From the confessions of Bruce Wayne

By the end of the month of June, I was getting worried that perhaps my window of finding the perpetrator was quickly closing on me. When he first appeared on the scene in Gotham 16 years prior, there were 19 victims abducted in just a few short weeks. As it stood, the abductions were fast climbing to a similar number (give or take a few, as there were surely some victims that had not been reported). As well, I needed to gain Gordon’s trust in some way in order to obtain all of the GCPD’s most crucial information on the cases. I needed the toxicology reports. I had to know what this insane madman was trying to accomplish.

As my first attempted meeting with the lieutenant had been an utter failure, I needed to ponder upon some of the precautions I should have taken previously. First of all, the man may have had an itchy trigger finger, and I had neglected this pivotal possibility from the beginning. Waltzing up to him without any kind of protection had been a mistake, whether I had meant to approach him in good faith or not. As well, the disguise was shamefully half-witted. If he’d gotten within a couple feet from my person, he could very easily have tugged the mask off and revealed my identity.

And, what was more, there was a distinct possibility that this man would never be convinced to work with me. I was, for all intents and purposes, working outside of the law. I was not a lawman by any definition, nor did I possess any authoritative control over a situation like this one. I needed to operate in a fashion that assumed I would be working alone indefinitely. I needed to become a vigilante with purpose and preparedness. I required the proper tools of the vigilante trade, and needed a disguise that struck terror into both enemies and allies alike.

Indeed, I had the means to achieve my goals unlike any other. The suit of armor Lucius had fashioned out of our bullet-proof scientific discovery had been the perfect starting point. With his help, I had hoped to augment the invention by transforming it into a complete body suit. I could not take any further chances with my physical health, especially considering the recent injuries I’d incurred to my leg and shoulder.

In order to capture my prey, I would need to become a creature of the night, just as he had been. I wanted a disguise that could be imposing and would stand out when intimidating my foes, but also one that could disappear into the darkness without a moment’s notice. The armor itself, when properly woven into a suit, was of a dark gray material, and I had no intentions of transitioning from that. When I wanted to be seen, I wanted to be seen. Thus, a black cape became integral to the outfit, allowing me to become one with the shadows in not so much as a heartbeat. Likewise, black steel inforced boots and gloves were added to the attire - each set also made from our special synthetic fabric. I would also design a ski mask from the material to cover my face and head, but I found it dull to look at. There was something missing, but it was excruciatingly difficult to determine just what precisely it was.

I delved deep into my mind’s recesses, needing to discover at last the final pieces of this new apparition. It came to me one night while I lay in my bed. The truth was, there was no small part of me that wanted to send my enemy a message. I wanted him to know who I was and how he had hurt me, and how that one night had plagued my thoughts and my very being for the last 16 years without falter. I wanted my pain to be his. I needed my FEAR to be his as well. It was that fear he had wrought upon me that I intended to reflect back upon him. I thought back to that night when he’d unleashed the flying creature into the space I inhabited. The bat! The bat was the key to my alter-ego. The cape could be shaped to mimic that of a winged creature, and I could meld blackened steel into a devil-like horned faceplate in order to simulate its pointed ears.

Years later, of course, I look back upon it more harshly. What seemed terrifying in that time is now often deemed rather silly. And it was, to be sure. Bats are only a real threat to humans in the way of the diseases they carry, after all. Even while forging the final metal plated pieces, the thought occurred to me once or twice. However, I did not care. I wanted to send a direct message to my adversary, and it mattered little even if it were lost on him entirely. To me, it was a symbol of what he had made me. A symbol of who I had become while holding on to this darkness in my soul. The manifestation that was born the night of my parents’ murders. A secret only that we two could ever hope to understand.

As a final addition, I forged a breast plate in the shape of a bat (or as close to one as I could cut). There would be no mistaking it for anything else, at least.

I am getting quite ahead of myself, however, because of course, I could accomplish no such tasks alone. Firstly, I needed to recruit the aid of my two most trusted friends - a task I knew may prove quite difficult with at least one of them.

“I must be transparent with you both now, I’ve gathered you here tonight to plead for your help.” Alfred, Lucius and I had retired to the study after an evening of catching up. I had invited Mr. Fox for dinner and somehow convinced the old butler to join us in the evening’s festivities as well. They looked upon me seriously at these words, determining that what would follow was immensely important to me. “As I suspect you are aware, Mr. Fox, the recent abductions in the city bear a striking resemblance to the ones 16 years ago, of which led to my parents losing their lives.”

“I… had noticed some similarities, yes.” Lucius nodded.

“Blimey, not this again. Ye never did have a rational discussion with that Gordon fellow, did ye?” My dear caretaker tried his best to sound surprised.

“He nearly shot me, Alfred.”

“Oh, really? Did ye try the front door of the police station, by chance? Or did ye frighten the poor chap by assailing him in the comfort of his own abode like a maniac?”

“It was nothing like that, old man.” It may as well have been, in retrospect. “I intend to find the scoundrel on my own, but the places I’ll need to survey are much too dangerous as I am. I’ll need protection. That is where you will come in, Lucius.”

“You want me to expand upon the initial suit designs, you mean.” Mr. Fox smiled.

“Indeed. I require a suit that will cover my entire person, as well as a mask to conceal my identity.”

“Well thank god for that, by jove,” Alfred cut in again. “That’s the last thing we need in the papers. Billionaire lad returns to Gotham, turns ‘imself into a ninja.” He couldn’t help but to discourage the very notion of what I was planning.

“I’m entirely serious, Alfred. And I’m entrusting you with this information because it would be impossible to keep it from you otherwise.”

“Oh, it’s by incidental convenience, is it? Well, I’m so honored.”

“And - if you’d let me finish - because I will need your resourcefulness in tracking down information. I cannot do this all on my own, I am well aware of that.”

“Consider for a moment - ye shouldn’t be doing it at all. That’s what we have a police force for, Master Wayne.” I could see then he was pleading for me to stop, in his own sarcastic way. Alas, I knew I could not.

“You know I can’t do that, old chap. Our opportunity to find this man is fast closing, once again. As far as I can tell, they aren’t any closer to finding him than they were weeks ago. I must resort to desperate measures. I won’t stop trying to gain the aid of the good Lieutenant Gordon, but I must also be prepared that he may never come around. All this is to say, we need a plan B.”

Alfred stared at me hard, his gaze burning a hole through my head. Finally, he relented with a shrug, “I’ll be going down with ye one way or another. Suppose I’d rather be complicit in, rather than ignorant of, your activities.”

“I presume that to mean we’re settled then. Lucius? Are you alright with what you’ve heard?” I asked.

“For my own sake, Mister Wayne, I believe the less I know of this business is for my own benefit. However, if it’s a suit you need, I am wholly at your service.”

That same night, Alfred took me on a tour of the mansion’s hidden basement. Yes, there was a place within my own abode that was completely unbeknownst to me! It could be reached by ways of a back-entrance located behind a tall bookcase in the study. The reason as to why it was hidden, I don’t quite know. It seems my father had intended it for a very specific purpose, but hadn’t revealed those plans to anyone else. Nevertheless, Alfred did know of its existence, at the very least, and was able to show me how to reach it. The place was entirely unfinished, the foundations of which hadn’t even been properly carved. In fact, to call it a basement seems rather disingenuous. It actually led into a cave of sorts. And yes, there were bats present, the irony of which was not at all lost on me. The tunnels of the cave led to an exit deep in the woods on the outskirts of the city. It would seem that the cave was discovered by accident as my father began excavating the premises, a mission that would go unfinished in light of his untimely demise.

“It’s perfect, Alfred.” I stood in wonder, a small lamp lighting our path forward.

“If ye say so, sir.” He seemed utterly unconvinced, and evidently underwhelmed by his own discovery.

The space wasn’t completely uninhabitable, thanks to the small bit of work my father had managed to accomplish. There was a paved passageway leading to a heightened platform, which I could only assume was eventually intended to become a room of sorts. It lay smack-dab in the open main lair of the cave. He had already set to work on the required electrical components, so it would be easy to replace the light fixtures he’d been using. In truth, it did leave a lot to the imagination, but imagine I did. This could be the base of my operations where I could continue development of my new experiments without having to use the R&D department of Wayne Enterprises and risk attracting the attention of the employees.

“I’ll need your assistance in transporting the prototypes from Wayne Tower, old man.”

“Now why couldn’t ye be getting them by your own self?” he grumbled.

“Because, Alfred, my driver’s license expired during my absence.”

It was then that a small creature flapped its wings and tore past my head, sending me into hysterics. The tips of my fingers went numb as my heart lodged up into my throat, and I began shaking with emphatic fear.

Alfred wore a pitying look on his face then, and put a hand lightly on my shoulder in consolation. “Ye’ll need to get over that phobia if ye plan to be down ‘ere often.” He was, of course, correct in his analysis. Somehow, I would need to face my fear head-on. The only way to accomplish this would be to spend as much time in the cave as possible. As such, my first order of business would be to explore the caverns in their entirety. Alone.

“I’ll manage.” I curled my fingers into fists and attempted to level my thoughts once more. “This can be our new headquarters, of a sort. I want this space to be the crafting room, where our various metallurgist projects can be completed. I’ll need you to work closely with Lucius to get the appropriate materials needed for the casting and forging processes.”

Fortunately, metallurgy was one of the arts I greatly excelled in. And though I had very little experience outside of using the company’s specialized mills, I knew I would at least be able to handle fashioning the final pieces of my armor without bugging the good Mr. Fox.

When Alfred had first agreed to help in my quest, he’d been confused as to what exactly his role in the operation would be. By the look he was giving me at that moment, however, it was plainly obvious he felt the entire ordeal was now falling upon himself alone. I did my best to ignore it - my hands still shaking slightly as I moved a safe distance out of his grasp.

This was just the first step in creating what would eventually become a fully operational command center. Its uses would evolve over the course of many years as my ideas broadened and our technological capabilities sharpened - just as the optimized suits and the various gadgets I would utilize would similarly evolve over time.

This is all to exemplify that my beginnings were quite humble, indeed. I had not yet in that first year even begun to fathom any of the gadgetry and gizmos the Batman is often associated with, nor had I any proper mode of transportation. By and large, it was a very primitive operation, despite our having access to cutting edge technological information and know-how.

From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City

Case No: HS 07/5/39/5469

Incident: Abductions

Reporting Officer: Lt. James Gordon Date: Jul. 5, 1939

Ten more missing persons accounts lodged over the last few days. We thought maybe the perp was done on account of a few days with no missing persons being reported. Five days ago we started getting two per day. He’s back at it again, plucking people from all over the city, and still no eyewitnesses have come forward.

We have a compiled investigation going on with the names and information we have about the victims. It’s getting out of hand. 3 of the abductees from the past few days have turned up, all dead. Seems the Napper is experimenting with more and more potent concoctions now. The last few that turned up behind them were previously used solutions, but bigger doses. I’d say he’s definitely trying to concoct the latest, hottest drug on the market, but then why go through all this hassle to find the lethal dosage? Doesn’t make any sense. Clearly, he doesn’t care who he harms along the way. So why bother? What’s his angle?

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Another thing I have to wonder about is… why come back now? After 16 years away, why would he return to what he was doing? What happened in those 16 years that took him away from it? On that end, I have to consider the possibility that this is a copycat kidnapper we’re dealing with, and not the original one from over a decade past. But again, why? As far as I know, there were no new go-to drugs on the streets that came about after that time, so I would have to assume the experiments were a failure. Why resort to the same methods?

I put together a task force to sweep the higher crime areas of Gotham during the night. Loeb reluctantly signed off on it, warning me that many on the team were going to be violently against it. Let them be angry. We don’t have nearly enough of our squads posted in these places during the times these abductions seem to be taking place. I have a family to take care of too, but we can’t risk having this perp disappear again off the face of the earth for another decade. We need to catch him now, and we’re no closer than we were two weeks ago.

From the personal diaries of Selina Kyle, renowned cat burglar extraordinaire

7-5-39

Dear diary,

Holly and I got out. We’re done.

Lou and his boys didn’t like it at first, so I had to make them understand. Forcefully. Hah, I bet they liked being beat up by a girl even less. They’ll be looking for us still… not much I can do about it. Mostly, I just gotta keep off the streets for a while until we can get our own thing going.

I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. Why jump right back into the same business if I don’t have to? There are plenty of opportunities out there for a gal like me. Holly maybe not so much. Whatever, I can take care of her.

So there’s this guy I know. One of my old johns, actually. He runs a sorta pawn shop, but not one you can just walk into. You gotta know the password and he’ll let ya in. Very secretive. And he doesn’t ask questions.

When I got off the streets the first time, I told myself I was done with the whole cleptomania thing. But my next gig wasn’t any better, truth be told. And damnit, I was GOOD at stealing. I was just afraid of getting caught, so I never went after the bigger prizes. Now I don’t have much choice, do I? It’s either that, or Holly and I starve to death.

Figure I can start off with a few petty thieving ventures first, just the necessities. Then some fancy clothes and jewelry, make it seem like I belong in all the classiest of joints. Rendezvous with Gotham’s elite, and pick my targets from there. It can’t be that hard, can it? I always felt like I was meant for this.

Sure, it’s not the most honest of professions, but I’ve never been the most honest person anyhow. I mean, where’d that ever get anybody? In Gotham, ya gotta roll with the punches. And I can hit back harder than most.

From the official police records of one James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City

Case No: HS 07/6/39/5472

Incident: Corruption

Reporting Officer: Lt. James Gordon Date: Jul. 6, 1939

I was finally able to pin a charge against one of the GCPD officers in relation to the Victor Zsasz breakout last month. Officer Quenton Mile was said to have visited Blackgate prison on the night of Zsasz’s escape, claiming he was just taking him back to police headquarters for questioning on a previous case. There are no records of his actions being sanctioned, and Commissioner Loeb had no knowledge of it when asked.

The corruption within our department burns so deep that no one even seems to want to investigate these things in the first place. I asked my partner, Merkel, how the hell had no one even thought to question Mile. He told me “No one wants to know the truth of it, because no one wants to know how deep the corruption runs.” So essentially, they’re either in denial about what’s been happening, or they’re part of the problem.

Flass all but threatened me when he heard I was asking questions. I told him things were only ever going to get worse if no one stood up and started digging into it. Everyone’s scared of being implicated, whether they’re compromised or not.

Mile didn’t last long being interrogated. He seemed completely blindsided that anyone would even have the gall to try and figure out what happened that night. Changed his tune as soon as I showed him the evidence. He had no alibi. Didn’t think he’d need one. Wasn’t his first rodeo, as they say.

I don’t exactly know what I’m stepping into here, but I do know it’s shaky ground and it could get dangerous. I came back to Gotham to try and fix what was broken, and this is the necessary first step. What happens now is anyone’s guess. Maybe I’ve just painted a bigger target on my back, but that’s why I’m filing this report. If anything happens to me, look no further than the GCPD itself.

From the confessions of Bruce Wayne

The process of forging my battlements took longer than I’d hoped. More victims had been claimed within that period, and for the first time, I began to feel a part of the responsibility for those lost. It’s a feeling that would haunt me for the rest of my career as the caped crusader, and of which there was no escaping.

Lucius and I conducted multiple tests on the prototypes in order to ensure the maximum likelihood of my survival if it so happened that a confrontation involving gunfire was involved. As well, the graphite faceplate went through numerous problems during its creation. One of which was that it was difficult to meet the curve of the mask around the eyes. In short, we had to reinforce its bulkiness over the brows while thinning it out around the bottoms of the eyeholes. This would allow me to see without much in the way of peripheral obstructions, something that previously was proving quite difficult to overcome.

After many attempts, we had decided a mere faceplate would not suffice, and that it would need to wrap around the mask in its entirety for better protection. This, of course, created more hazards, as I was unable to hear anything. As such, tiny holes were made by the ears. Hearing was still somewhat difficult, but it would have to suffice until a better solution could be arrived at later on. The benefit was that my head was now much better protected on the whole, as the cowl was now composed of comfortable but durable fabric as well as the reinforced carbon fiber and graphite plating. It also gave the mask a more sinister appeal, in my estimation.

When it was all finished, Lucius presented me with an additional piece he’d been working on in his spare time, unbeknownst to me. He called it the Utility Belt, which he had fashioned in gold. It went against the whole attire, and I had determined I would paint it black at a later time, as I did not want to insult the poor man by doing it right away. Some of the inconspicuous nature of the job must have been lost on him, the poor fellow. He even went as far as to suggest I don purple mantles, which was quite frankly preposterous. The belt, on the whole of things, was a welcome addition, however. It came equipped with only a few small items, initially, but contained many pockets and placeholders for items that could be added later.

“I didn’t know what kinds of tools you had in mind, but I figured these would be good for a start.” We were stationed in the cave, as we came to refer to it. It was still a crude and ugly little workshop, to be sure, but contained the bare necessities for what we needed to begin. Lucius laid the belt onto a workbench and began rummaging through its contents. He first displayed a small knife, a few medical aid items, a bottle of pepper spray, and then a peculiar device I had never seen before.

“What is that?” I inquired.

“Ah!” He smiled and walked to the other end of the workbench, reaching down and grabbing hold of my primitive rope and grappling hook. “I thought you might appreciate this. I wasn’t able to create anything like what we’d talked about earlier, but with this device, you will at least be able to retract the rope fairly quickly so it can be used again. That way you’re not running around with an untangled heap of rope all over the place. Fits snuggly to the side here, too.”

He threaded the rope through the bottom of the device and locked it into place with two small levers. At the press of a button, the rope began wrapping its way around the center spool. Fast enough to be impressive, but not so quick as to risk the hook killing me via whiplash. I was, overall, happy with the little contraption, and it must have shown on my face. I wouldn’t want to leave any equipment behind, lest it be traced back to me somehow.

“Pardon the intrusion, sirs. Have ye given any further heed to what we talked about, Master Bruce?” I remember Alfred coming onto the scene then and, in his usual way, refocusing my attention upon matters I cared very little about. Ever since I had returned to the city, he had been on my case about making my homecoming public. No one, it seemed - not even when I had visited Wayne Tower to see Lucius - had taken much notice of me. It had been years since I’d been in Gotham, and perhaps most who’d known me, few as they’d been, had forgotten what I’d even looked like. Or perhaps some noticed me but hadn’t cared. In any case, my involvement with my parents’ affairs and Wayne Enterprises as a whole had been quite ineffectual prior to my leaving, so it was any wonder why they should care about my return at all. Alfred disagreed completely with this assessment, however. He believed I had a great legacy to uphold, and it was his dream that I would seamlessly slip into my father’s role as soon as possible, using my wealth for the greater good of the city and its inhabitants. My outlook in those days was still, to my discredit, entirely selfish, and instead I focused upon my revenge. Therefore, in matters of economic welfare and stability I was utterly disinterested. Indeed, my attention was aimed at building upon this new persona I was creating, rather than the person I presumably already had been up until that point in time.

“All in good time.” I attempted to brush the matter off, not for the first time.

“Ye’d best have a plan in place, lest the reporters catch wind of it before yer ready to face them.”

“I think I’ll take my leave now, if there won’t be anything else, Mister Wayne.” Lucius bowed his head and darted directly for the exit, sensing an oncoming squabble.

“No one cares that I’m back, and why would they?”

“Perhaps because your parents did a lot of good in this town back in the old days, and things haven’t been the same ever since…” Alfred trailed off momentarily, but quickly recovered. “And maybe… just maybe, the people of Gotham are looking for ye to step up and continue their philanthropic endeavors like ye promised back when the Wayne Foundation was created in their honor. Remember that? It’s been floundering ever since losing its leader.”

“Figurehead,” I corrected him.

“Its inspiration. A reminder of what was lost, and a motivating force in the fight against poverty - the leading cause of all the rising crime we’re now faced with.”

It was pointless to attempt quarreling over it with him, as I was too stubborn to admit when he’d had a point. With a sigh, I conceded, “What would you have me do?”

“I could contact that Miss Vale columnist about an interview, once we go over the Foundation’s renewal plans. It’d be the perfect way to reintroduce Bruce Wayne back into the public sphere.”

“It seems to me a significant amount of time needs be allotted for said planning before we even consider reaching out to the papers.”

He smiled and his brows bounced playfully, “She’s a real looker, Miss Vale is.”

“I have no time for that kind of thing. You know that, Alfred.”

“And why not? You’re young, wealthy, fair looking, relatively sane.” He looked down at the equipment and armor strewn about, particularly focusing in on the ‘bat ears’ upon the cowl piece. “Perhaps some of those things ring more true than others, but there’s plenty of time to course-correct in meantime.”

A thought occurred to me then. Or rather, a string of thoughts, to be more accurate. Regarding this Batman figure - I wanted to avoid as much attention to him as could be afforded. But, in the case that this was not possible, at the very least I wanted to avert suspicion that Bruce Wayne and this new persona were one and the same. If their aims were heavily aligned (cleaning the streets and, thereby, reducing criminal activities), this could become complicated very quickly. It did promote an opportunity of a kind, however, in that I could do everything in my power to juxtapose their public personas in order to avoid those suspicions. If Bruce Wayne were able to tackle Gotham’s problems from an infrastructural level only, I could keep him as more of a figurehead in the Foundation’s dealings. He could maintain a more aloof air when it came to its programs and his level of interest and/or coordination in those regards. All I would need to do is present a character portrayal unlike that of what the citizens may be expecting - or even hoping - of the Wayne heir to be. Publicly, he could be the well-to-do carefree playboy, indulging in both the grandeur of his money and the attentions of the fairer sex. In that case, perhaps it would be of greater benefit to surround myself with women of a higher order. The butler was definitely on to something, though I could tell it had nothing to do with his initial intentions.

There would be plenty of time for that line of thinking later, I knew. For now, it seemed, I would need to at the very least come up with a satisfactory debut. For Alfred’s sake, more than my own.

“I can’t give an interview if I have nothing planned for the Foundation. Let’s talk about it later this evening, old chap, and then we’ll have something to wow them with.” I clapped his shoulder and he blinked at me in bewilderment. Too easy, he knew some jig was abound.

“Ye ain’t just sayin’ it to be rid of me, aye?”

“Not this time, no.”

Later that evening we went about reestablishing our fundraising efforts, as well as a couple new ones, and planning events. Alfred made the necessary calls on my behalf, and it seemed as though things could get back on track without too much hassle after all. However, something was missing. There was no ‘wow’ factor for the papers to devour. We were missing something crucial. I needed something that could make a difference in the city. Something relevant to the times we were facing.

Crime was rising exponentially, and a lot of it had to do with mafia and gang-related activities. The prison system seemed entirely compromised, as was the rest of the judicial system and the police department. Fixing the issues would require a lot of soilwork, but there was no lone matter that stuck out in my mind that I could attempt to tackle first. I remembered one of the nights I spied on Jim Gordon at his personal residence, he sat on his porch smoking, much as he did on the rooftops of the GCPD headquarters. He seemed very distraught, enrapt in a sad reverie, one might say. At one point, he threw his cigarette away and put his face in his hands. I could have sworn he was weeping. It had occurred to me that perhaps he was still suffering the effects of the tragic run-in at the orphanage. He had bore witness to terrible things that day, and it haunted him still. Victor Zsasz was the insane man who’d been released from Blackgate to wreak havoc, and as Alfred tells it, this had not been an isolated incident. The prison had been filled up to the brim with criminals of every kind, but inmates such as Victor were of a special kind. They needed to be dealt with differently. They needed higher levels of security, as well as a place where treatments could be administered to help battle their mental irregularities. Gotham needed an Asylum. A place untouched by the corruption of the Blackgate authorities, with real doctors, and outside influences that could cut ties from those who held the city at ransom. I could build that facility. I could oversee its development and ensure its independence from the prison system. This would be my ace in the hole, as it were.