The Dark Side of Bruce Wayne

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Twenty-two years of dark horror…Bruce Wayne, the boy whose parents were murdered in cold blood, reason unknown. On that night, Wayne was temporarily separated from his parents, but little did he know that the next image he’d remember of them was their cold and gentle bodies on the hard concrete covered in blood. The only thing Wayne had found was a note.
	33-year-old Bruce Wayne had spent the majority of his life mentally ill. He sat in his room, cleaned and almost perfectly sanitized, he was staring at the note that was on his mother’s body so long ago. It flooded him with memories that depressed him. 
	“Wayne, breakfast is waiting,” Doctor O’Neill peaked into Wayne’s quarters. 
	Wayne grunted. He wasn’t only affected mentally from his parents’ deaths, but socially. But he was fond of O’Neill and gave him the nickname “Joker”, because he had a seemingly permanent smile.
	As Wayne and O’Neill walked through the door, the pleasant aroma of maple syrup rushed through their noses. Wayne loved pancakes. Doctor O’Neill and his colleague, Ben, which Wayne had appropriately named “Riddler” because of his cheesy riddles he’d tell, observed him as he ate. 
	“Ben, can I talk to you?” O’Neill whispered so Wayne wouldn’t hear.
	“Go on,” he replied.
	O’Neill continued, “It’s miraculous to see Wayne and how he has progressed mentally and socially.”
	“Yeah, but do you think he’ll ever get to go outside?” replied Ben.
	“I hope, because it’d be inspirational.”
	Ben turns toward Wayne,” Hey Wayne, what’s the building with the most stories?”
	Wayne looks up and glares, “Surely you can do better than a library?”
	Ben lit up, “That’s my man!”
	“Well look at that, breakfast is over.” O’Neill seemed disappointed.
	Wayne made his way down the hall, eventually reaching his quarters. He sees one of the few guards of the facility in his room.
	“You’re wanted at the visitation window again,” the guard grumbled.
	Wayne was on his way to the visitor’s window. Once he finally made it, he sat down at the glass partition. It was Commissioner Gordon. Wayne couldn’t figure out why Gordon was visiting him so frequently. 
	“Wayne, sit down, we have a lot to discuss,” Gordon stated in a rough tone.
	Wayne replied with an uneasy tone, “We both have a mutual thought Gordon, my parents died and the killer is gone.”
	“Well, look, we finally got a lead, but we need your help,” Gordon stared at Wayne. 
	Wayne replied, “What do you need?”
	Gordon peered through the glass once more, “Look, we got this note at this police station, but the only thing not encrypted is the top, which is addressed to you specifically. You need to analyze and decrypt it.”
	“Okay, I’ll do it, but then what,” Wayne asked.
	Gordon concluded, “You’ll know what to do.” 
	Without saying another word, Gordon walked out of the building very swiftly, as if he was in a rush or in danger. Wayne made it to his room and sat down. He was fixated on the note for a long period of time. He compared the note to the one that was on his mother’s body when she and his father were killed. He noticed they were ripped from each other, meaning both notes were written by the same person at the same time. They were both well aged, but as he started to go deeper, he was interrupted. 
	“Bruce Wayne, please report to the assessment room,” the intercom echoed throughout the room.
	Wayne rushed to put the notes somewhere safe. He put them under his mattress where he’d know noone would find them. He closed the door behind him casually. He made his way down to the test room.
	“Wayne, sit please,” ordered the woman, “You are to take this test and answer these questions to the best of your ability, then return to your quarters and wait for the results.”
	What Wayne didn’t realize was that this was the ticket out in the real world, which was seemingly impossible. It was astonishing that he’d made so much progress.
	He went down and circled answers, filled in the blanks, and checked boxes. He wasn’t sure why this was so important, but he tried anyway. Once he had answered all of the questions, he then laid his pencil down and exited the room quickly so he could look at the notes once more.
	He lifted up the mattress and dug up the notes out and continued to analyze them to figure out what they meant. The note that was on his parents’ bodies said in a cold way, “I’m close to you.” The note Commissioner Gordon gave him was encrypted in code relatable to Morse. 
	Ben peaked through the doorway and stated, “Wayne, because of that evaluation, you’re ready to pack up and leave.”
	Wayne rushed to hug him, sobbing.
	“You did it man, you did it!” Ben exclaimed.
	As Wayne exited the facility with the notes in his hand, he felt the breeze of air he had long forgotten. He heard screams of joy from children playing. Everything that was so normal was now foreign. He looked down at the notes. He fell to his knees. Tears rolled down his face as he decrypted the bottom half of the note.
	Wayne entered denial because his mind couldn’t wrap around the facts.
He couldn’t accept that all of his life, the one man that had helped him cope was the true culprit. Wayne got up, his eyes as black as a bat. He made his way toward the police station to hunt down Gordon, the fraud he had always believed in.
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