Author's Note: As previously announced in Coolsville Central: Coolsville: Year One, with everything that has happened in 2020, I felt the necessity to one again revamp my Coolsville Central series, in part due to some new ideas flooding around that provided me the inspiration to retool the series.

In particular, the events of 2020 and beyond that saw the existing approach to policing coming under intense scrutiny has made it necessary for me to consider rewriting the policing aspects of this series.

Now, while the origins of Batman have been told countless times, I found it necessary to provide my own take for the Caped Crusader's origins to fit in with my Coolsville Central series.

As a matter a fact, the same thing will apply to Superman, where my own take of his origins will be published.

To avoid any form of repetitiveness to the way Batman's origins are told, this story will incorporate elements from different sources that depicted his origins.

In particular, this story combines aspects from Batman: Year One, Batman Begins, the New 52's Batman: Zero Year story Whistleblower's Blues (from Issue #25 of Detective Comics Volume 2) and the first volume of Batman: Earth One, with additional elements incorporated from the Burtonverse (Earth 89), the DC Animated Universe and the DC Extended Universe.

I don't own Batman or any of the related characters. DC Comics and Warner Bros. does.


Chapter 1: A mugging gone wrong, an ill-fated raid and a transfer

June 26, 1981

It was very dark and gloomy late at night in Gotham City as Thomas Wayne, his wife Martha Kane and their son Bruce emerged from the Monarch Theater, having had spent the past hour or so watching a vintage presentation of the 1940 The Mark of Zorro film.

Making their way down the street, Thomas Wayne smiled as he and his wife Martha watched their son Bruce playfully running down the street, imitating Zorro getting onto a horse.

"Hiya!" Bruce exclaimed as he raced down the street, his foot steps imitating the sound of the hooves clicking from a horse speeding down the street.

Thomas and Martha smiled at each other as Bruce proclaimed, "Come on, you baddies! Come fight me if you can!"

Bruce continued with his imitation of Zorro as the family of three made a turn onto Park Row, which is one of the frequent shortcuts the family has taken every night they went out for the movies.

Owing to defective lamp posts, the alleyway was quite dark and for quite some time, Thomas has been pushing for the city's Department of Public Works to repair the lamps without any response.

Adding to the gloomy appearance of the alleyway was how run down the neighbourhood was. For decades, the area was bustling with industrial activity, providing means for livelihoods for the predominantly-black and poor white residents.

However, as factories began to individually move to the suburbs and talks of constructing an elevated highway, which cuts right through the heart of the city and linking it to Metropolis, came through in the 1950s, the neighbourhood began to appear more run down as residents were evicted from the properties.

Adding to the run down appearance of the neighbourhood was the recent drastic cuts made to social services by the city, and as a result, the area has become frequented by those that would be associated with the city's red light district.

It was then that Thomas paused when he saw that Bruce had stopped running, and his eyes soon settled on a man ahead of them.

There was something eerie about the man ahead of them, and Thomas promptly stopped in his tracks as the man discarded his cigarette and stepped forward from the dark shadows.

The man was wearing a light brown flat cap as he stepped out of the dark shadows, and almost instantly Thomas can see that he was armed with a pistol.

"I'm only gonna say this once." The man warned them as he stepped towards them with the gun trained onto Thomas. "Hand me yer valuables!"

Martha and Bruce glanced towards Thomas in concern as he gently raised his hands with one hand reaching into his pocket.

"Take it easy." Thomas said calmly. "I'm just reaching for my wallet."

The man frowned as he kept his gun on Thomas, who made no effort to pick up the wallet and dropped it onto the ground.

With his eyes and the gun still trained on Thomas, the mugger slowly knelt down to pick up the wallet before standing back up.

Noting the pearl necklace Martha was wearing, the mugger turned his attention towards the wife.

"As a bonus, I would like those pearls as well." The mugger declared as he turned his aim towards Martha.

Before Martha or any of the Waynes could respond, a couple of shadowed figures stepped into the scene with one of them armed with a baton.

"Chill, I thought I told you to beat it and never return!" One of the figures exclaimed.

The mugger turned around, finding himself face-to-face with two uniformed police officers, one of whom had his gun trained on him.

Bruce was relieved to see the two police officers, whose names are Jacob Weaver and Maxwell Eckhardt, though his parents remained tense as the two officers stepped forward and shoved the mugger out of the way.

"Wayne, this lad givin' you trouble?" Weaver asked as he kept his gun on the mugger.

"Nothing we couldn't handle, Weaver." Thomas replied. "We were just about to send him on his way when you two showed up."

"Sounds just about right, as always the case with rich folks who thinks they know a lot about everything that's going on in this city." Weaver snorted before he turned to his partner and added, "Isn't that right, Max?"

"Indeed it is, Jacob." Eckhardt nodded before he pulled out his service weapon. "Typical rich folks, thinking they have a taste of desperation in life, thinking they understand the f**king scum that infects Gotham and thinking that they are worth saving."

"Mom? Dad?" Bruce asked, confused.

As Martha motioned Bruce to stay back, Weaver continued, "Face it, having the likes of you insisting that these f**king scumbags are still worth saving, worth redeeming, is what got Gotham into this mess in the first place!"

"All while you hardly practice what you preach." Eckhardt added. "Like going on a luxury trip to the movie theatre to watch an old movie while countless folks continue to roam the streets, hungry or not sure when their next meal will be."

"Coming from someone who's been extorting the folks around here." Martha said defiantly. "Shaking down on those who don't have much to stand for, whether be a home, secure jobs or opportunities, help for their habits..."

"That is where you're wrong." Eckhardt cut in before Martha could finish. "Those f**king scumbags got what's coming for them, and Joe Chill here is going to join them now that he's outlived his usefulness."

As Weaver placed the barrel of his gun right in Chill's head, he said, "What the h*ll is it with you anyway? Can't you see that it will be a whole lot easier for you to keep your money and look the other way?"

"Not when it was never the way I was taught when I grew up in this town." Thomas shook his head defiantly.

Immediately, Eckhardt turned towards Martha with his gun trained on her. "Such a shame. You could've been an asset to our cause and prove yourself to be a f**king true Gothamite with support from the right friends."

In spite of having the gun right on her chest, Martha only glared back at Eckhardt defiantly. "We may have far fewer friends than you, but that doesn't mean we've got much better friends."

"Then it's quite a d*mn shame that you keep surrounding yourselves with the wrong kind of friends that won't get you far in this city, just like that sl*t of a doctor Leslie Thompkins, for instance." Weaver snorted. "Volunteering at that clinic she runs."

Turning his attention to Thomas, Weaver continued, "And providing that clinic with the funding and volunteering as a surgeon there."

Shaking his head, Eckhardt said to Thomas, "You know, you would be much better off as the playboy and party animal you once were, Wayne, instead of getting influenced by Martha Kane and start volunteering at, and later sponsoring, that dump of a clinic."

"If you're implying that I would be better off using my skills on the city's elite, then it would be a wasteful use of my skills, Eckhardt." Thomas said defiantly. "Not to mention your connections with Judson Pierce hardly makes you someone qualified to wear a badge and enforce our laws, not when you stretch and twist it to your own ends."

"And that's on top of the way you treat women around here." Martha added as she glared at Eckhardt. "Which makes it curious about the way you treat your own sister or even daughter and whether you treat them the same way you treat the women around here."

Something about Martha's remark must've struck a nerve with Eckhardt, because in the next instant, the officer immediately lunged at Martha.

Immediately, Thomas reached over to his wife as he said, "Keep your filthy hands off my wife!"

As Thomas reached over to Martha, Eckhardt turned his gun towards him and without warning, he opened fire and the shots struck Thomas right in the chest, which sent him tumbling to the ground.

"Thomas-!" Martha gasped as she reached over to her husband, only for Eckhardt to turn his gun on her and open fire as well.

Bruce only winced as the corrupt officer shot both his parents, though as the abomination of what he witnessed settled in on him, he sank to his knees.

"Martha..." Thomas gasped as he saw his wife's still eyes before drawing in his last breath.

By this point, Eckhardt have retracted his gun and turned to Weaver, who still have Joe Chill shoved to the nearby wall.

"Suppose we better go and change our timecards so that no one would be wiser about us going Code 22, Jake." Eckhardt suggested.

"Right, as soon as we finished one more piece of our business with Chill here." Weaver nodded as he kept his hand on Chill's chest before turning towards the would-be mugger and continued, "See, this is what happens when you make a f**king regular habit of dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight every night, Chill."

Chill only gulped as the corrupt officer continued, "Now, if I were you, I would be rushing to get out of the state right now, because soon this place will be swarming with cops, and they'll be searching for the mugger that shot the Waynes in an ill-fated robbery."

Then, seeing the young Bruce kneeling before his parents' lifeless bodies, Weaver continued, "Not to mention that you're gonna be facing a bleak sentence, should you get caught. So scram while you still have a chance."

It was then that they heard sirens in the distance, which prompted Weaver to let go of Chill, who swiftly ran off down the dark alleyway without another word.

"Better get the gun out of the way." Weaver suggested.

Eckhardt nodded before faking an injury in the shoulder, prompting Weaver to support him as they make their way towards Douglas Croft Boulevard.

The officer behind the wheel of the patrol car was speeding down the boulevard and approaching Park Row when he saw Eckhardt and Weaver staggering towards the intersection, prompting him to slow down and pull the car to a complete stop.

"What's happened?" The officer asked.

"Got a shooting just down Park Row, Vickers." Weaver replied. "Eckhardt tried to stop the mugger, but got a glancing blow to his left shoulder in the scuffle and lost his service weapon."

"D*mn." Vickers remarked. "Are you alright, Eckhardt?"

"Nothing too serious, but tell the sarge that I'm gonna have to call it a night and see a clinic, in case the wound gets serious." Eckhardt replied with a wince. "In the meantime, there's a boy in the alley, I don't think his parents are in any condition to talk after that encounter with the mugger."


Detective James Gordon, a seven-year veteran of the Gotham City Police Department, felt like he could use another mug of coffee as he and his partner, Detective Francis Laney, who has been on the force for 25 years, responded to the radio call about a shooting on Park Row.

As always, the night shift at the 11th Precinct was filled with the usual slate of crimes, and Jim was certain that the night wasn't going to be any different.

Except, once he and Laney arrived at the scene, it was starting to become clear that this shooting they're responding to is not the typical homicide involving firearms.

First and foremost, the victims of the shooting were Thomas and Martha Wayne, two of the city's most wealthiest and influential citizens.

Second off, word has it that one of the officers that responded to the shooting had a wrestle with the mugger, got himself shot and lost his service weapon in the struggle.

And third, the victims' nine-year old son Bruce was somehow spared by the mugger, perhaps on account of him encountering the two officers before he could do anything to the young Bruce.

"Brace yourself, Jimmy." Laney said as they took detailed notes of what was observed at the crime scene. "The storm's gonna slam us hard on this, especially from the brass."

Jim nodded but didn't offer anything. Instead, his mind was focused on the scene itself and the statements from the two responding officers.

Given that the shooting have occurred only twenty minutes earlier, much of the scene remained fresh, although there were a couple of inconsistencies that was starting to pile up in Jim's mind.

Even though his stint in homicide was barely a year, having had spent another year on the robbery table after he was promoted from patrol, Jim was still trying to grasp the consistencies between what he was seeing at the crime scene and the statements provided by the officers.

As a matter a fact, before joining the Gotham City Police Department, Jim enlisted in the Marine Corps straight out from high school in 1969, in time to be deployed to Vietnam after finishing recruit training at Parris Island.

Part of his training included hand-on-hand combat, in addition to participating in Scout Sniper School following his fast-tracked promotion to Lance Corporal.

His final year in Vietnam, not long before the withdrawal of US forces in 1973, saw him posted there as military police, which is also how he got an early hand in law enforcement before enrolling in the Gotham City Police Academy a year later.

It was his service in the Corps that instilled his sense of integrity into Jim, and it was that sense of integrity that landed Jim in hot water with a number of his fellow officers time and again.

While said conflict with his fellow officers didn't derail his promotion to Detective two years prior in 1979, Jim knew that it was only a matter of time before his approach to policing and detective work starts to rub more people, especially those in the departmental brass, the wrong way.

Already, Jim has found himself the subject of stern conversations with Captain Gillian Loeb, the precinct commander, at least twice, and even to this day, he still wondered how the h*ll did he continue to get away with the way he has been doing things.

Focusing his mind on the crime scene, Jim wrote down what he and Laney have observed, though he hardly took any stock at what Laney directed him to document in his notes, not when Laney himself has a habit of taking whatever statements from a fellow officer for its face value, and things were no different with Weaver and Eckhardt.

In particular, while Jim himself hardly interacted with Officers Weaver and Eckhardt, what he have observed from the duo, including the few instances he did interact with them, was more than enough to convince him that any conviction in a court case that relies on testimony from them will, sooner or later, be scrutinized and thrown out.

Something about Weaver's statement about him and Eckhardt being involved in a scuffle with the mugger and the latter officer losing his weapon in the process doesn't add up in Jim's mind, not with what he has observed at the scene.

As far as he could tell, there was no signs of a struggle, and as the details of his observations began to piece together, Jim was starting to get a very good idea what actually happened at the scene.

"What do you think, Jimmy?" Laney asked, prompting Jim to turn around.

Glancing down on his notebook, Jim swiftly slammed it shut before he said, "Eckhardt said that he got shot in the scuffle with the mugger, but the only visible traces of blood were from the victims."

"Ah yes, he said it was probably a glancing blow, though it shouldn't be too serious, Jim." Laney said before he frowned and continued, "Don't tell me what you've observed is far different than what Weaver and Eckhardt said have happened."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm not blind, Frank. Forensics have combed through the scene, yet they can't locate Eckhardt's missing weapon."

"Perhaps the mugger, who Eckhardt has identified to be Joe Chill, stole it, used it to shoot the two victims dead, and took off with it." Laney offered. "Really, Jim. I thought you've learned by now that questioning the f**king statements of a fellow officer won't get you nowhere."

"Only because what I saw doesn't add up to what Eckhardt and Weaver said, Frank!" Jim snapped. "H*ll, for all I know, there's more about the victims' deaths than what they're letting on."

Laney sighed before he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a few bills, which he had received from a couple of drug dealers on the street earlier that night.

"Perhaps you should take some of these bills, Jim." Laney said. "Gotta fit in with everyone else before the boys become concerned with your lack of taste, Jimbo."

"Don't bother." Jim scoffed. "Not that it matters anyways, not when there's no one to rat to in this town."

Laney looked around, then he pocketed the bills before he said, "Let's go see Doctor Friedman. He should have a preliminary report into the victims' deaths."

Jim merely grunted before he followed his partner to their assigned car, pausing briefly to take one last look of the crime scene.


By the time Jim and Laney returned to the 11th Precinct stationhouse, it was ten past one in the early morning.

According to Doctor Friedman's preliminary report, the Waynes were both shot at point blank range.

As Jim digests the report, he can't shake the feeling that either Weaver and Eckhardt tried to stop the mugger, who was holding one of the Waynes as a hostage, resulting in the shooting during the ensuring scuffle, or that there was no struggle at all as Weaver and Eckhardt have claimed and that there was a standoff.

On the way back to their desks, Jim and Laney walked by the young Bruce Wayne, who was tended to a dusty brown-haired lady, who Jim recognized as Doctor Leslie Thompkins.

While Laney continued to his desk in the squad room, Jim stopped in front of Bruce and Dr. Thompkins.

"How is he doing, Dr. Thompkins?" Jim asked as he nodded at Bruce, prompting the doctor to turn towards him.

"He's physically fine, Detective Gordon." Leslie replied. "Though I highly doubt young Bruce here would ever be the same now that his parents are gone."

"I can't imagine what's going through the young man's mind." Jim concurred.

It was then that Leslie asked, "Have you got any idea who did it, Detective?"

Jim sighed and turned around briefly, in time to see Officers Weaver and Eckhardt walking into the stationhouse, accompanied by a couple more suits from the force's firearms analysis unit.

Weaver and Eckhardt paused when they saw Jim, and through the looks in their faces, everything in Jim's mind clicked as he realized that he was now face-to-face with the killers.

Eckhardt only smirked before he and Weaver resumed making their way down the hallway after being prompted by the lieutenant from the firearms analysis unit.

Jim narrowed his eyes before he sighed and turned back to Leslie and Bruce.

"I may have an idea who did it, Doctor." Jim lowered his voice. "However, unless I raise some h*ll and rattle some cages, I highly doubt anything's gonna happen to the perpetrators."

He nodded towards Weaver and Eckhardt's retreating backs as he spoke, prompting Leslie to frown.

In that moment, Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler, arrived at the station, drawing Thompkins' attention away from Jim momentarily.

As he find himself alone with Bruce briefly, Jim sighed before studying the young boy's face.

Jim then turned around before he saw the water fountain, and he swiftly walked over, grabbed a paper cup and filled it with water before returning to Bruce.

"Here, son." Jim said softly as he offered the cup of water to Bruce. "You may need a drink of water."

Bruce didn't respond, his eyes were still staring towards the ground. In what felt like hours, Jim looked on before Bruce finally looked towards him and eyed the paper cup in his hand.

Slowly, Bruce reached over to take the paper cup from Jim, then he stared at the detective with a questioning look.

"Oh, don't worry about me." Jim said. "I've got my mug at my desk."

Seeing the way Bruce was staring at him, Jim understood. "Like I said, don't worry about me. I might have to put up a fight, but that doesn't mean I have any intention of giving up catching the perpetrators that took your parents away."

As he made his remark, Jim gently placed his hand on Bruce's back. "Must've been a terrible thing watching what happened to your parents."

Bruce didn't say a word before he took a sip of water, prompting Jim to nod.

"Don't worry, I'll get the perpetrators that took your parents away and have them delivered to justice, however long it takes, and even if it takes the rest of my life to do so." Jim said with a firm nod.

Then, seeing Laney chatting with Weaver, Eckhardt and the firearms analysis unit, Jim frowned as he added, "I just need to think of something."


July 14, 1981

"Police!" Laney shouted as he led a squad of officers, all in tactical gear, into an apartment unit upon kicking the door open.

The raid came following a tip-off on the location of a drug dealer who was a person of interest in an ongoing abduction case Laney and Jim were working on, and what triggered the tactical raid was that the drug dealer also had outstanding warrants and was described to be armed and dangerous.

As soon as Laney kicked the door open, the squad stormed into the apartment with their weapons drawn.

The minute the squad stepped foot into the apartment, a black man approached them with his hands raised, demanding, "What the f**k's the meaning of-?!"

"Shut up!" Laney shouted again as he directed two officers to restrain the man. "Don't move!"

"Hey-!" The man shouted, only for one of the officers to shove him towards the floor, prompting Eckhardt to move in while the officer trained his weapon on the man.

"Don't move, motherf**ker." Eckhardt shouted as he handcuffed the man, who was now restrained to the floor by the first officer.

"Wha-!" The man demanded, only for Eckhardt to slam his baton on him.

"I said, 'don't move'!" Eckhardt shouted.

As the man was restrained on the floor, the rest of the tactical team continued to search through the apartment thoroughly before turning up empty-handed.

Jim looked on as the sergeant leading the tactical team walked over to Laney and reported that there was nothing incriminating in the apartment.

"That's a shame." Laney said quietly before pulling out the warrant and knelt down to the restrained man. "Is Anthony Zucco stayin' in this place?"

"Zucco?" The man spat out. "What the h*ll are you talking about, man?"

"You know d*mn well what I'm talking about." Laney sneered at the man disdainfully. "The drugs, in particular!"

"Drugs?" The man asked. "I ain't know nothin' about no drugs! What the h*ll is going on?"

"Now don't you get smart with me, b-" Laney said, only for the man to cut in.

"I want to speak with my lawyer!" The man cut in. "This is f**king-!"

As Jim watched the restrained man and Laney banter back and forth, the younger detective's frown began to deepen as he dwell more on a particular detail Laney may have overlooked while drafting the search warrant, which was subsequently approved by Judge Faden.

Oh, for g*d's sake, how the h*ll could Frank have missed that? Jim thought to himself as he recalled the particular details of the tip and search warrant.

Eventually, he turned towards Laney, who was on the verge of snapping as the man interrupted him once more, and decided that he had to step in.

"-so again, please tell me what the f**k's go-" The man was in the middle of a sentence when Jim slapped him.

Laney, Eckhardt and Weaver all arched their eyebrows briefly as Jim turned towards the man and said, "Detective Laney just told you multiple times not to interrupt him."

Then, turning towards Laney, Jim added, "I'll take it from here, Frank."

Laney nodded before he motioned the officers to help the man up and transfer him to Jim's custody, then he and the officers stood back as Jim escorted the man out of the apartment.

Once Jim was outside with the handcuffed man, he glanced around before turning towards the man.

"Sorry about the slap, had to make it look real." Jim said quietly.

"Yeah, whatever." The man sneered dismissively. "I just want my lawyer."

Jim shook his head as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card. "I'm afraid your lawyer wouldn't be enough help to fight against what those guys are doing in your apartment."

Showing the business card to the man's face, Jim continued, "Janet Van Dorn's the attorney you would like to contact, she specializes in police misconduct cases and knows my partner well. Memorize her number, you will need it."

After reading the phone number on the card, the man nodded before asking, "Why are you doing this?"

"Someone's gotta send my partner and those fellas in there a message." Jim replied before whispering, "Now keep your mouth shut, and no matter what they do to you at the station, once you made your call, just keep your mouth shut until Van Dorn shows up, and even then, speak to no one but her."

The man nodded, just in time for Laney to step out of the apartment.


July 18, 1981

"Gordon's such a douchebag." Weaver was speaking to a group of officers, Eckhardt included, at the locker room that morning at the end of the shift. "He deserves whatever the f**k's coming his way."

"They better transfer him over to the 93rd after what he did to Frank." Officer Hawley sneered, referring to the department's 93rd Precinct, which covers large swaths of the Narrows and known for being the precinct that serves as a tool for the brass to make officers consider turning in the badge and pursue other career options.

The conversations the group of officers were having came after a heated argument between Jim and his partner on the 15th, not long after they conducted the raid on the 14th.

The man that they were able to take into custody following the raid followed Jim's advice and promptly contacted Van Dorn, and suffice to say, in the interrogation that followed, the attorney was able to poke countless holes in Laney's theory.

With his case gone up in smoke following the interrogation, it didn't take long for Laney to figure out that the man was tipped off by Jim and confronted him.

Their argument turned heated, and in the heat of the moment, Jim ended up shoving his older partner right through the glass plate window of the watch commander's office.

After the argument, Jim was suspended for two days while Internal Affairs went through his allegations of evidence-planting and reviewed what had happened in the raid.

Eventually, Jim was cleared for any wrongdoing in his conduct during the raid, though he was summoned to the precinct commander's office for a lengthy conversation.

"Loeb better throw the book at him." Eckhardt nodded in agreement. "A guy like Gordon, destroyin' Frank's case and letting that n***er walk free, he really doesn't have what it takes to be a cop around here."

"H*ll, how the f**k did he even make detective in the first place?" Officer Hadley sneered.

"What I'll like to know is how the h*ll did he even graduate from the academy?" Weaver added.

It was then that they saw Jim walking by the doorway, prompting Eckhardt to say, "Hey, Jimbo, what the h*ll did the cap say?"

Jim shrugged as he replied, "Only that I was to report for duty in Chicago effective August 3rd."

"Huh." Weaver snorted. "You got off easy."

"Yeah." Hadley agreed. "Maybe your time in Chicago will make you reconsider whether you have the material to call yourself a Gothamite."

Jim only shrugged again before he headed off, during which Hawley rushed over to the doorway and said, "Don't let the door hit you on your way out!"

When Jim merely waved his hand dismissively, Hawley scoffed and shook his head before he remarked, "What a f**king douchebag."


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