Origins of Owlbatman! - Crime Alley
Apparently I can't resist turning other people into Batman. Based on a prompt over at ficbending since I also can't resist anon meme's.
Summery: It's the same story heard a million times over, on a thousand different worlds. Eight year old boy sees his parents murdered by a mugger in an alleyway, and grows up to be a masked crime fighter with a predisposition towards flying rodents. Mako is no different - except maybe in all the ways he is.
Mako had been a fan of ‘The Blue Spirit’ radio show, tuning in every night for another one of his daring adventures as he rid the world of evil, and when the silent film had come out he had been ecstatic. He was so excited that in the weeks before its release he would wiggle in place at the thought of it, unable to stay still. Going to see the film with his family - on opening night no less! - had been a dream come true.
It had been the best night of Mako’s life.
Right up until it became the worst.
It was late. Later than Bolin usually stayed up, making him lag behind a bit as his stubby little legs weaved down the alley shortcut to their house. Mako was older, and so he could stay up later, and he was fine, and not tired at all. He was just a couple feet behind his parents to keep an eye on his stupid little brother.
And that was when a man stepped out from the shadows, and blocked the alley exit.
Mako remembers. He remember s the mans hand had shaken, even as it pointed at his parents lightning flickering along its edge. He remembers the man’s face, highlighted by light from both above and below with the street lamp and the lightning in his hand. He remembers his dry cracked lips, and the blemishes on his skin. He remembers the ill-fitting suit, and the sweat stains under the man’s arms (its later that he learns these signs for what they are, evidence of Spark, a drug that enhances fire bending - and gives the user a plethora of psychotic symptoms). He remembers the sight of him sending a flood of adrenalin through his system before he had even understood that something was wrong, and he remembers reaching out to grab his brother as he caught up before he could get any closer.
And he remembers the man’s voice as it had stuttered out, almost hidden under the constant buzz of electricity. “Hand over - hand over all ya’ money, and ya’- and ya’ jewels,” he said. He had licked his cracked lips, mouth opening to reveal an array of broken and yellowing teeth, and snapped again when Mako’s father moved slowly in front of his wife, his stance loose but firm. “Do it! Do it, and ain’t - ain’t no one gonna get hurt.”
Mako’s father hands rose, palms facing outward to the crazed fire bender. His eyes had skittered sideways, searching for Mako and Bolin, and his feet shifted slightly. “All right, I’m just going to reach into my pocket, and I’ll have your money for you.” He’d moved his right hand down slowly as he spoke, words matching action. Mako pulled Bolin tightly against his chest, hiding his face against his body. Somewhere an ostrich-horse screeched.
The man jumped, and lightning exploded in uncontrolled arcs, splitting the air open with a terrible sound and filling it with the stench of burning ozone.
Mako’s father shifted forward, arms coming together forcefully, the earth following his motions and rushing towards the fire bender in a solid wave, only to fall short, a bright bolt running through him like he was a modern lightning lamp for an impossibly long moment before releasing him to fall spiritless to the alley floor.
Mako could barely make out his mother’s scream through the sound of his own heart beat and the thunder in his ears, but it’s still enough to draw his attention to her. She’s a small woman, tiny compared to their father, but she moves with the certainty of a rhinobull, feet sliding around their father’s body even as it falls, and arm reaching out into the wild branches of living fire. Her fingers catch the strands like a metal rod in a storm, curving them towards her touch and away from their dangerous paths along the alleyway walls towards Mako and Bolin. Her other hand moves forward set to redirect the lightning upon the man who cast it -
But the lightning never leaves her body.
She falls to her knees, and then forward into the rough dirt of the alleyway, the string of her jade necklace breaking, beads rolling slowly across the ground.
Mako takes Bolin by the hand, grip as tight as his eight year old body can manage - and runs.
Summery: It's the same story heard a million times over, on a thousand different worlds. Eight year old boy sees his parents murdered by a mugger in an alleyway, and grows up to be a masked crime fighter with a predisposition towards flying rodents. Mako is no different - except maybe in all the ways he is.
Mako had been a fan of ‘The Blue Spirit’ radio show, tuning in every night for another one of his daring adventures as he rid the world of evil, and when the silent film had come out he had been ecstatic. He was so excited that in the weeks before its release he would wiggle in place at the thought of it, unable to stay still. Going to see the film with his family - on opening night no less! - had been a dream come true.
It had been the best night of Mako’s life.
Right up until it became the worst.
It was late. Later than Bolin usually stayed up, making him lag behind a bit as his stubby little legs weaved down the alley shortcut to their house. Mako was older, and so he could stay up later, and he was fine, and not tired at all. He was just a couple feet behind his parents to keep an eye on his stupid little brother.
And that was when a man stepped out from the shadows, and blocked the alley exit.
Mako remembers. He remember s the mans hand had shaken, even as it pointed at his parents lightning flickering along its edge. He remembers the man’s face, highlighted by light from both above and below with the street lamp and the lightning in his hand. He remembers his dry cracked lips, and the blemishes on his skin. He remembers the ill-fitting suit, and the sweat stains under the man’s arms (its later that he learns these signs for what they are, evidence of Spark, a drug that enhances fire bending - and gives the user a plethora of psychotic symptoms). He remembers the sight of him sending a flood of adrenalin through his system before he had even understood that something was wrong, and he remembers reaching out to grab his brother as he caught up before he could get any closer.
And he remembers the man’s voice as it had stuttered out, almost hidden under the constant buzz of electricity. “Hand over - hand over all ya’ money, and ya’- and ya’ jewels,” he said. He had licked his cracked lips, mouth opening to reveal an array of broken and yellowing teeth, and snapped again when Mako’s father moved slowly in front of his wife, his stance loose but firm. “Do it! Do it, and ain’t - ain’t no one gonna get hurt.”
Mako’s father hands rose, palms facing outward to the crazed fire bender. His eyes had skittered sideways, searching for Mako and Bolin, and his feet shifted slightly. “All right, I’m just going to reach into my pocket, and I’ll have your money for you.” He’d moved his right hand down slowly as he spoke, words matching action. Mako pulled Bolin tightly against his chest, hiding his face against his body. Somewhere an ostrich-horse screeched.
The man jumped, and lightning exploded in uncontrolled arcs, splitting the air open with a terrible sound and filling it with the stench of burning ozone.
Mako’s father shifted forward, arms coming together forcefully, the earth following his motions and rushing towards the fire bender in a solid wave, only to fall short, a bright bolt running through him like he was a modern lightning lamp for an impossibly long moment before releasing him to fall spiritless to the alley floor.
Mako could barely make out his mother’s scream through the sound of his own heart beat and the thunder in his ears, but it’s still enough to draw his attention to her. She’s a small woman, tiny compared to their father, but she moves with the certainty of a rhinobull, feet sliding around their father’s body even as it falls, and arm reaching out into the wild branches of living fire. Her fingers catch the strands like a metal rod in a storm, curving them towards her touch and away from their dangerous paths along the alleyway walls towards Mako and Bolin. Her other hand moves forward set to redirect the lightning upon the man who cast it -
But the lightning never leaves her body.
She falls to her knees, and then forward into the rough dirt of the alleyway, the string of her jade necklace breaking, beads rolling slowly across the ground.
Mako takes Bolin by the hand, grip as tight as his eight year old body can manage - and runs.