The first few minutes of his riding in the sophisticated, high-tech interior of the Batmobile were found awkward by Kessler. The fearsome figure known as the Batman driving didn’t feel the same however. He liked the silence; he preferred it. A long time ago, his mentor, Henri Ducard, taught him a proverb: “That which is not necessary to say does should not be said.” And as of right now, there was nothing to say.
But Nathan Kessler, sitting fidgety in the passenger seat, briefcase on lap, hands folded, hated silence. He felt comfort in words. He loved to talk. Why else did he try to be a comedian?
His skin crawled at the memory of that horrible night. If only he hadn’t messed up that one line, the one punch line that had left Savannah, his beloved, in stitches when he tried it on her, that night may have gone wholly different.
But that was not important right now. What was important was memorizing what was pivotal to the city as of now, his information on the infamous Rupert Thorne that he was going to relay with Harvey Dent in his offices across town, escorted there in the vehicle used by the also infamous Batman, Gotham’s supposed caped crusader.
However, the Batman’s thoughts swerved as they passed the alley on Roosevelt and Elwood. It occurred to him that it was one week to the anniversary of…
Bruce Wayne, the 9 year old son of Dr. Thomas and Martha Wayne, had always believed in the idea of masked avengers howling the rooftops, saving the innocent and throwing the criminals behind bars. For wasn’t it so that good always triumphed over evil?
But then, that night…
Alfred Pennyworth, a thin English man who served as the Wayne’s loyal butler, had suffered a concussion 3 days earlier. Out of his compassionate heart, Thomas, against the butler’s will, had arranged for Alfred to take a vacation in the Bahamas while he recovered, with all expenses arranged and paid for by Martha, a financial wizard and co-founder of the majorly successful Wayne Enterprises with her husband. As they walked out of The Mask of Zorro with their beautiful son Bruce, they began the long but happy walk to the Wayne mansion just within the city limits, each one holding one of Bruce’s hands as he reminisced in the glorious adventures of his idol, the Mexican hero Zorro, clad in his iconic black costume, hat and mask, striking his sword in the name of all that was good in the world.
But it was not long before that Bruce would experience personally all that was evil in the world.
“Come on; let’s take a shortcut through there.”
“Slow down, Tom! Bruce and I can hardly keep up with the pace you’re at. Why the rush?”
“Sorry, Martha. Just trying to get Bruce home as quickly as possible. It’s way past his bed time.”
“Oh be easy on him Tom. After all, it is a Saturday.”
“Still, we should hurry up. Besides, this town isn’t the safest place at night.”
“You got that right, Mister.”
A man in a dirty green jacket, worn jeans, and fingerless gloves emerges from the shadows.
“Huh? Oh, um, excuse me sir, we’re kind of in a hurry.”
“I don’t care.”
All three of the Wayne’s eyes widen at the gun in the man’s hands.
“Hey, hey, take it easy son.”
“Cash, jewelry, anything you got, right now.”
“Please sir, we don’t want any trouble.”
“Shut it, whore, I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Please, son, it doesn’t have to be this way. We’ll give you whatever you want. Just put the gun away.”
“Mommy?”
“Quiet, Bruce, we’ll take care of this.”
“Oh, who’s that little runt you got there?”
“You step away from my son!”
The shot echoes against the walls of the alley.
“Tom! Oh my God, Tom!”
The sound of the second shot made a crack in the young boy’s soul. As the man fished for his father’s wallet and then removed his mother’s pearls, Bruce just stood there, his mind trying to wrap around the fact that within the course of ten measly seconds, Bruce was now an orphan. Because of a man who had a gun.
Kessler’s voice broke the Batman’s concentration. “Look out!”
The blast from the missile launched by Thorne hit the side of the bulky black vehicle. For someone as old as he was, Thorne had always had tremendous aim. The explosion on the driver’s side of the Batmobile flipped the car to the left, easily knocking over the thin fence leading into the Wayne Enterprises Chemical Factory above the shores of the Gotham Lake.
“Nice shot boss.” “Oh, no, Doyle. Now it’s the fun part. Okay, boys, let’s move in.”
That's it for Dark Days Chapter 3! Visit my page for the links to Chapters 1 and 2 and leave a comment here with any questions you may have, as well as comments, compliments, criticism, whatever!
Until Next Time...