled with frustration.
Alfred walked into the gym.
He had a lemonade on his platter and put it on a table.
“I’ll go get a broom master.” Alfred said politely.
“No, no I’ll get it.” Bruce said. There was silence as Bruce walked to the closet and got the wicker broom.
“I saw that man you ‘apprehended’ this morning. He made a big mess from his nose-bleed.”
“I hate thugs, all of them should burn in hell.”
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Bruce was combing his hair in front of his bathroom mirror. He was wearing a leather jacket and black pants. He was going to see a movie in the city tonight and he wanted to go alone. He didn’t want his Limo or his Bentley; he wanted to fly solo.
The black and chrome Harley roared as Bruce revved the engine. The garage doors pulled open and Bruce flew right beneath it. The wind and leaves brushed past him as he roared down the long twisted gravel trail that led to the main road.
Bruce arrived at the theatre and paid for his ticket. The movie didn’t matter; he just wanted to be away from the house. The movie was boring and Bruce left only 30 min. into it. He threw his Coke and salty popcorn in the trash as he exited the theatre.
Gotham’s streets were a total mess, garbage covered the pavement. The citizens didn’t even care about the litter, most just stepped around it and went on their way. Tonight there were not many people however. Bruce was in a rough part of town, between rich condos and the downscale townhouses.
A whimper was heard in the alley Bruce had just past. He recognized it as a woman’s and thought there might be trouble, instead of turning around, he circled the block and came from the other side unnoticed. He crept along the side of the brick wall to the scene. A middle-aged woman in blue jeans and a red shirt was held up against the same wall as Bruce with a man in a brown leather jacket holding her there. He had unbuttoned her blouse and had his other hand covering her mouth. Bruce crept further, so that he was 5 ft. away from the man. The hustler put his finger to his lip in the “shh sign” and started to caress her chest, his hand slowly started moving down her belly.
The woman’s face was beat red and she wanted to scream, a mixture of sweat and tears trickled down her neck as the man violated her body. He was starting to unzip her pants when his head jolted backwards. Bruce held the man by his hair in the air. The man yelped in pain as Bruce tugged at his scalp.
Bruce wanted to say something meaningful, or heroic, but nothing came, instead he threw the man to the ground. The woman seeing the brawl ran away from the alley. Bruce knew it was better that way. He kicked the man relentlessly until he spit blood onto the concrete. Then Bruce picked him up, and threw him down again. Bruce was in a rage, he was angry with the man, but was unsure of what the conflict really was. He stopped abruptly as he had started and walked away. Leaving a battered man in the alley, left to deal with his conscience.
Bruce massaged his knuckles as he continued down the street. He had done a good thing, and he knew it. He gained a confidence from beating the man and saving the girl. He felt like a hero. For that moment, he felt he had a purpose. He took pride in his strength and fighting techniques, he was proud of himself. He had done a good deed. He wanted to celebrate.
Back in the nicer part of town club Ice was the hot spot. Bruce entered the club after dishing out a heavy amount of cash. People in their early twenties were there, just like him, but he felt much different. They all moved to the beat and the pounding rhythm that echoed through the club. Fog and neon lights added to the flavor and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Bruce felt out of place. He knew one thing that has helped him to ease his pain and that has congratulated him over the years, and that thing was a drink. He walked over the bar and took a seat. The bar extended around a corner of the room and it was barely occupied. The bartender asked Bruce what he wanted and Bruce waved his hand. The bartender shrugged and filled a tall glass with a frothy brown liquid. Bruce took it eagerly and toasted to himself right before gulping it down. After three of the tall glasses the hot redhead next to him started leaning towards him.
“Max, would you help me out?” the bartender asked in the background.
The red head bent over to fasten her shoe showing her revealing, tight dress. Bruce stared at her as she pulled back up.
“Can I help you?” she asked at the staring man.
“Yea, I lost my number, can I have yours?” Bruce said with a goofy grin.
“Whatever.” The girl replied as she left the bar.
Bruce bent over the tile and beer glass, muttering to the bartender, “bitches…”
When he looked up he was surprised to see a beautiful blonde standing before him. She had a maroon blouse on with black pants, they were tight and exposed her nice body. Her blue eyes looked quizzically back at Bruce, and the lips curled in a snicker.
“Has that line worked on anyone?” the blonde asked.
Bruce smiled and lifted his hand to greet her, “Bruce Wayne.”
She looked at his hand and laughed, “ I know who you are, I’ve read the Inquirer. And I’m not looking forward to meeting you, I’m here to get you a drink.”
Bruce pulled his hand back after the brutal shutdown. “Bloody Mary then.” He replied, looking at the floor. He thought of something to say, he couldn’t pass this chick up.
“I’m sorry, I’m a little out of character.”
“Not from what I’ve heard, you’ve turned out exactly how I’ve thought.” The blonde answered, casting another ego crushing blow.
Bruce tried to control his temper; it was apparently hard for him. He wasn’t used to losing and so far he was 0 for 2. He wanted to reel this one in, he didn’t think it would be too much work. He decided to give it a few days.
Bruce scribbled his number down on a clean napkin and pushed it across the bare tile to her, “In case you change your mind.”
She smiled sarcastically and he left the bar. Upon his exit the blonde flipped the napkin over, sprayed it with water and starting washing the sink.
Detective Montoya walked into the hospital alone. The bright, fluorescent light gave her a headache and she tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible as she made for the doctor’s office. A tall black man sat at his work, tapping his pen on the wooden desk. Renee knocked on the door, already ajar.
“May I ask who you are?” the doctor said.
“Detective Renee Montoya, I’m here about the kids turned in a few days ago.”
“Yes, Yes. They are in stable condition, follow me.”
They walked through the long corridors of the white hospital. The smell of ammonia filled the air and it felt like it was burning Montoya’s nose. The doctor seemed immune to it however.
“Here we are.” They entered a room where the two victims lay in hospital beds, sheets covering their torso and abdomen.
“The boy and girl are fine, they are in comatose. I did some check-ups on them and I have concluded that they suffered some sort of trauma. Their adrenaline was at a high level, very high, very risky. I don’t know what the vomit and blood came from, but due to the fact that there are no major injuries, I believe that the victims suffered from chemical exposure.”
Montoya nodded her head. She understood the doctor. This brought a whole new element to the case, even though the couple weren’t dead she’d have to do as much work. The headlines are going to worry citizens, this isn’t just a regular assault case, and the chemical abuse aspect is going to make it much more. She knew that it would be a bigger problem that any rape or homicide. Feeling satisfied she turned to the doctor.
“Please fax the reports to my office.” And with that she left the room.
Please comment
4/7/2003 10:24:25 PM
(Updated: 4/13/2003 2:06:54 PM)
Comment on this fan fiction!
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