Two gunshots ring out from Park Row, nicknamed Crime Alley by the locals, then a blood-curdling scream as two more gunshots ring out while lightning streaks across the night sky. A fifth and final gunshot ring out as the thunder signals the start of the storm that has now fallen upon Gotham. As the lone gunman runs out of Crime Alley, a young man stumbles upon the three bodies that were left lifeless on the cold and unforgiving ground of Gotham's underbelly. The body of a man lying on his back blood pouring from two gunshot wounds to his chest, the body of a woman with a blood trail beneath her as her head lay atop the man's chest as his blood merged with her beautiful brown hair, and that of a boy with a single hole in his chest lay atop the woman's body.

The young man rushes over to the bodies of the three victims hoping to find something of value worth taking. As he approaches the bodies something catches his eye, a watch which lay clamped to the man's left wrist, and he kneels down to take it off his wrist. I hope youz don't think badly of meh for dis, he thinks to himself, We don't have da same upbringin as youz fancy folks do. He suddenly hears a moan.

One of the bodies of the three victims, a young boy no older than 9 years old, laid atop the dead woman's lifeless body with blood dripping from his mouth asked one simple question over and over.  "Why? Wh...y? W..." The young man turns to run away from the bodies. As he turns to run the boy grabs his pant leg. "Are they? Wh...y?" The boy raises his head.

The young man kicks the boy's hand away, "Jeez kid youz don't die so easy, huh?" He raises his foot as if to stomp on the boy's head. He looks down and sees the tears rolling down the boy's face. Is he crying, he thought, or is dat da rain? He lowers his foot and kneels down to make eye contact with the boy, who's blue eyes appeared as if they pierced through to the young man's very soul. "Hi ya kid. Da name's Lenny Fiasco. What is yourz?"

The boy stares at him for a moment as his eyes slowly close while his head slowly falls. "Bruce.."

Lenny shakes him, "Hey kid! Kid! Answer meh!" He thinks to himself for a moment, I can't just let him die, not like dis, and certainly not here. He rises and runs towards a nearby payphone to dial 9-1-1.

* * *

In a dimly lit motel room, a cigarette burns in an ashtray. A woman turns over in a bed barely covered by the cheap and dingy bed sheets to address a man standing in his underwear near the window. "So what do we do now?"

"What do you mean WE?" He turns to address her. "WE were just a one night fling and nothing more, my dear." He replies with a smirk on his face. The man stood at 5'11 with a toned physique. He had a 5 o'clock shadow with a sharp face. His long black hair ran down to his shoulders. There was one long strand of hair that ran along the left side of his face. He has blue eyes as blue as an afternoon sky.

"That's what you think about ME?" As she rises up clasping the sheets with one hand around her. She grabs the shirt that laid at the foot of the bed and throws it at him. "You son of a bitch! Get out!"

"I would, however, I did pay for the room." He smirks and chuckles. "My mother did raise me to treat women with respect, so I'll go." He walks over to a chair in the corner of the room to grab his pants. "You do have until 11:30 to clear the room though, otherwise I'll be charged for it." She throws a pillow at him.

The phone rings and the woman rolls over to answer, "What the Hell do you want!?" As the man sits in the chair to put on his shoe, she hands the phone over to him. "It's for you, jerk." When he reaches for the phone she drops it.

"Real mature." He smirks and picks up the phone. "Hello, this is the incomparable mister..."

The voice on the phone says in a somber British accent. "Master Phillip, this is Jarvis. It is about your brother, sir."

"How did you know how to find me J?"

"Your brother always kept himself apprised of your whereabouts, sir."

Why would Jarvis call me and not Tommy? He thought to himself as he put his other shoe on. "I'm sure he does. What does the ol' boy want with his wayward kid brother anyway?"

He remained silent for a few seconds, "Your brother was shot last night, sir." There is another pause in the conversation. "As well as Lady Martha and Master Bruce."

The world outside appeared to stand still as the silence fell upon the room. How? Who? Why? So many questions raced through his mind as he sat there. Who would want to kill Tommy? Did they not know who Thomas Wayne is? Was it due to a business deal gone bad? No that can't be it. Everyone knows who Dr. Thomas Wayne is. Everyone knows the Wayne family in Gotham. No one would dare to cross us. He knew the question he had to ask, yet he was afraid of the answer. "How are they?"

A necktie is thrown at his face as the world began to move once more. "Well go on and finish getting dressed you bastard."

His eyes turn toward her as he sets the phone down. "My brother and his family were shot last night," He stands up and walks over towards her and grabs her arm. "So I'd appreciate it if you would wait outside." He pulls her from the bed with the bed sheet wrapped around her as he walks her to the door.

"Let go of me!" As she squirms in his grasp. "I won't stand for this!" He opens the door and shoves her out of the room. She turns around and pounds on the door. "Open this door!" He opens the door, "I thought you'd..." He tosses her clothes out onto the floor in front of her. "Real mature, ASSHOLE!"

As the pain and the anger filled his eyes he began pacing around the room trying to gather his thoughts. He knew the question he had to ask. "How are they?" He sits down in the chair.

"The Police are looking into it as we speak. Both Master Thomas and Lady Martha are dead. Mas..."

The pain could no longer be contained as tears streamed down his face. "What the Hell do you mean DEAD!? They can't be dead. HE can't be..." He stood from the chair and began to pace the room once again. "They're dead Jarvis."

"I know Master Phillip, I'm.."

He responded with a quiet rage within his voice. "No, Jarvis you don't understand. Whoever did this to MY family is DEAD. I will BURN Gotham to the ground if I have to."

"Please do not let your anger get the better of you Master Phillip." After those words left his lips he thought for a moment. The Wayne family has always been infamous for their rage and HIS is the only one that couldn't be contained by anyone, except by Master Thomas. He knew of but one way to calm him right now. "Master Bruce is still alive, sir. He is currently in a coma within Gotham General's ICU."

His pacing brought him by the window as it begins to rain outside. He looks out the window and reflects on the current situation. My family is still here; a part of my brother is still here. For the moment his anger subsides with concern for his nephew. "What are the doctors saying about his condition? Don't lie to me, because right now that is not something you would want to do."

For a moment he had to think of his words carefully. I have known Thomas and Phillip nearly their entire lives. Phillip could never take the bad news with a silver lining and always preferred the straight forward approach. I have seen his anger many times first hand, yet I've never been on the receiving end of it; nor have I ever wanted anyone else to be. If I lie to him, even I wouldn't want to think of what his reaction would be towards me. Both he and his brother treated me with such kindness ever since they were boys I doubt that he would change now. However, the only difference is that Thomas is gone and Phillip only ever answered to him. He knew what he had to say. "For the moment the doctors are saying that Master Bruce's condition is stable. He had a collapsed lung and severe blood loss from a gunshot wound to the chest, yet he should make a full recovery."

 He slams his fist against the window. "My nephew is in a coma. How is that making a recovery?"

"Dr. Thompkins  and Dr. Thorne were the ones who performed the surgery on the young Master themselves, sir.'

"Well, that's a relief." He turns and sits on the edge of the bed. Thank heavens it was THOSE two. Tommy always spoke highly of their skills as surgeons; if anyone was going to save my nephew's life, aside from my brother, I would pick them. It took the two of them though, which would be like two of Thomas himself working on Bruce, which means his injuries were that severe. The banging on the door interrupted his thoughts, "Would you PLEASE quiet down out there!? I'm trying to find out what happened to my family!"

"Go to Hell you son of a bitch!! I'm going to tell my father about this! And when I do he won't be too happy!"

"Go ahead and tell him! I'll tell him that he should have raised a daughter that knew how to please a man!"

She kicks the door, "Fuck you, Phillip Wayne!" She storms off down the hallway with her purse flung across her shoulder as she pulls out her lipstick.

"I apologize if I interrupted something, sir."

"No need to apologize, Jarvis. It was DoA anyway, so it doesn't matter." He chuckled for a moment. "Well more like dead after the second time." 

Well, it is good that he is able to maintain his usual cheery self.

"Before you go saying I'm still my USUAL CHEERY SELF. Do us both a favor, and don't."

"The thought hadn't crossed my mind, sir."

"Sure it didn't." He stands up. "Now where did that damned belt go?"

"When can I expect you to return to Gotham, sir?"

"I'll be there by..." He paused for a moment. "Jarvis do you know of any flights that are departing from Cleveland?"

"As a matter a fact I do, sir. I have arranged a flight for you within the next two hours from Cleveland International. It should take an hour and a half for your arrival."

He is on all fours scanning under the bed. "Well, that's gre..." He reaches his hand under the bed. "Aha! I found it!" He pulls his belt from under the bed and stands up to put it on. "Which airline will I be on?"

"The flight shall be on a Wayne Industries private jet, sir."

His eyes widen with slight enthusiasm. "Wow. One of our PRIVATE jets, eh? I haven't ridden on one of those in a while."

Jarvis sighs at the statement. "By YOUR choice, sir."

He walks over to the mirror and begins to straighten his attire. "You're right J." As he begins to button his shirt. "It was by my choice. It is MY choice no longer." His eyes look away from the mirror as he gazes outside as raindrops trickle down the window.

"I understand, sir. Shall I pick you up once you arrive, or do you want me to send a car for you?"

He walks over to the window. "No, that won't be necessary."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure. However, what I will need is a car."

"What kind of a car, sir?"

"Any kind will do. I'm going to pay a visit to a few acquaintances of Thomas's." He walks over to the closet. "I just hope that they will be in the mood to talk."

Oh no, as he thought to himself, what have I done? If Master Phillip returns to Gotham in this mindset I fear what he will do. "Sir, what do you plan on doing to these 'acquaintances' of Master Thomas?"

He grabs his suitcase out of the closet. "Don't worry I only plan on talking to them."

He lets loose a sigh of relief. "Well, that is good to hear, sir."

"Unless one of them bullshits me. In that case, I'll put two bullets in their chest like they did my brother." He slams the suitcase shut.

"I understand, sir." He knew that only meant his anger hasn't mellowed with time; it has only gotten worse with his time away from Gotham.

He walks over to the window. "On days like this Tommy and I used to lay in the sunroom at Wayne Manor looking up at the sky as the rain fell on the glass ceiling. The whole thing was MY idea, yet Tommy would say it was his and mom would scold him for it every time because I was looking at rain instead of doing my homework." Everything was silent for a moment as a single tear trickled down his face. "I WILL find out what happened that night."

"It could have been a random mugging and nothing more, sir. You should let the Police conduct their investigation."

With the same quiet rage is his voice as before he spoke, yet with a much more forceful tone. "That was no random mugging. Anyone else, maybe. A Wayne doesn't get mugged in Gotham. That wasn't random. It was an assassination." He shuts the blinds and closes the curtains. "The Police won't be of help. They were most likely paid off not to find the killer." He walks over to the nightstand near the side of the bed. "I'll talk to you once I make it to the plane."

"Have a safe journey, sir." 

"Thank you. I'll see you and Bruce real soon." He hangs up the phone and walks out of the room. 

* * *

As the jet approaches the runway for a landing the pilot's voice comes on the intercom. "Would everyone please be seated as we begin our landing approach?"

Phillip looks out the window at the runway as he gazes upwards towards the city's skyline. I'm finally home, he thinks to himself, it has been so long. I wonder how much things have changed? The jet touches down on the runway and coasts towards the Wayne Aerospace hangar, as the clouds cast shifting shadows along the runway. Once the jet comes to a stop the door swings down as the passengers disembark. Phillip walks towards the hangar entrance as he sees a dark blue car with tinted windows drive up and a man dressed in a grey suit steps out and stands next to it. As he gets closer to the man in grey raises his hand to hand him the keys to the car. "The car is all yours, sir." As he drops the keys into Phillip's hand.

Phillip grips the keys tightly. "Thank you." He tosses his suitcase into the passenger seat as he steps into the car and the man walks away. A phone begins to ring. "Where is that coming from?" He glances around the vehicle until he realizes that it is coming from the glove box. He reaches over and opens the glove box to remove the cell phone. "Hello?"

Jarvis responds with an enthusiastic. "Hello, Master Phillip."

"Wow. You always were the best when it came to timing things just right."

"That is the primary duty of a gentleman's gentleman, sir."

"Of course. I understand. Is there any change on Bruce?"

"No, sir. He is still in a coma."

He starts up the car and begins to drive away. "Alright. Who is his attending doctor?"

"At my urging, Dr. Thompkins agreed to look after him, however, Dr. Thorne agreed to be on call at a moments notice. He even cleared his schedule of all of his patients."

"Well, that was very charitable of him." He pauses for a moment to think. Matthew usually doesn't do something like this out of the kindness of his heart. "How much do I have to pay him for his profit loss?"

"Not a thing, actually. I think once he heard you were coming back he jumped at the chance." He lets out a low chuckle.

Phillip nods his head with a slight smirk. "Of course he would. Well, give them both my best and my thanks for doing this."

"I will, sir. Do you need anything else?"

"Yes, I want you to head over to the hospital and check on Bruce for me." He pauses for a moment and glances over to the passenger seat. "Is there a gun under the passenger seat?"

"Yes, sir. I had the security officer leave an unmarked gun as per your requests."

 He chuckles a moment. "What would I do without you J?"

"I have no idea, sir. Whom shall you visit first?"

"I'll go visit Carmine. After that, I'll go to Commissioner Loeb and the Mayor's office."

His voice becomes nervous and jumpy. "Is that wise, sir? With your brother's death, they might be on high alert."

"That's what I'm counting on J. I'll talk to you later." He smirks to himself and hangs up the phone.

* * *

Elsewhere in a dimly lit room with intricate floral designs on the wall sweet cigar smoke fills the air. The corners and the crown molding in the room were done with dark wood. The windows were covered with dark wooden blinds with window bars outside of the windows. Each window has built-in flower pots on the window ledges.

A man dressed in a white pinstriped suit opens the thick dark wooden door, as it creaked open he poked his head into the room. He sees three men clad in blue-grey suits standing within the dimly lit room. He pauses for a moment then nods his head as he continues into the room with his hat in his hand. As he makes his way further into the room he sees an elaborate wooden desk with a well decorated mahogany chair which sat behind it. Smoke arose from the other side of the chair. It felt as if the man was walking towards his ultimate doom, yet he knew that it wasn't so. The reason he is here is to tell his Don what he had discovered. "I have something to tell you, Don Falcone."

One of the men holds out his hand and begins to speak in a raspy voice. "Dat is far enough. Whatever you have to say, you can say it from right here. Da Don will be able to hear it."

He pauses and looks down for a moment, then he looks up. "Phillip Wayne has returned to Gotham." A hand reaches out from the side of the chair to wave him away.

The three men nod. The one that held his hand out addressed the man in white. "Dat is all," he reaches into his inner suit pocket and pulls out an envelope with money, "this is for you. Da Don thanks you for your service and loyalty." 

He takes the envelope and bows his head, then he turns and walks out of the room.

Don Falcone stands up and walks over to a window near his chair. He stood at 5'8, a man in his early 40s, he had a thinly trimmed mustache, grey hair dotted across his head. He always has a commanding presence no matter whom he was talking to. As he opens the wooden blinds a dark blue car with tinted windows pulled up to his front gates.

One of the men in the room steps towards Don Falcone. "Do you want us to stay with you, sir?" Falcone shakes his head. They each look at each other before departing from the room.

As a few minutes pass there is a knock at the door. Falcone turns around and addresses the knock with a calm and raspy voice, "Come in." He proceeds to walks over to his chair to turn it around to face the door, as the door creaks open and Phillip walks into the room. He motions for Phillip to take a seat in one of the chairs that sat in front of his desk. As Phillip takes a seat Falcone reaches for the bottle of brandy and two glass cups that stood at the edge of his desk. He pours each of them a drink and hands one to Phillip and places his cigar into the ashtray on the desk. They each take a sip and let out a low sigh as the brandy makes it's way smoothly down their throats with a gentle burn to it.

Phillip looks around the room for a moment. "I love what you've done with the place, Carmine."

Falcone nods in agreement. "Yeah. It took a while to get the right interior decorator in here to make things, presentable." He takes another sip of brandy.

"So I see," Phillip nods in acceptance, "I'm surprised Tommy didn't recommend someone for you."

"Actually he did, a few times actually, my wife was the one that kept running them away." He chuckles for a moment, then looks down at his cup as he swirled the brandy still within. "What can I do for you, Philly?" As he brings his gaze back to Phillip he locks eyes with him. Those damned eyes, he thought to himself, the eyes of a man willing to risk it all.

 As he slouches in his chair, delivering the question with a calmly cold demeanor. "Do you know who killed them, Carmine?"

He leans forward placing his elbows on his desk. "I don't know who did it or gave the order," he takes a shot of his cup then reaches over to the bottle of brandy to refill his cup, "I do promise to find out."

The atmosphere in the room felt as though it thickened. "I find it hard to believe the Kingpin of Gotham's Underworld doesn't know who killed one of his business partners. Let alone one of Gotham's more prominent citizens." He takes a shot of his cup of brandy, then reaches for the bottle to refill his cup.

Falcone continues leaning on his desk. "I'm busy at the moment with other things."

Phillip leans forward placing his elbows on the desk and slams a fist on the desk. "Busy? My brother and his wife were killed, and you're worried about which mom&pop store didn't pay their protection fee this month?"

The wind begins to howl outside the window. "I'm not worried about that." Falcone runs his hand through his hair. "I'm worried about Gotham."

He raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Your brother's death isn't just something that affects the business page of the Gotham Gazette."

Phillip's upper lip cringes. "Pick your words carefully Carmine."

"You're unarmed Philly," he smirks to himself.

"Has that ever stopped me before?" He has a deadpan look on his face as he delivered those words.

"I know. The whole reason as to why you're even here is because we're family." He wraps his fingers in a triangle cross.

"You're right. I wouldn't want to hurt you, Carmine, however, my REAL family is in a coma right now while his parents are lying in a morgue."

Falcone grumbles for a second to clear his throat. "Even still. We're all family. Your brother saved my life; if it weren't for him I wouldn't be the Kingpin of Gotham." He reaches over to his cigar and takes a puff of it, then places it back in the ashtray. "With Thomas's death, Gotham has become a powder keg waiting to blow."

"How?" He leans back and slouches in the chair.

"Every Family, every gang, and every seedy underground character in Gotham is gearing up for war right now." He takes another sip of brandy and sits back in his chair. "With Thomas dead, our little group has lost a member and a quarter of our power. The only way to make up for it is if you are willing to take up his position."

"Even if I wanted to I wouldn't. Thomas had the brains for these kinds of things. He was always the big-picture guy, you know?"

"You're right, however, only a Wayne can take his place." He picks up his cup and takes a sip.

"Your word is law in Gotham. Why wouldn't you be able to just snap your fingers and everyone falls in line?"

"I wish I could, however, I can't in this case. Loeb keeps the cops at bay, and James offers us protection from the courts and D.A.s." He takes another sip of brandy. "While I run the streets of Gotham. With the support of Thomas, we were all able to do what we did. Now that he's gone we've lost everything that he brought to the table. Not to mention I lost a friend and a brother."

Phillip chuckles and takes a sip of brandy. "Well, I DID lose a brother Carmine. The four of you only lost a business partner."

"He wasn't that to me. He was my family as much as he was yours." He places his cup on the table and he grabs his cigar to take a puff. "At this point, one of us will find who killed them."

"One of us?"

"Yes. My people are searching for who killed Thomas and Martha; as well as anyone that gave the order for their deaths." He picks up his cup with his free hand and takes a sip. "Loeb has his cops working overtime to find their killer, and James is using this to consolidate his political power by putting a bounty out for any information on the killer or killers."

"What will you do if you find them before I do?"

He nods for a moment. "If my people find them. You'll be the first person to know."

"I'll find them before your people." He chugs down the brandy in his cup and slams it on the desk.

"There is a high chance that you will." He chugs down the brandy in his cup and slams it on the desk, then takes a puff of his cigar. "There is also a high chance that you won't. If my people find them I'll have them detained and you can do whatever you want." He smugly smirks.

Phillip stands and walks towards the door. He looks back over his shoulder to Falcone, "The things I'm going to do to them haven't been invented yet." He turns around to face Falcone. "One last thing, Carmine. Did you have anything to do with Tommy and Martha's death?"

Falcone puffs his cigar. "No. Of course, even if I did, why would I admit it?"

He nods his head with a smirk. "I guess you wouldn't. I had my suspicions of you at first."

"What changed your mind about me?"

"You didn't lie to me when I looked you in the eyes. I can tell that sort of thing."

"Since when can you do that?"

He chuckles, "Something I picked up over the years while I was away. It comes in handy when I'm trying to get information from someone."

"That seems like a very inefficient way to get information from someone."

"Well let's just say it is because I trust you not to lie to me." He lets out a light chuckle. "Pray that it doesn't change." He turns laughing as he walks out of the door.

Falcone laughs as the door closes, I would lie to you, Philly.

* * *

Once Phillip gets back in the car and drives off he picks up the cell phone and calls Jarvis. "I just finished my meeting with Carmine."

"How did it go?"

"He didn't do it, nor did he have any idea of whom did."

Jarvis sighs, "Well that is a relief. Did he have any suspicion on who did it?"

"That he did not. I'm going to head to the hospital. I'll pay the other two a visit later. Are you still at the hospital?"

"Yes, I am. Master Bruce hasn't awoken yet, I'm afraid."

"Ok. Thank you. I'll be there shortly."

* * *

Meanwhile across the city in a high rise condo, a vase is thrown against a wall. A voice yells out, "You morons!"

Two men dressed in khakis and a white shirt with a red striped tie steps forward nervously towards a desk positioned in the corner of the room with a chair seated behind it, one of the men begins to speak. "Sir, it wasn't expected. We had no idea Phillip would come back."

The chair which sat behind the desk swivels around. In it sat a man in a purple suit pinstriped suit, with a balding head of grey hair, and a strong jaw. He slams his hand on the desk, "I don't care! He's here now and there isn't a thing we can do about it."

Another one of the men speaks. "We can always have him killed too, sir."

The man throws a pen at him. "That is impossible to do, you retarded ass wipe! Right now he is the most dangerous man in Gotham. We'll just wait and see what he does. Leave!" The men turn and leave the room. The man picks up his phone and calls someone. "Things aren't going as well as we would have wished. We NEED to meet, NOW." He slams the phone back on his desk and swivels around in his chair to look out the nearby window.