4. Slumdog Runner

The slums of Gotham Bay were a long forgotten, dark and dingy place, populated by people who only exacerbated the perception. It was dusk when Bruce stumbled into the tight, old alleyways. It cast a dark orange glow around, making the refuse somehow picturesque in the light. Smoke and steam lingered in the streets, the distant, drunken shouting of bar fights filled the air and the humidity was inescapable.

Bruce, beaten, broken and drenched, kept his head down as he limped along the alleyway towards the bay. You don't want the attention at the best of times, he thought, let alone now. Just keep moving and get your bearings. The light beacons in his squinting eyes and made his head throb harder, until the sun finally set over the bay.

What was once the proud Old Gotham Docks, had nowadays turned and attracted all types of undesirables. Hidden away under the reconditioned Coventry Bridge, the shady docks were mainly used for drug smuggling or prostitution and the authorities rarely made appearances around here. Unless, of course, they were harassing dealers for cheaper drugs or coercing women for free favours.

Bruce steered his way to the very edges of the open streets, staying in the shadows as much as possible. He walked briskly, considering the excruciating pain in his leg, and he could feel eyes turn on him. He knew he was an easy target and couldn't falter.

"Hey asshole, where are you going?!" a gruff voice yelled out from across the street, outside O'Malleys pub, followed by a small rupture of laughter.

"Get a job, you bum!"

Just keep going, Bruce told himself, they haven't recognised you yet. Get past them and around the corner. He knew there was a payphone around that side somewhere.

"Wait no, that's that rich fucker Wayne!" They chattered amongst themselves. Bruce picked up his pace, in spite of the overbearing pain in his arm and the scathing stinging in his leg.

"What, seriously? Hey, HEY, WAYNE! Way to fuck all your employees!"

Bruce had spent the last few months dealing with the defamation of his name and company by social media justice warriors. It had all started when Penny, who worked in HR, had told GCR-FM that Bruce had embezzled years worth of companies superannuation money and skimped on taxes frequently. From there the flood gates came crashing down.

"Yeah, who the hell you think you are? Can't even afford your fancy limo's any more, huh?"

More laughter. More pain. It had been a hard time for him, having once been a highly influential Gothamite, to being publicly shunned and disgraced. None of the claims that had been made were true, but Batman was an ever-growing expense for Bruce, and it wouldn't take a genius to find some faults somewhere in the WayneCorp systems.

"Hey come on, wait up! What, you think you're so powerful you can fuck over more than half of Gotham?!" One shouted, as the group left their drinks and started to follow him.

Bruce had been the subject of daytime gossip TV and news alike. When the story first broke, he agreed to a TV interview to defend his actions, but it only riled the people up more. There was years worth of business anomalies to be explained, in laymen's terms, in only a few minutes, all while keeping the Batman out of the conversation. An impossible task. Bruce came across as smarmy and indifferent.

"Come on, man, we just wanna talk!"

The gang of five picked up their pace to cross the street. One threw a beer bottle, which sailed past Bruce's head and smashed on the wall behind him. They all laughed and turned to each other.

"You missed, tosser, try an' hit him this time!"

Since the interview, the stocks at WayneCorp dwindled, his manor frequently vandalised, and people would throw things and spit at him in the streets. In between all the lawsuits and litigations, indictments and court dates that had flooded his life, Bruce had to disappear. Something that he wasn't too unfamiliar with, but this time it was different. It was out of his control

"Gimme your bottle, then. I'll hit him for sure!" They were getting closer and Bruce knew he had to do something.

With that, Bruce made a jarring, excruciating bolt around the corner to his right, down the next alley to find somewhere to hide. Dumpster, locked doors, old furniture, dead end. The gang rounded the corner just as Bruce turned back to face them. He took a few steps back and picked up the 2X4 laying by the furniture and menaced, holding the plank out at them, as if to say just try me.

Bruce knew they could easily beat him in a fight with his arm broken, he has no defence tactic. His leg spasmed and gave way under him, but Bruce stayed staring at them, plank outstretched, on one knee. "Leave," he commanded, "and you won't get hurt." The gang all burst out laughing. The best Bruce could hope for was a getting a hard, square hit or two in, enough to disinterest the rest of them. He knew the chances of this were slim.

As the group attempt to circle around him, Bruce doesn't make a move. The guy on his right comes too close first. Without warning, Bruce swings the 2x4 into his shin, the crunch echoes through the alleyway. He falls flat on his face and Bruce bring the plank around again and wails into his back. The guy behind him grabs him around neck, trying for a sleeper hold. Bruce launches the butt of the 2x4 square into the guys eye socket. He reels back and howls, dropping Bruce onto his hands, still holding the plank.

But it was too late, the others started to stomp on his ribs and spit and scream. The tosser takes his second bottle and pegs it at Bruce's head, it shatters, he drops and stays down. The tosser laughs hard, spins around and does a little drunken dance, only to turn back and realise the others were gone.

"Wait, what the fuck?" He turned around again, "Hey, assholes!"

A terrifyingly sexy voice appears behind him and whispers "Whats up, honey?", before grabbing his arm, and pulling it back up behind him, and slams his face into the concrete. He wails out through blood and broken teeth. She licks her lips, and still holding his arm, sits down on his back.

"Shh shh," she whispered, "you have been very naughty." She was so close to him, he could smell her sweet, earthy scent. The words melted his pain away, and as he lay there whimpering, she lifts his head up by the hair and smacks his face down again. Out cold.

"Too young, anyway." she said to herself.

She turned to Bruce. "And you! I should just leave you here to rot with all you've done!" She moved closer to him. "You disgust me, pig!"

"Please," Bruce begged, breathily, "Selina please."

She rolled her eyes and exhaled, but she knew what she had to do. Even if it went against everything she stood for.