Tut The Magnificent

Tut The Magnificent...Part II

Tut the Magnificent...

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part II...

Thirteen years previous, the night of Professor Tuthill's murder...

A weary, rather sodden figure emerged from a heavily forested area just off Gotham State Parkway...Bruce Wayne, in somewhat casual, if still clearly expensive and elegant, clothes, nursing an injured arm, trying as best he could to find a little shelter from the fairly steady rain in the last trees on the Parkway's edge. He carefully dialed a cell phone in the dark. Rain beading on the phone's screen...

"Alfred? Yes, I'm all right..." sigh. "Though I've got to say the Bookworm turned out to be a bit more challenging physically than I'd expected. He had a little arsenal of his own...Afraid the car took a couple of phosphorus bombs. No, I'm ok, the shielding protected me, just burned a little on my arm. No, he and his last men are dead, they went over a cliff, trying to outrun me. I'm afraid the Da Vinci manuscript went with them. No, we will never know if there was something to that code..." smile. "You ought to stop reading those novels, Alfred. Ow..." as he chuckled. "No, no...I'm ok. But I had to leave the car, there's some damage to the engine from the fire bombs. Camouflaged in the woods and secure, we'll have to have it picked up by the team later. So, I'm going to need a...You don't have to come out, Alfred. I just couldn't reach a..."

He turned at the sudden appearance of a small boy running past, clearly in tears and badly shaken...

"Hey...!" he called to the boy. "Hey, you can't go out on the Parkway here, son!! Just a mo, Alfred!!" he told the phone, hurrying after the boy.

"Kid! Wait!! It's too..." his unformed warning verified immediately by the appearance of a large truck rushing past, barely dodging the boy who continued running, apparently not even noting his near brush with death.

"Kid!!" Wayne hurried after, finally closing in. The boy suddenly turned, staring... "Get away!!" he cried.

"Kid, you can't run on the Parkway like this. In this rain they can't see you, you'll get hurt."

The boy, breathing heavily now, clearly at the edge of his strength.

"Look, I'm waiting for a ride, I can take you home. Or get hold of someone or your own cab. Do you live round here?" he eyed the soaked, sodden clothes. Noting the blood on his shirt...

"Hamilton, I live back there..." the boy pointed.

"Kid, that's blood. Are you hurt?"

"No...No..." the boy shook head. "My grandpa..."

"Was he hurt? Is he in his car?" Wayne asked, carefully.

"He's dead..." the boy, trembling.

"Maybe not...We can get an ambulance." Wayne suggested. "Alfred? You still with me?" he pulled up the phone.

"He's gone..." the boy shook head. Trembling and weeping now...

"Alfred, we need an ambulance here. A boy's been hurt and his grandfather as well. Can you get them out here asap? Good. Yeah, I guess so...But I hate to drag you out here. Ok...Good. Thanks, Alfred." He closed the phone.

"My friend's got an ambulance coming and he's coming too. What's your name, son?" he eyed the shaking boy. "Here, my sweater's wet outside as well, but it's lined..." He pulled off sweater, leaving a white shirt which quickly soaked, putting it carefully on the boy who did not resist it being put on.