The Dark Crusader: Prologue

"A hero can be anyone, even a man doing something as simple and reassuring as putting a coat around a young boy's shoulders to let him know that the world hasn't ended."

- The Dark Knight Rises

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Gotham City

A city is plagued by an endless stream of criminals who seem to be causing more chaos with each passing day. Despite the best efforts of the police force, these lawbreakers continue to run rampant throughout the city. It's not just your average street thug who is causing all of this havoc, either. There are higher-ups in the criminal underworld who are pulling the strings and making life difficult for the citizens of Gotham.

However, when the time comes, the Dark Crusader emerges to deliver the people of Gotham from the clutches of darkness and guide them towards the illuminating path of light. He is a hero they do not deserve, but one they wholeheartedly welcome. For countless years, no one has been able to apprehend him. He persists tirelessly until Gotham is purged of its corruption.

But the question remains, who is this enigmatic savior, and why did he choose to withhold his presence until now...

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In the midst of a nocturnal deluge, rain cascaded upon every urban landscape, its aqueous currents weaving through the labyrinthine veins of city streets and eventually converging within the intricate network of drain sewers. Within the solemn confines of the graveyard, Bruce Wayne stood resolute, a solitary sentinel before the sepulchers of his dearly departed kin, the illustrious Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne. Clad in a somber ensemble of ebony: a hooded jacket, obsidian denim, and an enigmatic mask shrouding his visage, he clutched night-vision optics, his gaze affixed upon the hallowed ground.

In silence, he journeyed through the annals of his memory, retracing the steps of his youth, when familial bonds were unbroken, and dreams of an enduringly blissful existence endured. Yet, amid this reverie, an indelible pang seared his heart—a memory emblazoned with the name "Joe Chill." Gratitude was directed towards his unwavering and loyal confidant, Alfred, who clandestinely procured vital information from the precincts of the Gotham City Police Department's criminal archives.

Bruce Wayne, now ensnared by a resolve forged in anguish, embarked upon his ultimate undertaking: to apprehend and exact retribution upon Joe Chill for the grievous transgressions perpetrated against the Wayne family.

Within the clandestine recesses of a hideout nestled adjacent to the bustling docks, the inner sanctum of this edifice teemed with a throng of individuals, all under the formidable command of the nefarious kingpin, Joe Chill. Towering amidst the activity, Joe Chill, the mastermind himself, surveilled his subordinates with an imperious air, a puppeteer orchestrating his marionettes.

His henchmen toiled diligently, orchestrating the meticulous rearrangement of an arsenal of armaments, their clinking and clattering echoing through the chamber. These meticulously curated weapons and their munitions were destined for embarkation upon a sleek vessel, an integral component of Joe Chill's impending escape plan.

The criminal mastermind harbored aspirations that extended far beyond the confines of Gotham City. Satisfied with the plunder he had wrought upon the Wayne fortune, he had meticulously orchestrated his exodus to foreign shores, an endeavor rendered possible by the wealth accrued through his nefarious exploits, all facilitated by his calculated exploitation of the Wayne legacy.

Joe Chill couldn't forget that fateful day when he heartlessly took Wayne's life. The memory of their child, crying and clinging to their lifeless parents, was etched in his mind. Rather than showing any remorse, Joe callously abandoned the Wayne child, showing no interest in wasting his time on them before the cops shows up.

Flashback

The Wayne family emerged from the theater, with young Bruce Wayne in tow, accompanied by his parents, Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne. Unbeknownst to them, lurking in the shadows behind them was Joe Chill, patiently awaiting their exit from the building. His sinister intent was to ambush them in the alley, intending to both end their lives and seize their valuable possessions.

However, as fate would have it, Joe mistakenly believed that the Wayne family had chosen the alleyway as their path. In reality, the Waynes were heading to their car, where they ignited the engine and drove away, homeward bound. Determined not to let this opportunity slip through his fingers, Joe hastily clambered into his own vehicle, started the engine, and embarked on a pursuit to catch up with them.

Meanwhile, within the Wayne family car, young Bruce sat in the backseat, gazing out of the window, his eyes fixated on the dark road ahead as they made their way home. Suddenly, a blinding burst of headlights illuminated Bruce's face, causing him to shield his eyes from the intense glare. He turned his attention to the vehicles racing up behind them, a sense of unease creeping over him.

Bruce spoke up, his voice tinged with concern, addressing his father, who sat at the wheel, "Hey, Dad..."

Thomas, with a warm smile, glanced at Bruce through the rearview mirror, inquiring, "What's on your mind, kiddo? Is something bothering you?"

Bruce pointed toward the pursuing vehicle behind them, his apprehension growing evident, "That car... it seems to be following us."

Thomas shifted his gaze to the side mirror, confirming Bruce's observation. Indeed, the vehicle behind them persisted in tailing their every move. Martha, Bruce's mother, also noticed and voiced her worry, "Thomas, what should we do?"

With determination, Thomas gripped the steering wheel tightly and issued a directive, "Hold on tight." He then pressed the accelerator pedal, causing their car to surge forward. However, the relentless pursuit continued as the vehicle behind them showed no signs of relenting.

Meanwhile, Joe, behind the wheel of the trailing car, accelerated his vehicle, closing in on the Waynes. With unwavering resolve, he floored the gas pedal, propelling his car to a breakneck speed. In a calculated move, he rammed into the Wayne family's car, causing it to veer out of control. In mere moments, the Wayne's car collided with a lamppost before careening in the wrong direction, ultimately crashing into the wall of a nearby building.

Joe came to a screeching halt in his car, swiftly opening the glove compartment to retrieve a gun. Determinedly, he exited the vehicle, ready to confront the Waynes.

The Wayne family, though battered and bruised, managed to exit their car. Thomas, clutching Bruce, helped Martha to her feet. As they assessed their dire situation, they noticed the menacing figure approaching them. Thomas instinctively raised his right hand to shield his family, with Martha protecting Bruce behind her.

With a grim resolve, Joe halted his advance and brandished his gun, aiming it directly at the family. Thomas, his voice trembling with a mix of confusion and anger, confronted their assailant, demanding answers, "What do you want from us?"

Joe smirked maliciously, his gun unwaveringly pointed at them as he responded, "Your wealth. Hand it over to me, or I'll end your lives."

Thomas nodded in reluctant understanding, reaching for his wallet and withdrawing fifty one-hundred-dollar bills. Joe snatched the money from Thomas's trembling hand, glancing at it briefly before locking eyes with the terrified family. His tone turned even more menacing as he declared, "Honestly, this is far from sufficient. I want it all, every last bit!"

Unexpectedly, Joe fired his gun, the deafening shot piercing Thomas's chest. Thomas, stunned and shocked, crumpled to the ground, leaving Martha to cry out in horror as she witnessed her husband being struck by the bullet. She rushed to Thomas's side, her scream echoing through the night. But Joe, ruthless and determined, grabbed hold of her, attempting to restrain her frantic escape. Martha fought desperately against his grasp.

In a cruel and heartless act, Joe fired again, this time the bullet finding its mark in Martha's neck, shattering a piece of her necklace in the process. She collapsed lifelessly onto the ground, leaving Bruce in a state of shock, his anguished screams filling the air as he witnessed the life drain from his mother.

Joe wasted no time, swiftly rifling through Thomas's pockets, his satisfaction evident as he discovered what he sought. Suddenly, the blaring sirens of a police car pierced the chaos, causing Joe to flee the scene.

As Bruce stared at his mother's lifeless eyes, tears streaming down his face, Thomas then looked at his wife dead eyes, "Martha..." his last word as he gasped his final breath and passed away. Overwhelmed by grief, Bruce laid his head on his father's chest, his sobs echoing in the darkness.

Approaching the scene, a police officer, Jim Gordon, whose black hair and glasses framed a stern yet compassionate face, wore a trench coat over a white formal shirt with a bowtie, black jeans, and leather boots. He extended his condolences to the grieving Bruce, placing a comforting hand on the young boy's shoulder.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, kiddo. If  only we could have arrived sooner," Jim uttered sorrowfully, his heart heavy with the tragedy that had unfolded.

Present day

One of Joe's henchmen entered his office, addressing him, "Sir, all the weapons have been stored on the ship. Should we depart?" Joe regarded him and nodded decisively.

"Yes, get our men ready. We're leaving this accursed city," Joe commanded, to which the henchman nodded and promptly relayed the orders to the rest of the thugs. Joe proceeded to gather his belongings, preparing to exit the office.

However, just as he was about to leave, all the power suddenly cut off, plunging the room into darkness. Joe was taken aback, unable to see anything. He quickly reached for a night vision device on his desk and hastily donned it.

Frustrated, Joe called out to his men outside, his voice carrying an air of annoyance, "You morons had better fix that damn power panel!"

Outside, Joe's men had already equipped themselves with night vision goggles due to the pitch-black surroundings. One of them had been assigned the task of fixing the power panel.

"Bob, you're up," Thug 1 instructed, prodding his reluctant friend towards the panel.

Bob protested vehemently, "What's the deal, man. Why me all of a sudden!?"

Thug 1 disregarded Bob's complaints, sporting a sly grin. "Don't be a coward, Bob. It's just a power panel. Now, get to work." He gave Bob a forceful push, causing Bob to groan in frustration as he reluctantly made his way toward the power panel.

As Bob reluctantly proceeded toward the room containing the power panel, he couldn't help but mutter in annoyance, "This job is an absolute pain in the posterior. Out of all the thugs in this hideout, why does it always have to be me? Is it because my name is Bob?"

Just as he was about to venture further into the darkness, an unexpected and unseen hand suddenly seized his head and clamped tightly over his mouth. Panic coursed through him as he let out a muffled scream, desperately struggling to break free. However, his efforts were in vain as he was forcibly dragged deeper into the obscurity of the shadows. A sickening crack echoed through the air, signaling Bob's grim fate – he had met a swift and gruesome end.

Thug 1 tapped his foot impatiently, growing increasingly agitated as he waited for his friend to restore the power. His frustration boiled over, and he exclaimed, "What the hell? How long is he going to take to turn that damn power on?"

Unbeknownst to the thugs, a dark and stealthy figure crouched silently above them. He carefully removed his night vision goggles and produced a flash grenade, deftly pulling the pin and strategically tossing them one by one in the vicinity of the unsuspecting thugs, even farther away.

The thugs, puzzled by the sudden noises around them, exchanged bewildered glances as they scanned their surroundings. Just as they were about to investigate further, a grenade detonated with a blinding flash, temporarily incapacitating them as their vision was overwhelmed by the intense light.

The shadowy figure wasted no time, swiftly descending upon the thug who had managed to recover from the flash bang's effects. With a devastating blow, the figure struck the thug with such force that his skull cracked, resulting in instant death as the figure landed atop him, crushing his head.

Without pause, the figure embarked on a relentless rampage against the remaining thugs. They attempted to reach for their firearms, but the figure's speed and agility proved too much for them. Blows from the figure's fists left them dazed, and before they could react, their necks were brutally snapped, or sharp knives found their way to their throats.

As the other thugs engaged in close combat, the figure displayed exceptional skill, effortlessly parrying their attacks. One by one, limbs were snapped, causing the thugs to scream in agonizing pain. The figure, unfazed by their suffering, swiftly ended their lives by slitting their throats, leaving a trail of lifeless bodies in its wake.

The dark figure advanced toward Joe Chill's office, but two of his henchmen blocked his path, brandishing AK-47 rifles. They unleashed a hail of bullets in his direction, but the agile figure skillfully dodged most of them, although three bullets found their mark, causing him to grunt in pain and grit his teeth.

Quick thinking, the figure retrieved a grenade, swiftly pulling the pin and dropping it to the ground. The grenade exploded, releasing a thick cloud of smoke that shrouded his movements. The two thugs maintained their positions, guns trained on the billowing smoke, waiting for any sign of the figure's next move.

Unbeknownst to them, the shadowy figure had silently descended upon one of the thugs, knocking him out with a well-timed strike. The second thug, startled by the sudden attack, swung his rifle toward the figure, only to meet a swift and deadly knife that slit his throat. He choked on his own blood, collapsing lifelessly to the floor.

With the immediate threats neutralized, the figure swiftly dispatched the unconscious thug by snapping his neck, ensuring a swift and silent demise. Now, with determination in his step, the figure continued on his path toward Joe Chill's office, the final target he had long sought to eliminate.

Meanwhile, Joe held his shotgun, his eyes fixed on the office door, anticipating the figure's entrance. Unbeknownst to him, in his moment of unwarranted confidence, his windowed office remained exposed and vulnerable. The shadowy figure seized the opportunity, leaping gracefully through the window. In a lightning-fast sequence of events, the figure disarmed Joe, knocking the shotgun from his grasp, and delivered a powerful punch to his face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

With Joe down and defenseless, the figure grabbed hold of his collar, pinning him to the ground with a forceful grip, and brought his head down with brutal force.

Joe was gripped by terror as he pleaded desperately for his life, his voice quivering with fear, "Please spare me! I'll give you anything! Anything that would make you happy. I beg you, I don't want to die!" He cried ugly tears and begged for mercy, but the figure remained unmoved, showing no sympathy.

The figure raised a gloved hand, slowly removing the hood and the night vision goggles that concealed his identity. To Joe's shock and horror, the face revealed was none other than Bruce Wayne's. Bruce's eyes bore into Joe with unwavering determination, fueled by a deep desire for vengeance against the man who had taken his family from him.

"I'm sorry! Truly, I am! I regret everything I've done!" Joe continued to plead for his life, but Bruce paid no heed to his pleas for mercy. He was resolute in exacting the justice he sought.

"This is for my family. I'm vengeance!" Bruce declared with unrelenting rage. His grip tightened around Joe's throat, and Joe struggled in vain to free himself. The air grew thin as Bruce choked the life out of Joe, delivering the retribution he had long sought, believing that revenge was a dish best served cold.

Joe's desperate struggles for breath ceased, and he succumbed to death as Bruce finally released his grip. Bruce had achieved his long-awaited revenge, and for a moment, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had gotten what he wanted, but deep within, his emotions remained as turbulent as they were before he had killed Joe. Revenge had given him a fleeting satisfaction, but it left a void in his heart and soul, one that felt even emptier and more consuming than before.

Suddenly, Jim Gordon appeared at the office door, his gun aimed squarely at Bruce. He barked out a stern command, "Hands up and stay right where you are. Try anything funny, and I'll shoot you in the head!" He illuminated the area behind Bruce with a flashlight, causing Bruce to slowly turn, meeting Jim's gaze.

As their eyes locked, Jim widened in shock at what he saw, it's Bruce Wayne. Bruce's eyes held a profound sadness, and in that moment, Jim began to lower his gun. He seemed poised to offer some words of understanding when he was interrupted by the urgent calls of his colleagues.

"Jim! Any idea what's going on in there?" His friends shouted from the hallway.

Still focused on Bruce, Jim shouted back, "Still figuring it out!" However, when he turned his attention back to where Bruce had stood, the enigmatic figure had vanished into thin air, leaving Jim to let out a frustrated sigh. "Great..."

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Author note

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