Questions, Comments, and Criticisms are all welcome. Please enjoy this introduction to my Batman fan-fic!
Bruce Wayne, a nineteen year old specialist in the United States Army fifty-ninth division, was dazed. His ears were ringing, and he could hear a faint echo of his name, as if being called from home.
Mortar shells, shrapnel and bullets whizzed by Bruce, detonated, and exploded all around him. To his right, there was a scene of a gored private; one Johnny Gatz. Private Gatz lay on his back, the sand of Omaha beach surrounding him. He was erratic, screaming, in shock- he attempted to close his gaping chest cavity with his bloodied hands before a bullet pierced his skull. To Bruce’s right, a dear friend of his, Nicholas Grossman, ignited when a mortar shell exploded near him. He ran back towards the sea from whence they had come and leapt into the foamy, red-tinted sea water.
Suddenly, Bruce snapped out of his stupor. His commander, Sergeant Alexander Marini, grasped his shoulder and shook him. He pointed to the bunkers further up the beach.
“We have to get to those damned pillboxes and put those machine guns out of commission! Do you understand!?”
Bruce nodded. He looked around again; young men like him were gunned down left and right, mutilated, torn to pieces, immolated. This was worse than he had ever imagined.
“Bruce! Do you understand?!”
Bruce looked at Sergeant Marini.
“Good! Follow me!”
Bruce did as commanded. The pair trudged up the wet sand alongside dozens of others. Luck, more than skill, saved their hides. Cases and cases of bullets soared past the two as they neared the German bunkers at Normandy. Specialist Wayne, Sergeant Marini, and several others assaulted the German pillboxes head-on. In the firefights that ensued, Sergeant Marini lost his life, and Bruce took a bullet in his shoulder. As General Eisenhower had promised, the Allies had achieved a “full victory,” but at high cost. Over nine thousand of Bruce Wayne’s fellow soldiers met their end that day. One hundred thousand would continue the march into continental Europe. However, Bruce was sent state-side on medical leave. He earned a purple heart for his troubles and an honorable discharge shortly thereafter. A year later, the war was over. But Bruce did not find the peace he so desired. A plague was spreading in Gotham- Bruce’s hometown- a plague that would consume Bruce’s every thought, every action, every ounce of courage and strength the man could muster.
December 24, 1935- Gotham City
“Elizabeth the Queen? I’m quite tired of Anderson, Thomas, can’t we do something else?” protested Martha Wayne.
The beautiful Martha Wayne’s dark brown hair contrasted greatly with her fair complexion. Her normally flowing hair was tied back in a bun. She wore a heavy fur coat over her long, black dress with white polka dots. Sitting atop her fair head was a flimsy, white hat. She held the young Bruce Wayne’s hand tightly as Thomas refuted the idea of doing anything but seeing the work of his favorite playwright. All three of them entered the olive black, four door, Auburn Boattail Speedster, the newest model, driven by none other than their chauffeur and butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred had been in servitude to the Wayne family for most of his adult life, and they treated him quite well. As the Auburn drove off, tender snow flakes materialized in the night sky like falling stars eager to meet the Earth. The light coat of temporary white beautified the industrial Gotham City. The factory smoke had disappeared for the day, and the usual haze was suspended on Christmas Eve.
Yet, a shadow lingered over Gotham. The crash of twenty-nine had hit the city hard, harder than most. The industrial powerhouse had been reduced to a crippled, bloated steel giant overnight. The steel industry that had powered Gotham’s rise was losing steam as the automobile industry had reached its peak and fallen when none could afford the luxury an automobile afforded. With unemployment came crime- muggers, thieves, murderers, and crime syndicate holdovers from the prohibition days thrived in the newly christened backwater of the United States. But there were those who hadn’t given in, hadn’t given up; those who still had hope. Thomas Wayne and Wayne Enterprises sought to revive the dying city. With innovations in architecture, pharmaceuticals, and technology, Wayne Enterprises built up Gotham, and served as the lone crutch saving the city from its downfall.
The Auburn Speedster roared down Eighty Second Street and arrived at the Bronson Worchester Theater. The Waynes entered the theater together. For Bruce, it was the beginning of something much greater than himself…
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