ONE

Towering above him stood the most powerful, cunning, and ruthless villain Batman had ever faced. At well over six feet, his unfathomable muscles bulged out—the result of the supersteroid Venom drug that was pumping through his system.

His name was Bane.

Days ago he had leveled Arkham Asylum and freed its inmates, whose release forced Batman to bring them back to justice one-by-one. The Mad Hatter, Amygdala, Mr. Zsasz, Cornelius Stirk, the Firefly, Poison Ivy, the Scarecrow, Two-Face—he had to face each and every one of them. Even the Joker. Though he got away, Batman finally had the chance to enact his revenge on the grinning maniac for what he did to Jason Todd, the second Robin. But when he had come up against the three cronies of Bane: Zombie, Trogg, and Bird, he simply had nothing left. After a week of fighting, of endless struggle, following a lifetime of pushing himself too far too fast, he was spent. Constant whitewater had finally caught up with him.

Bane knew this. He had planned it. He saw through Batman’s secret identity and had come here to Wayne Manor to finish the job.

The monster bellowed at him, "You have nothing!"

Batman took a swing at him. A pitiful swing, one slowed by fatigue and nausea brought on by running the gauntlet far too long. Bane deflected it, swung back, and then planted a boot square in Batman’s face.

Batman fell, the side of his waist being impaled on a stalagmite of the bat cave, which their battle had taken them into. With a hand, Bane picked him up by his torn and bloodied cowl, bringing him to stare into his demonic-looking black, white, and red mask.

"Beg for mercy! Scream my name!"

But he didn’t. Even as he felt his last reserve of strength go, he wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. "G-go…back to…hell," Batman choked out.

And then he was done. A swipe from Bane’s fist and Batman felt his legs give way.

"I am Bane and I could kill you," the monster boomed from above. "But death would only end your agony—and silence your shame." With both hands, Bane lifted him above his head, holding him high. "Instead, I will simply break you!"

The towering man threw him against his outstretched knee. There was a wet snap as Batman’s back broke.

Bane dropped Batman to the floor of the bat cave as a child might cast about a rag doll. "Broken…and done."

"Master Bruce! Sir, do wake up!"

The familiar voice drew Bruce Wayne away from the horrible nightmare and back to the present. He sitting in the back seat of his personal limousine, his dinner date, Shannon Farrow, beside him. His butler and trusted confidant, Alfred Pennyworth, was speaking to him from the driver’s seat.

"What is it, Alfred?"

"You seemed rather lost in thought, sir. Is something the matter?"

Bruce gave Shannon’s hand a squeeze, then turned a distracted glance out the limo’s window. "Just remembering…the past."

"Oh?" Shannon asked, an enthusiastic smile on the attractive brunette’s face. "Do tell, Brucie."

Bruce made a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just a mistake a once made. It’s nothing, anymore. Really." His words couldn’t be further from the truth, but it was all part of the act. Long ago he had come to an understanding that Bruce Wayne was the mask, not Batman.

The breaking of his back at the hands of Bane, his choosing of Jean Paul Valley as his successor, and Jean Paul Valley’s murderous romp as Batman—a romp he had to put an end to when he recovered. In the two years since he had taken back the mantle of the bat; in the year since the earthquake, the Ebola Gulf-A outbreak in Gotham, the showdown with Ra’s Al Ghul and rematch with Bane, he had turned over a new leaf. The mistakes he had made would not happen again. For the sake of the city he pledged to protect, for the sake of everything he was supposed to be, history would not repeat itself.

"We’ve arrived, sir."

New York was an overpopulated city of corruption, greed, and crime. He despised it, but he that that, in its own way, it was a reflection of Gotham City. As the limo pulled up on the sidewalk of Bleeker Avenue, Bruce remembered why it was he was here. Business had called Bruce Wayne to New York City to personally oversee the opening of the Manhattan branch of Wayne Enterprises.

But he had come here for more than that.

Alfred opened the door for Bruce, who exited and helped Shannon out.

Before him was a crowd of reporters and journalists, all trying to shove their way past the police barricades to get their shot at an interview with the big man himself.

"Mr. Wayne, a word with you please!" a reporter called through the crowd. Strangely, Bruce seemed to recognzie it from somewhere. It was Jimmy Olsen of Metropolis’ WGBS News, whom he had spoken to on a couple of occasions. For a moment Bruce idly wondered how things were with Clark and Metropolis. Even though the two of them had joined the JLA, and they both considered each other close friends, Bruce and Clark never spoke to each other very much. After the ordeal of his temporary new powers, he imagined he was going through hell. After recovering from the Doomsday incident that cost him his life a few years back, things never seemed to slow down for Clark. Bruce regretted not being able to attend Lois and Clark’s wedding, but he had gotten the two newlyweds a new apartment as a wedding gift.

"Certainly, Jimmy," Bruce replied. With a bemused grin, he walked over to the freckled youth with Shannon on his arm.

"…and as I was saying, the opening of the Manhattan Wayne Enterprises represents the continuation of my father’s dream. A dream of equality and prosperity for all. A dream that I share. My only hope is that in the days to co—"

With a click of the remote, the television was turned off.

"Big hairy deal," Casey Jones grumbled, going back to ironing his laundry. "Some billionaire playboy opens up a company in New York and everybody acts like it’s the second coming of Jesus or something! Goddamn Gotham playboy just waltzes into town and gets the red carpet treatment…"

The sound of newspaper rustling was heard. Michaelangelo looked up from his Sunday morning newspaper, drawing his attention away from the latest Calvin & Hobbes strip and to the television. "Don’t diss on Wayne, Casey," Mike said. "Isn’t his fault he inherited millions of bucks."

Casey dignified Mike’s comment with only a grunt. He went back to ironing.

"It’s not like he’s a bad guy."

Casey looked up with a knowing gaze. "This town’s full of bad guys, Mikey."

"Could be worse," Mike said. "Could be like Gotham."

"Well, I suppose so." Casey shook his head. "Two plagues and an earthquake... all in less than a year."

"To say nothing of its, uh, villain population."

Casey sighed, then went back to ironing, muttering, "Does anybody even keep track of how many times the Joker escapes from Arkham anymore?"

"Doubt it."

Forward to next chapter
Back to previous chapter
Return to main menu
Return to fandom section
Return to Ninja Turtles Empire