(trigger warning for death/mentions of death/murder/mentions of murder, mentions of drugs, and mentions of mafias)

(hey have i ever talked about how i waaaaay prefer the live demo of kill all your friends over the final cut in the b sides??? cuz yeah)

Batman walked down the street, unarmed and without his cowl. He breathed in the Gotham air: dirt and smoke and pollution. He wished he felt more at home.

He grew up in Gotham; learned to love her odd charm and the buildings that reached to the sky like mountains. He traced those buildings' silhouettes with his finger at night, when the window across from his bed was open. He could hear the sirens, the buzz of the city clearly from inside his bedroom. 

Bruce loved Gotham; protected her with his life and sacrificed his world at her feet. He was so blind in love with Gotham and his own thirst for vengeance that he didn't realize how much he cared about the people around him — Harvey... Edward... Oswald... John, and Jack, and Selina... and Alfred. He thought about them as he walked.

After his parents were killed, Bruce went mute for nearly a year. He didn't talk to his schoolmates. He didn't talk to Alfred. He took his classes, went home, sat in his room and stared at the ground.

When Alfred finally got him back with therapy, he, Oswald and Harvey were incredibly relieved. For the first time in Bruce's life, he saw Alfred smile. And when Bruce went to school and began to talk to his teacher, Harvey and Oswald hugged him so hard he thought his ribs might break. 

When he went to college, John was his dorm mate. They felt connected because of their similar personalities; John and Bruce were both quiet and introverted, preferring to stay inside than to go out and party like the rest of the youth. 

John was also amazing at psychoanalyzing everything Bruce did, and knew immediately when something was wrong. He knew how to comfort Bruce, too. He was a great friend.

Bruce met Selina at a banquet he was hosting as a fundraiser for a charity. He was introduced to her by Harvey, who seemed to be trying to play Cupid for the two of them. They had great chemistry. If only it had worked out.

Bruce had great chemistry with Jack, too, who he actually didn't want to be friends with at first. Bruce started talking to him because of a mission Commissioner Gordon had sent him on. He needed to get closer to Jack, who was serving an alliance of criminals without knowing it, so he could get information on the case.

They ended up becoming friends, which seemed a bad idea but was so very pleasant while it lasted. Bruce wished he could have salvaged what they had together.

Also as Batman, Bruce had worked with a profiler named Edward. He was clever, and though his humor was dry, he was very excitable and energetic. He loved sharing riddles and puzzles with Bruce when they weren't busy tracking down drug cartels and mafias.

Bruce stopped in his tracks and looked up at the night sky. He didn't see a single star. You never could in Gotham, and it was how he liked it. Well, he used to.

It reminded Bruce, for some strange reason, of how alone he was. He had killed every last one of his friends. They all turned to a life of crime... all but one, who was now dead: Alfred. And it was Bruce's fault, or Batman's fault, or whoever-the-hell-who-he-really-was's fault. He was strong enough to defend himself from his old friends, now violent and mentally-unstable criminals... Alfred was not.

Bruce had cried the day Alfred was killed. He hadn't cried since he was just a boy, back in that alley behind the theater where two bullets when through his parent's heads.

And this time, there was no-one to comfort him. There wouldn't be anyone else, not til the end of time. And if anyone was stupid enough to try to get close to either Bruce or Batman...

They would surely die, too.