Dynasty: A Batman Tale

THEN

At first the voices were distant and muffled. The world was shrouded in darkness. Feint images were slowly coming into focus. Shadows, at first appearing as a massive blanket of darkness, separating into two then four, until the black began to fade, shapes began to form and the cloudiness that filled her ears eased out as voices became clear. “Miss...Miss, Can you hear me?” said the voice. The girl replied with an agonizing scream, she began to convulse while the paramedics rolled her into the E.R. “Where did she come from?”, asked the Doctor desperately trying to get a hold of the situation.

“We got a call from the Greyhound station, her bus was rolling in as she started seizing,” cried the paramedic.

“I thought we sedated her,” yelled his partner.

The Doctor called for the nurses as he looked at the ambulance duo with disgust. “Did either of you morons acknowledge the fact that she’s in labor?”

When neither man replied, he told them to get out of his hospital. The doctor looked at the poor girl, she couldn’t possibly be older than sixteen, if that. He quickly observed her strawberry blonde matted dreadlocks that must have gone unwashed for weeks. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her nose appeared to have been broken multiple times and had healed poorly. Her cheek had been fractured recently and the rest of her body was tattooed in scars and bruises. Never once in his entire life and career had this doctor seen a worse case of abuse than this.

“Miss, can you hear me? Miss, you’re in the hospital. You suffered a seizure aboard a bus and you were brought here by ambulance.” He paused waiting to for some sign of comprehension. She was staring at him while breathing deeply; the look of terror starting to vanish from her face. He waited. She took one more deep breath and then blinked. “OK” said the doctor. “Can you tell me your name? Do you know where the father is?” The Father, the FATHER. She didn’t make a sound, but the Doctor saw his immediate mistake as fear and terror again filled her eyes.

Her father was a farmer whose land had been taken from him to settle gambling debts. Her mother died bringing this young woman into the world; a crime in her father’s eyes. A crime he would never forgive. A crime he would punish her for, until one day after years of beatings, he noticed something different about his daughter. Under the bruises and cuts he saw a vision of his former life. In his daughter he saw his late wife. She had become the spitting image of her mother. Unfortunately it only fueled his rage. “You’re the Devil in disguise. You take my wife's face. You’re nothing but a demon.” His hatred for her grew, and seeing his wife’s image turned the beatings into rape.

This pattern of abuse was repeated year after year. Until one morning as she looked into the mirror, losing count of her bruises, she noticed her belly had a bump. Her knees buckled as the weight of this realization bared down upon her. She collapsed in tears. She did everything she could to avoid her father. She wore oversized clothes to hide her stomach, though lately, he looked harder at a liquor bottle than he did at her.

She couldn’t escape his wrath, constantly suffering numerous beatings throughout her pregnancy, always trying to protect her belly and unborn child. She hated her father more than anything in the world, but she could not bring herself to hate the life growing inside her. She was fully aware that her only chance of saving the baby was to run. She knew her father would kill her rather than allow for her to leave.

She calculated as best she could and figured she was about eight months along and knew it was time to go. She waited for her father to pass out from his nightly meeting with Jack Daniels. She had packed one bag earlier in the day and would slip out the front door as quietly as possigle. All she had to do was walk one mile to the main road and then another half mile to the bus depot. It was 9:30 at night, the bus schedule she had obtained listed the last bus leaving at 10:15.

It was now or never. She quietly slipped out the front door. The gravel and dirt grinding under her feet was almost as loud as her heart beating inside her chest. Then a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. “Where the hell are you going demon? You need to be punished.” She never saw his fist coming, she felt her right cheek explode and dropped to her knees. She tried to stay upright but her center of gravity had changed and she fell backwards revealing the life growing in her belly.

“What the... are you with child? Are you fucking pregnant? You whore, WHO’S THE FATHER, I’ll KILL HIM.” She stared at him unable to speak. She struggled back to her knees as he stood above her. He continued to yell at her “Who? WHO’S THE FATHER?” Unlike all the other times he had beat her, this time her fear became rage.

“YOU!” She yelled and drew a blade from her back pocket and stabbed up into her father’s groin. His scream was deafening as blood spurted out of the wound as she retracted the blade. In one quick motion she pulled the knife out and slashed it across the artery in his thigh. He would be dead in minutes. She reached into his pocket and grabbed the keys to his truck.

It was 10:10 when she pulled into the Bus depot. She left the keys in the ignition, took her bag and bought a ticket with the cash she had stolen from her father’s wallet. One last gift from that monster. She climbed aboard the only eastbound bus at 10:13. By the time the bus arrived at its destination the seizures began.

“Miss, what’s your name?” Again asked the Doctor. This time it appeared that she was going to answer him, but again all she managed was a scream. Unbearable pain in her face and her body, she couldn’t handle it. Then a flush of relief flowed through her veins as the nurse injected morphine into her IV. The Doctor appeared in front of her, “Miss, you’re in labor! But the umbilical cord is suffocating your baby. When I tell you, I need you to push. OK?” She made no reply. All she could think about was that she did it. She got away from him. He was gone and now her baby would be safe.

“Miss?”

“Doctor she’s crashing!”

The world was getting darker and the voices were becoming distant. Her only thoughts were of the child in her belly and that child growing up with a life better than hers. Her eyes closed.

“We lost her,” cried one of the nurses, “but the baby still has a heartbeat.”

“We have to cut the baby out NOW,” answered the Doctor.

The Doctor worked fast, cutting the baby out of its dead mother’s womb. The orphan was born, underweight, sickly and a month premature. He was born albino, the son of a Jane Doe.

“What do you think will happen to him?” Asked the nurse.

“I’m not sure.” The doctor answered, “But since we have nothing on the mother, he’ll be a ward of the state, sent to an orphanage; just another bastard born of Gotham.”

******************

Mistakes were seldom made by a man like Thomas. He was meticulous in every facet of his life, the empire he helped his father build, the wife he loved dearly and the child he adored. After the passing of his father when he was twenty-six, Thomas successfully made Wayne Enterprises a self-sufficient source of revenue for his family and the city he loved. Then he met Martha. The two fell madly in love, were married and took up residence in his late father’s mansion on the outskirts of Gotham, Wayne Manor.

Alfred Pennyworth had served the Wayne Family since he was a young man of Twenty-six. He seemed more like an older brother to Thomas, not a butler, which, of course, he was and had always been. When the elder Wayne died, Alfred stayed on as care taker until Thomas felt ready to accept the challenge as head of Wayne Manor. Thomas, who cared for Alfred as he would an older brother, couldn’t imagine Wayne Manor without him, and persuaded Alfred to stay on indefinitely. Alfred, pleased by the young Master Wayne’s request, readily agreed.

Three years later, Thomas and Martha Wayne welcomed young Bruce into the world. Almost the spitting image of his father, young Bruce was welcomed by the millions of grateful Gotham-mites whose lives have been enriched by the Waynes. He was dubbed the Prince of Gotham and in his father’s eyes he was the key to the future of Gotham. The heir to what had become a global empire worth billions of dollars. Wayne Enterprises throughout a vast array of industries was vital to the infrastructure of the greatest city in the world.

Thomas understood this great responsibility and took great care in his decision making. He seldom made mistakes. So when the emergency door to the Gotham Theater of Arts locked shut behind him as he led Martha and Bruce outside, he knew immediately he had done just that. Moments before while watching the Gotham Cirque Du Soleil perform a terrifying version of Sweeney Todd, Bruce started hyperventilating. Thomas took hold of Bruce and held him until he was again calm, he and Martha led their boy out of the theater. With all attention on his son, Thomas opted for the closest exit instead of making their way back through the lobby. As the alley door lock clicked behind them an unfamiliar chill shot through Thomas’s body. Trading the luxurious theater interior for the desolate dreary back alley, it was dark with pungent and unfamiliar odors. Instinctively, Thomas ushered both Martha and Bruce behind him. The mouth of the alley was twenty yards away. To young Bruce it must have seemed a mile. He squeezed both his parents’ hands. Thomas looked down at his son, “Don’t be afraid, Bruce. Let’s go home.” Thomas pointed towards the alley mouth where Main Street met Theater Row. “Look Bruce, there’s Alfred right there with the car.” Bruce struggled to see.

“Where?”

“Look just across the road, the man leaning up against the limo wearing the long coat. Look Familiar?” Bruce’s eyes found Alfred resting against their limousine reading an edition of The Daily Planet. Feeling the tension ease out of his son’s hand, Thomas started for the street. As the exit to the alley grew closer, all their attention was fixated on Alfred just ahead. It was Martha’s scream that suddenly brought Thomas face to face with a gun. Thomas never saw him coming, the man was wearing a brown jumpsuit under a hooded rain jacket. His face was dirty and his yellow stained teeth glowed as he reached out with his empty hand. “Give me your wallet, watch and that nice set of pearls around the lady’s neck.” He demanded while pointing the gun directly at Thomas.

“OK! OK, no problem! Just please keep the gun aimed at me, I’ll do whatever you say.”

Bruce was trying desperately to keep his silence, but an irrepressible whimper escaped his lips. The noise caused the gunman to point his weapon at Bruce which Thomas attempted to block with his body. This protective instinct caused the man to panic and pull the trigger. The Bullet struck Thomas in the chest. The shooter watched as Thomas collapsed and Martha let out a horrific scream. Then another shot. Then silence. Mortally wounded, Thomas looked up to see his killer run away. His tired eyes, losing focus glanced down to see the still body of his beloved wife and his son Bruce kneeling over his fallen mother. With his last ounce of strength, Thomas reached for his son, grabbed his hand, looked him in the eye and whispered “Don’t be afraid, we love you very much. Don’t be afraid...” His son’s face faded into blackness as a sprinting Alfred arrived at the horrific scene.