GOTHAM DAM…[/I]
“Dick, you’re obsessing.”
“No, I’m not. Go away. I’m busy.”
The stern voice from above him let out a low chuckle. “I see you’ve picked up some of his social graces….”
“It doesn’t add up,” Dick Grayson said, pocketing the magnifying glass he was using to inspect the railing on the dam walkway. “His cape is made from memory cloth. If he was wearing it he could have used to glide to safety after going over the edge. But he took it off….”
“Maybe he had a reason…”
“Lets not forget his belt. Batarangs. High-tension cable. Grapple gun. No reason he couldn’t just swing to safety…”
“Maybe this Ra’s Al Ghul fellow prevented that. Bruce wasn’t the type to just let himself die.”
“Alfred said he was burned out. And in that video he left me…” Grayson’s voice tailed off. “Even so, he always had a way out.”
“Dick,” Superman said, gently landing beside him and resting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You ARE obsessing, and not in a productive Batman-sorta-way.”
“I have to figure….”
“Dick, listen to me,” Superman said, his voice taking on the tone of a teacher instructing on obstinate student. It was a tone that annoyed Bruce Wayne and awed Dick Grayson. “I’m going to tell you something you already know. Batman was as obsessive a person as I have ever met. He’d forego sleep, food and even common sense. But one thing he never did was ignore the evidence. Even if it took him to a place he didn’t want to go.”
Grayson pulled his Bat-cape tightly around his body and stared down over the railing into the swirling waters of the spillway. Superman began to rise slowly into the air.
“I miss him too, Dick,” Superman called down him as he flew off into the night. “But if you are going to be Batman, then BE Batman.”
*****************
Later - POLICE HEADQUARTERS…[/I]
Jim Gordon stepped out onto the roof of police headquarters and took a deep breath.
“Gotta check my horoscope or something,” he said to himself, looking down at the file in his hands. “How can this town possibly get any worse?”
“Oh you shouldn’t be surprised Jimmy,” said a man in a trench coat stepping out of the rooftop shadows where the bat-signal once stood. “Gotham always gets worse.”
“Oh joy. Mickey Fynn. How the hell did you get up here?”
“Well you have this constable working down stairs who….”
“Never mind,” Gordon said. “I have enough to cope with. I don’t want to know.”
“Smoke?” Fynn said, offering the commissioner a cigarette.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, taking a long, deep drag after Fynn lit it.
The stood in silence for a long moment, blowing smoke rings and looking out at the cranes that now dotted Gotham’s city center. The rebuilding had begun. But it did nothing for the mood of either man.
“So,” Fynn said at last. “I hear you got another three down stairs.”
“Is that what you hear?”
“And I figured our esteemed commissioner of police would want to issue a statement warning the good citizens of his fair city that this is no laughing matter.”
“Hmm,” Gordon said, blowing a ring of smoke in Fynn’s direction. “And what would that statement say exactly?”
“Oh something like, ‘Commissioner Gordon stressed again the danger of any citizen attempting to copy the alleged methods of the vigilante known as Bat-man, and reminded Gotham that no one can take the law into their own hands. Gordon declined to comment on rumors of the Bat-man’s death or his recent, apparent, return from the grave.”
“I like that,” Gordon said. “You can quote me.”
“Great.”
Gordon opened the file and handed it Fynn. “You’ll love these three. The copy-cats are getting stranger each time now.”
“In true Gotham City style, Commish.”
“The first one is hilarious. You remember Anthony Blake?”
“What the guy from the Lion Hunter TV show?” Fynn said, flipping through the file. “Oh come on! Cat-man?”
Gordon chuckled. “Yup. Check out the red and yellow suit.”
“Very stylish.”
“He tried to bust up a mugging over on 97th Street,” Gordon said, starting to snicker. “Climbed a tree…*haha* apparently to pounce on the perps. But his cape…*snffff* got stuck on a branch and he couldn’t get down. The fire department had to rescue him!”
The two men dropped their smokes and laughed so hard and so long they were left gasping for breath.
“Oh, lord, I needed that,” Gordon said, wiping the tears from his face and accepting another smoke from Fynn. “See the bruises? Not all them were from getting stuck in the tree. It seemed his brother Thomas didn’t take to kindly to him using the name and suit, so he beat the hell out of him. It appears that the second Catman takes the gig a little more seriously.”
“*ha* There’s two of them?” Fynn asked.
“What do you always say?
It's Gotham!”
“True enough. Who’s this guy?” Fynn said pointing at a photo of a hooded figure in some kind of gold armour.
“Yeah. Ok. Big son of bitch that one. He is actually dangerous. Hurt three of my officers pretty badly before they were able to take him in. Greenburg is still in hospital. Lost a lot of blood,” Gordon said. “No name. No id. Fingerprints and DNA came up with zip. All he’ll say is that he is the avatar of St. Dumas, whoever the hell that is.”
“I’ll look into it,” Fynn said. “And this last guy…a…midget? Come on now…”
“I’m too jaded to joke about this stuff,” Gordon said, flicking his smoke off the roof and taking the file back. “He calls himself ‘Bat-mite’ and his costume is worse than Cat-man’s. But he managed to ambush Oswald Cobblepot and beat him half to death with a crow bar.”
“Only in Gotham. Listen, Jimmy, I should get back to the paper,” Fynn said, putting his hand on Gordon’s shoulder and whispering. “You’ve got company.”
“I know,” Gordon hissed back. He waited until Fynn was gone down the building’s service exit before speaking again. “You can come out now.”
“Gordon,” came a voice of gravel from the shadow. A voice Gordon knows as well as his own shoe size.
Batman.
“Another visit so soon, Batman,” Gordon said, walking toward the vigilante. “What can I do for you this evening?”
“Black Mask,” Batman said with a customary curtness. “With Dent in custody and Cobblepot in the hospital that leaves only Black Mask….”
“You mean the only member of your little alliance that’s still on the loose,” Gordon said, handing the file to Batman. “We can talk about Roman in the moment. Take a look at this.”
Batman turned the pages and ground his teeth. Word on the street was that Batman was back, the real Batman. Dick couldn’t help but laugh when he first heard the new underground rumors about the Dark Knight – that Batman had actually crawled out of Hell itself to return to Gotham and wage war on criminals. Put an extra edge on Batman’s creature of the night reputation. But he had hoped those stories would put an end to the copycats. But it wasn’t. And now they were getting bolder, more violent.
“Perhaps if you put the signal back….”
“Don’t EVEN go there,” Gordon said. “But there is a new copy cat you should be aware of. More active than these three at any rate. There are rumors around the docks about someone calling himself the Ghost in Grey. Several low level dealers have been seriously injured by him. I don’t want this getting out of hand.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Batman said, stepping into the moonlight. “But you should know it’s not my job to police other….superheroes.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, then don’t do it,” Gordon shot back.
Relax, Jim. Getting mad at this guy won’t solve anything. “Sorry….long night.”
“I’m more concerned about Black Mask, frankly Commissioner.”
Gordon turned back toward the skyline. Already the frame of the new Wayne Tower was rising from the rubble of old before slowly turning around. “Actually, I’ve got someone on Black Mask right now. Roman is trying to muscle on the marijuana trade on the south side. Big money. We’ve got a sting in play and…..my god….”
“Something wrong, Gordon?”
“Not really,” Gordon said. “It’s just that normally I turn around and you’re gone.”
Batman shifted slightly. “I wasn’t…sure we’d finished talking yet.”
“When as that ever stopped you before?”
“Holy Sweet Jumpin’ Jesus! FREEZE FREAK!” There was no mistaking the voice. Detective Harvey Bullock.
“I’m serious, Batfreak. Hands up!”
“Holster it, detective,” Gordon said, putting himself between Batman and the barrel of Bullock’s gun. “Now.”
“Jim, we got six active warrants out on this loser,” Bullock said, putting the glock away under his trench coat. “Jim, if he ain’t dead…”
“Another time, Harv,” Gordon’s tone made it clear. The subject was closed. “Batman, Detective Bullock is spear heading the Black Mask case. I would be…grateful if you could check out the docks.”
Batman nodded and dove off the side of the building into the night.
“Jim, what’s the story here? After what he did, after Black Mask and Two-Face, you swore you wouldn’t work with Batman again. You were serious about that? Cause from where I’m standing looks like you are working with him…”
Gordon took off his glasses and rubbed his face with his palm.
“I was serious,” he said. “And I’m not.”
“Huh? What does…”
“Another time, Harvey. Lets get down the briefing room.”
*****************
Earlier -GOTHAM DOCKS…[/I]
Tony Bresi Jr. wasn’t in the mood to talk. Not in a run down south side warehouse. Not to a freak in mask. Tony was a big man. The biggest. He told everyone who would listen. He had the name. Tough Tony Bresi was his dad.
“My dad was tough yeah. But I’m a killer,” is what Tony Jr. would say. He controlled most of the drugs in this end of Gotham these days. And he wasn’t going to give up a piece of the action to nobody.
Especially not a freak in a mask.
“Listen, uh, Black Mask…what you do prefer? Blackie? Mask? What?”
Black Mask leaned back in his chair, and pulled out a knife that looked large enough to carve a rhino in two. “Black Mask will do Junior. And if I was you, I’d stow the attitude.”
“Ok, I’ve had just about enough of you. Honest to Christ. You come down here, you and three of the saddest looking Gotham mooks I’d ever laid my eyes on, and you tell me that I gotta cough up seventy-five percent of my take to you….”
“I’m in a generous mood, Junior,” Black Mask said, leaning forward to put his hand on the table. He spread his fingers wide and began to lazily punch the knife into the table between them. “You’re old man had more respect for how things work Gotham.”
“Now you listen to me, Roman
whateveryourlastnameis Black Mask,” Bresi said. “My pops was tough, but…”
“You’re a killer. Yeah, yeah. We all heard that the first time around,” Black Mask said. “Now, time’s a wasting. Why rush to join your old man in pine box? There isn’t the need.”
Bresi motioned to the mountain of a man standing behind him. Frank the Tank. One time henchman for the Penguin, now muscle for hire. “Frankie, grab this freak and break him in half.”
“Sir,” Frank said in his smooth baritone voice. “My name is Frank. Not Frankie. There is no cause for rudeness.”
“Whatever, Frankie. Do your thing.”
Frank lunged forward and seized Bresi by the neck, hosting him out of his chair and smashed him down on the table face first. Bresi struggled, but Frank had him pinned. Black Mask was now moving the knife quickly between his fingers. The blade was a blur.
“See, Junior, the trick here is to keep your eye on the prize. The whole time. No matter what is going on,” he said, punching knife harder and faster into the table. “If you take your eye off the prize…even for a second…bad things happen.”
The knifed plunged deep into Bresi’s shoulder. The mobster screamed but Frank held him steady.
“See, now in your case, if you’d kept your eye on the prize you’d know three things,” Black Mask said, yanking the blade free.
“One,” he said, driving it into Bresi’s left hand. “You’d know not to cross me, boy.”
He pulled the blade free again and then stabbed it into Bresi’s other hand. “Two, that if you had just played ball, you’d still be making money and be alive to fight another day. Pity.”
Black Mask pulled the knife free again, spun it on the table and turned to walk away. “And three, that you’re not paying Frank the Tank here enough. Oh and he hates it when people get his name wrong. I guess that’s four things huh? Oh well, live and learn. Let’s go boys. Frank…the man’s all yours.”
“Thank you, sir,” Frank the Tank said, pushing Bresi onto the floor of the warehouse. “As for you, my name…is FRANK!”
*****************
Later -WAYNE ENTERPRISES DISTRUBTION AND MARKETING OFFICES…[/I]
Dick Grayson felt sleep gripping the edges of his mind. It had been a long night. Four muggings, a bank robbery and an arson. Typical night in Gotham all things considered. No sign of this ‘Ghost’ or any other copycat. Which suited Dick fine. Between trying to keep up appearances as Nightwing and work as Batman he was running out of gas. He still hadn’t figured out what the hell to do about the Justice League.
But he was more concerned about how to handle Gordon. At first the commissioner seemed almost relieved Batman was back. But within a week, he seemed colder. Annoyed.
He knew Bruce’s stunt with Black Mask and Two Face had driven a wedge between them, but Gordon wasn’t talking about it. Only Bruce could find a way to irate his most powerful ally like this.
“Aw, hell,” Dick thought. “I’m too tired to think this through. There was a reason Bruce scheduled his business meetings in the afternoon.”
Just as Dick was drifting off in the leather chair in the waiting room, a voice bolted him to his feet.
“Morning, Richard!” It was Luicus Fox, the new CEO of Wayne Enterprises. “You look like you could use some coffee.”
“That would be heaven, Luicus.”
Fox led Dick into a cramped office packed wall to ceiling with books, papers and other reports. Every square inch was covered.
“Just move those papers off that chair and have a seat Richard,” Fox said. “Sorry for the clutter, but this is what it’s going to be like until the new Wayne Tower is built. That’s at a year away at the very least.”
Dick slumped into the chair and gratefully took a cup of coffee from Fox.
“So,” Fox said, sipping on his own cups. “What’s your plans now Richard? Are you moving back to Gotham permanently?”
“I’m still working out the details, Luicus,” Dick said. “I’ve got a lot of balls in the air right now.”
“Hmmm. Well that’s sort of why I called you down here,” Fox said. “I think it’s high time you and I talked about Mr. Wayne’s business.”
“Ah, Luicus look,” Dick said. “I know you and Bruce were close. But the thing is, I never took much interest in Wayne Enterprises business. Bruce raised me but we never really talked about his business life much. So while Bruce left me controlling interest the company, I’m sure it’s in capable hands under your leadership.”
“That’s very kind of you to say Richard….”
“Hey, if Bruce trusted you, so do I,” Dick said, rubbing his eyes and sipping his coffee.
“…but isn’t what I meant.”
“Sorry?”
“I wasn’t talking about Wayne Enterprises’ business. I was talking about Mr. Wayne’s business.”
“I’m not sure I follow, Luicus.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do,” Fox said, placing his index fingers against either said of his head to make mock Bat-ears. “I am pretty sure you do.”
*****************
Meanwhile - CRIME ALLEY…[/I]
“See I told you, Mask. I told you I would do you a solid. All hydroponically grown. Clean. What costumers want,” Ratso the Con said, shifting his feet nervously. “So whadda say? Huh? Whadda say? Fifty-fifty spilt?”
“You’re a good kid Ratso,” Mask said, smelling the pot in the plastic bag the dealer had given him. “So I’ll say eighty-twenty and we’ll call it even.”
“Eighty-twenty? Mask you gotta be….”
“Perhaps you feel you are being treated unfairly,” Mask said. Ratso shook his head and walked back toward Main Street. This was working. Even a year ago Black Mask would have not risked making these sorts of deals out in the open like this. Other mobsters, cops or Gotham’s special variety of freak job would have been gunning for him. But he didn’t have the staff with the brains or the muscle to do it right. At least not yet he didn’t. But since the Joker’s little spree of chaos and Batman’s death the cops were too busy to chase him down. The window of opportunity was closing. There were already rumors that Batman wasn’t really dead after all. But there was more than enough time to get the job done. Get some cash flow going in and rebuild.
“Just like the early days,” Black Mask said. “Just like…aw hell no...”
Ratso had stopped near the entrance of the alley and appeared to be speaking into his sleeve. Then he started to run. Within seconds a strobe of red, white and blue light flooded the alley. Black Mask could make out the shapes of his bodyguards already being hauled into police cruisers.
“Man, someone check my horoscope,” he muttered.
“You’re all done, Roman!” There was no mistaking the voice. It sounded like an Italian who gargled with Draino. Harvey Bullock. “Book 'em, boys!”
“Book him, boys? Are your for real Harvey?” Black Mask said, thrusting his hands into his pocket. “Who actually talks like that?”
“Hands up, Mask,” Bullock shouted, pointing his glock. “And do it slowly.”
Black Mask raised his hands over his head. In his left hand was a small black box with a red light blinking happily on the top.
“Drop it, Roman!”
“Oh, are you sure about that, detective?” Mask said as Bullocks officers moved slowly closer. “Because you know…”
“DROP IT!”
“Sure,” Roman tossed the box into the feet of the approaching officers. It made a chirp as it bounced a few times before it came to the rest. The red light began to blink faster. “Thing is, Harvey, the Joker might be totally insane, but he did show us how to really get things done in this down didn’t he?”
“Crap! Everyone pull ba….”
Explosions erupted from both alley walls, covering the police officers in fire, brinks and steel. Black Mask laughed and ran for the fire escape behind him. No point in trying to run to the other end of the alley to get his car on Bank Street. Bullock will have officers there. Time to run from the rooftops.
“Just like the old days,” Black Mask muttered.
*****************
Meanwhile - WAYNE ENTERPRISES DISTRUBTION AND MARKETING OFFICES…[/I]
Grayson was speechless. Bruce said Fox knew more about Batman than he’d ever let on. But to know the secret….
“Oh don’t be so shocked, Richard,” Fox said, leaning back and chuckling with a fatherly tone. “You didn’t really think Bruce pulled it all off on his own did you?”
“Well no, but….”
“Look, kid,” Fox said, pouring Grayson another cup of coffee. “Bruce was a genius, no question. But he was always more criminologist and forensics analyst than he was an engineer. Oh, he was a master at adapting technology for his own uses, but he didn’t design a whole lot himself. Nearly every piece of equipment you’ve used your whole career has either been designed or developed by yours truly.”
“Ok…You have me at something of a disadvantage.”
Fox laughed again and it put Dick at ease. There was a lightness and humor to the man that was almost contagious.
“Richard, you have nothing to worry about. I know Bruce never told you. There were lots of things he didn’t tell you. You know how he was. But he also left me instructions to assist you just as I did him,” Fox said. “And I intend to just that if you’ll have me.”
“Of course, of course,” Dick said.
“Good,” Fox said. “But just keep in I mind you’ll have to make do with whatever you brought with you from New York and whatever Bruce had left in the cave. We kept the prototypes and new gear in a secure location in the tower…”
“Which is now so much rubble,” Dick said. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I know how to make most of the basics myself.”
“I thought you might. I have a new location in the works, but there are still a million things to work out. I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. I mean. It’s just….well, I’m finding out more and more there were things Bruce never told me, especially about his early years,” Dick said, unable to cover up the edge of angry in his voice. Jason Todd. Ra’s Al Ghul. Now Fox. What else was there about Batman he didn’t know about?
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Fox said, putting his feet up on his desk. “You have to remember in the early days it was just the three of us. Me, Bruce and Alfred. No Robins. No Gordon. No Justice Leagues. Just one Don Quixote and two Sancho Panzas in a city of darkness. We learned to keep most of what we did to ourselves. Some things are best left buried in the world you are stepping into.”
Dick frowned. That made sense. But he lived in the manor for years. Grew up as the partner to Batman. At some point, he would have thought Bruce would have filled him on these details.
“Your point?”
“Bruce was right. You are quick,” Fox said, sitting up and folding his hands in front of him on the desk. “The reason I called you down here wasn’t just to tip you off on who Batman’s gadget guy is. It’s also to offer you some advice.”
“Advice?” Dick said. “Look, Luicus, I have been in this…business since I was a teenager. I have more experience at doing this than most of the members of the JLA.”
“I know that, son. But the fact is that most of your career you were the sidekick…”
“Partner.”
“Right. Partner. But you weren’t the guy in charge. You weren’t the guy making the decisions. Being the side…being the partner is always easier than being the boss.”
“Are we talking about me filling Bruce’s boots here, or you?” Dick said.
“Maybe both,” Fox said, leaning forward. “But I felt that someone had to sit down and tell you this straight, Richard. There were things we had to do in the early days, Bruce, Alfred and me, decisions we had to make. Hard decisions. Even when you showed up as Robin, there were decisions made that you never knew about. That you were too young and too inexperienced to understand. Decisions only Batman can make. Things only Batman can do.”
“Luicus…”
“Alfred and I will be here for you just as we were for Bruce. But there are things you are going to have to do, Richard. Decisions only you can make. And this new kid you are training? You won’t want to tell him about them. Bruce’s burdens are yours now. It’s the price you pay for wearing the suit.”
The rest of the conversation was pleasant enough but Dick left troubled. He didn’t doubt anything Fox said was true and he was sure Alfred could fill in the blanks were he to ask. No, it wasn’t that Fox could have been wrong that troubled Dick Grayson.
What bothered him was that Fox was right.
*****************
Meanwhile – TEN BLOCKS WEST OF CRIME ALLEY – ROOF OF THE OLD MARINO HOTEL…[/I]
Black Mask slumped against a rusted vent tower.
Well put a wig on me and call me Suzie he thought.
That fat bastard is actually keeping up. I’m out of shape.Bullock had dove clear of the blast and chased after Black Mask. Neither man was particularly graceful. Black Mask had twisted his ankle at least twice jumping from roof to roof and he figured Bullock and nearly fallen to the ground at least five times.
This so isn’t working the way I thought “Stop…*huff* you damn …fr….frea….*huff*….,” Bullock said staggering across the roof, his gun drawn. “Just frigging stop…”
“Ha,” Black Mask said, trying to stand. His ankle gave out and he collapsed to the roof. The abandoned hotel groaned slightly. “Damn it….”
“Ha your..*huff* self…,:” Bullock said. “Lets see you jump around now, freak boy. Haha….*huff*..I own your ass now.”
“Do you, Harvey?” Black Mask said, pulling a small black box out of his pocket.
“Now hold on just one…..”
In a flash of light and smoke both men dropped to the rotting building under their feet. Mask had used this dump for months as a hide out before Batman recruited him. He knew the blast would probably bring the building down, but it was a better alternative to going to jail.
Something heavy slammed against the back of his head and Black Mask saw nothing for a long moment.
He saw nothing when he came to. Total blackness. But he felt something. Hot. Sticky. He felt his thigh. Blood. And nothing else. Something sharp.
“Oh this ain’t good,” he said, groping his hands around the shaft of wood that must have jammed into this leg during the fall. “This ain’t good at all.”
A beam of light stabbed into his eyes. He could make out a large shadow hovering nearby.
“No it ain’t good,” Bullock said, lowering the flash like slightly. His left arm hung at his side like piece of rotten meat. His shoulder was torn to hell at the very least. “Nice job brining the building down on his, Black Mask. Looks like we got ourselves a little problem now doesn’t it?”
“Looks like,” Black Mask said. “Remind me later to check my horoscope.”
*****************
Later – GOTHAM DOCKS…[/I]
“I think this Ghost is a just an urban myth, A” Batman said, creeping across the roof of one of the warehouses on the docks.
“If the history of the Batman has taught us anything, sir, is that is a conclusion we should not reach too quickly,” Alfred said, his sarcasm biting even through the cowl’s radio.
“Did your former employer enjoy your charming whit A?”
“Oh he truly reveled in it, sir.”
“Right,” Batman said, stifling a chuckle. “I’m sure he….hey what was that?”
“A scream,” Alfred said. “Even I heard it. It must be near by, B.”
Batman dropped the ground and found the warehouse door open.
“No lights. But I can make out someone moving,” Batman said. “I’m going in.”
“Copy, B.”
Batman slipped into the building, pulling his night vision lenses over his eyes. And he saw it. A man. A huge man dangling upside down, tied a rope lashed around his ankles, which was fastened to a beam in the ceiling. Blood dripped from his face onto a table a few feet below him.
“This is Frank the Tank,” Batman said, walking close to the body and removing the night vision lenses. “I’ve run into him with…..I’ve run into him more than once. He’s alive…but barely.”
“I’ll dispatch EMS, sir,” Alfred said.
“Don’t hurt me….don’t hurt me,” said a voice from under table.
Batman crouched down and saw a bloody and beaten Tony Bresi Jr. curled up in a ball. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Who did this?”
“Just out of the dark…He was laughing. Just came out of the darkness. Beat the hell out of Frank….” Bresi said, sobbing. “I hid, see? Please don’t kill me…”
“You think I did this?”
“No,” He said, shaking. “Someone…someone scary…”
“Scarier than me?” Batman said.
“Well….” Before Bresi could say another word he was yanked out from under the table and pulled screaming into the darkness. There was a crunch and a low cackle of harsh laughter. Slowly a figure in a gray cloak and wide brimmed hat stepped partially into a beam of moon light pouring in from a window. A pair of glowing red eyes peered out from under the hat, staring coldly at Batman.
“A,” Batman whispered into his radio. “Remember that thing I said about an urban legend? Forget it.”
