Batman: Revolution

CHAPTER ONE: A New Mask

Salvatore "The Boss" Maroni sat in his office, arguing with his right hand man, Roman Sionis.

"I told you to bring me Batman's head not news of how FIVE fucking hitmen failed!" Ranted Maroni, "You're outta this organisation, Sionis! I can't take failure! It's only as a favour that I owed your late father that I'm letting you live. Now get out!"

Sionis glared at Maroni. What right did this MORON have to fire him? His father was Andrei Sionis, and he would not accept such an insult! Sionis stormed from the building without another word… he hailed a taxi and climbed in, angrily.

"Where to, mac?" Asked the driver.

"Gotham Cemetery. Step on it."

Soon, Roman strode through the dark, gloomy cemetery gates and past many gravestones. He did not even notice the tall, grimacing figure of billionaire, celebrity businessman Bruce Wayne standing over a gravestone, talking in a grave whisper.

Roman soon reached the familiar site of his parents' grave, and looked upon it.

HERE LIE ANDREI & ANA SIONIS.

BELOVED HUSBAND AND WIFE.

1951 & 1947-1998

THEY WILL BE FOREVER MOURNED.

Roman smiled madly and chuckled yet more madly, running his hands down his stretched, pale face, his bulging, bloodshot eyes, and then threw open his trench-coat and produced a hefty spade, digging it deep into the ground before the headstone.

"It's time…" he grinned, "…for a new mask."

Earth scattered, piling either side of the deep hole and then Sionis saw the wooden surface of his father's coffin… and thrust his spade down, smashing the wood surface. Splinters flew past the mobster and he laughed as he pulled up a large chunk of the ash wood, slowly withdrawing a crafting knife from his inner jacket pocket. Roman ran his hand through his sweaty, matted dirty-blond hair and flicked the blade out, burying it into the wood and slowly running it around, forming an oval around the size of his head, then he cut eye holes and forced the shape into a slight outward curve and poked out an indentation in the middle of the form. Roman, his hands shaking, slashed free some of his jacket sleeve and tied it around the shape, making it into a kind of crude mask. Finally, Sionis hurled the knife and slowly, oh so slowly and nervously, he donned the mask.

"Yes," he giggled manically, "Yes! I have it! My new mask is made and I am a new man… I am… I am… The Black Mask!"

And Roman Sionis rose and walked away; a new man, with a new mask… and we all wear masks.