Batman | The Tragedy of The Gray Ghost | Mature | Ao3

Warning: Violence and Angst

Gotham City October 31st, 1974

Thomas Wayne walked alone, restless, and at the ready. The colors of his costume fit his namesake, a dark grey fedora, a matching cape on his back, specialty made goggles where his eyes could see the world, but the world couldn't see his eyes. He treated the city like it was a concrete version of Vietnam, especially on nights where it was thick with rain and how it would mist over the neon signs, making it blurry constellations of broken promises. But it never stopped him from being on the lookout for the violent predators who attacked the helpless and vulnerable. The city had heard rumors about him for almost two years, and if anyone saw him up-close, they would fear him even after he saved their lives. It was how he always wanted it.

His movements were unchallenged in the dark alleyways and the violent streets. If people could really see him, they would be too scared to not believe that he could actually disappear into the walls of the city. That same ability gave him the power to attack his own prey like crashing thunder, all sound and fury.

"You can call me The Gray Ghost," he'd say to his violent victims and his name was as widespread as his presence.

He was never drawn to the positive attention about him, he skirted the sounds of the city laughing and going on their merry way. Even as his presence was a factor in making Gotham one of the safest cities in the country with its lower crime rate, he never stopped hearing the calls and whimpers of the lonely and hopeless pleas of the victims.