#34: Don't Say A Word (HoM / Price)

Commissioner Gordon and Sergeant Bullock:

“Hush,” said Harvey Bullock slowly. “I think he said his name was Hush.”

“What kind of name is that?” said James Gordon in reply, as he paced his office. “This city is going to Hell, again, and we’ve got new masks popping up all over the place making it worse. I’ve got men investigating this… Grey Ghost character that’s breaking heads and necks around the docks but so far he’s eluded capture. We’ve got two Batmen running around, one we think we know and one we don’t, and now this ‘Hush’ mask? Can you describe him, Bullock?”

“It’s in my report…”

“No, I want you to tell me. Speak to me. What did he look like? How did he move? You’re a detective, dammit, tell me what your gut told you.”

“His movements… he had a way of moving that was damn familiar to me, though I can’t rightly place it. His voice was muffled, deep though, like a growl, but underneath those bandages wrapped around his face… it could be anyone, Commissioner.”

“I knew this would happen. I knew it,” said James, before waving Harvey out his office. “Get out of here, I need to think. Thanks Harv… sorry for being such a hard ass, but this entire situation is getting way out of control.”

“I unnerstand, Commish,” said Bullock, as he left the Commissioner’s office.

Batman and Charaxes:

Well, this sucks. Batman was been yanked across the city by a giant moth. Those were the cliff notes of his current predicament, whilst the long story was that Charaxes was back, he was angry, and the Caped Crusader had found him first.

The grotesque, mutated insect was screaming words that Dick Grayson couldn’t understand, flapping his massive, paper-thin wings so fast that the noise actually hurt the former Boy Wonder’s ears, and generally causing mayhem for the hero. The line that Dick had attached to the beast was around his fourth arm, and the other three swatted at it to remove the dead weight pulling the villain back.

Dick felt like he was floating. He smiled for a lingering second and then pressed a button on his gauntlet with his thumb, and his cape suddenly billowed open, and locked in a shape that caught the air around them and yanked the two back, colliding with a derelict building inside the Narrows and sending the two of them inside the deserted office space.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Charaxes screamed, his voice like breaking glass, but Batman grabbed his mouth before he could do anything else.

“Shut… up!” Dick yanked on the sides of the giant insect’s jaws, and when the villain was wracked with pain, he took a syringe from his utility belt and jammed it into the soft flesh underneath Charaxes’ carapace. “Sleep.”

He staggered back and collapsed against a partition wall, and then glanced through the broken wall that the two had fallen in through. Opposite the building was another derelict skyscraper, and atop it a silhouette watched. Dick stood, and stared at the man watching him, his lens focusing in on the stranger.

Except it wasn’t a stranger. Dick nodded at the silhouette, who nodded back, and then vanished back into the shadows. “Thanks for the assist, brother…” whispered Dick, before turning back to Charaxes, and contemplating how he was going to get him to Gotham Central without him waking up.*

Black Mask:

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word…”

Roman Sionis had gone insane. That’s what they all thought. He’d gone wholly insane after having his head permanently encased in an ebony skull mask carved from his dead father’s casket. That’s enough to make anyone go a bit loopy, wasn’t it?

“…Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…”

Roman had adopted the guise of ‘the Black Mask’ months before he’d seemingly gone insane, but when the mask scorched shut around his head, he’d done what any man in his position would. He blamed the Batman. So here he was, standing covered in blood, thought to be insane, clutching the broken head of one of the attendants sent to prepare him for transfer to Arkham Asylum, and he was singing to himself.

“…If that mockingbird don't sing…”

He twisted the man’s head 360 degrees in our abrupt turn, and allowed him to drop to the ground. The sound of flesh colliding with sticky red blood made him smile. That was more like it.

“…Momma’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…”

He finally unlocked his handcuffs, and rubbed his wrists. He’d woken up numb. He couldn’t feel his face. He wiped the blood onto his hospital gown and walked over to the mirror. His face was bandaged up. That was strange.

Memories flickered back to the sewers, the attack of the Killer Croc, his odd-couple escapades with that fat sonofabitch Harvey Bullock. The man who rescued them… his face bandaged, all the tricks and toys inside his coat. He looked like a copy of his rescuer. Stranger and stranger… he began to unravel the bandages. There was a strange noise as the fabric came off from his skin. They’d removed his mask. His face.

“…If that… hhhh… diamond ring turns to brass…”

He breathed in deeply. He could feel the air being sucked into his lips. He could feel. Things were starting to come back to him. He remembered flickers of things. He’d been brought into the hospital. Handcuffed to a bed. For the best… for the best… for the best they needed to remove the mask. Massive infection? Burns? Decay? Rotting flesh?

“…hhhh… Mama's gonna buy you… hhhh…. buy you… a looking glass…”

The bandages dropped to the floor, reddened with his own blood. He looked at his reflection. Where was… where was… his face? He touched the moist flesh that was left on his skull. He could see muscle. As he barred his black teeth he could see the muscles flex on his face. His skin, what was left of it, was scorched beyond all recognition. His nose… he didn’t have a nose. His ears were lumps… he should be in pain. He should be in so much pain but why… drugs. He needed… needed drugs… the expectation of agony made his heart race. Adrenaline pumped into his body and he felt giddy. He began to laugh, but stifled it back after he caught a look of himself chuckling in the mirror.

His fist slammed into the mirror, and the shards joined the bandages and the dead attendant on the floor of the room. He breathed in, and formed what could have been called a smile on what was left of his face.

“…we had to remove a lot of his flesh, it was all infected, and even then the muscles were affected by the burns too. A lot of his face is just… black with the burns. He’ll be on a regime of painkillers for the rest of his life. We saved his eyelids, thank God, or that would have been a whole ‘nother set of problems. Remember when Harvey Dent came in?”

Sionis had his back to the wall as soon as he heard the Doctor’s traipse down the hall toward his private room.

“…New Arkham sent one attendant up to take him downstairs. There’s another one in the parking lot waiting. He used to be a big ol’ scary sonofagun but I guess when you get crazy you’re all on the same level…”

The two doctors entered the ward and saw the blood first. One staggered back, but the door was already closed by a deft movement from Roman. They spun around and the male doctor almost screamed as he saw the Black Mask’s disfigured skull. Roman grabbed him by the mouth and twisted his head the same way he had done the attendant. The female surgeon didn’t scream but Roman grabbed her by the throat regardless. “H-how are you awake?!” she uttered quietly.

“I… always had… a high… tolerance…”

Hush:

He removed the green contacts from his eyes. They stung after a while but it was a necessity. He unravelled his bandages and lay them on his desk. He removed his coat, then his shirt and then finally the thick Kevlar body armour he wore underneath to protect himself from attack.

“Gotham is sick…” he whispered. “Gotham is sick and needs help.”

He looked around his small, dank quarters. Across the walls were photos and articles, and connecting them all to one another were pieces of different coloured string. This was his cave. His place of rest and contemplation.

He thought back to Harvey Bullock, the fat, bloated detective that he’d barely been able to save in the sewers below. He was better once, and for that moment, he doubted his mission. He doubted his ability. He had the equipment, he knew that. He had the training. But the drive? After what happened that night, the rain pouring… he knew he needed to be better. He looked over to the photo he had of his family. The father, smiling, the mother content, and the boy, so young…

He ignored the growing weight in his throat as he turned his attention to another photo, this one pinned to his wall. His fingers traced the surface of the image, and then he made a fist. All the red pieces of string centred on this photo. The man in it was the weak heart of the Gotham power elite. The one who would never allow change to occur as long as he was so greatly compromised as he was.

Commissioner Gordon.

“Gotham is sick.”

Robin and Wildcat:

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin looked up at his sparring partner. Wildcat grinned. “Because, you know, I’m a minor.”

“So what? Think the creeps outside’ll care?”

“Maybe,” replied Robin, as he raised his gloves. “Let’s do this then.”

Ted Grant growled with a smile. “Y’got spunk, kid.”

The two masked adventurers tapped gloves and then parted. “I ain’t going to hurt you kid. Your boss thought you could use a bit CQC training, and I ain’t in the business of beating up little kids, so don’t worry about it.”

“‘Little kid’?” Robin unleashed a flurry of punches that tested Wildcat’s defences. “I’ve been trained in close quarters combat by some of the best.”

“Yeah, I taught Bruce how to throw that left,” replied Wildcat, bobbing and weaving. “Keep your defences up. I ain’t here to beat on you, I’m here to stop creeps beating on ya.”

“Understood. Does that mean I have to go easy on you?”

“Spunk--” laughed Wildcat, only to be punched in the gut by a solid left, “hurrrh… it’ll get you places.”

“You didn’t teach Bruce that, I bet,” said Robin, as he pranced about with his cape flittering behind him in the ring.

Wildcat rubbed his stomach. “You’d be right…”

Batman and Charaxes:

“HHHHHHHHUUUUMMMMAAAAAN!”

Sedative didn’t work as well as Lucius Fox had promised. The line snapped too. Dick was not having the best day. Charaxes had him pinned against a wall, and was screaming bloody murder at the Caped Crusader. Dick looked to where his line had been previously, when they were soaring above the city. Swollen. Dislocated by the weight and effort it took to fly with Batman holding fast? Maybe. He yanked his hand free and slammed his palm into the socket.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

“What did I say about shutting up?!” Batman snatched a small gas canister from the side of his utility belt and punched Charaxes in the mouth. The insect staggered back, trying as he might to clench his jaws around the Batman’s hand but finding it impossible, the scalloped blades of his gauntlets preventing the razor sharp teeth of the mutant from amputating Batman’s hand at the wrist. Dick pressed another button on his gauntlet and from around where his jaw was visible a small, thin respirator snapped around his exposed face, and he triggered the gas canister inside Charaxes’ mouth. The insect gagged, the potent drug immediately going to work.

“EEEhhhhhhhhhh…”

Again, the insect creation collapsed, and Batman waited for the gas cloud to clear. Bruce had faced Killer Moth, but had he ever faced Killer Moth Mk.2? Would he have done something differently to what Dick had?

“Who cares?” said Dick, as he took two syringes from his belt and stabbed them down. Double dose of the sedative, plus the agent already in his system? Down for the count, he thought. He was fully prepared for the notion if Charaxes got back up though. Wasn’t that the point of all this?

Black Mask and Doctor Dianne Scott:

“I need… painkillers…” Black Mask hissed, blood and spittle pooling in his mouth as he spoke. “You look like… the sort of woman… that can help a man out… in that regard…”

“I can’t just…” Roman’s hand tightened around Dianne Scott’s throat as she tried to speak. “… I… can’t just…”

“Fine, then you’re of no use to me.”

“No, don’t, I--”

“ ‘No, don’t, I can get you the drugs you asked for’? Because if those aren’t the words coming out of your mouth in the next five seconds then I will cripple you in such a way that doctors will be baffled by your condition.” He breathed in deeply. “Capisce?”

“I have children…”

“Bless my bleeding heart, ask me if I give a £$%^.” He smiled, and she looked away. “What, not a pretty sight? You’re the ones who stole my mask. You think I didn’t expect this to be on the inside? Ignorance, my dear doctor, was bliss. Now. I know you need a card to get into your drug stores. And I know I’m not going to be able to walk to the end of the corridor without getting so dirty looks, so here’s what we’re going to do…”

Batman and Alfred Pennyworth:

“And you safely delivered Charaxes to Gotham Central?”

“Yeah, Alfred. They doped him up even more than I did. Sent him packing to The Slab by airlift because apparently Blackgate isn’t a freak camp, they said.”

“And a giant insect with cannibalistic tendencies would not be a fit for your utopian New Arkham, I assume?”

“Sarcasm, Alfred? I am shocked and appalled.” Dick smiled and collapsed in the chair. “Computer, pull up front pages of all Gotham based print media.”

The computer complied and Dick latticed his fingers and watched as the news scrolled down before him. After this he’d move on to electronic media, and after that, he’d read Bruce’s files again. Everything to be prepared.

“What’s this?” He focused on an article in the Gazzette and then his face dropped, appalled at what he read. “Those junkies that are running around…they’re calling them Jokerz? How ridiculous is that?! They think that they can create the same sense of… sense of fear… if they name them after him? These creeps are junkies, getting a high off a diluted form of ‘Smilex’, not his henches… The media are only making this worse!” Dick Grayson threw his cowl to the ground, and shook his head. “God, I should not take this so damn personally!

Alfred Pennyworth arched an eyebrow deftly as he carefully picked up the discarded cape and cowl. “If you would sir, please stop polluting my ears with your expletives. It is bad enough with the music that young Master Timothy plays, but to hear it from your mouth… well.”

“I’m sorry Alfred.” He collapsed into his chair and swivelled around slowly. “I shouldn’t read the papers. I mean, Wayne Enterprises is getting a load of good press for lack of a better word ‘renovating’ Arkham Asylum. But with the ‘Grey Ghost’ and you-know-who running about in the Narrows keeping on top of the crime wave over there… do you think it’s diluting my efforts?”

“Are you doing your best, Master Dick?”

Dick hesitated for a moment. “Well, yeah…”

“Then what more can anyone ask of you?” Alfred smiled. “And as obvious as it is, can I remind you now that your dinner is on the table upstairs?”

“You can and you have, Alfred, thanks a lot.”

“Dick!” Tim Drake stormed down the stairwell leading down into the cave, and then saw Alfred Pennyworth standing there. He slowed down to a near stop immediately. “Uh, sorry about that, Alfred.”

“You’ll be even more sorry when you fall face first, Master Tim. Welcome back from New York.”

Dick turned and grinned. “How was Ted Grant? He didn’t push you around, I hope?”

“It was brilliance,” laughed Tim as he somersaulted onto the rail that surrounded the computer section of the Cave. “He taught me some neat tricks that I can’t wait to try out on you.”

“Oh, you want to try that again?” Dick rose up from his seat. “Well, it’s late, and you’ve got school tomorrow, why don’t we go on patrol instead? Give Gotham a show of the Dynamic Duo?”

Tim unzipped his coat, revealing his Robin costume. “I’m ready, how about you?”

“Where’d I put my--?” Alfred held up Dick’s cape and cowl and then shook his head. “Ah, thanks Alfred.”

“I shall put tin foil over your dinner then, Master Dick. And Master Tim, did the Justice Society of America feed you adequately?”

“Sure did! But…”

“I shall have a peanut butter and, erhem, jelly sandwich awaiting your return, young sir.”

“Great!”

Commissioner Gordon and Hush:

Commissioner Gordon pushed his key into the lock slowly. The house was quiet ever since Barbara and little James had left. He eyed the empty bottle of scotch on his coffee table and sighed.

“You shouldn’t be drinking, Commissioner.”

His gun was out of the holster and aimed at the shadows before the man had finished speaking. “You come into my home? My office is bad enough but--”

Hush stepped out from the shadows, his hands up. “I’m not Batman.”

Gordon’s eyes turned to slits. “Nice impression though, creep. ‘Hush’, I assume? The same Dress-Up that saved my Sergeant in the sewers?”

“Dress-Up. Hh. Quaint.” Hush paced the room, and Gordon didn’t lower his weapon. “I’m not going to attack you, Commissioner. I understand your apprehension, but I’m here to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Really?” said the vigilante. “Because if I’m not mistaken you’ve got two Batmen running around, one putting people-- criminals, but people none the less-- in hospital, whilst another is dragging a kid around in tow. Doesn’t that sound illegal to you? And then you’ve got the harbour vigilante. Last I heard he broke some poor junkie’s neck because he could. Not to mention Black Mask escaped Gotham Mercy twelve minutes ago.”

“What?!”

Hush nodded slowly. “Pulled a fire alarm, had the place evacuated and then raided their drug stores, but not before pushing a doctor out a window and onto an ambulance below. Ironic, I think.”

“You think this is some kind of joke?!”

“A sick one, yes. Black Mask was left alone in his ward and he murdered an attendant from Arkham Asylum who was sent to wheel him to their Hospital Ward. He then broke the neck of a surgeon and pushed a mother of three out of a window. They think she’s going to pull through, but my God man, you’re letting the disease run rampant!”

Gordon lowered his weapon, and looked the man in the eye. “And what are you, a doctor? With your big old crime killing syringe? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I don’t intend to make you laugh, Commissioner. I intend to show you the true of Gotham. You think the people love Batman and Robin right now? Media darlings that they are? The people will turn. The Narrows will over run with the bile and the ichor of villainy and no secondary Batman will save those people. The Grey Ghost? He’s already crossed the line. And you, Commissioner…” Hush took a step forward, Gordon brought up his weapon once more. “… You let them get away with it.” He stepped back. “How does that make you feel?”

“Are you Gotham? Born and bred?”

“I don’t see the--”

“Are you Gotham born and bred? Because if you were you’d know that this city is rotten to the bone, that the police force has endured decades with dirty cops running rampant, and only recently, over the past couple of years have we weeded out the scum. And have you seen the bastards that commit crimes here? The Joker? The Scarecrow? You think they’re caused by Batman, I’m sure, but that’s all horse£$%^. All it takes for these sonsofbitches is one bad day and a moment of ‘clarity’ in their madness to become my problem. I don’t blame the Batman for that. He does the best he can for this city and its people. He puts his life on the line every night. I don’t blame Batman for the state of the city, I blame the creeps in the masks that actually hurt people. If you really cared you wouldn’t be here sneaking about my apartment, you’d be in Gotham Central, helping us solve crimes. You’re no exception to any rule. You’re trying to turn me against one of the few good men in this city, and you’re not going to do that, ‘Hush’.”

“You’re just as corrupt as them,” said Hush.

“Go to Hell,” hissed Gordon.

“I tried,” replied Hush, “I tried to convince you. Batman is the thing that’s destroying this city. And if you can’t see that, if you’re not going to help me--” Hush paused. “What’s that in your hand?”

“This?” Gordon opened up his hand to reveal a small black device, with a white bat shaped button on the side. “It’s a beeper.”

“What have you--?!” The window of Gordon’s house shattered as Batman hurtled through the pane of glass and collided hard with the bandaged mystery man. “Hhhhgh!”

“You don’t threaten the Commissioner of this city and get away with it, creep.” Dick slammed his fist down against the man’s jaw, and gritted his own teeth. “Not in Gotham.”

“You… don’t know… what you’re doing…” growled Hush, as he slammed Batman back, only to be pushed back to the ground by a blur of red, yellow and black. “Hhhhuh?”

Robin grinned. “I think we do. Breaking and entering. Oh, and I’m so not taking the blame for that window.”

“I won’t press charges,” replied Gordon.

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” shouted Hush once more, “you don’t know!”

Gordon stormed forward and tackled Hush to the floor. “You don’t know this city, if that’s your thinking.” He pushed Hush over and swung his handcuffs around the mystery man’s wrist. “Gotham City is coming back from the brink everyday. Ra’s Al Ghul, the Joker, they push it back toward the abyss every time they and theirs come back onto the scene, and it’s the GCPD and men like Batman that pull us back.”

“He did this! He was part of it all! Siding with Two-Face and Black Mask during the gang war, he helped destroy the city! He did! He did!”

Gordon looked up at Batman and Robin, who were plain to see out of the shadows. “He didn’t. And if he had… he’s paid his due to the city.”

Dick watched Gordon, and then nodded slowly. For the first time in months the rift between them caused by Bruce’s actions seemed to be lifted. They saw each other clearly.

“Get out of here, I pressed my GCPD issued panic button after I activated your beeper,” he tapped his belt, where, next to his holster, a small red trigger resided. “They’re on their way.”

“Yes, sir,” smiled Robin, as he hopped out the window, only to turn back to see Dick still standing where he had mere moments before. “Batman?”

“Thank you, Commissioner,” Dick said in the voice he’d been trained to emulate.

“Get out of here, Batman,” repeated Gordon.

“This isn’t the end,” shrieked Hush, “I tried to warn you! The walls will come falling down, Batman! This isn’t over!”

Batman crouched down beside the handcuffed Hush. “It. Never. Is.”