//------------------------------//
// Chapter one 
// Story: Bruce Wayne, welcome to Ponyville 
// by ultronquake 
//------------------------------//

	A sickening musk seemed to permeate the air, grey smoke swirled in the dark alleyway.  On the ground was a spilled bag of popcorn, soaking up the water in the puddles.  Bruce was on his hands and knees, right next to the bullet ridden corpses of Thomas and Martha Wayne, his parents.  The tears rolled down endlessly, Bruce was all alone.

Or so he thought, behind him lurked a shadowy figure, cloaked in dark blue, the top half of its face obscured by a mask.  Then the sirens came, their blaring horns announcing the police, the firemen and the medics.  As he heard these sounds he turned to face them, catching sight of the apparition, only for it to fade into nothing as the beat cops and detectives marched on through.  When Bruce turned back his parents were gone, now he was alone in the world.

Then he woke up, "Mother!  Father!"  Bruce Wayne bolted upright, a hot sweat covered his being.  He found himself unable to breathe normally, he was stuck with quick, shallow breaths as he tried to calm down.  Bruce was hoping against all that it was just a nightmare, but he knew, that it was a memory.  How long ago had it happened?  He couldn't say, much as he tried, his mind was a jumble.

What he wasn't sure of was where he was.  From the looks of it he was in a large social room, laying on a couch near an enormous fireplace.  The entire room was basked in shadow, the only source of light was the roaring fire which cast dancing shadows across the walls.  He was starting to feel a bit warm, from what he could feel his was wrapped in some kind of fur shawl.  As he moved to take it off, he found that he couldn't, and that he couldn't even feel his hands. 'Did I fall asleep on them?'Bruce thought to himself. 

He went to get off the couch but fell off instead, something about his balance was very off.  As he inched closer and closer to the fire, the truth of his situation became clearer to him.  In the flickering firelight he saw not hands, but roundish nubs.  Bruce thought about screaming, he thought about crying, but in the end he decided he was a bit too traumatized for either of those.  

As Bruce sat by the fire and pondered just what was going on, the door to an adjoining room creaked open.  Bright artificial light poured in the room, behind it was silhouette that looked like a hunched over man.  The silhouette turned to face Bruce and spoke, "Ah you’re awake, glad to see your already up and about m'boy." The voice was distinctly male, refined and confident.

Having verbal contact with someone else was enough to shock Bruce out of his stupor, "Who are you?  Where am I?  Why don't I have hands?!"  Bruce asked in quick succession.  

The voice chuckled, "Calm down sport, your safe.  I found you sleeping outside in the rain while I was coming home from work.  I can't stand the sight of ponies living in such conditions, so I brought you inside my home to dry out."

Bruce hadn't even noticed that he was soaking wet, but just as his mystery benefactor had said he was dripping water, it was even drenching the fur he was wearing.  But something about what the voice had said struck Bruce as odd, he decided to press it.  "What do you mean... 'Ponies'?"  

"Well I suppose that's more of a generalization than anything else, ponies, cows, and sheep.  Nopony deserves to be left out in the rain."  The silhouetted figure stepped out of the doorway and into clear view.  To his disbelief his benefactor was not a man, at least not like any he'd met before.  Standing before him was a small cream colored horse with a jet black mane.  Around his neck was the collar of a blue pinstripe suit and a long red necktie with a comically large dollar sign.

Not wanting to seem rude to his host, or tip off that this whole situation was beyond strange, Bruce suppressed the urge to stammer like a moron.  "Um, thank you, for bringing me inside sir."

"What's this sir nonsense?  My name's Filthy Rich, but you can just call me Mr. Rich," Filthy said with a warm smile.

"Alright, Mr. Rich.  Could I ask you some questions?"  Bruce meekly inquired.

"I have some for you as well m'boy, but I’ll let you get yours out of the way first."  Filthy took a seat in a tall armchair across from the fireplace.

"Well first off, where am I?" asked Bruce.

"You happen to be sitting in the living room of the finest home in Ponyville, the nicest town in Equestria.  Answer your question?" replied Filthy.

"Yeah, it did."  To be honest it didn't, "Um, this might sound weird but do you know what happened to my hands?"

"Hands?  What do you mean by that m'boy?  You've got two pairs of good hooves just like me and every other pony."  Filthy stared at the child with bemusement.

'Like every other ... pony... he couldn't mean...'  "Do you have a mirror I could use?"   

"Why of course, there's one on the wall over there," Filthy Rich pointed to a wall covered in portraits of other ponies, in the middle of the wall was a tall hanging mirror.  Bruce ran, or as close as he could run as he tripped over his extra set of legs.  When he came to the looking glass he was shocked to find not his normal human form looking back but that of an even tinier pony.

He turned and moved around but it was no trick, this was what he looked like.  Bruce observed intently his new form, he had very large blue eyes a ratty black mane and grey blue fur.  He was also finding it strange, the sensation of having a tail, he gave it a few swishes just to prove to himself it was real.

While Bruce was busy exploring the ins and outs of his new body Filthy came up and stood behind him.  When they were side by side Bruce could fully see their size difference, Mr. Rich stood a good head or two above Bruce.  "You seem shaken about something m'boy, care for a sip of brandy to steady your nerves?"

"Ya-yes Mr, Rich." said Bruce, he'd never had brandy before but his father would always offer it when they had guests over.  They made their way back to the seating and the table with a decanter of the spiced wine.  Filthy expertly poured a small amount into a glass and passed it to Bruce, who in turn nearly let it fall onto the carpet as he fumbled with the glass.  "Sorry!"  Bruce said as he gripped the glass with his teeth, he tilted his head back and drank the liquid.

All the way down the alcohol burned his throat, "*Cough Cough*  Hack * Weaze *"  With great drama, the foal Bruce Wayne made a show of his struggle.

This only made Filthy laugh, "Poor boy, can't handle his liquor yet.  Hehe."  Filthy took back the glass and poured him some soda water.  "Here this might be more to your liking."

Bruce eyed the glass with suspicion, he'd already been burnt once.  But he took it anyway, once again gripping it with his teeth and knocking it back.  "Better?" asked Filthy.

"Ahh, much better *Burp*"  let out Bruce.

Filthy smiled, "Well now that's all taken care of, do you think you could answer some of my questions now?"

Bruce couldn't think of any reason not to, after all Mr. Rich had been so hospitable.  "Okay, I'll try and answer what I can."

"First off I’d like to know your name m'boy.  Can't keep calling you m'boy now can I?" asked Filthy.

"My name is Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne, what an odd name.  Not that that's bad mind you, it's just I've never heard of a pony with a name like that before."  He sat back in the armchair, stroking the fur under his chin.  "Bruce why were you sleeping outside?  Aren't your parents worried about you?"  

These words brought a horrid flash of memory to Bruce's mind, a mental picture of both mother and father lying in that alley behind the movie theater.  "I-I don't have parents anymore.  They're both gone..." 

"Another abandoned child, left to fend for himself, this is shameful," Filthy said with disdain.  "Tell me Bruce, how long have you been on your own?"

Bruce went to answer but stopped, try as he might he couldn't remember.  It was as if everything past that traumatic incident was a blur, he knew things had happened but he could tell what they were.  "I don't know, I think it's been too long to remember."

Filthy closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nostrils, when he opened his eyes he put on the most optimistic and warm face he could manage.  "Bruce how would you like to live here in my house?  Now I know this is rather sudden but I can't have a good colt like you left at the mercy of the streets.  If you choose to stay I promise you, I'll try and be the father you need.  But if you don't want to I'll still help you find a good home."

Bruce was stunned, this pony he'd barely known for half an hour had already taken him in and given him shelter, now he was offering to fill part of the void left by his parents’ death.  "Yes, yes I want to live here!"

His reply seemed to relieve Filthy, "Good, I’m very glad to hear that Bruce.  I'm afraid we don't have a room open at the moment so you'll have to share one with Randolph till we get one set up."

"Who's Randolph?" asked Bruce.

"Randolph is the family butler, oh that reminds me I need him for something right away."  Filthy made his way over to the service bell and gave it a ring.  Within a few minutes an aging stallion with curly white hair shuffled into the room.  "Ah Randolph, sorry to wake you so late."

"You did not wake me sir, I was occupying myself with the written works of Trotstoy." He assured his master.

"Randolph I’d like you to meet Bruce Wayne, he'll be living in our home from now on." Filthy said introducing his newly adopted son. 

"Good evening master Wayne, I take it the night is treating you well?" asked Randolph, his voice even more refined than that of Filthy.

"Y-yes it has." said Bruce.

With introductions out of the way Filthy turned the conversation to his intended purpose, "Randolph I know it's still raining out but could you possibly head down to the end of our street and collect Bruce's possessions?  I couldn't carry him and them both, and i'd hate for him to lose what little he has to the rain."  

"It will be done right away master Rich, will either of you be requiring my services before I depart?" asked the butler with perfect tact.

"No that should be all, thank you Randolph." said Filthy.

"It is my pleasure sir." said Randolph, he made his way to the front door and put on a rain jacket before disappearing into the night.  

"You'll get along nicely with Randolph, he's served the family for decades, since before I was born in fact." said Filthy.

"Is there anybody else here?  This place seems really large for just to people- er, ponies." asked Bruce.

Filthy grinned widely, "Yes there is, you have a sister as well.  As a matter of fact she should be getting home pretty soon."  Almost on cue the front door opened, standing behind it was a little pink pony wearing a braided silver crown.  "Welcome home Diamond Tiara!  I've got somepony I’d like you to meet."

"Coming daddy!" Diamond Tiara said as she ran inside, shaking off the rain water.  She came to a stop in front of her father and the stranger beside him. 

"Well go on, introduce yourself." Filthy said, giving Bruce a little nudge.

"Um, hi, my name is Bruce.  I'm your new brother."  Bruce said meekly.

Diamond Tiara's jaw hit the floor, "You're what!?"