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Lord Dakol
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2009
- Location
- California
This is a written version of the newly-released trailer for the movie! I'm so so excited! Oh, any reviews would be appreciated!
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South Gotham Hospital
1:30 p.m.
Cold wind bit at the face of Bruce Wayne, causing him to squint his eyes as he stepped out of his black Ferrari, and onto the paved sidewalk of the hospital. Doctors and nurses rushed past, attempting to do all they could in such a short amount of time.
Bruce wore a heavy woolen jacket, the collar lifted up to protect his face, though it didn't help the fact that his short, black combed hair was getting slightly ruffled. His calm hazel eyes looked ahead, seeing the lobby filled with patients that couldn't get treated right away. Their body convulsed and their veins popped out as they screamed in utter agony. Bruce knew the reason: A new drug called "Venom" that was forced into their bloodstreams. Some people found the effects to be positive; others were not so lucky. The person "administering" the drug was a man named Bane.
Bruce considered the option of bringing Batman back, but how could he? He was wanted for the murder of five people – six, including Harvey Dent. So he simply chose to . . . not believe he was there anymore, though he was demanding to be let out so he could help the city. No . . . it was too risky.
Starting down the lobby, he asked for the room number of Commissioner James Gordon.
"He's in room 204, Mr. Wayne. But please, don't stay long," the receptionist stated with a sad smile. Bruce nodded in understanding before walking through the hall. Jim was recently diagnosed with lung cancer, due to his smoking habits. Everyone was worried about him, including Bruce. As he glanced around the rooms as he passed by them, his mind flashed back to the incident with Gotham General, where the psychopath known as "The Joker" blew it up, rendering it useless because of the C4 that was used. That madman . . . he caused all of this, and Bruce could do nothing about it.
Soon enough, Bruce stopped at a closed door, upon the wood, with bold letters "204". The young man braced himself, swallowing silently and shaking out his nerves . . . and walked in. The room was quiet, saved for the soft beeping of the machines and the exhale of Jim Gordon. Donned in only a hospital nightgown, his mouth and nose was covered with a clear oxygen mask, regulating his breathing. An I.V. was inserted in his left arm, wrapped around his shoulder securely, and a yellow hospital band on his wrist. He was missing his usual dark glasses, his eyes closed.
Bruce grimaced, not wanting to see his friend like this. Taking off his coat and placing it by an empty chair, he revealed the white dress shirt he wore, sitting down as he watched Jim quietly. It wouldn't last. Jim awoke slowly, opening his eyes as they fluttered to take in the area around him. Once they focused, he looked over at Bruce.
Jim groaned painfully as he shifted his right side to get a good look at Bruce. Placing a hand upon his mask, he breathed out, "Bruce…" the word was raspy and sounded painful, and resulted in a rough, hacking cough. Bruce leaned forward to calm him down, but the older man waved him away. After a few minutes of silence, Jim spoke once more.
"We were in this together . . . and then you were gone," Jim breathed, the words muffled from the mask. He grimaced slightly and lifted his mask away to speak more clearly, worrying Bruce. "Now this evil . . . rising."
Bruce knew what he was talking about: Bane. He nodded.
"The Batman has to come back." Jim said, his voice getting a bit stronger and more convicted. This startled Bruce; Jim had figured out who the Batman was just after Dent died, but said nothing and didn't report him. From then on, they trusted each other. Best friends.
Bruce glanced away, a bit in shame. "What if he doesn't exist anymore?" Bruce whispered, his voice breaking and closing his eyes. He had sealed away that door a while ago. Jim shook his head slowly.
"He must..." Jim replied, coughing lightly, "He must." Now, his voice was getting weaker and slowly, his eyes fluttered, trying to stay awake. Bruce curled his hands and clenched them tightly into fists.
"Get some rest. You need it," Bruce said, standing up and grabbing his jacket, turning away to leave.
"Is he . . . coming back?" Jim asked, his tone slightly filled with hope. He rose the mask back to his mouth.
Bruce was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he answered simply, and let the room. But he knew; he already knew.
The Batman was returning.
_____________________________________________________
South Gotham Hospital
1:30 p.m.
Cold wind bit at the face of Bruce Wayne, causing him to squint his eyes as he stepped out of his black Ferrari, and onto the paved sidewalk of the hospital. Doctors and nurses rushed past, attempting to do all they could in such a short amount of time.
Bruce wore a heavy woolen jacket, the collar lifted up to protect his face, though it didn't help the fact that his short, black combed hair was getting slightly ruffled. His calm hazel eyes looked ahead, seeing the lobby filled with patients that couldn't get treated right away. Their body convulsed and their veins popped out as they screamed in utter agony. Bruce knew the reason: A new drug called "Venom" that was forced into their bloodstreams. Some people found the effects to be positive; others were not so lucky. The person "administering" the drug was a man named Bane.
Bruce considered the option of bringing Batman back, but how could he? He was wanted for the murder of five people – six, including Harvey Dent. So he simply chose to . . . not believe he was there anymore, though he was demanding to be let out so he could help the city. No . . . it was too risky.
Starting down the lobby, he asked for the room number of Commissioner James Gordon.
"He's in room 204, Mr. Wayne. But please, don't stay long," the receptionist stated with a sad smile. Bruce nodded in understanding before walking through the hall. Jim was recently diagnosed with lung cancer, due to his smoking habits. Everyone was worried about him, including Bruce. As he glanced around the rooms as he passed by them, his mind flashed back to the incident with Gotham General, where the psychopath known as "The Joker" blew it up, rendering it useless because of the C4 that was used. That madman . . . he caused all of this, and Bruce could do nothing about it.
Soon enough, Bruce stopped at a closed door, upon the wood, with bold letters "204". The young man braced himself, swallowing silently and shaking out his nerves . . . and walked in. The room was quiet, saved for the soft beeping of the machines and the exhale of Jim Gordon. Donned in only a hospital nightgown, his mouth and nose was covered with a clear oxygen mask, regulating his breathing. An I.V. was inserted in his left arm, wrapped around his shoulder securely, and a yellow hospital band on his wrist. He was missing his usual dark glasses, his eyes closed.
Bruce grimaced, not wanting to see his friend like this. Taking off his coat and placing it by an empty chair, he revealed the white dress shirt he wore, sitting down as he watched Jim quietly. It wouldn't last. Jim awoke slowly, opening his eyes as they fluttered to take in the area around him. Once they focused, he looked over at Bruce.
Jim groaned painfully as he shifted his right side to get a good look at Bruce. Placing a hand upon his mask, he breathed out, "Bruce…" the word was raspy and sounded painful, and resulted in a rough, hacking cough. Bruce leaned forward to calm him down, but the older man waved him away. After a few minutes of silence, Jim spoke once more.
"We were in this together . . . and then you were gone," Jim breathed, the words muffled from the mask. He grimaced slightly and lifted his mask away to speak more clearly, worrying Bruce. "Now this evil . . . rising."
Bruce knew what he was talking about: Bane. He nodded.
"The Batman has to come back." Jim said, his voice getting a bit stronger and more convicted. This startled Bruce; Jim had figured out who the Batman was just after Dent died, but said nothing and didn't report him. From then on, they trusted each other. Best friends.
Bruce glanced away, a bit in shame. "What if he doesn't exist anymore?" Bruce whispered, his voice breaking and closing his eyes. He had sealed away that door a while ago. Jim shook his head slowly.
"He must..." Jim replied, coughing lightly, "He must." Now, his voice was getting weaker and slowly, his eyes fluttered, trying to stay awake. Bruce curled his hands and clenched them tightly into fists.
"Get some rest. You need it," Bruce said, standing up and grabbing his jacket, turning away to leave.
"Is he . . . coming back?" Jim asked, his tone slightly filled with hope. He rose the mask back to his mouth.
Bruce was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he answered simply, and let the room. But he knew; he already knew.
The Batman was returning.