10 IT WASN'T A DREAM
"You thought you could take everything from me," Thomas growled, his voice low and filled with a cold intensity. "You thought you could end our lives and get away with it. But I'm still here."
Joe Chill and Rupert Thorne were barely recognizable, their faces swollen and bruised from the relentless beatings they had endured over the years. Thomas had taken matters into his own hands, using his power and influence as the Mayor of Gotham City to hunt them down. After capturing them, he kept them alive, but in a state so wretched that death would have been a mercy.
Chill and Thorne had begged for death countless times, but Thomas had denied them that release. He wanted to make them suffer for the pain they had inflicted on his family. He had become a ruthless and vengeful man, driven by a need for retribution.
"Just kill me you motherfucking Wayne bastard," Thorne screamed between painful coughs. "I can't take this shit anymore!"
Thomas grabbed Thorne's face in his hands, squeezing hard until the mobster's lips were bleeding, "No, you don't deserve such an easy way out," he snarled. "You will stay alive until I say otherwise, or else your suffering will be even greater."
Thorne struggled futilely against Thomas's grip, his eyes wide with terror.
"Here, take a good look at this," He took out a phone from his pocket and held it before Thorne's eyes, "What a nice family you have... Took five years to track them down... Your wife, daughter, and your son... What was his name again?" Thomas paused for a second before continuing, "Ah yes, Rupert Junior... Such lovely children you have..."
Thorne's face paled as he stared at the photos of his family.
"What if I put your kids in the same state as you put my son in? Or worse?" Thomas threatened, his voice laced with venom. "Imagine seeing your kids suffer the same fate as Bruce... Do you want that? Huh? Answer me!" He punched Thorne's jaw.
Thorne shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his bruised cheeks.
Thomas released his grip and turned to Joe Chill, "And you, Joe Chill... You should have died ten years ago, but because of some shitty luck, you survived... And I will make sure you keep suffering until I decide otherwise."
Joe Chill trembled uncontrollably, his body racked with fear and agony. He knew there was no escape from Thomas's wrath.
"Please... Please just let us go," Thorne pleaded, his voice barely audible through the blood pouring out of his mouth. "We'll do anything..."
Thomas sneered, "There's nothing you can offer me that I want." A flash of Bruce's face appeared in his mind, reminding Thomas why he had embarked on this path of vengeance in the first place. Bruce, who suffered unimaginable torment for years because of these two bastards.
Joe Chill and Rupert Thorne hung their heads in defeat, knowing that there was nothing they could do to escape their tormentor's grasp. They had made the mistake of crossing Thomas Wayne, and now they would pay the ultimate price for their actions.
"Pray to God for my son. Beg them to wake him up from his coma, and then I might just kill you quickly instead of torturing you to death," Thomas ordered before turning towards the door, leaving behind two broken men who were barely clinging to life.
Outside the torture room, Alfred was waiting for him.
"Transfer them to the Arkham Asylum and make sure they get the special treatment..." Thomas walked out of the building.
[End of Flashback] [Present Time]
"Don't worry about them," Thomas said with a warm smile. The years of trapped rage and sadness melted away as he gazed upon Bruce's face. "They won't ever bother us again. Now, all that matters is that you're awake and healthy."
"Mr. Wayne, I think it's enough talk for today. It's better to let him rest for now. His body needs time to adjust after 10 years of sleep," one of the doctors suggested.
Thomas and Martha reluctantly agreed, exchanging heartfelt words with Bruce.
"Alfred," Martha looked toward the old butler.
"Please do not worry, Mrs. Wayne. I will take good care of Master Bruce," Alfred reassured with a gentle smile.
"Thank you, Alfred," Martha returned his smile.
Bruce watched as his parents left the room, leaving him with the doctors and Alfred.
"Could you bring me some water," He said in a low voice.
Alfred nodded and quickly fetched a glass of water from a nearby table. He carefully helped Bruce sit up and handed him the glass. Bruce took a few sips, relishing the cool liquid as it quenched his thirst.
"Thank you, Alfred," he said, his voice still weak.
The butler nodded, his expression filled with genuine concern, "You're most welcome, Master Bruce. It's good to have you back with us."
Bruce couldn't help but smile faintly. Despite the years that had passed, Alfred's unwavering support and care remained a constant source of comfort.
The doctors continued to monitor Bruce's vital signs and provide him with a brief examination to ensure that he was stable. They assured him that, with time, his body would regain its strength and adapt to being active again after such a prolonged period of inactivity.
"Well, it's a rare occurrence to see someone adapting so fast after waking up from a coma after 10 long years. Everything looks normal... Humm... What a surprise, Mr. Bruce. We generally feed the patients waking up from a prolonged coma with tubes to prevent infection... But, you... You should be able to eat some real food soon enough..."
"That's good to know. But I am not feeling hungry now, maybe later. And doc, thank you for everything," Bruce said softly.
"You can thank me after your complete recovery. For now, try to take it easy," the lady doctor said with a sweet smile.
"Yeah... I will do that. I am in no hurry..."
After the examination, they left the room, leaving Bruce alone with Alfred.
"Alfred, there's so much I need to know," Bruce began, his thoughts swirling with questions about the world that had changed while he was in a coma.
"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, his tone reassuring. "I will do my best to fill you in on everything that has transpired during your absence."
As Bruce settled back onto the bed, he listened attentively to Alfred's account of the events that had unfolded in Gotham City and the world beyond over the past decade. It was a lot to take in, but he was ready to catch up and regain his place in a world that had moved on without him.
"I see. I am sorry for worrying you all for ten years. Hope you aren't mad at me, Alfred..." He said with a weak chuckle.
Alfred gave a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and genuine affection. "Not at all, Master Bruce," he replied softly. "We were worried, of course, but seeing you awake and well is the greatest joy we could ask for. Your well-being is all that matters."
Bruce nodded, feeling a profound sense of gratitude for Alfred's unwavering loyalty and support, "Thank you for being here all these years."
Alfred's smile widened, and he placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "It's been my honor and privilege, Master Bruce. Now, try to take some rest. I will be just outside the room. And don't worry, I will keep the door open, just in case you need any assistance."
Bruce settled back onto the bed, his mind racing with thoughts of the changes that had occurred during his decade-long absence. Alfred's account of the world's events painted a picture of a Gotham City that had seen both progress and challenges. He couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions as he processed the information.
As he lay there, his gaze wandered to his left hand, and he noticed something unusual. On his ring finger was a ring. It was a sleek, metallic band with an intricate design, and it pulsed with a faint blue light.
'So, it wasn't a dream, huh? The Lightning Ring,' He thought, examining the intricate ruins and symbols on the Ring.
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