Chapter One
I’m Detective Sean Thomas of the Metropolis police force. So what was I doing taking a bus all the way from the city that was like New York during the day to a city that was like New York during the night. The reason exactly was that I was fixed on finding a guy named Bruce Wayne, who had been missing for nearly seven years, ever since the death of Joe Chill (the man responsible for the death of his parents). Chill was set to testify against Carmine Falcone, a mob boss who controlled the entire city of Gotham, in exchange for an early parole. Falcone wasn’t too happy with that deal, so he had someone kill Joe Chill, much to Bruce’s displeasure.
The last time I heard about Wayne was from Rachel Dawes, the current District Attorney of Gotham, when she accompanied before he confronted Falcone one night. According to Rachel, Bruce had death on his mind, carrying a gun that he planned on killing Chill with. I wanted to ask her more, but after a while, she just couldn’t say any more. From the look in her eyes, she was truly crushed about whatever Bruce had been going through over the years that had passed after his parents’ death. Just about everyone had given up on him, going on with their lives and forgetting all about his. A man named Earle had even taken control of a company that was under his name, even going as far as to take it public.
Bruce had been declared dead by Alfred Pennyworth, the Waynes’ kind family butler, which was the main reason why everyone had moved on without him. However, I couldn’t buy that; it all just seemed too hard to believe, even if he had been gone for nearly seven years. I was fixed on solving the mystery of Bruce Wayne’s disappearance, and I had a couple of friends of mine from Sesame Street to assist me: Oscar the Grouch and Count von Count. They both loved Gotham City (Oscar loved it mostly due to its lack of happiness), so it didn’t really take much to convince them to help me out.
Instead of taking Oscar’s Sloppy Jalopy (I had to be in Gotham as soon as possible), we took a Greyhound straight from Metropolis to Gotham, getting there in less than twenty-four hours. Most of the passengers sat in the back, due to the foul smell that was growing out of Oscar’s garbage can, which he brought along with him for the trip—I can’t begin to tell you how hard it was getting both inside the bus. Along the way, we met a group of kids from a place called the Xiaolin Temple. Their names were Raimundo Pedrosa (a street-smart boy from Brazil), Kimiko Tohomiko (an attractive, high-tech focused girl from Japan), Clay Bailey (a old-fashioned cowboy from Texas), and Omi (a small orphaned boy who was cute yet rather feisty and had a head that said, “Have a nice day”). They were accompanied by their faithful shape-shifting dragon, Dojo.
These kids were actually monks-in-training whose purpose for coming to Gotham was close to ours. They had connections to Bruce Wayne as well, which helped me greatly in my case, because they actually had proof that Wayne was still alive. When we were only an hour away from the city, they began to tell me about their encounter with Bruce Wayne in the Himalayan Mountains, where he was on an important quest….
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Omi, Kimiko, Raimundo, and Clay were riding over the skies of the Himalayans on Dojo, searching for a Shen Gong Wu—artifacts that possess great magical powers—that was supposed to be around that area. They had been flying over the colossal mountains for several minutes, and they were each quickly beginning to grow impatient. That was until Kimiko spotted a man in a field of blue poppies, picking one of them up off the ground.
“Hey,” Kimiko uttered. “Maybe that guy can help us find our Shen Gong Wu.”
“Are you kiddin’?” Raimundo said. “How will he know what our Shen Gong Wu look like? He doesn’t know what a Shen Gong Wu is!”
“If we show him what it looks like on the ancient scroll, then I am sure he will assist us in our mission.” Omi stated.
“Sounds alright to me.” Clay said, and Raimundo just scoffed at the notion, believing it to be far more of a waste of time than flying through the clouds in the chilly wind. Dojo, who was beginning to develop a bit of a chill, turned and flew towards the poppy field. The mini-monks bundled themselves up in their warm coats, as the cold wind breezed past them. When they finally made it to the ground, they were greeted by an exhausted, freezing, and hungry Bruce Wayne, who looked as if he was on the verge of death.
“Greetings, sir.” Omi said. “We are sorry to bother you at this time, but we are searching for an artifact that is…”
“I can’t help you!” Wayne snapped, with a very hoarse voice. “No one will help me. No one will help anybody.” The monks-in-training just stared blankly at Bruce, wondering if he had already lost his mind. Raimundo was just about ready to get back on Dojo and head off, but Kimiko grabbed him by the back of his pants and held him back.
“Oh, come on!” Raimundo yelled. “This guy’s already two French Fries sort of a
Burger King Kids Meal!”
“He has fries from a king of burgers?” Omi questioned, totally obviously to the figure of speech that Raimundo had used.
“The point is that he can’t help us. He’s far gone as it is.” Raimundo said. “I’d give him two hours before he finally keels over.” Wayne, angered and annoyed by Raimundo’s words, just kept on moving until he finally flopped down into the snow. The mini-monks came to Bruce’s aid, but he immediately brushed them off of him, which offended Raimundo even more and puzzled the others.
“I need to do this on my own!” Bruce yelled, as he painfully got to his feet and tried to move on his own.
“Let us help you.” Kimiko offered. “You can’t possibly make it over these cold mountains on your own.”
“I
have to.” Bruce said. “It is…part of my mission…to make it over these mountains…by myself.” The kids watched Bruce continue to move across the icy ridges on his own, some of them feeling sorry for the poor man. Raimundo did not once feel pity for the withering Bruce; he was focused only on finding the Shen Gong Wu, which he knew was an even more hopeless case than helping Bruce Wayne.
“Come on, guys.” Raimundo said. “Let’s get back to the
real reason we’re out here, freezing our butts off.” Omi, Clay, and Kimiko didn’t appreciate Raimundo’s attitude towards Bruce; and his attitude was the reason why they put their search on halt, long enough to keep an eye on Bruce from the skies, while on Dojo (who was just as concerned about Bruce as Omi, Clay, and Kimiko were).
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“You kids actually helped that poor sap?!” Oscar exclaimed, finding the thought a bit nauseating.
“Pathetic, isn’t it?” Raimundo said, right before Kimiko gave him a rough punch in the gut that almost made Raimundo puke.
“Hey, I would’ve just left him alone and go after that Shan Han Su…or whatever it is that you kids called it, and get back home in time for supper.” Oscar said, with a wicked chuckle that crept the mini-monks out a little. Seeing how freaked out they were by the green grouch, I attempted to calm them down, long enough to tell the rest of the story.
“Forget about him.” I said. “He’s always like that.”
“He has always been so green?” Omi asked.
“At least since 1970.” I joked, and everyone laughed, except for Oscar, who seemed very offended by my joke.
“Hey, stay out of my personal life, Thomas!” Oscar exclaimed, and I just waved off his negativity, focusing back on the mini-monks.
“So tell us more about Wayne?” I said. “What exactly was he doing all the way up there in the Himalayans?”
“We did not know why he was up there.” Omi said. “But we did keep our distance from him, long enough to see where he was going.”
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Omi, Kimiko, Raimundo, Clay, and Dojo watched Bruce climb up the steps to the vast doors of a monastery that they truly found intriguing. Just as Bruce unwrapped his severely frostbitten right fist and attempted to knock the ice-covered wooden door, Dojo landed softly behind him and the monks-in-training jumped off the shape-shifting dragon, interrupting Bruce.
“What a marvelous monastery!” Omi exclaimed, and a stunned Bruce turned around in surprise to see the mini-monks behind him.
“How did…Where did you…?” Bruce stammered, and deciding not to bother asking, he simply just shouted, “GET OUT OF HERE!!!”
“No prob., Bob.” Raimundo said, turning to leave while Omi just stared at Raimundo puzzlingly.
“How did you know his name was Bob?” Omi asked him.
“It isn’t!!” Bruce yelled.
“Then what
is your name, if you do not mind me asking, sir?” Omi inquired.
“If it’ll get you away from here, no…I don’t mind.” Bruce said, and he was a bit hesitant at first, wondering if exposing his identity to these kids will ruin his personal exile from Gotham. But since they didn’t seem like the type who would come from the streets of Gotham, he didn’t fret any longer. “Wayne. My name is Bruce Wayne.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Mr. Wayne.” Clay said, and when he put his left hand out for Bruce to shake, Bruce just stared at it for a long time, not once putting his own hands out to shake it. Clay, sensing of a bit of hostility still left in the air, held back his hand and moved away from Bruce. Bruce’s actions were continuing to offend Raimundo, who was twice as agitated as he was.
“Dude, what’s your problem?” Raimundo asked him. “Something’s gotta have you acting so hostile, besides this cold weather.” Raimundo looked up at the monastery that Bruce was about to enter. “What’s in there, man?” Bruce seriously didn’t want the mini-monks to get into his business, only because he wasn’t absolutely certain if their involvement would ruin his mission. But he was at a point where he just did not care what would happen to him. He was tired, emotionally drained, and almost ready to let Death take his soul away to Heaven or ****.
“You really want to know what’s in there?” Bruce said, and Raimundo nodded along with the other monks-in-training, just before he turned back to the door and pounded against it with his frostbitten fist, his knocks echoing deep within. There was no response, and the monks-in-training were left looking to each other in confusion. Bruce lowered his forehead to the door, with his pounding accelerating to a frenzy.
“I do not believe anyone is home.” Omi said.
“THERE HAS TO BE!!!!!” Bruce cried, just before he and the others heard a grinding noise from within. Bruce stopped and straightened up, as they watched the doors swing open to darkness. Bruce and the mini-monks moved forward into the low-ceilinged wooden hall that was lit with flickering lamps. As the doors shut behind them, they noticed a dark robbed figure sitting on a raised platform at the far end; it was Ra’s Al Ghul.
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“Ra’s Al Ghul?” I said, finding the name sounding like something out of a Bruce Lee movie. “Who was this guy?”
“We could only assume that he was Bruce’s master.” Kimiko said.
“The fella looked a lot like Master Fung, our Xiaolin master.” Clay commented.
“Ah, most of these kung fu master look all alike.” Dojo said.
“Except this man did not look as friendly as Master Fung.” Omi contradicted. “In fact, he looked very suspicious, as if he was plotting something very wicked.”
“You could tell all of that just by looking at him?” I asked the little guy.
“That, and from what he did later on.” Omi said. “But we are getting far too ahead of ourselves.”
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While Omi, Raimundo, Clay, Kimiko, and Dojo remained where they were standing, Bruce moved unsteadily towards Ra’s Al Ghul, just as armed warriors of various races emerged from the shadows, with their bows taut and swords drawn, looking a lot like ninjas that we just waiting for the visitors to make a move. The mini-monks braced themselves for battle, moving in their fighting stance, while Bruce just froze.
“Wait.” A voice said, and the warriors held their ground, long enough for the visitors to see a powerfully-built, distinguished, well-dressed man leaning against a nearby pillar.
“Henri Ducard.” Bruce uttered, while the mini-monks still kept themselves in their stances, expecting someone to make a move. It was an uneasy atmosphere, and if one of them lowered their defenses, then they would be sure not to make it out of that monastery alive. Bruce reached into his layers of clothing and pulled out the double-bloomed blue poppy that he had plucked from the field, holding it out with shaky hands.
Ra’s Al Ghul started to speak in Urdu, leaving Ducard to translate. “Fear has been your guide. And, apparently, so have four small children and a strange dragon.”
“Hey, who ya callin’ strange, bud?!” exclaimed an offended Dojo.
“Uh, I believe it was the other man that called you strange, Dojo.” Omi said, gesturing towards Ra’s Al Ghul. But their focus was mainly on Ducard, whose focus was solely on Bruce.
“Why have you brought them here?” Ducard asked him.
“I tried to keep them away from me…but they refused.” Bruce explained. “They don’t mean any harm. They were only trying to help…”
“No need to explain yourself, Wayne.” Ducard said. “We shall deal with them later.” The mini-monks heard this, and each of their eyes went to one of the armed warriors in the room, wondering if one of them would be left to execute them. If that was going to be the case, then Ra’s Al Ghul would need more than just one warrior to take them down.
Ra’s Al Ghul continued speaking in Urdu, and Ducard continued translating. “You must advance or fear will keep you on your knees. We will help you conquer your fear. In exchange, you will renounce the cities of man. You will live in solitude. You will be a member of the League of Shadows. And you will be without fear.”
The monks-in-training were impressed by some of the things that the mysterious organization was going to be teaching Bruce. It was far different from what Master Fung and the other monks had been teaching them at the Xiaolin Temple, which was why they found it intriguing yet disturbing at the same time. Relaxing their bodies from their fighting stances, the mini-monks watched Ducard as he took the flower from Bruce and considered its delicate blue petals.
“Are you ready to begin?” Ducard asked Bruce, and the mini-monks couldn’t believe that he would ask him such a question, seeing how exhausted and withered he was from his long journey. Ducard threaded the flower through the buttonhole of his lapel, as Wayne looked at him, shaking with hunger and fatigue.
“Ready?!” Bruce said. “I…I can barely…” Before he cold finish, Ducard kicked Wayne, sending him crashing to the floor. The mini-monks, surprised by Ducard’s sudden action, were about to step in and interfere, until they were halted and contained by some of Ra’s armed ninjas.
“Oh, come on!” Raimundo yelled.
“That ain’t fair fightin’, partner.” Clay stated.
“He needs to regain his strength first.” Kimiko said. “Did you see what he had to go through out there?”
“He is not prepared.” Omi uttered.
“Silence!!” Ducard yelled, and the mini-monks immediately got quiet. “Death does not wait for anyone to be ready.” Bruce crawled, gasping for breath, just as Ducard struck him directly in the ribs. “Death is not considerate or fair. And make no mistake…today, death is your opponent.” Ducard turned, whipping his leg in a fearsome roundhouse kick aimed straight at Bruce’s neck. But Wayne blocked the kick with a lateral movement of his forearm.
“Whoa!” Omi exclaimed, truly impressed by Bruce’s counter.
Bruce stared at Ducard, with his eyes blazing. Ducard just smiled, as Wayne raised up and assumed a martial stance. Ducard struck and Wayne blocked and parried, driving his body through pain into a series of fluid, skilled moves. Omi, Kimiko, Raimundo, Clay, and Dojo were each impressed by the moves that were being displayed from both men (more from Bruce than Ducard).
“Facing death, you learn the truth…” Ducard instructed, as his head smashed Wayne’s cheek, leaving Wayne faltering. “You are weak…” He smashed Wayne in the groin, “You are alone…” He slammed Wayne’s chin, sending him down hard, “And you are
afraid.” The mini-monks just could not believe the fight they had just witnessed. The armed warriors released their hold on them, after sensing their bodies losing their tension, as Ducard crouched at Wayne’s side, looking into his glazed eyes. “But not of me.” He said that curiously, as he pulled the flower from his lapel and leaned in close to replace it on Wayne’s chest and whisper in his ear.
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“What did he say to him?” I asked the mini-monks, who far more intrigued by the story than I was (and they were the ones that had supposedly lived through it all).
“He asked, ‘What do
you fear?’.” Kimiko said. “And Bruce had this look on his face that almost told us
exactly what he was afraid of.”
“Well, what was it?” Oscar asked, showing a little bit of interest.
“We are not quite certain.” Omi said, with a look on disappointment on his face.
“If we had brought the Shadow of Fear with us, then it’d be easy to tell what his biggest fear was.” Raimundo said, and I could only assume that this “Shadow of Fear” was another one of their Shen Gong Wu artifacts.
“However, we did get an idea that it must’ve had something to do with the death of his parents.” Kimiko said, and Count, Oscar, and I knew what she was talking about. We all had heard about how Thomas and Martha Wayne had been gunned down by Joe Chill in an alleyway, on the same night that Bruce and his parents went to see a performance at the Gotham Opera House. I was about the same age Bruce was the night that had happened. And while I was home with
my parents, watching
Tom & Jerry cartoons on television, he was watching his folks bleeding in front of him.
“Did you kids eavesdrop on one of their conversations or something?” I asked, not trying to sound like I was offending them; but they understood completely.
“Sort of.” Kimiko said. “We decided to stick around in the monastery, long enough to be ready to go back out and continue on our search for the Shen Gong Wu we were looking for. And we’re lucky that we did, because there a lot more to Bruce Wayne, as well as this League of Shadows, than we expected.”
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“And do you still feel responsible for your parents’ death?” Ducard asked, as he led Wayne, Omi, Kimiko, Clay, and Raimundo along a screened passage that overlooked the extraordinary mountains.
“My anger outweighs my guilt.” Bruce remarked, as Ducard opened a door and led the group onto a mezzanine level stacked with boxes and bottles. Ninjas poured powders into pockets, mixing compounds. Ducard took a pinch of powder and threw it down. There was an abrupt explosion that startled Wayne and the mini-monks (Kimiko jumped into Clay’s arms, much to his surprise).
“Woo-Wee! Now that’s somethin’ else!” Clay exclaimed, as Ducard smiled good-naturedly.
“Advanced techniques of Ninjitsu employ explosive powders.” He said.
“As weapons?” Bruce asked.
“Or distractions.” Ducard added. “Theatricality and deception are powerful agents.”
“Strange.” Omi said, pondering over what Ducard had mentioned. “Master Fung never taught us such a thing.”
“As you come to learn our ways, young monk, you’ll know that the League of Shadows are nothing like Xiaolins.” Ducard said, and Omi could believe that already, after being a witness to Ducard’s teachings. “To be a great warrior is not enough. Flesh and blood, however skilled, can be destroyed…you must be more than just a man in the minds of your opponents.” Ducard took a pinch of powder and handed it to Bruce. After listening to Ducard, Bruce took the powder and tossed it, creating an explosion of his own.
Later that same day, the group had headed out of the monastery and onto a frozen lake in the Himalayas, where Wayne and Ducard circled each other on the ice and sword-fighting, while Omi, Kimiko, Clay, and Raimundo were watching from a far distance, none of them wearing skates to help keep their balance. There were often at times when Clay, Raimundo, and Kimiko had slipped and fell right on their behinds, whereas Omi was keeping a delicate balance…on one foot.
“Man! How can those two swordfight on ice?!” Raimundo exclaimed. “I’m having a hard enough time keepin’ my butt from gettin’ icy bruises!” The four of them watched Ducard strike at Wayne, who deflected the blow using a silver gauntlet with three thick, hook-like projections known as scallops.
“I guess it’s all got to do with being a League of Shadows warrior.” Clay assumed, standing up one minute and falling down the next, nearly putting a crack in the ice. “Boy, this is just a shame, especially considering the fact that I’m supposed to be the Xiaolin Dragon of Earth.”
“Actually, Clay, ice represents a mixture of wind and water.” Omi said, still keeping his delicate balance on one foot. “I, being a Xiaolin Dragon of Water, am able to keep my balance due to my connection to the frozen water.”
“Then what about Raimundo?” Clay asked. “He’s barely able to get in touch with his element, while slipping and sliding across this ice.”
“It is a hard task to get in touch with the wind element, especially after the water has already been frozen by the wind.” Omi stated, while Raimundo was sliding past him and Clay, with a frustrated look on his face.
“Thanks for stating the obvious, Omi.” Raimundo said, sarcastically, and an oblivious Omi took it as a compliment.
“You’re welcome.” Omi said, and as the boys were either keeping a perfect balance or losing control, Kimiko just sat where she was on the ice (not caring if she got frostbite in the butt or what) and focused on Bruce and Ducard, intrigued by their sword-fighting. Ducard skidded left, with his breath steaming, feinting with his sword. Wayne stepped sideways on the ice, with his foot landing on a thin patch that creaked, water bubbling underneath.
“Mind your surrounding. Always.” Ducard instructed, just as Wayne struck, leaving Ducard to block with his own bronze gauntlet. Bruce slipped right and flew in with a short thrust. Ducard’s arm flipped down in a backhand move, catching Wayne’s sword in one of his scallops. “Your parents’ death was not your fault.” Ducard rotated his arm, wrenching Wayne’s sword from his grasp, causing it to skid along the ice. “It was your father’s.”
Kimiko watched closely, with much interest, as an enraged Bruce dived at Ducard, swinging at him with the scallops, furious and reckless. Ducard parried with his sword, and the two locked, with their noises inches apart from each other. Bruce was breathing heavily, showing some anger in front of Ducard.
“Anger does not change the fact that your father failed to act.” Ducard said.
“The man had a gun!” Bruce snapped.
“Would that stop you?” Ducard asked.
“I’ve had training…”
“The training is nothing. The will to take control is everything.” Ducard stated. “Your father trusted his city, its logic…he thought he understood the attacker and could simply give him what he wanted.” Bruce considered Ducard’s words; his breathing began to slow down, showing some calmness taking over, as the two separated. “Your father did not understand the forces of decay. Cities like Gotham are in their death throes…chaotic, grotesque, and beyond the point of saving.”
“Beyond saving?” Bruce remarked. “You believe that?”
“It is not right that one must come to so far to see the world as it is meant to be.” Ducard said, as he regarded the beautiful landscape. “Purity…Serenity…Solitude. These are the qualities we hold dear.” Omi, Kimiko, Clay, and Raimundo stopped their activity on the ice, long enough to all listen to Ducard. “But the important thing is whether
you believe it.” Wayne just stared at Ducard, thinking about all that he was telling him. “Can Gotham be saved, or is she an ailing ancestor whose time has run?”
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“I have to agree.” I said. “Gotham isn’t exactly one of the most tourist-friendly places to visit in the world.”
“What’re ya talkin’ about?” Oscar said. “This is a
great place to visit! Just look!” Oscar gestured out the window, which had shown the horrific atmosphere of Gotham City. There were decaying buildings, several homeless people on the streets (either pushing shopping carts, mugging those that had money or food, or standing by flaming oil drums), and police sirens blaring in the distance.
“Oh, my!” Count uttered. “There are definitely more than fifteen homeless people in these streets. Good heavens.”
“Oscar, if you haven’t noticed, this place isn’t exactly Metropolis.” I said.
“That’s the beauty of it!” Oscar exclaimed. “There aren’t any idiots passing by and saying hello to each other, there aren’t weirdoes telling what the letter of the day is, and there definitely ain’t anything clean around here either!” Oscar rolled down the window and stuck his head out, breathing in all of the polluted air that he found fascinating, while the rest of us were holding our breaths. “Not a clean speck in the area!” When Oscar rolled the window back up, we all breathed in the somewhat clean air inside the bus.
“I have never been to this city before, but from that fierce odor, it is no walk in the playground.” Omi said, obviously fouling up in his use of slang, leaving one of his companions have a chance to correct him.
“That’s park, Omi.” Kimiko said.
“Park…Playground…Who cares?” Oscar remarked. “Gotham is one of the greatest cities in the world today. And this Ducard guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Well, despite whatever Ducard believes, Bruce Wayne left this city for a reason.” I indicated. “But the question is…why did he leave?”
“He thought he could lose himself, because he felt useless as Bruce Wayne.” Kimiko explained. “He sought knowledge of the criminal world, needing to understand the thoughts and feelings of those who stood in the shadows. He needed to feel the fear before a crime…and the thrill of success, without becoming one of them.”
“Did he think he would find something?” I asked.
“He thought he’d learn what he needed to do with his skills and his anger.” Clay said. “But the harder he looked…the less he saw and knew.”
“And let me guess…” I said, beginning to figure out the story, “He got to the point where he wasn’t even sure what he’d been looking for in the first place and became lost.”
“Exactly.” Omi said. “And that is where our story comes in.”
“Ducard found Bruce in a Bhutanese prison for helping a gang of criminals steal boxes that were, ironically, the property of his family business.” Kimiko said. “After he sprang him out is where we came in to all of this.” From what the kids had told me, I couldn’t believe how Bruce Wayne had spent his seven years of exile from Gotham. Becoming a petty thief and training under an ancient organization of Ninjas was all very hard to swallow, but the way these mini-monks were telling the story, I had to believe some of it was true.
“So, judging from the trip you kids are taking to Gotham by bus and not by your dragon friend their,” When I mentioned Dojo, he had a big smile on his face, indicating his pleasure for the mini-monks and their decision of transportation to Gotham, “I’m assuming that Bruce Wayne has to be alive and back in the city as we speak, right?”
“That is correct.” Omi said.
“But what made him come back?” I asked.
“That is, how you say here in America, where the plot gets swollen.” Omi replied, yet I had no idea what he was talking about, due to the bad slang that was used.
“What?!” I exclaimed.
“He means this is where the plot
thickens.” Kimiko said, and I listened closely to the climax of their story, as well as the bad slang that could’ve possibly been included.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
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