Being in an unfamiliar place, I felt a slight fear creeping over me. However, what terrified me most was my inability to move. In the darkness, footsteps echoed, and a figure appeared near the altar. A faint light barely illuminated its contours, but it didn't step further.
Suddenly, a furious growl erupted from me, and the chains binding me strained like taut strings, struggling to restrain a body desperate to break free. The iron groaned, and it seemed as though it might snap at any moment. But the altar's outline began to glow, and the chains burst into bright flames. They tightened even more, mercilessly pinning my thrashing body to the ground. The fire seared my skin, inflicting unbearable pain. My clenched teeth prevented me from crying out.
It felt as though this was my body—I could feel every ounce of pain and tension within it—but at the same time, I was an observer, detached, as if someone else controlled me. The figure standing near the altar finally spoke in a quiet voice:
"Don't bother trying to break these bonds. Binding you required immense effort and countless lives. Even now, you're ready to fight. Truly, you are the strongest of mankind."
The figure stepped out of the shadows, revealing its true form.
It bore only a faint resemblance to a human. Its face was adorned with numerous eyes, yet it lacked a mouth, and its voice came from an indeterminate source. Something resembling a bony armor covered the lower part of its face. A hood shadowed its features, adding to its ominous appearance.
"Your own people betrayed you, stabbing you in the back. With their help, we managed to seal you," the figure continued, its monotone voice tinged with malice.
The body I inhabited remained silent, but I could feel rage boiling inside me, filling me completely. The overwhelming desire to destroy this creature before me and then exact vengeance on the traitors consumed me.
"Nothing to say, human?" the entity asked again.
The body strained to lift its head, glaring at it with ferocious eyes.
"It seems you're not in the mood for dialogue. You know, things could have been different if you had submitted from the start. We wouldn't have destroyed your kingdom," the creature went on. The body froze momentarily, as if processing what it had heard. Soon, though, a wave of bitterness and regret washed over me.
"Your land will be forgotten. And so will you," it said.
A strange sense of calm washed over me. I could no longer distinguish my feelings from those of the body I was in. Then, clarity struck—I had to fight one last time, for everyone. My muscles tensed to their limits, the chains groaned as they tried to restrain me. The pain was excruciating; every inch of my skin burned, yet my rage burned brighter. The altar cracked under my strain.
The creature no longer seemed confident in the prison it had created. Even its many eyes reflected fear.
Something within me ignited—a blazing fire consuming everything inside. My furious roar echoed through the space:
"There are no limits for me! I will shatter any chains!"
Deep cracks spread across the altar, and the metal chains began to bend and snap.
"Summon the forces, now!" the creature's panicked voice reverberated around me.
"I will destroy you all!" The words erupted from my mouth as I broke free from the chains entirely. A powerful surge of energy ripped through the air, obliterating everything in its path.
But then, suddenly, darkness fell, as if someone had switched off a light. My lungs screamed for air, and I gasped, clutching at my chest in terror. Slowly, sensation returned to me, and I opened my eyes, coughing violently and gulping in air.
It was just a dream. I was still in my room. Everything had felt so real. Perhaps yesterday's events had triggered such emotions within me. In the dream, I was so strong, and in the final moments, I saw the aftermath of that energy surge—nothing remained for miles around.
I wonder what other dreams I might have. Though the pain in the dream was intense, I need to figure out where these sensations come from. Right now, it's best not to dwell on dark thoughts. I headed to the bathroom—it was time to get ready for school.
The morning went by as usual. I had breakfast, and Alice and I drove to school. I expected Bruce to show up today, but he didn't. It seems his disagreements with Alfred are quite serious. Hopefully, he'll come tomorrow.
During lessons, I found myself growing increasingly bored. The subjects had become too easy for me. I had already mastered reading and writing and excelled in other disciplines. Time seemed to drag because of this. I began to think that it might be best for me to move up to the next grade. Today, I plan to visit the principal and discuss this possibility. Of course, I'll need my guardian Elizabeth's consent. Although her schedule is tight, I'll still ask for her permission.
The rest of the day passed slowly, though one good thing happened—I could now move around the school more easily without needing a crutch. As we waited for the bus as usual, a strange feeling started to creep over me, something akin to unease, even though I wasn't worried about anything in particular. It felt as though something was scratching at the edges of my consciousness, urging me to pay attention. I couldn't make sense of it.
When our bus arrived, the feeling intensified, pressing down on me. I cautiously glanced around but saw nothing unusual—except for the driver. He had been replaced, and there was something familiar about him. As I made my way to my seat, the sense of unease grew stronger. Alice noticed my state and began to worry.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. I feel... strange," I replied, looking out at the passing scenery, which seemed unfamiliar. The route had changed?
The bus suddenly came to a stop on a quiet street, and the doors opened. A man stepped inside wearing a driver's uniform. A tattoo was visible on his neck, and his serious gaze scanned the children. He also wore a bandage on his right arm. It hit me—this was one of the men from the alley. The police were searching for them for abducting children.
While everyone stared at him in confusion, he and the driver donned gas masks. A strange odor filled the air. I had no time to act before I started losing consciousness. Faint snippets of their conversation reached my ears.
"Jackpot today," one of them said.
After that, everything went silent, and I blacked out.
*****
I woke up shivering, lying on a cold, damp surface. My senses were sluggish, likely from the gas. Slowly opening my eyes, I realized I was bound and locked in some kind of cell with the other kids from the bus. I quickly spotted Alice and felt a wave of relief. In my shirt pocket, I could feel my knives. Carefully, I began to reach for them. Luckily, my hands were tied in front, making it possible. Slowly and cautiously, I started cutting through the ropes. Just as I was nearly free, I heard approaching footsteps and decided to feign unconsciousness.
The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. I could hear the sound of three people entering. Slightly opening my eyes, I confirmed their presence.
"Good work. You managed to catch a month's worth today," said a male voice.
"Why didn't we start taking buses before? Why stick to alleyways?" one of the kidnappers asked.
"Because it's too obvious. But the Boss ordered a large haul. We need the money for a specific deal," the leader replied.
"How much are we getting for them?" asked the one with the injured arm.
"About $100,000," the leader answered.
"And who are we selling them to this time?" the first man inquired.
"The black market for organs. There's a massive shortage, and many of these kids are perfect donors," the leader explained.
"How much longer will the gas last?" asked the injured criminal.
"At least another two hours," replied the first man.
"Alright, that gives us plenty of time. Get the vehicles ready," ordered the leader.
They finished their conversation and left the room. The lock clicked again as the door shut. No longer pretending, I began cutting the ropes with renewed urgency. How did we end up in this mess? They're planning to sell us on the black market for organs.
Once I freed my hands, I quickly untied my legs. The room was dimly lit, with only a small slit in the door letting in a faint glow.
Approaching the door, I realized we were trapped. It was solid metal. Frustrated, I sat down to devise a plan. They'd be back soon to prepare their vehicles, which meant they'd need to move us. That would be our chance. I had five knives, and there were three of them here—but I didn't know how many more might be lurking. Tonight, I'd have to kill them. If I didn't, I wouldn't be able to save everyone. Letting them live would only make things worse.
The situation was, as adults liked to say, utter crap.
I walked over to Alice and slipped my jacket under her head as a makeshift pillow. I tried to wake her, but it was no use. She just breathed softly, completely unresponsive to my attempts. I didn't dare call her name out loud, fearing it might attract attention.
Gathering my thoughts, I prepared to wait for their return. I needed to act swiftly. Lying down in the darkest corner, I made it look like my hands and feet were still bound.
Only five minutes passed before the door clicked open again. One of the men—the one with the injured arm—walked in. He started inspecting the kids on the floor.
"Where are you, you little brat? I remember your face, you bastard. You'll pay for this wound," he muttered angrily as he scanned the room.
When he reached me, he stopped. "Ah, there you are. It's definitely you. You won't die quickly, that much I guarantee," he growled.
With a sudden swing, he struck me across the head. I gritted my teeth, suppressing the urge to cry out. I couldn't let him know I was awake. He hit me several more times before seeming satisfied. Spitting in my face, he sneered.
"Time to take you to the special room," he said, bending down to lift me.
This was the moment I had been waiting for.
With a sharp thrust, I plunged the knife straight into his throat. His eyes widened in shock, and he let out a gurgling sound. Blood sprayed everywhere, covering me. He clutched at his neck, but his strength quickly faded. Within moments, he collapsed onto the floor, a pool of blood spreading around him.
I sat there, staring at his lifeless body, repeating to myself that it had to be done. There was no other choice.
With a trembling hand, I reached for the knife embedded in his throat and pulled it out. Wiping the blade on his clothes, I searched his pockets and found a phone.
Luck.
Now I just needed to figure out where we were. I tried dialing 911, but all I got was an endless "please hold." I attempted several more times, but it was no use.
The only numbers I knew by heart were my home number and Bruce's. Mom probably couldn't help, but Bruce might be able to. I dialed his number and waited, desperately hoping someone would answer.
"Hello, Wayne Manor. This is Alfred speaking," came Alfred's calm, polite voice.
"It's Brian. We've been kidnapped and are being held in a basement—I don't know where yet," I said, my voice shaky but focused.
"Brian, I need you to describe your surroundings in as much detail as possible. We'll locate you," Alfred said, his tone instantly serious.
I stepped outside the door and looked around.
"There are containers everywhere, full of dirty clothes. The windows are high up on the walls, but I can't reach them. I'll try to find something to climb on," I replied.
After stacking a few boxes to create a makeshift platform, I climbed up. Gripping the windowsill, I managed to pull myself up just enough to peer outside.
"It's an alley. There's a distant sign that says 'Joe's Donuts.'"
"That's enough. Stay put—we'll be there soon," Alfred assured me before hanging up.
Aside from waiting, I had no other options. Returning to the body, I searched it for a weapon but found nothing. If I had a gun, it would be easier when someone else came down. I slipped out of the cell and hid among the containers, my nerves on edge as I anticipated when the gang would notice their missing companion and come down here. Time stretched like a rubber band. I checked the phone—only ten minutes had passed. How much longer would it take for them to get here?
My body was trembling from the tension. My heart refused to slow, pounding relentlessly, and my hands shook slightly. I tried to collect myself, taking deep, deliberate breaths, but it helped only a little.
Footsteps echoed from the staircase—someone was coming down. Suddenly, all my anxiety vanished, as if a switch had been flipped. I became calm, cold, and focused. The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.
"Luke, where the hell are you?" a voice called out. So, the one I killed was named Luke.
The man came down and immediately noticed the open cell door. Damn it, I forgot to shut it.
"What are you doing there?" the man barked.
He moved toward the cell, completely unaware of my presence. As he entered the cell and saw his dead companion, I made my move. Both of my hands held knives. I threw one, hitting his leg. He cried out in pain, clutching at the wound as he fell to the floor. I pounced on him and delivered a fatal blow to his throat. He gurgled, blood bubbling from his wound, and collapsed beside Luke.
A second life taken by my hands. I didn't want to kill you. You forced me. It was for Alice's safety. That's how I consoled myself as I looked over at my sister.
The excruciating wait for rescue finally ended when the phone in my hand rang. I answered quickly.
"We're here. Are you still inside?" Alfred's voice came through.
"Yes, still here."
"Stay put. We're coming in," he instructed before hanging up.
Gunfire erupted upstairs, accompanied by shouting and the sound of chaos. The gunshots were relentless, echoing every second. I left the cell and crouched behind a stack of containers, ready for anyone who might come down.
Eventually, the gunfire subsided, replaced by the heavy tread of numerous footsteps descending the stairs. As they grew nearer, I braced myself, wondering who it would be. My tension melted into relief as familiar faces came into view—Detective James Gordon and a couple of police officers cautiously descending into the basement, their eyes scanning the area.
Stepping out from my hiding spot, I announced, "There's no one else here." Instantly, their weapons were aimed at me.
"Stand down; it's just a kid," Gordon ordered, holstering his pistol.
"You okay? Are you hurt?" he asked, stepping closer.
"It's not my blood," I replied evenly.
"Then whose?" he pressed.
I simply gestured toward the cell. Gordon entered, his expression darkening as he took in the scene—the bodies of the gang members I had dealt with.
"Did you... do this?" he asked after a pause.
"Yes. I managed to take a phone from one of them," I said, showing him the device I had claimed.
"We need to get the kids upstairs and home. Maybe they'll believe it was all just a nightmare," Gordon said to his men, who nodded and began carrying the children out. "You, though, you're coming with me," he added, gesturing for me to follow.
"Take Alice," I said, gesturing to my sister.
"Alright," he replied, stepping forward to lift her into his arms. I lacked the strength to carry her myself, and besides, I was covered in blood.
We ascended the stairs to the ground floor, where police officers were moving about everywhere. Judging by the rows of washing machines, we were in a laundry facility. As we approached Harvey Bullock and Alfred, the butler noticed us and hurried over, concern etched on his face. He looked me and Alice over before asking:
"Are you both alright?"
"Yes, we're fine," I answered. Finally, it was over, and we were free.
"Good. Let me take you home in my car," Alfred offered.
"What about their statements?" Harvey interjected, looking unconvinced.
"Brian needs rest right now. They've been through a lot," Alfred replied firmly.
"Alright, we'll get their statements later," the detective conceded, no longer objecting.
Alice was gently placed on the back seat, and I was guided to the front. James Gordon called Alfred aside, and the three of them began talking in hushed tones. Occasionally, they glanced in my direction. After a short conversation and a handshake with the detectives, Alfred returned to the car and climbed into the driver's seat.
"Let's head home," he said, starting the engine and pulling out.
As I stared out the window, dark thoughts crept into my mind. What if that gang member hadn't recognized me and hadn't opened the cell? What if he'd killed me earlier while I was still unconscious? That warning feeling I had back on the bus—it had tried to tell me something, but I hadn't understood. Countless "what ifs" churned in my head. But one conclusion became crystal clear: I needed more power than I had now. I dreamed of the ability to destroy any enemy, as if in a waking dream.
A hand landed on my shoulder, shaking me slightly. I looked up to see Alfred's concerned face.
"Brian, are you listening to me?" He glanced at me before returning his attention to the road. I must have been deep in thought.
"Yes," I replied.
"Listen, what happened back there isn't your fault. You acted to protect your sister and those kids. You did everything you could," he said, referring to the gang members I had killed. I had taken their lives, but I felt no guilt for it. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," I nodded.
"You're braver than most adults. You're a very courageous boy, a real man," he said. Even though I didn't need comforting, his support meant a lot to me.
"Thank you."
"No need to thank me," Alfred replied as we continued our journey.
I turned back to the window, watching the buildings blur past, as if searching for answers to determine my purpose and the next steps toward it.