Chapter 10: Split Decisions

“Agent Drake was right…” Bruce said at the helm of the computer, the bat-computer as Carrie had come to call it.  He refused to call it that and told her as much. “…the message is a map.  Geo scanning matches it to the historical district.”  Carrie looked on “But that’s three square miles of terrain, how are we going to know where it means to go.  I mean there’s no x-marking the spot.”

“Yes there is.  The only way to complete the map is to misassemble the body itself.  In 1978 Preston Payne, a sculptor with hyperpituitarism, which caused him physical deformities, created a piece called “Life Out of Order”, which features a human form with the limbs out of order.”

“I’m guessing ‘Life Out of Order’ matches the way we have to assemble the doctor’s body to get the map.”

“Correct.  And that gives us two locations where to look.  The sculpture itself is housed in the Gotham Museum of Art, and the artist lives here…” he indicated on the map.”

“So do they mean the artist or the art?”

Bruce pushed a button on the console.  The computer dialed Barbara Gordon’s phone.  “Hello?” Gordon answered, not recognizing the number, likely confused by the bat emblem that appeared on her caller ID.  “Commissioner…” Batman said “I need to meet with you.  Sundown, GCPD HQ.”

“You know the FBI is watching that location?”

“I know.  Bring them.  We all need to talk.”

                Standing on the rooftop, Barbara pulled her coat in tighter, shielding herself against the harsh wind.  She watched the sunset, as red, orange, and purple ribbons of light slipped away under the heavy veil of darkness.  It was almost peaceful.  It would have actually been peaceful had it not been for the supermodel trio that stood behind her, geared in their new body armor.  “How long before he gets here.” Todd asked.

“I’m already here.” Batman said emerging from the shadows.  “He said sunset…” Barbara said.  “Dad always said that of your many personality faults, tardiness wasn’t one of them.”

Grayson stepped forward.  “Alright, what’s all this about.  You have to know that simply by standing here, we should arrest you and bring you in.”

Batman ignored him “The map leads to the historical district of Gotham, narrows down to two locations, the Museum of Art and the residence of Preston Payne.  I can’t search both locations by myself.”

“So you thought you’d just recruit the FBI like we’re hired help?” Todd grumbled, indignant.

“I thought I’d enlist the aid of law enforcement agents that I can help bring an end to this nightmare.” Batman said flatly.

“Fine.” Grayson said, shocking almost everyone “We go in two teams, but I don’t trust you.  Jason, you go with Batman, we’ll take the museum.”  He gave a hard look at Batman “Like this or not at all.”

“Fine.  Agent Todd, my car is down below.”

Batman bled back into the shadows.  Jason moved towards Richard “You want me to play side kick to a lunatic in a Halloween costume?”

“No, I want you to investigate the Payne residence.  It’s a house, less room to loose Batman in.  When you’re done, you bring him in.”

Todd gave him a long, hard, glare.  “Fine.”

Gordon nodded.  “I’ll secure perimeters of both locations with squad cars, in case you boys need assistance.”

Todd made it to the ground level and watched as Grayson and Drake drove off in the SUV.  A black shape tore around the corner.  What looked like a cross between a formula 1 racer and a dune buggy mixed with tank armor pulled up and skidded to a halt.  The passenger side had a panel that lifted up, out, and down the side of the vehicle.  “Get in.” Batman said from within the cockpit.

Sitting and buckling himself with a five point harness, he looked at the array of controls on the dashboard.  “Alright, this is kind of cool.  Nice tires.”

The hatch closed and the vehicle tore into the night.

Grayson and Drake entered the museum, noting that the upper level was designed as a medium sized restaurant, with a skylight dominating the ceiling.  “That’s gotta be dangerous in this kind of city…” Drake mused.

“Where’s this stupid statue?”

“Upper level, security has cleared out the building, Gordon called ahead.”

“Good.  Something doesn’t feel right.  Feels really cold in here.”

“In 1989 a lunatic murdered two dozen people in here.  Maybe ghosts?”

“What kind of mad man would…” but Grayson was cut off by a high pitched cackle screaming over the PA system.  Suddenly the skylight exploded as Joker’s Daughter crashed through, machine guns firing randomly, sending the agents running for cover.

“Well this was a well thought out plan…” Grayson chastised himself.  She ceased fire briefly “Here I was hoping batsy watsy would be the ones showing up here.  Guess he was smarter than we thought.”

“We?” Drake said quietly.  The doors to the museum burst open and in came the Mad Hatter, twin men dressed as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, a man in a tuxedo with a red executioner’s mask and cape, a woman dressed in a white corset with rabbit ears.  “You’re going to attack us with a playboy bunny?” Grayson quipped.

“Worse ways to go, I guess.” Drake shot back.  They shot up from their cover and returned fire at the assorted villains as they ran to the back of the museum.

                Batman and Todd entered from a second floor window.  “Don’t we need a warrant?” Todd pointed out.  “You’re following a wanted fugitive.” Batman answered continuing to creep along.  “Just not following too fast.”

“Good enough for me.” The house was two stories tall, basic design, sparsely furnished.  “Someone does live here, right?” Todd whispered.  They made their way down stairs where they could hear the television on.  A sickly sweet odor emanated from the living room.  “Maybe not anymore.” Todd answered himself.  “You’re a real chatter box, ya know.”

Batman didn’t respond, he just moved towards the living room, silent as a ghost.  When they reached it, they found Preston Payne sitting in an overstuffed chair eating something as he faced away from them.  Batman held up a hand, indicating Todd to wait.  “Preston.” He said.  Payne continued eating, not reacting to Batman at all.  He and Todd moved around opposite sides of the chair.  Preston Payne’s deformed body was seated with a bucked of stale, popcorn.  A wire connected his wrist to a motor next to his head, pulling and releasing the arm imitating the motion of eating.  A large envelope sat in his lap.  Payne had been dead for at least a week.  Todd groaned in disgust.  He reached for the envelope.

“No, wait.” Batman said, but Todd had already grabbed the envelope.  They heard a click and tanks discreetly hidden around the house started spraying methane gas.  Batman shoved Todd to the large window as a spark ignited the gas, turning the first floor the house into a fireball that launched Batman and Todd out.  Batman rose up and looked back.  “Who the hell would do all that?” Todd asked.  “Victor Zsasz and Firefly.” Batman growled.  The problem was much larger than he thought.  They both heard gunfire from the direction of the museum.  “Car, now!” Batman roared.

                Grayson and Drake did their best to avoid the weapons fire as they dodged through exhibits.  “We gotta get out of here.”

“Well, we’re on the second floor, there are roof exits, and gun fire coming up behind us.  I’m open to suggestions.”

Batman barreled the car towards the museum, vehicles in the road skidded to the sides to make way for the intimidating vehicle.  He pulled up a monitor that displayed thermal imaging.  “There.” Todd said, accurately guessing that the two figures running were in fact the agents.  “Second floor.”  Batman looked away from the screen and sped the vehicle forward.  “Hold on.”

Joker’s Daughter rounded the raised platform that held the best tables for the restaurant and looked to the sweeping bay windows that overlooked the rest of the historical district.  Bright lights bled in heavily from the window.  “You must be joking.”

The car tore through the windows, sending glass and the Tweedle twins flying.  The cockpit snapped open and Todd sprang from the vehicle tackling the robber known as the Red Hood.  Batman fired a grapple line into the ceiling and flew out of the cock pit catching White Rabbit in the face with the heel of his boot.  He spun midflight and sent two small balls sailing towards the recovering forms of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.  The flash bang grenades sent both men flying into the rubble that was the far wall.  Duela Dent smiled “Where does he get those wonderful toys.”

Mad Hatter tucked himself behind a display and aimed his machine gun.  He felt a tap on his back.  He turned and found Agent Drake there.  Before he knew it, a fist landed on his jaw and he was unconscious.

Jason Todd rounded on the Red Hood, grabbing the mask and delivering a hard head but, then bringing up his foot into the man’s chest and kicking him off the second floor railing to the ground below.  The action tore the hood away and left the man sprawled below.  He wasn’t sure if he was dead or unconscious and didn’t care much at that moment.  He glanced at the clump of crimson fabric in his hand.

“Is that all of them?” Jason said looking around.

“Where’s Dent?” Batman said.  Jason heard a noise down below “Gotta jet, handsome!  See you around!” she shouted from below firing a grenade at the agents.  They scattered as it exploded into a noxious green gas.  Grayson and Drake were far enough away, Jason shielded himself with the red hood, and Batman threw himself through the gas, his cape dispersing the cloud as he went.  When he landed on the first floor, Dent and the man who was the red hood were already gone.  The agents went down the stairwell expecting to find Batman, but the caped crusader had vanished.  The sound of grinding mortar and crunching glass alerted them to the car as it backed out of the museum.  Todd bolted up the stairwell “He’s got the envelope!” he shouted but the car had already sped off into the night.  Grayson stood there, not knowing how to feel.

                “Commissioner…” an officer yelled from the shadowy line of police cars. “Dispatch just got a call from city hall.  Killer Croc is going after another city council member.”  In the distance Batman’s car sped into the night.  No, she told herself, this was still her city and she will protect it.  She got into the officer’ patrol car “Let’s go.”  The officer nodded and sped towards city hall.  “Should we call for back up?”

“No, I can handle Croc.”

In the time she’d been with the department, she always felt like she was trying to catch up to her father’s ghost, be every bit the cop he was, and better.  Sometimes that came at great personal cost.  As they arrived at city hall, she exited the vehicle and ran through the double doors.  The officer called out to her, but she didn’t hear him.  She bolted up the stairwell to the fifth floor.  Across the hall from the Mayor’s office was the city council chamber.  It was dark empty.  She could hear her heart beat thudding in her ears, felt it slam against her chest.  A soft growl came from the dark hallway.  She reached for a light switch but nothing.  Then a roar and croc lunged out of the shadows, sending her through the Mayor’s office door.  She pulled herself out of the wreck of glass and wood and saw the silhouette of the officer approaching.  “Stay back!” she yelled “Its Killer Croc.”  The officer kept coming forward.  “Bravo…” he said, until he was standing under the lights.  He took off his policeman’s hat and revealed half of his face disfigured and contorted.  “Did I say council member?” Two-Face asked.  “I meant he was kidnapping you.”

Croc slung the unconscious woman over his shoulder, but as he turned he paused.  Something caught his attention.  He stepped into Mayor Wayne’s office and took a few deliberate breaths through his nose.  He then laughed.

Chapter 9: Can't Escape My Nightmares

Batman staggered through the alleyway near where he secured the car.  His chest felt heavy, air was resistant to filling up his lungs.  He struggled to remember where he was at, the world around him seemed to fade.  He felt a need.  A need to find someone he trusted.  He could see where his vehicle was, but in the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t going to make it.  He pulled a small cellphone from his belt and slumped against a wall.  Pushing a button he autodialed.  A woman answered the line.  “I need your help.  I’m at in the alley between Allahan and Cochran near the old tunnels.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He wasn’t sure how long it took before help arrived, time didn’t seem to matter much as he faded in and out of consciousness.  In one of his last moments of lucidity before he blacked out, he saw a small black cat land at the end of the alley and walk towards him.

                He was a boy again, coming home from school.  His father met him in the foyer as Alfred hung up his coat and hat.  “How was your day?” his father asked, genuinely curious as he knelt down to see his son’s face, a crestfallen look indicating that the day’s lessons had been hard.

It was a day of group projects.  Bruce excelled in all his studies but his social skills were never the best.  Solo assignments had always come easy to him, but coordinating within a team environment proved difficult, as he already knew what to do and how to do it, but others didn’t always see it from his point of view.  “Son…” his father said “You have to learn to work with a team.  Sometimes you aren’t going to be able to handle a problem all on your own, and you need people to rely on, who rely on you to make it work.”

“I know da…father.  I, just…I’m the smartest person there.”

A gunshot rang out, the slug tore through Thomas’ Wayne’s head and he crumpled to the floor, dissolving into a pool of blood.  Bruce looked on in horror, his hands coated in blood.  He looked and there, in his father’s favorite chair, sat Jack Napier.

Bruce ran to Jack, gripped him by the front of his shirt. “What are ya gonna do kid?”  Jack stood up and a shadow passed over him, turning him into the Joker.  Bruce, now a man, drew back and punched him in the face repeatedly.  Soon, Joker’s face was a bloody mask of pain and broken teeth.

“Feel better, Brucie woosie?  Let’s face it, you can’t kill me.  Not really.  Not your dear old dad.”  Joker shoved Bruce back onto the floor, his face instantly healed.  “You never knew about that night, did ya?  How old mommy dearest liked to sleep around.  Liked her some bad boys!” he punctuated with a couple of vulgar hip thrusts.  “You really think such a driven man of business such as your “father”…” he indicated with air-quotes “Could ever please a sexy little kitten like your mom?  If you think about it, you can see it.  In your smile, the way you never could bring yourself to call him dad…you knew.  You probably knew right when you saw me in that alley.  You knew who your real father was.”

“You’re lying!”

“Maybe I AM!” Joker roared.  “Maybe I’m not.  I mean, if we’re really keeping score about who was more influential on your young life…”

Joker walked away, then gave Bruce a side long glance “And they called me crazy.”

“What?” Bruce growled through clenched teeth.  “Well, I have a flair for the theatre, sure, but I got doused with chemicals.  Thanks by the way, that was a refreshing bath.  Anyway, I HAVE and excuse.  What’s yours?  So your parents got whacked.  This is Gotham for crying out loud.  How many kids have watched their parents get whacked?  By your logic, this joint should be filled with super-hero fetishes.  But no, you just couldn’t deal with it.  Parents got plugged, put on a black suit and beat the crap out of perfect strangers.  That sound psychologically healthy to you?”

Bruce struggled, the words whipped around him, making him dizzy.  Joker slid on his knees up to Bruce, grabbing his head.  “You can hear them, can’t you?  The people watching, waiting, listening.  Are you going to crack, go in a full fledge killing spree like me?  Are you going to fight it, and then crack?” Joker looked from side to side, as if expecting someone to be listening in.  “You can’t escape them, you know.  No matter how hard you try, they’ll always be there, expecting perfection and blaming you if things go south or the story doesn’t add up.”  Joker lowered his head and began chuckling “You know what’s really great?  I used to hear them all the time, had to always up the ante to keep them impressed, but you killed me, so they’re your problem now.” He stood up and clapped his hands “Oh this is going to be great!  I get to see you get torn apart from the outside and the inside and I don’t have to do a damn thing cuz I’m dead.  You’re the psychopath now, guano breath!  I mean you’ve always been a psychopath…”

“Get out.”  Bruce growled.  “I’m sorry, what?” Joker said leaning in and cupping his ear.  Batman, in full garb, launched himself at Joker as the world around them shifted into the roof of a building.  He caught Joker in the belly with his shoulder and shoved him off the edge.  Joker laughed as the fell.  “See you on the other side!” Joker cackled before disappearing into the void.

                Bruce woke in his bedroom, his suit nowhere to be found.  He was dressed in his cotton pajamas, his bathrobe draped on the chair by his bed.  Water and his pain medication was waiting on his night stand.  A black cat watched him from the foot of the bed.  “You’re new…” he commented as he took his medication.  Pulling on his bathrobe he left his room, the cat trotting in front of him.  He made his way down to the sitting room.  Fox and Carrie stood in the room.  Seated on one of the long couches was a glamorously beautiful blonde woman with high cheek bones, dressed in a flowing white dress with a shawl.  She smiled as the cat nestled beside her.  “Selena…” he said with a smile.  Carrie eyed Selena with something between caution and outright contempt.  He approached her and kissed her on the cheeks.  “I must admit, Bruce, I was rather taken aback when you called.”  Bruce had to think hard.  He dialed on instinct, not on logic.  Logic said that Carrie and Fox should have been called, but in his instinct he called the legendary Catwoman.  Granted Selena Kyle had put behind her a life of crime, instead taking over Maxwell Shrek’s company and turning it around into a global competitor.  Still though, she looked melted and poured into her dress, leading him to believe that, like himself, she kept herself in fighting condition in the event action was needed.

“Carrie Kelly, I’d like you to meet Selena Kyle, an old friend.”

“I’ve met the maid, Bruce.”  Carrie move to say something but with reflexes that would have made a snake jealous Bruce shot back “Don’t call her ‘the maid’ Selena.”  Without outwardly reacting, Selena shrugged “As you wish.”  She said flatly as she stood up.  As she walked out the door she nodded at Fox.  “Lucius.”

“Ms. Kyle.”

Carrie watched her go and Bruce followed after her.  “She’s a piece of work, ain’t she?”

“She is something else, Carrie.”

“Is she Bruce’s girlfriend or enemy?”

“Yes.”

                Bruce met Selena on the balcony overlooking Gotham.  “Remember that night you tried to break in here?” he said smiling at the memory.

“Which one?” she said with a small chuckle.  “Right after the thing with the Penguin.”

“Before or after Mr. Freeze?”

“Before.  Back when the lunatics in this city didn’t know what directed energy weapons were.”

“Ah, the good old days.  I remember what happened after I broke in…”

Bruce nodded with a smile.  “I should have married you back then.”

“What, make an honest woman out of me?  Then people won’t think I’m some kind of ma’dam.”

He laughed “I remember that.  That time people thought you were a reformed prostitute and then thought you were in charge of a brothel.”

“If they only knew.”

She looked at him, studying his face.  “What’s going on?  It’s not every day the mayor calls me in the middle of the night.”

Carrie arrived with a tray of coffee.  Setting it down between them she turned to Bruce.  “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Is the car safe?”

“Yes.  Mr. Fox brought it home, I serviced it while you were sleeping, everything is in order.  I even checked for security breaches as well.”

“Thank you, Carrie.” She nodded and left.  “What do you really want to talk about, Bruce?”

“Do you still think about him, Max, I mean?  Does he…”

“Haunt me?  He abused me, he tried to kill me.  He abused me some more.  His ghost is never really far behind.”  She looked off in the distance, eyeing the tower that held her company.  “Joker?” she asked.

Bruce stood and went to the railing, rubbing his hands across his face.  “Jack.  Yeah, Jack.”  He leaned on the railing.  “I’ve been dreaming about him.  I always have, I guess, but a lot lately.  Sometimes my dad is there.  Sometimes he’s not.  A lot of the times Jack mocks me, telling me how he’s really my dad…”

Suddenly she was by his side, one hand on his hand, the other across his shoulder.  “The people who love us never really leave us, Bruce.  Neither do the people who hurt us.  Both…made us.  If it hadn’t been for Max, I never would have been there to help you stop the Hatter’s child trafficking scheme.  Just because they did something negative to us…”

“Hatter.” Bruce whispered.

“Bruce, I’m trying to be thoughtful and caring here.  You might want to ride this out and THEN go off on your detective tangent.”

He looked meaningfully into her eyes.  They both busted out laughing.  “Alright, go be mayor or Batman or whatever you do now…but next time I see you…” she leaned in and whispered into his ear.  “Count on it.” He said.

Rushing into the house, he startled Carrie who snapped to her feet from a prone position on the couch.  “Carrie, phone!”  Carrie tossed him his cellphone, which he deftly caught.  “Get a hold of Lucius. Tell him Wayne Enterprises is making a charitable donation to the FBI agents in Gotham.  We need the three remaining reactive armor suits.”

He snapped dialed his phone “Commissioner…get your coffee in a to-go mug, and get the FBI to Wayne Enterprises.”

                As they walked into Wayne Enterprises, Carrie scanned the room, hand resting on her exposed side arm.  “That really necessary, Carrie?”

“Sir, you’re a high profile target.  Yes.”

Bruce nodded.  “Fair enough.”

“Are you sure about this?” Fox seemingly materialized out of nowhere at Bruce’s side, startling even Carrie.  “I mean if they’ve seen the reactive armor in use by Batman, they can probably put two and two together and figure out where he got it, especially since we’re giving them the exact same type of armor.”

“They may be able to figure out where the suit came from, but they won’t believe a man in his late 60’s is Batman.  At least they’d better not.  That’d be kind of insulting; wouldn’t it…that Batman moves like a senior citizen?”

“You’re an idiot, sir.” Carrie muttered.

Bruce had picked up on how Carrie was much more, forward, bordering on hostile since meeting Selena.  Selena had that effect on women.

Crossing into the presentation room, Commissioner Gordon was waiting as three FBI agents examined the suits of armor.  “Sorry I’m late.  It’s been a busy morning.”

He reached out his hand to the lead agent “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Bruce Wayne.”

The agent took his hand “Special Agent Richard Grayson.  These are agents Todd and probationary agent Drake.” He motioned to the other two men with him.  “This is some impressive armor you have here.  I’ve seen something similar to it recently.”

“I heard.  We aren’t the only company working on reactive armor, there are a few others.”

Grayson nodded.  Bruce could tell what the young investigator was thinking.  Wayne Enterprises was the furthest along, and no one had reported any missing.  Mostly because none were missing, the four prototypes they’d developed were standing in this room.  Bruce was smart, but Fox had been clever in not letting him actually have any of the suits themselves.

“Why are you doing this, Mr. Wayne?” Todd asked directly, though not taking his eyes off of Carrie.  “Our city is in crisis.  Wayne Technologies had developed these suits, and they work, they are top of the line, but they are expensive and, frankly the DoD doesn’t want to pay their price tags.”

“But donating them to a law enforcement agency makes them a tax right off…” Agent Drake remarked studying the suit.

“Is it?” Bruce asked, seemingly genuinely confused, as if he had no idea that it would be.

Fox looked at him, as if trying to figure out if Bruce was faking his confusion or actually confused.  He hadn’t seen this side of Bruce in a long time.  Finally Fox spoke “I…suppose it could be, I don’t think that’s where the mayor was going with this…”

“Oh, no, absolutely not.  We’re not Luther Corp here, we don’t subsidize based on tax right offs for military equipment.  If we can sell it, we sell it, if we can’t we don’t.  But given what we’re dealing with, I figured they would be useful to you.”

“How do they work?” Todd asked.  Fox was going to answer but Drake beat him to it.  “The key is in the plating of the armor itself.  It’s a plasma alloy layering effect.  When a projectile strikes, the outer later feeds the kinetic energy into the plasmatic center, which responds by absorbing the shock and directing back towards the projectile making its kinetic energy inert.  When the bullet pushes in, the armor pushes back with just as much force and speed so it, in theory falls to the floor.”

Bruce smiled.  “You know, if the FBI doesn’t work out, you could come work for me.”  Drake gave a meek smile, Todd glared at him.

“Do they work, though?” Todd asked.  Bruce motioned for the junior agent to come towards the crowd “Well, see for yourself.”  Todd pulled his side arm and fired at the suits, and the bullets responded by falling to the floor without damage to the suits.  Todd was frozen in his firing stance, however, as Carrie placed the barrel of her side arm at the base of his neck.

“WHOA whoa whoa…everyone please calm down.” Bruce said with his arms raised.  “Carrie, holster your weapon.  Agent Todd, please holster yours.  You’ll have to forgive Carrie, there’ve been more than a few attempts on my life lately so…”

“Whipping out a gun and just randomly shooting is an incredible breach of safety protocol!” Grayson yelled.  Todd motioned to Bruce “He said I could!”

Lucius leaned to Bruce “The best and brightest of the bureau?”

“I like them.” Bruce whispered.

Commissioner Gordon, who apparently was completely immune to insanity at this point watched quietly until her phone buzzed to life.  “Gordon here.”

There was a long pause and the room felt heavier.  “They’re finding body parts across the city…” she said “They return to a…doctor Davis.  That mean anything to anyone?  They’ve been heavily tattooed.  They’ve sent me pictures.  Like it better when I had pictures of my grandkids on my phone.”  Lucius pushed a key on the desk that dropped down a screen. “Interface with the terminal, it will bring the pictures up on the screen.”  Within a few seconds the screen was filled with the image of severed body parts.  Carrie ran to the door to close off the view from curious eyes.  They had been heavily tattooed with weird cross cut patterns, grid like images.  “What do you think, cult based?  Like Brother Blood?” Todd asked.

“No, it doesn’t match up with anything I’ve seen cult wise.  Could be a circuit board of somekind.”

Drake spoke “Looks like a map.”

Bruce glanced at the young man.  He pulled his phone and discretely used it to interface with the presentation room’s computer, copying the data off of Gordon’s phone.

Bruce knew exactly what it was.  It was a message.

Chapter 8: Feeling Your Age

Lucius descended the stairwell into the cave following Bruce, who, despite his age continued to read the files and navigate the steps without difficulty.  He took note of the pain pills sitting on a bench near the vault of suits.  “Bruce…” Lucius said cautiously “have you thought about what could happen if things go bad?”

“The city could fall.” Bruce replied flatly.

“No, I mean what if one of these lunatics gets the drop on you, puts the Batman down permanently.  What will the Wayne legacy be?  What will happen to Wayne Enterprises? What will happen to Carrie?”

“I’ve prepared for that eventuality.”

“Eventuality?  You mean you expect that to happen.”

“Of course.” Bruce said as he went to the vault. “Every now and then someone says something that sticks in your brain, Lucius.  Long ago I heard a man say “Think about the future.” And I have recently.  After that night at Arkham, I had a lot to consider.  What would I leave behind when I am gone?  I’m not a lunatic, Lucius.  I am aware that my actions impact those around me.  They impacted Alfred and Jim, they impacted Harvey, they impact you, and they impact Carrie.”

Lucius watched him suit up in a modified version of the reactive armor.  “Upgraded I see.  Are you preparing for patrol?”

“No, this suit takes a few minutes to get on.  Commissioner Gordon is about to shine the signal to summon me to police headquarters.  The FBI is dispatching a task force to hunt for the escapees and me.”

Draping the cape across his shoulders both men looked as Carrie ran down the stairs.  “Sir, the signal.”

“Are you psychic now?” Lucius asked.

Batman looked across at his old friend “No, Gordon told the mayor this morning.”

                Barbara Gordon stood on the roof of police headquarters, next to the glowing spotlight that shone a bat shaped symbol into the sky.  The early evening wind whipped around her trench coat, the same pock marked, bullet scarred coat her father once wore.  She thought about him at these times, when crisis loomed on the horizon, when fear of the unknown started in the pit of her stomach.  She wondered what advice he would have given.  “Don’t smoke.” He’d tell her.  Course that was after the doctors gave him three months.  “Don’t be distracted by what you can’t do.  Focus on what you can do.  When everything is chaos, find that one thing to focus on and keep that, hold onto it fiercely.  Eventually things will settle down, but if you don’t hold onto that one thing, then you’ll get swept into the crazy.  And sometimes, you’ll be lucky and have a friend to lend a hand.”

The signal light shut down abruptly, startling her and temporarily blinding her.  She knew who it was even though she couldn’t see him.  “The FBI…”

“Are here.” Batman said from the shadows.  His silhouette moved to a button on his belt.  Flash bang grenades went off on various rooftops nearby sending black clad agents flying and scurrying for cover.  As they started to regain their senses, high pitched screeching erupted from their posts.  Clouds of bats swooped in, sending the agents fleeing from their positions all together.  “The extra sound will mess up their long range listening equipment.” Batman whispered.  “We don’t have long.  They will get here in about two minutes.  I know they sent a team to come for me and the lunatics.  But you have something more.”

“City councilman Bleak was dragged into the sewers tonight by what witnesses describe as something huge, green, and growling.”

“Croc is making his move.  I can lead the team to where they can find him.”

“Are you sure?  If they find you…”  Suddenly Barbara realized she was talking to herself.  “Son of a bitch.” She whispered.

                What Gothamites referred to as the “sewers” weren’t strictly that.  They were abandoned transit tunnels that were repurposed in the 1950’s into storm drains.  Miles and miles of vaulted ceilings and dank, watery floors ran underneath the city, below the modern subway line.  There was a small colony of homeless that existed in these tunnels, but they kept to the sides, well away from the water, only crossing on the sturdiest of makeshift bridges.  Killer Croc’s name was well known down here in the moss and mildewed tiled caves.  Batman knew that if he was seeing fewer and fewer of the lost, he was getting closer and closer to Croc.  The team of agents wasn’t far behind him.  Batman had time to consider his strategy in facing Croc.  The brute would overpower him in seconds, and had the bite force to chomp a man’s hand clean off, as was discovered by an unfortunate correction officer at Arkham.

The deeper and deeper into the black Batman went, the more clearly he could hear Bleak’s moaning.  He attached a re-breather to filter out the noxious smell in the artificial caverns, and heard the sound of claws scraping on concrete.  It was a long, drawn out scratch sound, slightly deeper than nails-on-a-chalkboard, less annoying and more intimidating.  He heard faint splashing as something large slid into the water.  A guttural voice announced with a growl “You’re in my world now…bat.  I got your scent.  I’m gonna tear you apart.”

Batman struggled to remember everything he knew about Waylon Jones.  He’d been in the United States Navy, dishonorable discharge for fighting, having a violent temper.  Batman’s heart began pounding.  The long dark shadows of the maze loomed over him.  Batman shook his head, Jones was drummed out of the navy, took to smuggling weapons and drugs.  He ran afoul of Carmine Falcone who had him flayed alive and had some nut job scientist graft new, experimental “super” flesh onto him.  Jones went insane, killed the doctor, and became the monster he is today.  A monster that was going to track Batman down and eat him alive.  He was paralyzed by the thought.  Something deep inside him seemed to speak to him.  “It’s a trap.  Something is wrong.  You are not afraid, you are vengeance, you are the night…” Through the fear seeping into his brain he whispered.  “I…am…Batman.”  Something moved behind him and he moved on instinct.  Spinning he slapped Croc’s outstretched hand away, then lashed out with a kick to Croc’s knee.  Crock didn’t notice and kept advancing.  After several seconds, Croc landed a flat palmed punch to Batman’s chest, sending him sprawling back into the water.

Before Batman could recover Croc was on top of him, dragging him to the depths of the flooded tunnel.  He could feel the pressure of the water on his chest straining his bones.  Croc dragged him through the water, hoping to drown him, not realizing that the re-breather was still firmly in place.  Frustrated that his prey wasn’t gagging on the noxious water, he let go of him to gain a better grip.  Batman seized that moment and pulled his grappling hook from his belt and fired it into the monster’s face.  The projectile was slowed by the water, but moved with enough speed that it hit Croc in the face like a professional boxer at full strength.  Batman pulled a second grapple gun and fired it into the ceiling and it yanked him clear of the water.  Batman swung to the concrete shore, nearly collapsing from the strain on his body.  A leather clad boot threatened to crash down on his skull, Batman rolled just in time to see the Scarecrow standing before him.  Coming to his feet, he took a fighting stance.  He could sense Croc swimming through the water, looking for an appropriate time to strike.  Scarecrow carried a scythe and swung it, keeping Batman out of reach.  He thrust again with the ancient tool, Batman back stepped to avoid it, realizing Scarecrow was herding him to the edge of the water.  “Freeze!” a man yelled from across the waterway.  He was dressed in all black gear with a duty belt, a shotgun and a bullet resistant vest that read “F.B.I.”

Scarecrow gave a ragged chuckle.  The agent was sweating, his eyes were wide.  “What are you going to do, Mr. Agent man?  What makes you think we’re even really here.”

Croc exploded from the water against the agent, but rather than flee, the agent raised his weapon to aim and fired round after round into Croc’s chest.  At first the bullets thudded harmlessly into his thick hide, but then rivers of blood flowed from his chest.  The agent, much to Batman’s surprise, was hitting the same spot every time.  A shotgun, he knew, was an unruly weapon at best, but to be able to hit the same spot, even while trembling under the Scarecrow’s fear gas, was nothing short of amazing.  Batman ducked under the scythe and came in close on the Scarecrow.  The villain yelped and pulled a gun.  He fired point blank at the Batman’s chest but the rounds slapped into the armor and fell to the ground as worthless pieces of lead.  Batman reached out and snagged Scarecrow’s wrist, yanking him forward and plowing his fist into the masked man’s face.

Croc fled below the water, lost in the murky blackness.  Batman brushed the remnants of the rounds off his armor and pulled a dart gun launcher from his belt.  He fired a small dark into the agent’s arm.  “It’s a counter-agent to the Scarecrow’s toxin.  Should clear up your senses in a few seconds.”

“You…you don’t need it?” the agent asked, slumping against a wall.  “Built up a tolerance to it a few years ago.  Plus the rebreather…filtered most of it out.  Still had to push through it though.”

“The councilman.” The agent said, pulling himself to his feet.  “Over here!” Bleak shouted from a tunnel.  Batman helped Bleak to his feet and guided him to the agent.  When the agent looked back, Batman was gone.

Three GCPD officers found them quickly, all wearing gas masks.  They guided them out of the tunnels to ambulances who were already treating the rest of the FBI team that had fled once they were hit by the gas.  Gordon was waiting.  She went to Bleak first.  “Are you alright, sir?  We’re you exposed to the fear gas?”

“I dunno…maybe?” he said weakly.  “I was unconscious for the most part.”

“Well let’s get you some oxygen then.”

Bleak wiped his nose and braced himself on the lip of the ambulance “yeah, okay.” He said weakly.

Gordon checked on the FBI agent.  “How are you doing Agent…I’m sorry I never got your name.”

“I’m alright.  I’m going to be fine, I think.  Batman gave me some kind of anti-toxin.”

“It’s standard in all Gotham ambulances now.” Gordon pointed out.  The agent nodded and looked back into the tunnels.  “We’re going to re-think our strategy.  I’ll get with you in the morning, but as of right now, I’m taking over the FBI operation in Gotham.”

“What about the supervising agent?” she asked.  They both looked at the ambulance that held the former supervising agent.  He was screaming incoherently about clowns.  “I don’t think the Bureau will argue with me.”

After a few moments, the ambulances pulled away.  A shape descended from the shadows of the decrepit buildings that flanked the entrance.  Like a living shadow it moved towards the spot where Bleak’s ambulance had been.  Batman stood over the spot and scooped something off the ground.  Nose plugs.  Small, if you weren’t looking for them you’d have missed them, even when face to face with the man.  These were specially made to filter gas.  He knew that because they were designed and produced for law enforcement purposes by Wayne Enterprises.

                Somewhere in the city a red haired man stared at computer screens, each one showing an angle of the tunnels.  “Where did you go?” he muttered.  He rolled back the footage to the agent and Batman retrieving Bleak.  “Hmmm…” he watched as Batman backed away from the two into a spot completely off camera and disappeared.  “He just fucking disappears.” He growled.  He rolled the footage back even further, to Scarecrow shooting at Batman.  “Doesn’t even flinch.  Use to be you hit the Batman with a high caliber round like that, he’d at least have the decency to fall over.”

Two-Face came up from behind him.  “It’s some kinda armor.” He grumbled.  “Its high end armor, my bisected friend.”

“Sssexy…” Duela hissed from a couch where she sat upside down.  “So he’s got a benefactor.  What do you think?  The old Batbrain hired some kid to take his place?”

“No…” Croc said wearily from the door.  He was slumped, bleeding heavily.  “It was him.  It was the bat.”

He collapsed to the floor.  “Recognize the smell.  Its him.”

The man at the console got up, stepping into the good light of their makeshift headquarters.  “Well…” Ed Nashton said with a smirk.  “Anyone know first aid?  A doctor?  A vet?  We can’t question a dead…whatever the hell he is.?” He looked at Two-Face.  “Would one of you please call Dr. Davis.  Tell him we have a patient.”


Dr. Davis emerged from the back room a nervous man, shaking and sweaty.  His once thinning hair was now white with age, his breath smelled of cheap whisky and beer, and his arms were covered in blood up to his elbows with a large splash across his chest.  He sat heavily in a chair.  “What the hell did you do to him?” Duela asked.

Two-Face emerged from the room “Well he’s alive.  We had to strap him down when Croc tried to take a bite out of the doctor.”

The doctor nodded weakly.  “I got all zee pellets.” He said heavily.  “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t want to know.  Please I just want to go.”

Duela leaned into the doctor “You were the one who worked on dad, right?” she said through her Joker mask.  Davis shuddered.  “What was he like?”

“He tried to kill me after I finished working on him.  He was rather unpleasant in that regard, miss.”

“Well…” Ed said, hands on his hip “Guess the only question is what do we do with you?  I mean do we pay you or kill you?”

“Why not both?” Duela asked innocently.

“Pay him then kill him or kill him then pay him?”

Two-Face pulled his coin from his pocket.  “The doc isn’t going to tell anyone anything.  He didn’t rat out Jack back in the day, he ain’t gonna rat us out now.  Clean side, we pay him and he goes.” He flipped the coin and caught it.  “Sucks to be you.” The computer behind them issued a soft “ping”.  Ed turned.  “Hey hot pants…feel like delivering a message?”

“Oh Eddie…I wanted to have some fun with Doctor Dumkoff.”  Ed turned to the doctor and a wide smile crossed his face.  “Maybe you still can."

 

Chapter 7: Rabbits and Lies

Gotham First National Bank was a modest building, a mere six stories tall, dwarfed by the surrounding high rises.  It not only served as Gotham’s premier bank of choice, but as a historical landmark, a living photograph of the halcyon days before crime and corruption threatened to choke the city to death.  It’s alarm was historic as well, a class, ever ringing bell that announced to all within ear shot that the premises had suffered an immediate crime.  Of course the bank’s security system was far more advanced than that, announcing to law enforcement immediately of the crime, but the classic bell was still more than enough to disperse the crowd and confuse local traffic.  Witnesses of the crime, however, would be hard pressed to determine which was more confusing: the classic bell, or the six foot tall, not counting the ears, brown rabbit wearing a blower hat and waist coat bounding down the street at amazing speeds.  The criminal bunny carried tucked under one arm a bag of ill-gotten bills which trickled out behind it as it leapt from car roof to car roof, and under the other arm a young blonde woman as hostage.

“Oh the hatter’s going to go mad over you, love…” the March Hare raved at the screaming woman.  “Your name wouldn’t happen to be ‘Alice’ would it.  Oh birdy let me tell you he’d go positively jolly over that, if it were.  An’ don’t think that old black bat is gonna help you none, miss.  Its three o’clock in the afternoon, and everyone knows that bat only fly at night.  Asides, where they gonna shine that fancy light of theirs…?” The Hare glanced up at the Gotham Trade center, the tallest building in the city.  On its massive jumbotron television shone the emblem of the Batman.  Leaping into the air once more, time seemed to slow for him.  He could feel the partially caved in roof of the vehicle below him pull away from his feet, and for a moment he was weightless.  It was at that moment, something large, black and hard slammed into his chest, feet plowing straight into his sternum.  He saw ‘Alice’ lifted away from his arms, her own arm taken just below the bit by the black glove of the dark knight.

He was hurled into oncoming traffic and rolled to a halt, his bag of loot lost amongst the cars.  “Well well well, if it ain’t the bat ‘imself, lit by the light of day.”

“Martin O’Hare, former associate of Jervis Tetch.  Robotics expert and experienced martial artists.  I see we’ve gone back to old habits.”

“Hard for a rabbit to break a habit, especially one that feels so good.” Hare launched himself at Batman, twisting in mid-flight to bring his massive feet to bear.  Batman sidestepped and brought his elbow down on O’Hare’s throat.  Appearing in daylight wasn’t what he preferred, his image was far more effective at night.  In addition, the media coverage of his actions was far greater in the daylight hours, which meant he had to work that much harder to bring down his foes.  O’Hare rolled on the ground and came up on his knees.  “Y’know, ya ‘ad no business locking me up in Arkham.  I ain’t crazy.”

“You’re dressed like the Easter Bunny and you’re robbing banks, O’Hare.”

“Says the man in a bat costume that 1) Barely looks like a bat and 2) isn’ that thing hot?”  He launched himself at Batman with incredible speed.  Batman dropped down and fired an arm mounted stun gun into the robot legs the criminal used. “AHH!  He tazed me in the ass!” O’Hare yelled as he collapsed on the ground.

                “He tazed me in the ass…” Fox quoted the news footage as it played on the six o’clock airing.  Bruce was looking through files.  Carrie had started the fire for the evening and was preparing a meal for the two men.  “I tazed him in the hip.” Bruce murmured as he continued to sift through information.  “Well, Bruce, ‘Batman tazed him in the ass” is going to be the new go to phase on the internet.  I figure there’s probably a dozen memes about it already.”

“One hundred twenty seven as of…”he glanced at the clock “thirty minutes ago.”

Bruce’s phone buzzed once.  He glanced at it “One twenty eight.” He said quietly.

Carrie entered “Gentlemen, dinner is served.”  Bruce brought his stack of files and led Lucius into the ‘small’ dining room.  It was the same room he’d had his first date with Vicki Vale in, but rather a room closer to the kitchen with a six person hand crafted wooden table surrounded by high back chairs.  The walls were a forest green and held paintings of wildlife.  As he recalled this was his father’s favorite room.  Mother, he remembered, always preferred the formal dining room.  Carrie commented that to most families this would be the formal dining room, but here it was a ‘breakfast nook’.  Carrie’s cooking was, Bruce thought, adequate.  He mentally held her to the standards of Alfred, and even when he’d let his meals go cold, much to the elder butler’s annoyance, they were still fantastic.  Carrie wasn’t quite there yet, and he didn’t know if she ever would be.

“This steak is great…” Lucius said after the first bite.  Bruce held his tongue and focused on the Duela Dent file. 

“Carrie…” he said after he finished his meal and she had gathered the dishes onto a tray “Who is Edward Nashton?”

To her credit, while she nearly lost control of the tray, she recovered it quickly.  “W…who?”

He pulled the bottom file from the pile. “He’s got a juvenile record, nothing save a parking ticket as an adult, but he was quite the computer genius back in the day.  Only three known associates, his mother, his father, and…”

She stopped him.  “I was in the foster care system after my dad couldn’t take care of me anymore.  The Nashtons took me in.  Eddie…Edward was their older son.  They were really nice to me, but they were horrible to Edward.  He was so smart and his father always accused him of cheating on stuff, but he really just knew all the answers.”

“They were kind to you but abusive to their own son?” Lucius asked.  “They were getting a check for me.  Edward, his father said, was a burden but at least they got paid for having me around.”

“I see.  Go on.”

“Well, there isn’t that much else to say.  Edward’s dad got into a car accident, had to use a cane for a while, and would beat him pretty regularly with it just out of frustration.  The Department of Family Protection Services found out about the abuse and took me away.  I went back that night and his dad was roaring at him pretty bad about it, blaming Edward for calling the police on him.  Edward grabbed his dad’s cane and cracked him across the face with it.  Last I saw him he was running down 7^th street.”

“Do you know the rest of that story, Carrie?” Bruce asked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“Edward killed his dad that night.  That blow he struck was fatal.  They were going to charge him for murder but he disappeared, until the press conference.  He owns ‘Question the World News’ a conspiracy outlet where he asks viewers questions about how they think the world works.  How random events can’t possibly be random.  How a scandal can develop around a politician, then a gunman fires on a crowd or drives a truck into a vigil and the assailant is killed before they can testify, only to have media coverage leave the politician and focus on the tragedy.  He was shaking the branches of society.  He did it at the press conference that day, called attention as to how the police weren’t sharing all the information.  Then he vanished right before Duela opened fire.”

“No.”

“Why did you think I was investigating him?”

She hung her head and sat in the chair.  “I didn’t know.  I just saw him pop up on your computer and thought he’d been through too much already.”

“Well you should have come to me if you’d known something about him.  Thank you for not hiding it though.”

Bruce stood and left the room.

“That went better than I thought it would.” Lucius said quietly.

Carrie thought back to the cave, seeing his face on the screen, attempting to delete the image, only to discover the delete option was password protected.