This chapter is dedicated to Jacob Daniel Blegen, my first boyfriend to ever walk this planet. I gave you a valentine today and you got this big teary eyed smiley face and you hugged me without warning… and my heart started again. I know, I'm just a mess over who I like, but thank you, my love, for making me believe in Valentines Day again. My stupid boyfriend didn't even acknowledge me… but you hugged me… Maybe I should try heavy flirting with you. Let's drive you crazy. Use your Tai Kwan Do skills and kick Chris's ass for me? Then I can love you forever… unless you're pulling a Sam and teasing me…

Chapter 6: History

Sit down boys and girls and open your notebooks to a fresh page. Make sure your pencils are sharpened because this will be a long and confusing chapter and I guarantee that you'll take up a few pages, even little Nathan in the back who can fit three lines of words inside every line on the page. Don't slack off because this chapter is difficult to understand and if you don't give it your best attention, I promise you that you'll fail this lesson. An F on this can drop your C to an F. Yes, I'm talking to you Dominic! Your mother wouldn't appreciate another F, now would she?

I suppose you could abbreviate if you want to save paper, but make sure you understand your notes. You can't just refer to back to the textbook on the test. No Susie, you can't use your notes on the test either. We're taking them so you can study them the night before. I don't care that your wrestling meet is that night Brock! You can study in the morning or before this class. It's 4th hour- lucky for you. There's three hours to study! Now, let's start at the beginning, nice and slow. Mason, I swear to God, if you don't stop saying "giggity", I will kill you. Got it?

The Story of the Bat

If you'll believe it, this story starts out like every other average story: with a little boy with a million dreams and wide hopeful eyes. He probably had a sweet little smile and rosy cheeks, teetering on his toes with every innocently asked question. His hair was probably combed back when he had on his little tuxedo with the crooked black tie that his dad always had to tie when they went out for church on Sunday mornings and for the theatre visits that came once a month that he always looked forward to.

Bruce hates to talk about it, but one afternoon that was in the few weeks I was still hung up over my parents, he explained it all to me in a few minutes. A few nights after that, Alfred sat down with me at dinner and explained what he knew in a bit more depth. That was four years ago, almost five with the anniversary coming up in a few weeks, so… don't blame me… if I'm a little… inaccurate. Damnit, now my mind's on the folks again… Ignore my sad tone/type as I spin you this tale and feel depressed with me.

I imagine it was a fine day outside, back in the times when men could walk about freely in public in tuxedos with a woman in a pantsuit on their arm without seeming weird in the slightest. It had been one of those rare days that Mr. and Mrs. Wayne, the real names of which have long slipped my mind, decided to take their only son out to the theatre to see what was playing.

Bruce had been little, but not little enough that he didn't know how the world went. He was old enough to see past the fairytale lie, but young enough to still be as hopeful and optimistic about the limits that the sky would try to set for him. He had been as excited as they'd let him, practically bouncing off the walls of the concrete buildings around as he tugged roughly on his dearest mommy and daddy's hands to hurry them along down the sidewalk.

He had probably been giggling, so amused from seeing the film, his heart racing as wild as if he was just done from eating a whole bucket of Halloween sweets. His mother was probably laughing at his enthusiasm, struggling to keep after him in her high heels while holding tight to her husband's arm, her eyes sparkling at the deep laughter spilling over her husband's lips. They were probably rushing home for a family dinner where the film would be discussed with bright hearts and enthusiastic grins at ever word.

On the way, a man with a gun confronted Bruce's parents. He demanded to have Mrs. Wayne's pearls, holding them at gun point. Mr. Wayne, probably trying to seem like a hero in front of his wife and only son, stood in front of his family with his arms out, refusing to hand anything over. It was his family after all; they deserved nothing short of the very best. The gun man wasn't worried though. He simply pulled the trigger, his ice cold and silent with the kind of insanity that lets you simply take lives without caring.

Mr. Wayne was down in an instant, his iconic hat on the ground beside his bloody chest while the color drained from his eyes. Mrs. Wayne and Bruce were at his side in an instant, screaming and sobbing hysterically. The gun man held the gun up even longer, demanding to have the pearls again. Bruce tried to play hero, standing in front of his kneeling mother with sobs shaking his body, growling up at the man like he imagined his father would've wanted him to do.

The gun man simply kicked him away, an old fashioned dress shoe launching itself deep into his stomach and throwing him out into the middle of the street where he lay paralyzed in agony, hugging himself and sobbing fearfully. He screamed for his mother, begging her to run, but a bullet suddenly lodged itself deep into her skull, ruining her old and perfect face. She joined her husband on the street, blood gathering all around them in the gravel.

Try to hear Bruce's terrified shrieks and sobs of pure pain as he tore up off the ground, tears raining down his cheeks, ruining a previously happy night. Can you see him run across the road, stopping at his parents' bodies and screaming in both pain and fear at the realization that now he had no parents? Can you imagine how bad it hurt to realize that now he was going to be a freak, forever outcast because he had no mother to kiss him goodnight and no father to teach him how to shave? I can, but I'm not you.

Then imagine his face contort in anger, the first appearance of his 'Batman' face, his teeth bared and his eyes slowly staining to a dark red, tears scarring his cheeks. Can you see him leap over their bodies, tackling the man to the ground and murderously beating his fists against the man's chest? Try to picture a little boy, ripping an armed gun from his parents' murderer's hands, and bring the butt down violently onto his face once before he was kicked away to the ground.

Can you see the murderer getting to his feet and running, leaving the bruised little boy with his parents' bodies and the gun that killed them without anyway of him calling for help? Listen to the broken sobs that are holding Bruce's body to the sidewalk, curled up beside the two corpses that scar him for the rest of his life. That's how it all started.

From there, Bruce dedicated the rest of his life to revenge. All he thought about; through every dinner Alfred and the rest of the help for the Wayne family cooked him, through every day of school he had to suffer through as an orphan with every meal brought in and every tuxedo more expensive than any others, through every friend he never had because all his time was dedicated to tracking the son of a bitch who ruined him, through every year of college that he went through without having to get a job to pay for himself… it was all set on avenging the only people he'd ever truly loved.

From there, you get the idea right? Some gun toting bastard shot his parents which, over a great deal of time, turned an orphan into a superhero.

It had a lot of bad side-effects though. Like, Bruce's irrational phobia of guns (please note that phobia can also mean extreme hatred) and Bruce's care level when it comes to kids losing parents in a way similar to his. It also turned him cold, severed his laugh box, darkened his smiles and broke his heart. He could never trust another living and breathing soul again… except for Alfred and I…

The only two good things I can see from it all… has to be the fact that now the world has Batman to look to when their worst nightmares spring to life… and the fact that I'm not in the corner of a dirty house, covered in bloody bruises and screaming because my foster parents who beat me night and day while they're drunk off their ass only love me for the money they get for keeping me…

And that's why Batman's such a 'heartless asshole'. Now think twice before you insult one of Gotham City's- no, one of America's greatest heroes.

Grim… So I have a few fics planned for tomorrow. What should I do next? Is there anything left to cover besides his relationships? Oooh~ Who all should be there? Just the YJ Bat Family? His parents too? The Graysons? I'm excited! Review?

-F.J.