Story [Batman] Behind the Cape and Cowl (Dear Diary Challenge 2009) - Updated 1/20/09

Title: Behind the Cape and Cowl
Author: Reynar_Tedros
Summary: Entries into Bruce Wayne's personal diary explore the many facets of his life as the billionaire owner of Wayne Enterprises and his nighttime quests as Gotham City's dark knight, Batman.
Other: Special thanks to Bob Kane for creating such a rich mythology to enjoy and work with, to the folks at TheForce.Net for allowing me to host this story, to the many users who help me with my writing, and to the readers who give me the motivation to continue.

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[blockquote][u][b]Entry One[/b]
[i]January 10th, 2009[/i][/u]

[i]Dear Diary,

I am finally home. It is difficult to explain what I'm feeling as I write this. It's a combination of things, really. I feel almost as if all these emotions inside are battling for control. As if I myself am fighting for control.

The press was all over me when I arrived at the airport earlier this morning. The camera flashes were blinding, microphones being held up to my face at every possible angle. Reporters were fighting over the first word. The truth. I'd never experienced anything like it, and frankly, I'd like to never have to again.

Apparently rumors had circulated that I had run away with a foreign princess. At least, that seemed to be the main focus. There were others, of course. Some people even thought I'd been killed or died from some terrible illness. Everyone wanted to know what had happened, but they did not receive the truth.

Ever since the death of my parents at the hands of a thief when I was just a boy, all the way to the time I left my home for seven years, I was a young man searching for a purpose. My parents were gone, and I was left in the care of my butler, Alfred Pennyworth, my father's best friend. He has done well taking care of me, but I can only wonder how different my life would be had my parents and I not walked through that alley all those years ago. But this is the life I have been faced with, and this is the life I shall accept.

For the past seven years, I have been an inmate at a prison in a small country in South Asia called Bhutan. I lived life as a thief there, attempting to understand the criminal mind. After a few months of deciding when the time was right, I was captured and thrown into the law's custody. It was in this prison where I met a man who taught me many forms of martial arts. To this day, I do not know his name, but I am indebted to him forever. He died about five years into my sentence, and from that point on, I tested myself with the other inmates there, pushing myself to the highest conditions possible. Over time, the fights became less and less challenging. I could take down ten men at once with ease, when all ten of them were trained Bhutanese officers. And so I made my escape.

And now here I sit, writing this to you from the comfort of my own home. I do not know who you are, but I know there is a reason you have come into possession of this diary. I can only hope that further entries will give you a better insight to who I am, and why I have chosen the path set before me.

Sincerely,
Bruce Wayne[/i][/blockquote]

 

Very cool start!! I'm looking forward to reading more

 

Your words provided a thoroughly enjoyable and intriguing introduction. I would appreciate it, if you could PM me, when or if you continue.

 

A promising beginning and certainly a wide-array of possible elements to draw from the Batman universe. I would love to be added to your PM list for future installments

 

nice beginning reynar, i definitely look forward to this look into batman's mind. very apt title, BTW.

PM's would be very appreciated.

:snoopy

 

Thanks, everyone. The comments are much appreciated.

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[blockquote][u][b]Entry Two[/b]
[i]February 7th, 2009[/i][/u]

[i]Dear Diary,

It has been nearly a month since I returned to Gotham after seven years in Asia, and the process of becoming reacquainted with the city has been interesting, to say the least. It's a lot like seeing something for the first time since childhood, something you remember being very large and intimidating, but is now small, and you wonder, then, how small you yourself must have been at that time. And you miss it.

Returning to a bustling metropolis after nearly a decade in a poor, secluded country isn't as simple as it sounds. This country seems to change exponentially in a short period of time, and it has taken some getting used to. The new Lamborghinis are stunningly beautiful. I just bought myself a grey Murcielago last week, and she practically glides on the road. And why do they still call cell phones cell phones? It seems like I do everything on my new phone [/i]but[i] talk to people.

Wayne Enterprises has been faring well over the past decade. Lucius Fox, a man my father respected and the man I left in charge of the company, knows his stuff. It has gotten to the point where all I have to do is pay the bills, nothing more. He takes care of the business side of things, and I am grateful to him for alleviating such a burden.

But not everything has followed a path of prosperity. What was once bad with Gotham has now become much, much worse. You can't walk down the street and feel completely safe, with the exception of a few residential areas on the northside of town. Too many crooks and rapists, most of whom wear badges. Prostitutes line the corners, turning tricks for a hundred bucks a pop. Drug dealers are doing great business, and their clientele seem to be growing younger and younger. All of this will change soon.

I have been continuing my training ever since I returned. Alfred tells me I should take it easy whenever I enter the manor with scrapes and bruises dotted along my skin, but I have no time for that. Taking it easy is what sank this city into despair in the first place.

I visited my parents' grave today, and added to their growing collection of flowers. I kneeled in front of them. The grass was cold and moist from the rain yesterday. I told them about my first month back. They're good listeners. I prayed to them, kissed the tombstone softly, and left.

And now I sit, ready for what is to come. The time for preparation has passed. Tonight is the night I embark upon my quest. The leeches that infest Gotham City will tremble before me.

Sincerely,
Bruce Wayne[/i][/blockquote]

 

It has been nearly a month since I returned to Gotham after seven years in Asia, and the process of becoming reacquainted with the city has been interesting, to say the least. It's a lot like seeing something for the first time since childhood, something you remember being very large and intimidating, but is now small, and you wonder, then, how small you yourself must have been at that time. And you miss it.

that is one of the better paragraphs i've read in a while. thought provoking, and extremely true. i've had that feeling on a number of times... makes me question my current perspective, and how it will change in the next twenty years.

great job man, keep up the good work.

:snoopy

 

Trimaj touched on the best paragraph, it's true.

You've also done an interesting job of describing a city that Batman feels needs him. I've always liked that effect of Batman world, Gotham becomes almost a character in herself. You captured that very nicely!

Look forward to more!

 

Entry Two was a good piece. You captured Bruce?s regret phenomenally in the initial paragraphs. But, I think the most touching part of this, is the second to last paragraph. In my eyes, Bruce Wayne was always a calculating man who has trouble expressing emotion, and not much more. That?s what I see in the movies with Christian Bale, especially. The way you stripped him of his wealth, and placed him in a lifelike situation, brings to him an entirely different light.

 

Thanks for the great comments, guys. They make my days.

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[blockquote][u][b]Entry Three[/b]
[i]February 7th, 2009[/i][/u]

[i]Dear Diary,

I sit now, writing to you in the study of my father, in what is possibly the worst physical condition I have ever been in.

The night began with me registering at a nearby hotel to provide an alibi for my late night exploits. I got a room on the first floor, despite the hostess' desire to give me a suite. Apparently she knew I could afford it. After I entered the room, I changed into my street clothes and snuck out the window so that no one would see me leave the hotel. I got in the rental car I obtained earlier and pulled a set of makeup I had previously received from a friend who has worked on a few Basil Karlo movies out of the glove box. I applied some to my face, and gave myself a large scar that descended from my right eyebrow across the bridge of my nose to my left cheek, and pulled a black hoodie over my head. I looked like a regular street thug, and could hardly recognize myself in the car's rearview mirror.

I made my way to the Red Light District in south Gotham. I'd been there several times since my return home. It was a sick sanctuary for all things illegal. Drugs, prostitution, you name it. It was a perfect target. I parked my car a block away and walked down the sidewalk, past a couple dealers and an adult theater. I saw a young girl, couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. Her name was Holly. She gave me an offer. Fifteen dollars for fifteen minutes, twenty-five for a half hour. I took the half hour. I'd planned to let her lead me to a room and then explain to her the situation she was in, and what I was going to do about it. Like Robert De Niro did to Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver. She was young, this was no life for her.

But a pimp had seen us, and he quickly interjected. He thought I was vice. There was no explaining to him that I wasn't, and a fight followed. I was foolish to think it would be between only me and him. I managed to knock him out, and an extremely agile woman, most likely a dominatrix, interjected. I had dodged a kick only to feel a sharp pain in my right thigh. Holly had stabbed me, and just at the time that I heard sirens approaching from around the corner. It was all going wrong. I tried to run, to hide. I couldn't be caught. My leg was hurting like hell, and still is as I write. Surely the cops would not shoot at me. But then again, this is Gotham City.

I took a bullet to the side. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up in the backseat of a squad car headed downtown. I managed to free myself from the handcuffs, and the driver swerved and the car flipped into a ditch. I climbed out of the back window. The officers were unconscious and bloody. I prayed they weren't dead. I sat down next to the driver's door and kicked the window in. The glass shattered with little resistance, and I could hear gasoline leaking onto the grass. I heard a couple groans, and I managed to pull them both out and dragged them a safe distance from the car just before it exploded in flames. The blast sent me back a few yards. My head was throbbing like mad. I made the mistake of putting my hand to the bullet wound in my side. It hurt like hell, and I could see a distinct dark red liquid covering my fingers.

Thanks to what must have been one brave man in a pick-up, I managed to get home. I had him drop me off several blocks from the Manor at a wealthy apartment complex, and I miraculously made the rest of the trip on foot. And here I am, staring at the bell that will summon Alfred should I ring it. My entire body is pulsating with pain, but I feel I must share my thoughts now, for I fear I may not remember very much of this unforgettable night. My first attempt was foiled. It descended into disaster. I am broken, bruised, and bloody, and have nothing to show for it. Something was wrong. Something was missing. I need... something. Fear. I need fear. I wasn't frightening enough. The one thing that can make people respect you is fear. But what? Wha

 

again, very, very nicely done reynar. you have gotten into bruce waynes head very well, and seeing the progression through these three posts is great.

i liked the paragraph where he figured out what he was missing, and also the fact that he didn't call alfred until he had gotten his thoughts down. batman all over there.

:snoopy

 

I like seeing your take on the "Year One" formula...pretty snazzy job. Well-written, as is usual with you fics; you don't really muck about with stuff, and it's good to see someone avoid that sort of stuff, really. Pretty refreshing. It's neat seeing that Rorschach-style curtness, but you manage to balance it so that Bruce isn't a sociopath.

My one criticism is as constructive as possible - Bruce is sounding very formal when he's essentially writing to himself.