//------------------------------//
// The Lazarus Pit 
// Story: Cinematic Adventures: Batman Begins 
// by extremeenigma02 
//------------------------------//

Fourteen years passed since the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne. In that time, Bruce, now a young man at age 22, rode the monorail to Wayne station. He picked up his bag and got off the train with the other passengers, he searched the crowd till he saw Alfred and waved to him. The butler reached his side and took his bag.

“You didn’t have to pick me up,” Bruce pointed out.

“Well sir, the red line… well, it’s closed.” Alfred explained hesitantly. “Apparently Mr. Earle thought it wasn’t making enough money.”

Bruce was shocked by the news as they walked through the concourse. He looked around, saddened over how rundown his father’s station looked. The glass cracked, the marble chipped, and homeless bundled shuttered storefronts. He peered through one of the windows of Wayne Tower, which loomed overhead with gold lettering catching the sunlight.

‘How dare he do something like this to my father’s hard work,’ He thought.

“How is Mr. Earle?” Bruce asked aloud.

“Oh… successful,” Alfred answered sourly.

But it was clear to see that Alfred disapproved of the man’s choices, especially when it came to the Wayne legacy.

<> 

Later, they were in the Rolls Royce with Alfred driving them back to Wayne Manor. As he drove, he glanced toward Bruce through the rear-view mirror.

“Will you be heading back to Princeton tomorrow or could I persuade you to spend an extra night or two?” He asked, with faint hope.

“I’m not heading back at all,” Bruce answered grimly.

This news surprised Alfred greatly.

“You don’t like it there?” He inquired.

Bruce smiled sardonically as he looked out the window toward all the trees flashing by.

“I like it fine,” He responded. “They just don’t feel the same way.”

To which Alfred sighed with irritation but expected such a response from the young master… even he could see that time hadn’t healed the boy… not after that tragic night.

<> 

A full year had officially gone by since Bruce and the Equestrian heroes found and begun their training with the League of Shadows. One year officially since the heroes first landed upon this world. In all that time, they trained vigorously and almost religiously. Each and every day they would train from dawn till dusk and then do the same thing the very next day. They were battered, bruised, scarred, and certainly changed since they first arrived in this harsh world.

This was showcased through their movements, as every member of the Mane Six and Spike sparred with one another. They each used their practice sticks and swung at one another in a practice session. Duscan Al Ghul watched from the sidelines along with a group of assassins, all observing as the Mane Six and Spike fought one another. They weren’t necessarily trying to hurt one another, but Duscan wanted to see how much they’ve progressed in the last year.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash showcased aggressiveness as they smashed their sticks together so hard they actually started to splinter. Rarity and Twilight danced around one another as they clashed. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie actually started showing less of their meek and fun love nature. Instead, what stood before the onlookers were a pair of ponies actually taking the training seriously shown by the way they clashed with each other. Spike fought with a League assassin who actually had trouble keeping up with the way Spike attacked so quickly, so swiftly. It was like fighting against air in a way.

One sudden finger snap from Duscan stopped the girls and Spike mid-fight, as they turned to face him on command. It almost seemed as though they were trained dogs following the calling of a master. The Equestrians approached the front of the Heir of the Demon and actually knelt down on one knee before him. Seeing this actually caused a small smile to come upon the face of Duscan Al Ghul.

“You’ve come a long way since your arrival,” He spoke with admiration.

Twilight was the first to get back to her feet, bowing curtly toward Duscan.

“We do the best we can, Master Duscan,” She replied.

“Well, you certainly exceeded the expectations my father and I had for you all.”

“So… does that mean we’re finally done?” Rarity asked hopefully.

“And we finally get to party?” Pinkie asked gleefully.

“Unfortunately… no,” Duscan shook his head.

“Oh come on man!” Rainbow groaned, standing up. “We’ve literally done everything you’ve put in front of us! We beat the living feathers out of each other, tight roped across a gorge, and even spent a month straight in solitary confinement! What more do you want?”

“Calm yourself, Element of Loyalty,” Duscan assured. “There’s still one last thing you must understand before taking the final step.”

“Oh yeah? What might that be?” Spike asked.

Duscan gave no answer, merely turned on heel before making his way out of the room. The Mane Six and Spike looked amongst each other for a moment before slowly following Duscan. They had no idea what was about to happen, but if it helped them get this training over with then so be it they thought. 

<> 

Alfred and Bruce walked up the main staircase of Wayne Manor together. The rest of the house was dark and empty, with most of the furniture covered with dust-cloths. Yet despite the dismal state of the house, the old butler had faint hope that the young master would actually stay this time.

“I’ve prepared the master bedroom,” Alfred informed the young man.

“My old room will be fine,” Bruce shook his head.

It was plain to see that the young man had no intention of sleeping in his parents’ bedroom.

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred spoke sternly. “Wayne Manor is your house.”

“No, Alfred, it’s my father’s,” Bruce argued irritated.

“Your father is dead, Master Wayne,” Alfred frowned.

“And this is a mausoleum,” Bruce stated. “When I have my way, I’ll pull the damn thing down brick by brick.”

That was the last straw as Alfred turned toward the young man.

“This house, Master Wayne, has sheltered six generations of the Wayne family!” He snapped.

“Why do you give a damn?” Bruce asked. “It’s not your family.”

And Bruce immediately regretted his words when the older man turned away, clearly hurt.

“I give a damn, sir,” Alfred spoke quietly. “Because a good man once made me responsible for what was most precious to him in the whole world.”

He fixed the young man with a look that said, ‘I care for you, Master Bruce.’

“Miss Dawes offered to drive you to the hearing.”

“Rachel? Why?” Bruce asked, surprised.

“She probably hopes to talk you out of going,” Alfred shrugged.

“Should I just bury the past out there with my parents, Alfred?” Bruce voiced his doubts.

“I don’t presume to tell you what to do with your past, sir,” The butler responded. “Just know that there are those of us who care what you do with your future.”

Bruce finally smiled after what felt like an eternity.

“You still haven’t given up on me, yet?” He asked.

“Never,” Alfred said with conviction.

Soon they reached the hallway, where Alfred handed the young man his bag and walked away with a smile of his own. Instead of his room, however, Bruce entered the master bedroom, placed his bag on the bed, and looked around the room. Fourteen years past and it hadn’t changed in the slightest. The room still held all his paresnts’ things, including his father’s stethoscope. He moved over to a mantel and stared at a framed photograph of himself as a kid on his father’s shoulders, his arms held up in triumph. He wiped the dust off the glass and smiled over the happy memories connected to it.

Bruce soon moved back toward his bed and opened his bag. He took out a shirt and set it aside to reveal a handgun, which he picked up. He inspected the gun to make sure it was loaded, before stuffing it into the pocket of his coat.

“I’m sorry, Alfred, but I have to do it,” He told himself.

<> 

Bruce headed back to the main floor and entered the kitchen. There Rachel, now in her twenties, stood before the front of a counter and fingered some tomatoes in a crate.

“You know, Alfred still keeps the condensed milk on the top shelf,” Bruce pointed out.

Rachel smiled, recalling the times they’d steal the condensed milk with both her mom and Alfred after them.

“Hasn’t he noticed that you’re tall enough to reach it by now?” Rachel asked, smiling.

“Old habits die hard I guess,” He admitted, smiling.

“Never used to stop us, anyway,” Rachel added.

“No, no, it didn’t,” Bruce smiled, over the memory.

“So, you still trying to get kicked out of the entire Ivy League?” She guessed.

“Turns out you don’t actually need a degree to do the international playboy thing,” He confessed. “But you… intern at the DA’s office… quite the over-achiever.”

Rachel giggled… then her smile turned sad.

“I miss this place.”

“This place is nothing without the people who made it what it was,” Bruce spoke sadly. “Now there’s only Alfred.”

“And you,” Rachel added hopefully.

“I’m not staying, Rachel,” Bruce informed her.

“Oh, I thought maybe this time…” Rachel spoke disappointed. “But you’re just back for the hearing?”

Bruce merely nodded in agreement despite the fact he could see how upset Rachel looked.

“Bruce, I don’t suppose there’s any way I can convince you not to come?”

“Someone at the proceeding should stand for my parents,” Bruce responded.

“Bruce, we all loved your parents,” Rachel gently reminded him. “What Chill did is unforgiveable.”

“Then why is your boss letting him go?” Bruce demanded coldly.

“Because in prison he shared a cell with Carmine Falcone,” Rachel responded gently. “He learned things and he’ll testify in exchange for early parole.”

“Rachel, this man killed my parents!” Bruce protested. “I cannot let that pass.”

Rachel turned away from her oldest friend with such a disappointed gaze. Seeing that look on her face, Bruce couldn’t help but sigh. 

“Rachel, I need you to understand.”

“Okay,” Rachel agreed unsurely.

After a few seconds, they left together to attend the hearing. If only Rachel had any idea of Bruce’s true intentions that day, she never would’ve permitted him into her car.

<> 

The Mane Six and Spike followed Duscan through the lowest depths of the house, until their travels had them wandering through the caverns below. Eventually, Duscan led them back into the Lazarus Pit chamber, a familiar spot they’ve seen on their first day. As they entered the chamber, once again they heard voices calling to them from the pit. Their eyes stared through the glowing waters of the pool, the voices growing increasingly louder the farther they leaned.

“You can still hear them, can’t you?” Duscan asked.

Every pony, even Spike, was so entranced by the voices in their heads they didn’t even take notice of the fact he was speaking to them. Only Twilight was the first to take notice.

“What are they saying?” She asked bewildered.

“They are calling you into the Pit,” Duscan explained. “The Lazarus Pit is the secret to the League’s power. Now it wishes for ‘you’ to partake.”

The Equestirans just looked at Duscan as though they had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. The heir of the Demon looked down toward the pit, then back toward them with a smirk on his face.

“Perhaps a demonstration of the Pit’s full power is in order,” He suggested.

Then, Duscan reached behind him and drew out a long dagger which he held out in front of himself. The moment the group laid eyes upon that dagger, immediately they became worried over the man’s intentions.

“M-M-M-Mr. Duscan?” Fluttershy shook nervously. “W-W-What are you going to do with that?”

But Duscan refused to answer her question; instead, he merely plunged the dagger straight into his own abdomen. Blood spurted from his gut, and he felt to his knees. The girls and Spike all screamed in horror and shock.

“WHAT THE HAY!!!” Twilight screamed.

“SWEET CELESTIA!!!” Rarity screamed as well.

The girls and Spike rushed forward to help, but Duscan waved them off.

“Don’t!” He snapped weakly. “Don’t… interfere…”

Duscan found himself losing blood rapidly, his pulse quickly growing faint. However, he had just enough residual energy within himself to pull himself over to the Lazarus Pit and sunk below the glowing depths. The Pit began to bubble and boil before quickly ceasing entirely. The girls and Spike approached the pool, looking on with worry in their eyes.

“Is he… dead?” Spike asked concerned.

Just then, Duscan burst from the Lazarus Pit with a mighty gasp of air and the whole group jumped back with a yelp. Duscan took in a few gasps of air before ascending from the Pit and stood before the group once more. When the Equestrians looked upon him once again, they were all surprised by what they saw.

Duscan Al Ghul was completely healed.

They had literally just seen him fatally wound himself; how he looked now was like nothing even happened. Not only that but his physical condition looked better than ever. Granted, he was already a physically intimidating specimen except now he just looked… like an improvement of his former self. 

“Now you see exactly what the Lazarus Pit can offer,” He said.

<> 

At the courthouse, Bruce Wayne sat in a chair in the courtroom. The hearing was currently held before a five-person panel. The DA, Finch, addressed the panel while Chill sat next to him.

“The depression hit working people like Mr. Chill hardest of all,” Finch told them. “His crime was appalling, but it was motivated not by greed but by desperation. Given the fourteen years already served and his extraordinary level of cooperation with one of this office’s most important investigations, we strongly endorse his petition for early release.”

Judge Faden nodded and looked toward the man in question.

“Mr. Chill?” He asked.

Chill glanced around nervously as he stood up to reveal that the years had not been kind to him.

“Your honor, not a day’s gone by when I didn’t wish I could take back what I did,” He confessed. “Sure, I was desperate, like a lot of people back then. But that doesn’t change what I did.”

The judge nodded again, consulting the paperwork before him.

“I gather a member of the Wayne family is here today,” He inquired. “Does he have anything to say?”

Chill’s eyes went wide with guilt and fear, as he turned his gaze toward the young man in question. The cold fury in Wayne’s eyes stared directly toward Chill. The shooter and the young Wayne locked eyes, staring at each other for a period of time. The older man turned away, the guilt getting to him. Bruce stood and left the room, and everyone watched him go, including Rachel, who worried for her friend.

<> 

The Mane Six and Spike stood in complete disbelief at the sight of Duscan Al Ghul standing before him since emerging from the Lazarus Pit. He had just fatally stabbed himself, was on the brink of death prior to entering the Pit, and now he looked better than ever. How was this even possible? Neither the ponies nor Spike had any idea. Obviously, it had to be some form of magic at work, but otherwise what kind it could possibly elude the group.

“I-I-I don’t understand,” Twilight said bewildered. 

“Witnessing a feat taking place only does show much,” Duscan replied. “In order to truly understand the benefits of the Pit itself… you need only to experience it yourself.”

To which Twilight Sparkle and her friends turned to each other, a hint of uncertainty plain to see in one another’s eyes.

“Meaning…?” Rarity asked nervously.

“You need to experience the Lazarus Pit for yourself by willingly stepping into the very pool itself,” Duscan clarified. “One of you volunteers, and the rest will follow you.”

Slowly, the ponies and Spike look back toward the Lazarus Pit. As nerve-wracking as it was to see the pit itself, at the same time they couldn’t remove their gaze from the shimmering stream either. Perhaps it was due to the fact that it was so bright that it had this hypnotic quality just by looking at the way it swayed in the pit. As if that wasn’t enough, the voices grew the strongest amongst the deepest corners within the pit itself. Numerous voices ringing in their ears.

The frustrating part of it all was finding that urge within themselves to resist such a tempting display before them.

“I honestly don’t feel right about none of this…” Applejack spoke first.

“I’ve taken a dip in the mirror pool many seasons ago,” Pinkie Pie brought up. “I don’t see anything fun about this one.”

“I’m all for a hot dip as much as the next pony, but…” Rarity hesitated.

“Do we ‘really’ have to do it…?” Fluttershy squeaked.

“Hey, I can handle taking a risk as much as any of you guys,” Rainbow spoke up.

“So… does that mean you volunteer?” Spike asked.

“I didn’t say I was going to! Least… not now…”

“Interesting…” Duscan murmured, facing Twilight. “What do you say… Princess?”

The whole time, Princess Twilight Sparkle never took her eyes away from the contents within the pit itself. It was though she was the most hypnotized over the entire stream… or she was in deep thought over what the stream itself had to offer. Either way, her friends had nearly every right to worry for their friend considering the amount of attention the League had on their princess… specifically, an Al Ghul. Who knows just what Princess Twilight would do under this circumstance?

“I mean… technically I’m already an alicorn…” Twilight pointed out. “Princess Celestia and Luna have been around for thousands of years before our time…”

“And you truly believe they are as immortal as the Gods themselves?” Duscan asked.

“Well… I always believe there’s a rational explanation for why such ponies can live so long…”

“Being immortal does not mean you can never feel any pain,” Duscan explained. “True, it’s one thing that you can never truly age no matter how much time passes. But bones can still weaken over time… and you’ll still be exposed to being sick by any form of disease. You can live a long life… but a cursed life. Immortality does not make one indestructible, it just means more weight upon your own shoulders…

“Know this Twilight, your land may have the most powerful magic in the entire universe. But you will never find a power quite like this pit… and there are very few of these left in the world today. If you are truly smart, you’d make the most of this power while you can… if not for yourself… I should also point out that not ‘everyone’ shares the same benefits that only an alicorn has.”

If that was an attempt to strike a nerve of sorts, for a moment Duscan detected a slight reaction from Twilight despite her efforts not to show it. She couldn’t help but cast one eye toward her friends… the familiar sense of dread of her greatest fear. Not of what she fears could become of her, but the fate of her friends… even her honorary brother. True, Twilight Sparkle ‘could’ live as long as time itself much like her mentor and the alicorns before. But her friends… who’s to say they would be around to experience the many changes Equestria could have? Suppose this could in fact be their last adventure together? Suppose… every pony else reaches the end of their journey, and not her?

That maybe… just maybe… what harm would it do? Just one little dip into the pit… perhaps even a small sample of its power could make them open their eyes to something possible. An alternative from having to risk fading away despite all the advancements in modern medicine in their homeland. A chance for grandparents to live long enough to see their grandchildren grow up… to never be sick… never spend days walking with a limp. Everything this pit could offer; Twilight would not deny that it sounded very… tempting.

And yet, Twilight eyes also caught a glimpse of a single twitch from Duscan’s eyes as if within that brief moment she could sense a touch of haste of their master. One moment that was all it took to snap Twilight out of her senses.

“I think we’ll just go…” Twilight began. “… to train! We’ve got quite a bit more training to do!”

“Now you’re speaking my language!” Rainbow agreed quickly. “Could go for a workout myself!”

“Got to keep the guns pumped!” Spike spoke, flexing his arms.

“Thanks for showing us the creepy yet interesting pit, Master Dusky!” Pinkie smiled forcefully.

“Another time, another place…” Rarity bowed. “Come along, girls… and Spikey-Wikey!”

The ponies and Spike quickly made their way back through the path they came from, wanting to get as far away from the pit as possible. An assassin appeared from the shadows, taking a few steps to reach the group. But one hand raised from Duscan, one silent gesture was all it took to keep the assassin from drawing itself any farther. Duscan’s eyes stared intensely toward the group, watching their every move before they disappeared down the path.

“You’re stronger than I thought…” Duscan pondered. “But you’ll find your way back here soon, little princess. They ‘always’ come back… everyone gives in to temptation.”

<> 

Bruce waited in the hallway outside the courtroom, turning the gun in his hands before stuffing it up his coat sleeve. Seconds later, the door opened and the reporters, all waiting near the main doors, sprung into actions. Two cops emerged from a different door with Chill, who’s head was down.

“They’re taking him out the side!” One reporter shouted.

Bruce straightened up and made toward the older man, while reporters tried to brush past the cops firing questions toward Chill. The whole time, the older man tried his best to avoid any eye contact with anyone, as though he felt unsafe in this heavily populated room.

“Chill, any words for the Wayne family?”

One reporter noticed Bruce and turned his attention toward the young man, taking pictures.

“It’s Bruce Wayne!”

The reports pulled away, eager for any confrontation between the two men, possibly the biggest story of their careers even. Just then, a mysterious blonde woman squeezes past the cops and made way towards the criminal.

“Joe! Hey Joe!”

Chill looked up, just as she drew out a gun.

“Falcone says ‘Hi’!”

*BAM!!!*

She fired the fun directly into his chest and everyone within the surrounding region screamed in horror. Bruce froze at the sound of the gunshot as Chill dropped to the floor. Reporters dove for cover; cops tackled the blonde to the floor. Rachel pushed her way through the crowd as EMTs raced in and tried to save Chill’s life. As she moved over to Bruce, she found him staring at the dying man, his own gun just a cold piece of metal in his hand… forgotten. 

“Come on, Bruce,” She said, taking his arm. “Come on, we don’t need to see this.”

“I do,” Bruce yanked his arm away.

As Bruce’s eyes was fixed upon the scene, there was no mistake that Chill was dead long before any confirmation. Rachel managed to finally pull Bruce away and out of the courthouse. After they were in her car, Bruce sat staring at nothing with his hands in his lap. Rachel worriedly glanced at him several times. Upset as she was about losing Chill and the DA’s best chance at getting Falcone, she was more worried about her friend.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sighing. “The DA couldn’t understand why Judge Faden insisted on making the hearing public. Falcone paid him off to get Chill out in the open.”

“Maybe I should be thanking them,” Bruce muttered, breaking his silence.

Naturally, Rachel didn’t like what she heard.

“You don’t mean that.”

“What if I do, Rachel?” Bruce asked bitterly. “Chill killed my parents; they deserved justice.”

Rachel shook her head, appalled by what she heard.

“You’re not talking about justice; you’re talking about revenge.”

“Sometimes they’re the say,” Bruce spoke emotionlessly.

No matter how hard Rachel tried, Bruce refused to make eye contact with the young woman. She could tell Bruce was avoiding something and yet that didn’t stop her from attempting to find the answer.

“They’re never the same, Bruce,” Rachel protested. “Justice is about harmony; revenge is about making yourself feel better. That’s why we have an impartial system.”

“Well, your system’s broken!” Bruce snapped.

“Don’t you tell me the system’s broken, Bruce!” Rachel yelled angrily. “I’m out here every day trying to fix it while you mope around using your grief as an excuse to do nothing. You care about justice?”

She yanked on the wheel, drove down an exit ramp and onto the surface streets, which were dark, crowded, and threatening.

“Look beyond your own pain, Bruce!” She snapped, gesturing the sights. “This city is rotting. Chill is not the cause, he’s the effect. Corruption is killing Gotham and Chill being dead doesn’t help that, it makes it worse because Falcone walks. He carries on flooding our city with crime and drugs, creating new Joe Chills every day. Falcone may not have killed your parents, Bruce, but he’s destroying everything they stood for.”

She then pulled up in front of a basement club, where a well-suited bounced checked IDs and invited the attendees.

“You want to thank him for that here you go,” She gestured. “We all know where to find him. But as long as he keeps the bad people rich and the good people scared, no one will touch him.

She then gave Bruce a hard look.

“Good people like your parents who’ll stand against injustice are gone, Bruce,” She poked his chest. “And what chance does Gotham have when the ‘good’ people do nothing?”

“I’m not one of your ‘good people’,” Bruce stated, sighing heavily. “Chill took that from me.”

What do you mean?” Rachel asked confused.

Bruce reluctantly took the gun out of his pocket and showed it to his friend. She stared at it, then toward him with complete shock.

“All these years I wanted to kill him…” Bruce confessed. ‘Now I can.”

Rachel stared at her friend in shock, until anger eventually took over. She slapped him across the face several times, but he rewarded her with no response.

“You’re no better than the rest,” She snarled. “No better than Chill. Your father would be ashamed of you!”

Bruce stared at her, hurt that she would bring up his late father like that. He then opened the door, got out, and walked away. As Bruce walked out onto the docks, Rachel drove away in a hurry. He stood and stared out toward the water, rolling the gun between his hands, until he found himself back on the night his parents died. All he could think of was the trembling gun inches from his father’s chest. His body reacted to that fear so much, he hurled the gun straight toward the black water beyond. 

From that day on, Bruce Wayne would never use or even hold a gun ever again.

<> 

Bruce walked toward the basement club and headed straight for the entrance. Entering the noisy place, he looked around until he spotted Falcone at a table. Eyes narrowed, Bruce pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the table, and Falcone looked up with a sigh.

“Well Mr. Sionis, looks like we’re going to have to conduct further business another time,” Falcon spoke to the person sitting across from them.

“Don’t wait too long Carmine,” The other individual responded. “I’m a very busy man you know.”

The man across from Falcone stood from the booth and made his way out the area. As he passed Bruce, the young man got a good look at the individual. The man was at least ten years older than himself, wearing a rather nice three-piece suit. He had slicked-back dark-brown hair, with an expression upon his face that could shatter a statue. This man was perhaps one of the city’s biggest crime bosses the city of Gotham had ever known:

Roman Sionis…



Sionis and Bruce kept eye contact for a moment before the older man pushed his way past-and-out of the club with an entourage of mobsters following behind. Bruce watched the man and his goon leave before turning back to Falcone. One of his thugs patted the young man down for any weapons.

“You’re taller than you look in the tabloids, Mr. Wayne,” He commented. “No gun? I’m insulted.”

“Only a coward needs a gun,” Bruce stated coldly.

Falcone merely shrugged and gestured to him to sit.

“Could’ve just sent me a thank you note,” Falcone added.

Bruce merely sat down with a scowl on his face.

“I didn’t come here to thank you,” He snapped. “I came to show you that not everyone in Gotham is afraid of you.”

Falcone laughed, as if he heard the greatest joke in the history of Gotham City.

“Just those that know me, kid,” He snicked, gesturing to the crowd. “Look around. You’ll see two councilmen, a union official, a couple off-duty cops, and a judge.”

In a nearby booth, Judge Faden sat and eyed the young man nervously. The older man took out a gun from under the table and aimed it at Bruce’s forehead.

“Now I wouldn’t have a second hesitation blowing your head off in front of them,” Falcone threatened. “That’s power you can’t buy, that’s the power of fear.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Bruce smiled.

“Because you think you have nothing to lose,” He snorted. “But you haven’t thought it through – you haven’t thought about your lady friend from the DA’s… or that old butler of yours…”

He pulled the trigger and Bruce tried, and failed, to not flinch at the clicking sound. His point proven; the older man lowered the gun.

“People from your world always have so much to lose. That’s why they keep me in business. I stop the desperate heading uptown the way Joe Chill did. You think because your mommy and daddy got shot you know the ugly side of life, but you don’t. You’ve never tasted desperation. You’re Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham, you’d have to go a thousand miles to meet someone who didn’t know your name. So, don’t come down here with all your anger… trying to prove something to yourself. This is a world you’ll never understand. And you’ll always fear what you don’t understand.”

With a few nods, two thugs hauled the young man up, punched him in the stomach, and when Bruce turned to fight, they pinned his arms behind his back.

“You got spirit, kid, I’ll give you that,” Falcone added. “More than your old man.”

And Bruce looked at him with a cut lip.

“In the joint Child told me about the night he killed your parents… said your dad begged for mercy,” Falcone mocked. “Begged… like a dog.”

And laughter echoed as the young man was dragged away.

<> 

Bruce grunted as the thugs tossed him out of the club and into the street. He sat up, glaring back towards the club.

“Shoulda tipped better.”

Bruce turned to see a homeless man warming his hands over a fire built inside an oil drum, while other homeless people scattered about around the docks. The young millionaire stood up and approached the homeless man as he wiped the blood off his face with his scarf which he tossed into the barrel. He pulled out his wallet and took out every bit of cash within it. He then handed the money to the homeless man, who was utterly surprised by the gesture.

“For what?” He asked warily.

“Your jacket,” Bruce answered.

“Okay.”

Accepting the money, the homeless man took off his jacket while Bruce dropped his wallet into the fire, along with his tie. He then took off his overcoat, which he was about to toss into the fire next.

“Lemme have it, that’s a good coat.”

Bruce looked toward the man, thought it over, and decided instead to hand it over. The homeless man accepted the jacket, which he proceeded to pull over.

“Be careful who sees you with that,” Bruce advised. “They’re gonna come looking for me.”

“Who?” The homeless man asked.

“Everyone.”

And just like that, Bruce Wayne proceeded to walk away. He wandered through the stacks of containers and heard a horn in the distance. A cargo ship was just ready to depart, and Bruce proceeded to race toward it, disappearing into the shadows.

<> 

As the year passed, Henri watched Bruce, who faced off against a shaven-headed warrior. They were just in the midst of sparring when a shout across the monastery distracted the young man. He was taken down in a matter of seconds, as the older man shook his head.

“Childish, Wayne.”

But instead of protesting, Bruce watched as two warriors dragged a screaming man toward a cage.

“Who is he?” He asked.

“He was a farmer,” Henri answered, watching. “Then he tried to take his neighbor’s land and became a murderer. Now he’s a prisoner.”

As the man was locked inside the cage, Bruce and Henri watched as the cage itself was winched ten feet off the ground. Inside, the man whimpered fearfully.

“What will happen to him?” Bruce asked.

“Justice,” Henri responded. “Crime cannot be tolerated – criminals thrive on the indulgence of society’s ‘understanding’. You know this.”

To which the young man nodded in agreement, but Wayne still stared toward the man in the cage. For one reason or another, he couldn’t help but feel a troubled expression start to form.

“Or when you lived among the criminals… did you make the same mistake as your father?” Henri continued. “Did you start to pity them?”

<>

“The first time you’re forced to steal not to starve…”

Bruce wandered through the crowded market in an African port town, stopping in front of a fruit stand. He examined a mango while he also slipped a plum into his pocket. He then entered an alley and squatted in a doorway. He hungrily bit into the plum, saving the taste and juice, until he noticed a small boy in rags. The boy sat in the next doorway, staring at the plum.

“… you lose many assumptions about the simple nature of right and wrong.”

Bruce looked at the boy, then at the plum and sighed. He proceeded to hand the plum to the boy, who eagerly took it.

<> 

In London, England, Bruce Wayne, now filthy and growing a beard, moved through the crowd with an elderly man.

“I needed to feel the fear before a crime…”

The elderly man spotted a businessman moving in their direction and he stepped directly into his path. This would cause a collision which knocked the elderly man to the ground. Bot the businessman and Bruce crouched down to help the elderly man.

“And the thrill of success…”

Bruce slipped the businessman’s wallet out of his pocket without the man’s knowledge as they helped the elderly man up. As the businessman walked away, Bruce presented the wallet to the elderly man, who nodded with approval. Then the young man hurried after the businessman.

“… without becoming one of them.”

Bruce caught up with the businessman and returned the wallet; the businessman thanked him and handed the young man a banknote in return, which Bruce took and gave his thanks.

<>

Somewhere in Eastern Europe, Bruce Wayne was in a warehouse and tried cracking a safe under the supervision of a young tough man. The man shook his head, spun the dial, and whipped open the safe and showed Bruce what to do.

“I thought I would find something.”

In Shanghai, Bruce was in a backroom with a Chinese boss and seven criminals. They were drinking, laughing, and showed each other their spoils of watches, wallets, and phones.

“I thought I would learn what I needed to do with my skills and my anger.”

It was daytime now, as a truck raced through the door. Two criminals yanked the doors shut after, as both Bruce and the boss jumped down from the cab.

“But the harder I looked the less I saw. The less I knew.”

Bruce turned to the boss with a wary expression.

“Where’s this friend of yours?”

The boss merely shrugged.

“Not friend. Friend of friend.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and looked at the boss with contempt.

“Until I wasn’t even sure what I’d been looking for in the first place.”

The doors exploded open, as cops burst in shouting in Mandarin. Now the back of the truck was open, and the cops performed an inventory of boxes they pulled out of the back and piled upon the floor.

“And I was lost.”

Bruce sat in a line of criminals with his hands cuffed behind his back; a cop yanked him to his feet, hauling him toward the commanding officer.

“He refuses to give his name.”

The officer smirked at the young man.

“Fool – this is China, you’re a criminal, what the hell do I care what your name is?”

“I’m not a criminal,” Bruce protested.

The officer scowled and waved him away and looked at the truck.

“Tell that to the guys who owned these!” He snapped.

The officer kicked a box that had the Wayne Enterprises logo on the very front.

“You traveled the world to understand the criminal mind and conquer your fear…”