NARRATOR
It's cold...
That was the first thought morgan had. His father, if you can call him that, had told him to stand on the edge of the Gotham docks. The same docks that are notoriously used by literally every crime syndicate in Gotham's Rouge Gallery. And of course, he was forced to stand there in his underwear on one of, if not the coldest, December nights that Gotham had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Let's not mention the fact that he's barefoot and has open lacerations his back and calves, which burned from the grim in the air.
"You brat, it should have been you." the man, obviously intoxicated, slurred as he swung back his head , taking a swig of the amber liquor he treasured so dearly. His graying black hair making him seem more disheveled than he already was.
This was his usual routine, bring the boy to a relatively dangerous spot, force him to stand close to the danger, then rant about why he was being punished. Why he... was the problem.
The main reason , he deluded himself to believe , was that his only son , his target, caused the death of his precious wife.
It was his usual reasoning for his actions, his son was the reason his wife was gone but in truth a child that was only one at the time could not have been the cause of the regal woman's demise.
But her detieriating state of mind, that was another story. The longer she stayed with him the worst she got till she couldn't anymore her only goodbye was her cold form sunken in the bathtub , a conveniently placed empty pill bottle sitting ontop the counter nearby.
So the man decided to take it out on his only child, the last remnant of her, with her gray blue eyes , regal demeanor and far away stare that would allure any lost soul. That had been the reason for him to fall in love with her, that had been the reason Morgan was born, or so his memories told him.That was probably also why he'd find ways to torment the light out of his innocent and alive eyes.
The boy was only 11 and he'd already seen the worst of the world. Felt the slap and injury of the one that should have loved him the most. So today's event was normal , till he said something new .
" Hey, if you really are sorry, you'd jump into the god damn bay!"
That was new, he'd never directly said it before and of course Morgan heard it like a whisper. What would one expect when you yell into a toddler's ears till they bleed.
But Morgan never said anything, he hadn't spoken much at all, other than the words of pleading and denials he'd give patrons to his room. Yes, patrons. Did you thi k he'd be any safer in a place that should have been his? He'd obey in the end though, not like he had a choice.
So Morgan step closer to the ledge, the murky, toxic waters of the Gotham bay looked ominous, like one step into the abyssal water and your life was forfeit. He hesitated till the bottle came flying to his head, the glass shattered on impact nearly knocking him in. The man must have said something cause the muffled yelling got a bit clearer till it just ... stopped.
Morgan didn't know what was happening, one moment he could sense the horrid drunk and the next , nothing. He felt a rubbery material press softly to his shoulder and flinched. an arm gently guided him away from the ledge. Infront of him now was his father ,on the floor, unconscious andbeside himself was a man clad in black with a cowl that had two patruding spikes atop it. Any gothamite worth their salt would know who this is.
Batman
he thought, staring at the figure that loomed over him. He took off his cape and gently rested it over his shoulders.
But all Morgan saw was his new light, his Savior.