5: Into the wild

Bang! Bang!

The deafening gunshots reverberated through the dimly lit training facility, each shot echoing the extraordinary skill of the gunman. He fired with unwavering precision, and every bullet found its designated target without fail. The metallic clang of rounds hitting bullseyes marked the relentless progress of his training.

The instructor could only stand in awe as he watched his pupil demonstrate his incredible aptitude for firearms. "Mr. Wayne," the instructor began, his voice tinged with a mixture of astonishment and admiration, "I've trained countless individuals in my career, but a talent like yours is a rarity—a once-in-a-century prodigy."

Bruce's eyes, sharp and determined, locked onto his instructor's gaze. "I appreciate the compliment," he replied with a modest tone. "I believe that all these years of hard work have indeed paid off, and perhaps there's a touch of talent in the mix as well."

The instructor nodded, his admiration for Bruce's dedication unwavering. "Your potential goes beyond mere talent, Mr Wayne. It's your commitment that sets you apart. You have a natural aptitude for combat that is nothing short of extraordinary."

To which he received a dismissive grunt from bruce who then moved on to the next set of targets silently.

Bruce's POV

As I continued to focus on my shooting, I couldn't help but ponder the instructor's praise. Modesty had always been a trait I admired and tried to embody, but there were moments when even I had to acknowledge the truth. The fact was, I excelled in all things related to combat to a degree that often left me in awe of my own capabilities.

Throughout the years, I had devoted myself to the pursuit of excellence, and it showed in my extensive combat knowledge. I had trained with numerous instructors, each an expert in their respective fields, only to find myself consistently outshining them. It wasn't arrogance but rather an acknowledgment of my absurd talent.

I had delved into various martial arts, mastering techniques from Karate's powerful strikes to the artful throws of Judo, the brutal efficiency of Krav Maga, and the intricate ground game of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I was a sponge, absorbing knowledge and making it my own. But martial arts weren't the only focus of my training. I had also embraced acrobatics to enhance my agility and flexibility, and I had honed my skills in marksmanship and shooting. With every discipline I undertook, I surpassed my mentors and trainers, pushing the boundaries of my physical and mental capabilities.

The training facility was where I found my sanctuary, a place where I could push myself beyond my limits, inching closer to the realization of my goal every single day.

The relentless training had left its mark on my body, transforming it into an epitome of strength and agility. Standing at a formidable height of 6'3", I had grown taller and broader through the years. My shoulders had widened, giving me a commanding presence in any room I entered. The lithe and lean build of my youth had evolved into a finely chiseled physique, marked by defined muscles that spoke of tireless effort.

Every fiber of my being had been honed to perfection, and I had acquired a level of physical fitness that was unmatched. My endurance was unwavering, my reflexes lightning-quick, and my speed, exceptional. I could seamlessly transition from a powerful offensive stance to a graceful evasive maneuver, a testament to the countless hours spent mastering acrobatics and martial arts.

The combat training had not only sculpted my physique but also fostered an innate sense of discipline and control. The discipline I maintained in my training had seeped into every aspect of my life, enabling me to exhibit unwavering control over my emotions and actions.

My relentless training had extended beyond the confines of the Wayne mansion and well into the public eye. I had taken part in several state-level MMA and boxing tournaments, each a proving ground for my combat skills. To the surprise of many, I had emerged victorious in every single one of them.

The news had caught wind of the Wayne heir's prowess in the ring, and for a time, I was the subject of headlines. The public had marveled at how the billionaire's son excelled in a gritty and demanding sport like boxing. My victories had been celebrated, and there was an air of fascination surrounding my unorthodox journey.

I wasn't surprised that my accomplishments had made headlines. It seemed that even the smallest of my actions could stir public curiosity, my every move analyzed and scrutinized. But I had grown accustomed to the attention.

Participating in these tournaments had been more than just a pursuit of combat skill. I yearned to test myself against real opponents, to face the unpredictable nature of human combat. But as I stood in the ring, gloved fists raised, I realized that these matches were still a controlled environment. There was no real fear of death, no true danger to drive me to my fullest potential.

While my instructors pushed me to my limits, there was always that boundary, that safety net. I had never known the feeling of actual mortal peril in these contests, and that realization weighed heavily on me. The absence of genuine fear had hindered my progress, and I was determined to remedy that.

My relentless shooting continued for a few moments longer before I finally lowered the firearm. As the deafening echoes of gunfire began to fade, I stepped away from the firing range, unholstering the gun and placing it down on a nearby table. Then I turned to face my instructor.

With a sense of finality in my voice, I stated, "It seems my need for your services has come to an end. Your fees will be delivered to you, and I thank you for your service. I appreciate your guidance throughout these years." 

He nodded in understanding, recognizing that I had outgrown his training. With a respectful and slightly solemn tone, he replied, "It has been an honor to train you, Mr Wayne. You have grown into a true master of your craft."

But there was one more matter to address. I continued, "Before you leave, there's something I believe it's time for you to fulfill. I hope you haven't forgotten about our deal"

The instructor nodded, acknowledging the decision. "Ah, yes, the deal," he remarked, recalling the deal. He then looked at me with a hint of concern in his eyes and asked, "Are you sure about this, Mr. Wayne? It's a level of danger and uncertainty you've never been exposed to."

I met his gaze, my own unwavering. "That's exactly what I want," I replied, my determination clear.

The instructor agreed, albeit with a touch of apprehension. "Very well, meet me at 'The Smoky Shadows' at 11, and disguise yourself. If anyone were to spot Bruce Wayne in such a place, all hell would break loose."

I nodded in agreement, acknowledging the seriousness of the situation. The instructor left, leaving me with my thoughts.

Before long, Alfred entered the room. He spoke with his usual grace, "Master Wayne, your bath is prepared, and dinner will be served shortly. Is there anything else you require?"

"No, thank you, Alfred," I replied. "I'll be out for the night."

Alfred's expression remained unchanged, "Very well, sir. Do take care, and if you ever require assistance, you know where to find me." 

As the evening fell, I completed my preparations for the night. My reflection in the mirror showed a face hidden beneath a carefully constructed disguise— I donned a pair of special contact lenses that altered the color of my eyes, veiling the familiar blue with a rich shade of brown. The change was remarkable, making them almost unrecognizable. Next came a fake beard and a meticulously crafted wig that transformed my clean-shaven face and well-groomed hair into the appearance of a rugged, middle-aged man. Most people would have a hard time recognizing me even without the disguise . As I had chosen to remain secluded within the Wayne Manor for the past year, limiting my public appearances. As a result, the pictures and images of me circulating in the public eye were outdated. The advantage of anonymity was on my side, The less attention I drew to myself, the more efficient my mission would be.

My attire for the night was practical and functional, designed for maneuverability and combat. I wore a dark, moisture-wicking turtleneck that clung to my body, allowing me to move freely while keeping me dry. A pair of fitted, flexible cargo pants provided ample pocket space for any tools I might need.

On my feet were lightweight, all-terrain sneakers that allowed for stealthy movement and comfort. Over this, I adorned a loose, dark hoodie that concealed my frame, and I zipped it up to obscure my identity further. A well-worn leather jacket completed the ensemble, adding an extra layer of protection.

My utility belt, a creation of my own, held an assortment of tools and devices. It was far from high-tech but boasted practicality. Among its contents were a pocket knife for emergency situations, an extendable baton that could easily be concealed, and a set of smoke grenades for when I needed to make a quick exit.

With my disguise complete and utility belt secured, I made my way to the garage, where my car awaited. The sleek, black vehicle was unassuming and perfectly suited for the night's endeavor. I slid into the driver's seat, the engine coming to life with a subdued growl.

I drove through the labyrinthine streets, heading toward the designated bar where I would meet my contact. The city's skyline loomed in the distance, its towering structures casting long shadows. The Wayne estate had been my sanctuary, but now, I was stepping beyond its protective walls to face some real challenge.

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