It was a dark and stormy night in the city of Gotham. Garish neon lights cast misshapen shadows across the twisted streets as rain washed away the blood. Pink water slithered down the storm drain as a child clutched his lifeless mother. Her face frozen in horror as the raindrops fell on her unblinking eyes. She had only just spent her last breath on earth whispering her son’s name.
“Bruce…”
Bloodstained pearls rolled down Crime Alley towards the body of his father who laid face down in an oily, filthy red puddle. Bruce bore witness to all of this. The two muzzle flashes that would illuminate his nightmares for the rest of his life. A trip to the theatre. Zorro. The mask. The black cape. The swelling fear as the gunman approached. His mother's piercing scream as the first bullet buried itself in his father’s heart. The sudden silence as she shared his fate.
A third shot was never fired and yet it was these three who made this garbage ridden alley their tomb. Immortalized in the shattering mind of an innocent child. Bruce didn’t even try to scream as the darkness rushed to fill the cracks of his soul only to overflow out of every pore and orifice in his body. He could see himself vomiting black ink as eyes rolled into the back of his head and long leather wings spread.
He only blinked when he felt the warmth of a man’s coat being draped over his shoulders. The kind officer led him away and delivered him home where he was embraced and consoled by Mr. Pennyworth. It was too late. Bruce was dead. Only THE BAT remained.
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Twenty years later…
Another dark and stormy night. Another scream echoed through Crime Alley as a pair of parents held onto their beloved child. They could only shield his eyes and look on in terror as THE BAT made short work of the wailing gunman who had just threatened their lives. His fists rained down like hellfire on the mugger’s recoiling body until the thud of each landing blow was louder than the groaning thunder in the skies.
Only when THE BAT was satisfied with this beating did it look over to the mortified innocents. It did not blink. It did not speak. It simply gave them permission to leave its domain with a passing glance before dragging its prey deeper into the thick black shadows of Crime Alley.
Later that same night, the mangled would-be gunman was left on the steps of the Gotham City Police Department. The protruding bones and the shattered teeth that spilled from his bloody crying mouth were enough to make even veteran officers question the nature of a beast that could commit to such raw brutality with a precision that left all in its wake still breathing.
He would, of course, survive his injuries and he’d walk again in a couple of years. Only he’d never sleep with the lights out again. Forever cursed with the knowledge that from the shadows of Crime Alley to the darkness in the barrel of an unfired gun, to the flash of black that was his blinking eyes; THE BAT was waiting for him… and everyone knows that THE BAT does not kill.