Killing Batman: The Silver Mask Chapter 1.

Hello, thanks for your patience over the last three days without uploads. I took a break to celebrate my Birthday with family. But I'm back now.

This first chapter is a repost for anyone who didn't read the one-shot version. 4 more chaps to follow and then the weekly update schedule.


Chapter 1: The Silver Mask.

-Gotham-

-2009-

History is filled with people that did great things. Bad or good is never the reason they're remembered.

It's the change they bring that becomes their legacy and their Mask- My Father, The Black Mask.

-Ash-

(Outskirts of Gotham)

(Sionis Manor)

Today was my mom's funeral. Today I said goodbye.

Now, the time for vengeance is upon me.

"Liquidate everything. All I own. Every property in Gotham, land and business mother and father left behind. Put it all on the open market."

"Even the Mask Factory?"

The Lawyer enquires.

I hesitate. The factory is a legacy. There's no Black Mask without A mask. No Roman Sionis criminal empire without Janus Cosmetics as a front.

"Yes. Mom's dead and Father's gone. Sell it." My shoulders droop. I need the money, the federal government has frozen Father's accounts and I can't access my trust fund until I'm 18. That's 7 years away. On top of that, I'm too inexperienced to run a business.

The Lawyer's gaze on my bowed head is particularly piercing, judging. He used to work for Father, so his hesitation is understandable, but unwelcome.

'Look them in the eye, boy. No son of mine is a coward.'

Father's dark and soothing voice sounds in my mind.

I meet the Lawyer's gaze and hold it.

"Something wrong, Mr. Walton? I told you to sell the Factory."

He clears his throat before dutifully nodding.

"Of course Mr. Sionis, consider it done. If there's nothing else, I'll show myself out."

I watch him leave the study. I'm alone now, the staff is under instructions to not disturb me.

I need to think. But all I manage is a bitter trip down memory lane.

My mother Circe Sionis, was a working class Girl when she met my Father, Roman Sionis, popularly known to the world as the notorious villain Black Mask, leader of the False Facers.

Despite their contrasting natures, they made it work and had me, Acheron Sionis.

My mother was a soft hearted woman with a gentle personality that could calm down a raging storm. Especially if that storm was Father. He was a bad man, that much I knew, but a Great One nonetheless.

And I loved both of them dearly. Equally. Their duality culminated in a childhood filled with happiness and pain.

They were perfect for each other. And for me.

Then Batman happened. One rainy night, the self proclaimed protector of Gotham came after Father. He broke into our house and if you know Black Mask, there was no way he was going down without a fight.

And there was a fight. One of battarangs, fists, furnitures and guns.

My mother was caught in the crossfire and a single gunshot changed everything.

I watched it all unfold from the stairs. A nightmare that I will never escape.

Father was the one that pulled the trigger, but Batman...if he hadn't come to enforce his flawed justice, if he hadn't thrown the battarang that deflected Father's aim...Circe Sionis would still be alive, and Dad wouldn't have gone to Jail for murder.

Batman, it was all his fault.

And that's why he's going to pay. I'll break him, decimate everything his symbol stands for and then KILL him. His final moments will be a view of his beloved Gotham burning into ashes. A lasting memory of his greatest failure.

A parting gift for my wonderful parents.

I'll honor their Legacy, using both good and bad methods, right and wrong paths, morality will be nothing but a Tool for my purpose.

I swear on Roman and Circe Sionis.

-0-

There's a knock on the door, rousing me from sleep on the leather couch in Father's study. I sit up and set my parent's framed picture on the desk.

"Come in Victor."

I call out and the door knob twists. In walks a shirtless, bald, pale skinned man with scars littered across his body. His eyes gleam with a murderous light.

He walks forward and places the case he's carrying on the desk. I join him and click it open. Inside is the very thing I've been waiting for.

I reach in, grab it and hold it up in admiration.

It cost an arm and a leg to get it made and father would kill me if he knew I sold off half of his gang territory to Penguin for this.

But it's perfect.

"We have much to do and many people to kill."

I inform Victor.

My statement ellicits a crazy grin from him.

(General P.O.V)

Commissioner Gordon stood at the perimeter of the active crime scene, the towering remnants of Janus Cosmetics’ Mask Factory casting long shadows in the fading Gotham twilight.

He'd just arrived on the scene and was studying the terrain, a habit after years as a detective.

The flashing red and blue lights of police vehicles reflected off windows and puddles from the recent rain. Officers milled about, trying to contain a growing crowd of onlookers.

Unfortunately not everyone was contained. Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen had slipped past the barricade, much to Gordon’s irritation.

He tried to walk away but the accomplished reporter caught up, with her persistent questioning grating on his nerves.

“Commissioner Gordon, just one comment!” Lois pushed, her pen hovering over her notepad. “Why was Batman involved in the Circe Sionis case? What led him to invade Roman Sionis’ home instead of arresting him during one of his many public crimes?”

Gordon turned sharply, his patience fraying. “The case is closed, Lane. Roman Sionis is where he belongs, and Gotham is safer because of it. You should leave. Return to Metropolis, there's no story here.”

Lois wasn’t deterred. “Closed? Then why hasn’t Batman been seen for two months? Maybe he's feeling guilty? Makes you wonder if Circe Sionis—Roman’s wife— was really killed by her husband. Do you really think justice was served? The public has a right to the truth!”

Gordon’s jaw tightened. He motioned to two officers. “Escort Miss Lane off the premises.”

As Lois was led away, she shouted back at Gordon, her voice ringing clear. “The truth always comes out, Commissioner. Always.”

Gordon let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple as he approached his former partner, Harvey Bullock.

"Hey Boss. Nice of you to finally show up." The latter's face was as tired as Gordon’s.

“What’s the situation?” Gordon asked.

Bullock pointed toward the Mask Factory. “False-Facers, the remnants of Black Mask’s gang. They’ve taken 5 hostages and are demanding Batman surrender himself.”

Gordon’s heart sank. “Batman’s not going to show.”

“Exactly, and I'm afraid it's worse than that.” Bullock said. “Nightwing, Robin, and Batgirl are all dealing with the Arkham breakout. It’s just us.”

Gordon nodded grimly, picking up a loudspeaker. “I’ll handle it.”

“What are you doing?” Bullock asked, alarmed.

“I’m offering myself in exchange for the hostages. A police commissioner is worth five hostages.”

“Jim, that’s suicide! These guys want revenge. They'll kill you!”

Gordon ignored him. Turning on the loudspeaker, he addressed the False-Facers. “Batman isn’t coming. But I’m here, and I’ll give myself up in exchange for the hostages.”

There was silence from the factory, then a deep, modulated voice responded. “DROP YOUR GUN AND APPROACH THE ENTRANCE. HANDS UP.”

Gordon complied, handing his gun and coat to Bullock. “Keep everyone back. This is on me.”

Before Bullock could argue further, Gordon walked toward the factory, his hands raised.

A minute later, the five hostages ran out, stumbling and gasping for air. Bullock started to give the order to secure them when the entire building suddenly erupted in a massive explosion.

The shockwave sent cops, reporters, and bystanders flying. The blast shattered windows in buildings for blocks, leaving behind a smoking crater where the Mask Factory had stood.

Everyone in the blast zone died, consumed in the fiery heat and concussive force.

All the way down the street, Lois coughed as she scrambled to her feet, dust and debris raining down around her.

She stared at the smoldering wreckage, wide-eyed. “Oh my God...” she whispered. Turning to Jimmy and his camera, she asked, “Did you get that?”

Jimmy nodded, pale. “Yeah... yeah, but we could’ve died...just like all those people...”

-0-

Meanwhile, Gordon groaned in pain, his head lolling as he faded in out of consciousness. A bucket of water slammed into his face, snapping him awake.

He blinked, disoriented. Gagged and tied to a chair in a dark room, with a single dirty bulb above his head providing the dim lighting.

Blood trickled from numerous cuts on his naked chest, arms and face.

He should have listened to Bullock. The second he entered the factory he was knocked out, taken elsewhere and tortured for hours. His torturer hadn't made any demands, or given a reason for his actions. Only laughed as he sliced off bits of skin.

For all his toughness, Gordon was close to breaking. His only solace was the knowledge the hostages were safe.

He flinched as someone tapped his shoulder with a blade from the back, dragging it slowly across his skin. His torturer?

“I’ll only ask once. Tell me Batman’s real name.” A voice spoke, chillingly calm, eerily familiar, too young to be his torturer.

The gag in Gordon’s mouth was cut away, and he took a shuddering breath. His voice shook as he said, “I know that voice. You’re Acheron Sionis... Roman Sionis’, the Black Mask's son.”

There was silence. Then, stepping into the light, the boy responded coldly.

“Wrong. I’m the Silver Mask.”

In the dim light, Ash's silver mask gleamed menacingly, his red suit as sharp and precise as the blade in his hand.