Just Breathe

Chapter 2

I've ventured out of the shadows now. It was necessary; to give the City hope. To let the people of Gotham know that someone is out there for them. But the exposure has brought attention - from those looking to scrutinise my actions...and from those seeking revenge.

Bruce flipped the journal closed and stared with frustration at the words scrawled on the cover:

The Gotham Project. Year 3.

He was in his third year of this life and he was still making mistakes. Those two Riddler acolytes should not have been able to get the jump on him last night.

He'd arrived at the junkyard aware that it was no ordinary hostage situation. When he'd caught the social media coverage of the hijacking, his gut had warned him that there was something off about the set-up. And seeing the triumphant look in the gunmen's eyes as they'd stood in front of that bus full of people - all recording on their cameraphones - he'd realised it was a trap built just for him.

But in his arrogance, he still thought he could walk into it and get out unscathed.

And he nearly had. Until they'd released that gas.

He should have anticipated this type of escalation. His bullet-proof armour rendered the preferred weapons of Gotham's criminals - guns and knives - essentially useless. So in response, they'd gotten creative.

And it had almost worked.

Lying on that cold, wet gravel...locked in his paralysed body, struggling in vain for the merest gasp of air...he'd thought his time on this earth was over.

He wasn't afraid to die.

He knew the life that he'd chosen was dangerous, and that a fatal end was always a possibility...he just didn't think it would happen like that. Laid out like a sacrificial lamb by two grandstanding, low-rate thugs.

Immobile and utterly helpless.

The burn of humiliation and self-recrimination he'd felt in that moment had matched the burn in his chest as his lungs had screamed for oxygen.

But then, a much stronger feeling had taken over.

Regret.

Regret for the failure of his mission. Gotham was no better than it was when he started; and he knew that he needed more time to undo the damage he'd caused by inadvertently inspiring the worst of its citizens.

Regret for the state of his family's legacy. He'd only just started to take a proper interest in the finances of the Wayne Foundation and, in particular, the Renewal Fund which had been too long neglected and corrupted.

Regret for leaving Alfred, especially when their strained relationship was finally starting to heal.

Regret for Selina, and the fact that he'd never see her again...

So yeah, he wasn't afraid to die.

He just wasn't ready to die yet. Not when there was still so much to be done.

He pressed play on the footage obtained from his contact lenses, determined to learn from last night's disaster. He paused at the moment the gas was discharged, studying the mist of red that filled the screen. He would need to ask Gordon for a sample from GCPD evidence so he could figure out a way to create a counter-serum.

He continued watching, even though his lenses recorded only the night sky and the falling rain as he lay motionless on the ground.

Then she came into view.