Batman: Building a Legend #2

[spiritofvengeance]

Batman: Building a Legend #2
Once and Future Detectives

Written By: Daniel Dyer
Edited By: Mike Bowen


The Manor had become a somber place. Master Bruce, once so full of joy and life, had now taken to locking himself in the Manor’s library, studying. His grades in school, however, hadn’t shown this. True enough, the young master has excelled in the maths and sciences, yet in English and the arts he is just above failing. One wonders what he was up to? It wasn’t until the Master was nearly entering High School that I learned the truth.

“I must protest, Master Bruce,” Alfred stated while following Bruce down the master staircase of Wayne Manor.

“I made up my mind, Alfred. He was the best.”

“Yes, but I fail to see how such a person could possibly help in your education, Sir.”

“Consider it extracurricular, Alfred.”

“Master Bruce, you will stop right now and explain yourself this instant!”

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks. He had never heard Alfred raise his voice. Not once. The boy turned and looked at his loyal and dedicated butler... his guardian.

“Alfred,” he starts, “I made a choice long ago. A vow. One I kept to myself. Mom and Dad... they did so much good for this city. A gun ended all the good they would ever do in the future. My vow... my promise was to never just stand by and allow it to happen again.”

As I watched the Master turn and leave out the door, I was awestruck. Did the Master mean what it appeared it did? Did he truly want to learn from an out of work, washed up, drunk PI to become a detective himself. To take the law unto himself and learn from this... Sam Bradley?

****

[spiritofvengeance]

It was a hot August day in the city. I had just finished off my last bottle of gin. You can say it, I was a drunk. I know it now and I knew it back then. My name’s Sam Bradley. At one time I was a bright, young detective. One of the best. There was no crime I couldn’t solve. Though, that was before a lifetime of hardness. The life of a private eye was not a glamorous one. Not like in the movies with hot “dames” and the bad guys always “taking the fall”. No, it didn’t matter how good I was, sometimes the bad guys won.
So, like I said, I had finished my last bottle of gin when he walked in...

“Mr. Sam Bradley?” Bruce asks as he walks in. Bruce, however looks different. He appears to be in his early 20's. Taller, and a bit bulkier.

“Who wants to know?”

“Jon Hawke.” Bruce looks around the office, spotting week old pizza boxes and beer bottles covering the office and wonders if Sam was the right person for the job. “I’d... like to hire you for a job?”

“What kinda job?” Sam asks as he gets up on wobbly feet.

“A teaching job, Sir.”

Sam gave “Jon” an odd look and set down, then replied, “If ya want a teacher, go back to school. I’m not into babysitting rich boys, ‘Mr.’ Wayne.”

Bruce grinned, knowing then that he had the right man for the job.

“How did you know?”

“Not hard to figure out. The way you talk. Your posture.”

Bruce takes note of what he’ll need to change next time. “Clues of my wealth, but not my identity.”

“Ya kiddin’, kid? Bruce Wayne is Gotham’s favorite son. He’s also one of Gotham’s weirdest. Ever since yer folks... ever since what happened. Chances are, outta all them rich society types, only Bruce Wayne would want to hire a has-been like me.”

Bruce also ponders this, considering ways to change his image.

“Mr. Bradley, you’re perfect.”

“I said, no deal...”

And Bruce pulls out a wad of cash. “For a day’s work.” Bruce tosses it to Sam. “Hundreds, Mr. Bradley, if you teach me... and keep it a secret.”

Well, who was I to say no to a billionaire, right?

****

[spiritofvengeance]

“I’m really at a loss as to what to do, Miss Thompkins.”

“Alfred, I won’t tell you again. It’s Leslie,” she said as she sipped her tea. “Now, Bruce... I’m sure it’s nothing. The loss of his parents at such a young age is surely traumatizing.”

“Mi... Leslie, I believe he may think about taking matters into his own hands. He talked about a vow to never stand by and let something like what happened to him happen again.”

“He... couldn’t. After all this time?”

“I believe so. He wants revenge...”

“This isn’t about revenge,” stated Bruce as he entered the room. “I want to spare others my pain. The scum that took my parents is gone. This isn’t about my parents’ killer, it only started with him.”

“Bruce, you can’t be serious,” Leslie stated.

“I know your views on violence, Leslie, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil.”

Bruce walked out, leaving the two people who cared about him most worried, not only for his well being, but for his sanity as well.

****

[spiritofvengeance]

For the next few weeks the kid and I would go over crime scene photos, discussing the clues to be seen. We’d discuss motive and purpose. Aliases and contacts. He picked it up quickly. Almost as if he had a hunger for solving mysteries. Like he needed to.

“Tell me what you see?” asked Sam as he stood in the middle of a neat and tidy room. “Anything out of place?”

Bruce said nothing but looks around the room. “The window is ajar,” he said, walking over to it.

As Bruce was about to open the window, Sam halted him. “No, don’t touch. Fingerprints.”

Bruce nodded and began surveying the rest of the room. “A half-empty wine glass.”

“The glass is always half-empty with you, huh, Bruce?"

“We know it doesn’t belong to you,” Bruce said seriously. “It’d be all empty, if it was yours.”

Sam countered, “Waste not, want not.”'

“Lipstick,” Bruce stated, looking closer at the glass.

“Anything else?”

Bruce put the glass down and gets down, on the floor. “Ashes.”

“Very good, Bruce.”

****

[spiritofvengeance]

After my little mock crime scene investigation, I decided the young, would-be detective should learn how to truly disguise himself, but I figured he should start an identity he could grow into.

“Find the marble,” said a dark haired boy, in raggedy clothes, as he lifted up a cup over a marble.

“I’ll try, son,” a man drops a 10 in the boy’s hat.

The boy put a match in his mouth as he covered the marble with a cup. The boy began moving the cups at a rapid pace.
When the cups came to a stop the man pointed and said, “That one.”

The boy lifted the cup to reveal no marble.

“Pretty impressive, kid. Say, what’s your name?”

“Me friends call me ‘Matches’. ‘Matches’ Malone.”

****

[spiritofvengeance]

Drakon stood on a neighboring rooftop, watching the boy. Drakon wonders why the act? Drakon doesn’t understand. Shouldn’t the one the prophesy speak of be learning the martial arts? Drakon has now observed the boy for 6 years. Drakon has not seen the boy throw a punch. How can this Bruce Wayne possibly be the chosen?

“Great and high Ra’s Al Ghul,” Drakon managed to get out into his communicator, “I don’t understand. It has been 6 years. We were so sure he was the one.”

“He is the one, Drakon. The child is building himself. I can see. Studying the criminal fraternity. Studying those who’s lives it was to stop that fraternity. For one to build his body, one must first build his mind.”

Drakon started to speak but stopped himself and simply said, “Yes, m’lord.”

The line went dead and Drakon then begins to wonder if the high and mighty Ra’s Al Ghul is in his right mind.

To Be Continued...