Chapter 5: A New Dawn

“What the hell!” Fox screamed as he stormed into Wayne’s office.  He threw a purchasing order down on the desk.  It was well after 10 o’clock but Wayne looked tired and disinterested in whatever was going on.  He quickly closed the door behind him and wheeled on Wayne.  “Would you mind...” he growled in a whisper “telling me why all of the sudden Incorporato Pipistrello, a company I personally thought was dead and gone, would suddenly place an order for five of our suits and a stripped down version of our pursuit vehicle?”

Wayne looked back at the computer “Neck piece on the new suit is better.  I can turn my head, and the car hasn’t operated since 1992.”

“Bruce!  You are pushing seventy.  Why...why would you do this?  Why restore the Batman now?”

The television on Bruce’s office wall was airing GNN’s coverage of the break out.  “Lucius, I wasn’t looking for an excuse, but that...” he said pointing at the break out “...gave me a reason.  People were going to die if I didn’t do something.  Those officers would have died.  Gotham has had a long time of peace, and in that time the police force has gotten complacent.”

“So give them better equipment.  Get them better training.  You’re on the goddamn city council, you can do that.”

“There was no time.  This break out was perpetrated completely out of the blue.  Someone is running this behind the scenes, and they’ve already corralled four of the most dangerous inmates in Arkham.  I owe it to this city, and to Jim Gordon, not to let it or his daughter get killed because I wouldn’t put on the suit again.”

Lucius was looking out the window.  His mind was reeling.  “You can’t go in it alone.  And you have to be smarter about your equipment.  The old ways aren’t going to work anymore.  When you busted that embezzlement scheme, you set up checks and balances.  They will catch this.  I can’t let this go any further.  I can get you the specifications of the equipment you need, but you can’t outright buy it from Wayne Tech.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m your friend, Bruce.  Your friend.  Not the Batman’s.  Let’s make that clear.  And tell me you aren’t dragging Carrie into this with you.”

Bruce let that sentence sink in for a moment.  “I’m not dragging her into anything.” He said grimly as if something resonated in the back of his mind.  “I have to go.  Commissioner Gordon is about to do a press conference and I need to be there.”

                The Gotham skies, even in the late morning, were still grey.  Thick clouds of smog threatened to choke the sun from the sky.  In front of City Hall, Barbra Gordon stood side by side with Mayor Deneli and the city council lined up behind her.  Mayor Margart Deneli was a trail blazer, elected in the era of peace, she stood for breaking new ground and reforming the grit and grime that was the city’s past into something shiny, brilliant, and hopeful.  Standing about a head shorter than Gordon, her gray hair was styled so that it hung just past her shoulders.  Her bright blue dress-suit was also in stark contrast to Gordon’s more conservative uniform.  Gordon moved to the microphone.  There was a thick crush of reporters from news outlets as far away as Los Angeles, each chomping at the bit to be the media outlet that announced Gotham’s return to the darkness.

“At 10:32pm last night...” Gordon spoke with authority “A significant power failure inside Arkham Asylum compromised it’s security system.  While the population of the asylum attempted to break out, the majority were taken into custody and returned to their cells through police effort.  Ten fled and are still at large.  Their photographs and vital statistics can be found on GCPD’s website.  If you have any information about the whereabouts of these inmates, contact the police department immediately.  Do not attempt to apprehend or detain them on your own, notify police immediate.  Our officers are working around the clock searching the city and ensuring the safety of the public.  Are there any questions?”

“Iris West, Central City Picture News; Is there anything truth to the rumor that the Batman was involved in securing the inmates?”

“The resurfacing of the vigilante known as Batman is an ongoing investigation at this time.  I cannot comment any further on that.”

Another reporter, one with bright red hair thrust a tape recorder at Gordon “Ed Nash, Question the World News: Is it possible that the power failure was intentional, that the attempted break out was orchestrated?”

“That is also under investigation and I will not comment on it.  Thank you.”

Bruce raised his cellphone, pretending to check text messages.  He was in fact taking pictures of the reporters, particularly Mr. Nash.

“Bored already, Bruce?” asked a council member standing behind him.  It was Joseph Bleak, a council member that Bruce suspected had ties to organized crime, along with the unshakable feeling that he knew the man’s face from somewhere.  Easily twenty years older than him, Bleak had the look of a man who had done had work, deep lines and creases marred his angular face.  “Just something from work...” Bruce said off handedly.

Gordon fielded a few more questions and then Mayor Denali wrapped up the event.  Bruce sent the picture to the computer in the cave, activating facial recognition software that would search every database he could hack for information on Mr. Ed Nash.  He looked to Carrie who waited by the car.

“OH!  I’m late!” a woman shouted from the other side of the street.  Many of the crowd stopped and stared as the group around her, thirty or so dressed in dark overcoats brandishing machine guns and clown make up parted.  “Don’t everyone go!  The fun is about to begin!”

She was dressed garishly in a red sleeveless long coat, purple patchwork gloves of various shades that reached up to her biceps, a blue tank top, red short skirt over dark purple leggings that sported various rips and tears in them, and purple pixie boots.  Her emerald hair was short cut and swept up, away from her face.  Her face, however was the most disquieting part of her appearance.  It was apparently swen onto her head, pale white with ruby lips.  The face was molded and modeled after the Joker.  She let out a high pitch cackle as she opened fire into the crowd.

Bruce launched himself forward, tackling Mayor Denali and Commissioner Gordon to the ground as high speed rounds ripped apart the back of his trench coat.  Carrie immediately returned fire along as she made her way to the car.  Half a dozen police me, half of whom were cut down by oncoming machine gun fire from her hench men returned fire as well. 

The crowd of reports scattered like a flock of startled birds.  Duela Dent and her men marched towards Bruce and the city officials.  Bruce stood, squaring off against Duela.  “Brave man, Mistah Wayne.  Gonna die on your feet?”

“Not today.” He said with half of a smirk.  Wayne’s personal car screamed around the corner at top speed, crashing into the hench men before they could avoid it.  Duela leapt back at the last second, keeping her wild eyes locked on Bruce until the car came between them.  Bruce popped open the door and hurriedly ushered Gordon and Denali into the car.  Slamming the door shut, Carrie sped off as the remaining henchmen fired on the vehicle.

Rounds ricocheted and rebounded off the armored vehicle, as police cruisers sped to the scene.  Duela was already gone, but later it would be found that almost all of the henchmen at the scene were apprehended.

Mayor Denali was bleeding heavily from a wound in her chest, Bruce had been half a second too slow.  She called an emergency meeting of the city council, where she videoed in from her hospital room.  The hall of council members was silent in this troubling time.  Commissioner Gordon stood at the back of the room, a silent witness to all that was going on.  “Ladies and gentlemen...of the city council.” Denali whispered between breaths.  “I fear I can no longer serve as this great city’s leader.  In my final act as mayor I appoint to the office of Vice Mayor...Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce sat in shock, staring straight ahead, blinking only a few times.  He suddenly felt very old.  The room turned to him and he suddenly realized he needed to say something.  He rose to his feet and adjusted his coat.

Clearing his throat he began to speak.