#but I'm trying something steph suggested because well my view was narrow and causing me problems

[jmkitsune]

So like last night I found a project I started back in like November/December last year, I wanted to “novelize” the batman arkham games while...tweaking the story a bit to flow better in some places (I love the series over all but there were parts I felt...needed help)

so I guess that counts as a fan fiction

I was told a few weeks ago by steph when I was having issues with my views on my writing ability that I need to not make some BIG project but I need to try something...smaller, I guess this would count maybe

so I’m just gonna put the first section I wrote below the cut

I haven’t finished the project, I got like 140ish pages but yea

I’m stating this AGAIN because I know SOMEONE will say it if this is read- YES I did try to novelize/write the Arkham Game series as a prose vs a script so no its not some “you’re ripping off the games” 

...that was the point, I wanted to see if I could take it and retell it in this format and see if it came out as good.

The last will and testament of the deceased, Thomas Wayne: In the event of my death, I hereby declare that all my worldly possessions pass to my son, Bruce Wayne. Bruce, I ask that you honor the Wayne family legacy, and commit yourself to the improvement of Gotham City, its institutions, and its citizens. Please, be strong. You are young, but destined for great things. Make the most of your opportunities. Use them to give back to a city that has given us so much, to change the lives of millions of people. Do not be frivolous with this wealth. Please, do not waste it all on fast cars, and outrageous clothes, and the pursuit of a destructive lifestyle. Invest in Gotham. Treat its people like family. Watch over them and use this money to safeguard them from forces beyond their control. My deepest regret is I will not see you grow into the good man I know you will become. And finally, my son, I ask that you never abandon this city to fate. We have lived through dark days, and no doubt there are more to come. But it is the good and great men who stand up for Gotham when others turn and run. In death, I will love you forever. Your father, Thomas."

—Thomas Wayne

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The cave was dark, damp and cold which was normal. However there was a bitter extra coldness tonight, colder than most nights, it was Christmas eve and the sun had been set for hours now, the snow outside had been falling for hours. As the elevator carrying it's occupant reached the bottom and opened its doors, a large collection of screeches and flapping echoed throughout the cavernous space. The colony of bats screamed as this person disturbed their slumber and awoken them with his large machinery. They tore through the cave, flying every which way until after a few moments descending deeper into the depths of the cave far from sight and sound. Only echoes of their cries and flapping remained for a short time. The occupant stepped out of the elevator with purpose, a stern and almost rage filled expression on his face. The height of his persona felt increased only by the shadow he cast as he strut through the tunnels towards a much larger, open cave filled with lights and equipment. The far side of the cave was a large waterfall, pouring down and blocking an opening in and out of the system that this man had made his base of operations. The large space was filled with computers and machinery on one floor; and in the center, a platform with a black as night flying craft.

The body suit on the man covered him from neck to toe. Made of a tight weave that protected his body from the cold that filled the cave and the outside as well, he also wore heavy armored boots. This man stood 6'0 and was built sturdy. Not massive but stocky enough that you knew he could throw a punch, though outside this dark cave he never gave the impression of that. An angry man, he never seemed to do anything about his anger in public. He couldn't, he had an image to maintain.

Bruce Wayne made his way to the series of monitors and computers, patching into the local news stations and the Police radio bandwidth. As the different frequencies and channels came into focus one monitor displayed News crews attending a press conference at Black Gate Penitentiary. A decorated officer on the screen at the podium was heard mid speech.

"...knowing tonight, we put to rest one of Gotham's most heinous and relentless killers of our time- Julian Gregory Day."

One of the reporters in the crowd spoke next to the assessment.

"Commissioner Loeb!, Commissioner Loeb – any comment on rumors circulating that it wasn't actually the GCPD who found, apprehended and delivered Mr. Day to custody?" He asked, his voice a little evident of the cold weather over at Blackgate, but strong and convicted in this line of questioning none the less. At this the Commissioner left the podium and a man in his early to mid thirties stepping up to replace him, his glasses fogging a bit from the temperature, the man had auburn hair and signs of facial hair forming on his face. He wore a GCPD jacket over a Policeman's uniform and bullet proof vest, he must have been on assignment before arriving or he felt better to prepare for anything tonight at Blackgate.

"There is no such thing as a bat-man!" Captain James Gordon spat in response to the question. His hand pointing to enunciate each syllable for the crowd. Which of course got a buzz from the reporters. All of them shouting Captain Gordon, over and over trying to garner his attention to ask follow up questions. Camera flashes created a strobe effect on the screen as Bruce half paid attention while looking over at another screen and filtering the sound to that monitor instead of the news.

"All Units, all units, Code 10 at Blackgate Prison! Communication is Down. Possible 2-11." A woman's voice filtered through on the Police Scanner. Behind Bruce, an older man, dressed in a nicely pressed tuxedo, carrying a dome covered silver dinner tray quietly entered the cave and watched and listened to the sight before him as he made his way to a table where he softly lay the dinner tray carefully next to a brass framed photo. A black and white family photo of a slightly middle aged man, his beautiful wife and young son. The three looked happy, and the young boy's smile was ear to ear, teeth shining on his face and a sense of prosperity came from the photo as it reflected off the surface of the tray next to it. The older man gazed for a half second at the photo before returning his attention to his master. Alfred Pennyworth, never too thrilled with Bruce's decisions to take up this crusade, gave his undying support regardless because he had served this family for as long as he had. Raising Master Wayne since his parents' death Alfred couldn't help but wonder what the late Thomas and Martha would think of their boy tonight.

Gone was that smiling happy boy, and replaced by a hurt and angry young man. At 28 time had barely tempered his scars. Only inflamed them. Taking a multi year journey around the world, learning many forms of Asian martial arts. Bruce would travel to China, Japan, Thailand, eventually winding up in Korea. In North Korea he found a secret Korean castle, where he would meet the Martial arts Master: Kirigi. The master would take Bruce in as a servant while he trained with his other students in TokagureRyu and other Shinobi.

Knowing an art similar to Japanese Ninjutsu, Kirigi trained Bruce in the ways of the shadow warrior. Learning how to use the shadows, devoting himself to a single ideal and in that devotion learn patience, develop agility, master deception, partake in theatrics and utilize the power to fight 600 men. But most of all Kirigi instructed Wayne in the method of using fear. Two years ago Bruce had returned from this trip and filled in Alfred of his success under Kirigi and how this meant he could begin his crusade to save Gotham. It was then he took up the cowl as Batman.

"Delta 6-4 Enroute" a mans voice broke Alfred's concentration on those memories, reminding him that Master Wayne needed him in the now, tonight was a sordid one. Being Christmas Eve, Alfred had hoped that Bruce would stay in tonight, be a normal billionaire playboy for the cameras on Christmas, however for another year, he shooed away reporters wanting interviews with the young rich industrialist and instead took up his only focus- the mission.

"Dispatch 5-9. Confirm code 10- this a break out?" Another man came through the radio.

"Suspect identified as Black Mask. Repeat: Code 10 suspect is Black Mask. All Units at Blackgate. Code 6 Code 6. Commissioner Loeb being held captive. Repeat. Commissioner is 701." The woman's voice repeated with urgency. On one of the monitors in front of Bruce a file had opened and revealed many pictures of a man in a white pinstriped suit wearing a black skull mask, all with information filtering in along with the photos. Bruce had collected as much information on this man as he could. Black Mask- the alias for a one Roman Sionis. Alfred's gaze followed as Bruce crossed the space from his computers to a spot on the platform they stood on as it raised from the floor, a glass case with metal framing. Inside spun something Alfred had grown accustomed to seeing, and sometimes repairing when Master Wayne was too overzealous on his night's out. The tailored suit of the vigilante. The mantle Bruce claimed after returning home from his trip abroad. The mask he wore to enact his mission to save and protect Gotham, his home.

The Batsuit was black and gray, an armored and caped body armor he could wear to hide his face and protect himself from the scourge of Gotham's dark underbelly. Bulletproof, knife-proof, however the suit did lack in some flexibility leaving Bruce forced to have stiffer movements and have to be deliberate in his actions. For now it suited him well, protected him and struck fear in those who saw it before he beat them into unconsciousness. Designed to withstand or significantly reduce the impact of bullets, the armor up til this point has allowed Batman to barely flinch when shot, causing a psychological strike in those attacking him, fearing that the urban myth that was batman- was impervious to bullets.

Suiting up, and going from the public figure of Bruce Wayne to the legend that was spreading in the city. The enigmatic shadow that struck out and launched a violent onslaught on those who would dare commit crimes in the city. Someone who was the reason thugs collective breathed sighs of relief upon the rising of the sun each morning. Batman. Gathering his equipment as well, a grappling hook gun, a collection of shuriken that were in the shape of bats, and other assorted equipment donned his large belt at his waist. When he was fully equipped with his gadgets and ready to go, he slowly reached back into the container where his suit was housed to lift the cowl and bring it to his face. Sliding it down and over Bruce Wayne's profile snuffing him out for the night. Awakening the other- the Batman to his next patrol. The night had begun and Batman was needed.

The large craft in the center of the cave roared to life as Batman pressed a series of keys on one of his gauntlets. Lifting itself from the ground with loud engines the VTOL hovered in wait for it's pilot to embark them in their starry night flight across the Gotham skyline. Batman marched towards it, his cape billowing behind him wildly as the engine's caused a powerful draft from their force. Batman could just barely make out Alfred's voice behind him.

"You do realize it is Christmas Eve, sir?" The butler called, his arms out and making a hopeful gesture that he could assuage the Bat into taking the night off. However this hope dashed as Batman climbed into the control seat of the jet and rose into the craft, doing last moment system checks of his vehicle. Alfred resigned his hopes and made his way across the platforms to retrieve the dinner tray he had originally came down to the cave with. Knowing he'd better leave it upstairs in the kitchen so that if Master Wayne returned hungry he could heat up his dinner. Alfred Pennyworth would die on the spot the day he served anyone a cold Christmas Eve dinner.

The Batwing rose higher in the cave, it's wings folding down, extending to their full length in readiness to exit it's lair, Batman inside gripped the controls tightly and focused his vision on the horizon line as the Batwing faced the waterfall and screamed out of the cave at an intense high speed. The waterfall barely breaking under the Batwing's trespassing on it's path downward. Batman piloted his craft at top speed to reach Blackgate as soon as possible.