#11: On the Surface (Burchette / Paugh / Villalobos)

To say that Bruce Wayne hated social events like the one he was attending would not be entirely accurate. There was a part of him that had to admit it was occasionally a necessary evil. As much as he could accomplish as Batman, sometimes it took this persona to gleam information that he would not possibly come by any other way; especially since many of Gotham’s elite happened to be powerful and corrupt or were in the back pockets of those said people. Case in point, as Bruce played with his champagne flute and flittered with a vacant eyed heiress, his eyes never left Carmine Falcone who seemed to be the center of attention at this gathering to help those who were still trying to rebuild there homes after last years crisis. Falcone had donated over a million dollars at the fundraiser. What he found to be the most interesting were not the people who flocked to the mob bosses side, as much as those who intentionally avoided him. He had watched a couple of judges as well as Commissioner Loeb himself, go out of the way to avoid him. Yet, their eyes always went back to Falcone; always watching him, as if waiting for him to give them some kind of sign.

“… And this gentleman here is Gotham City’s own ‘golden child’, Bruce Wayne,” came the voice of the Mayor. “Bruce, allow me to introduce you to Gotham’s newest Assistant D.A., Harvey Dent.”

Bruce turned and examined the man who held out his hand to him. Handsome fellow, he thought immediately; holds himself with confidence, possibly a bit too much by his swagger. Looking at the wedding ban and noting the bit of white skin showing underneath it, he judged the man to have been married for several years now. There was intensity in his eyes, though. That, Bruce understood. Harvey Dent was a man of conviction, and that impressed the billionaire more then anything.

He took hold and shook Harvey’s hand, “Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Dent.”

“Please call me Harvey.”

“Harvey. So what do you think of our city, so far?”

“I think I’m going to be a very busy man,” he replied with a grim face. “… And that suits me just fine.”

“I heard you’re in charge of both the Lyons and Thorne crimes. D.A. Hughes must have a lot of faith in you to give you such high profile cases. I hear that Thorne was able to get out on bail.”

Dent took a sip of his drink as his face turned red. “Yes, I fought for no bail; due to his wealth and possible flight risk, unfortunately the judge felt otherwise.”

“Yes, Judge Vicula has quite a record when it comes to crime bosses, doesn’t he?”

The newest member of the Prosecutors office put his empty glass down and eyed Bruce carefully for a moment. “Yes, he does. You say that as though you are not surprised by it. You know, I never go into any situation without knowing all that I can about its history. History is very important, don’t you think? When I took this job I researched this city night and day, for nearly a month before I arrived. I read a lot about you and your family. Funny thing is, from all I’ve read, I never got the feeling that you were all that interested in justice as much as you were in fast cars and women.”

Their eyes locked and for a moment neither said a word, then Bruce spoke quietly, “Just goes to show you that sometimes the history books can be a little slanted. My father believed very strongly in this city, and this apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

As he spoke, he glanced over again at Falcone, who was whispering quietly to one of his lieutenants. As they spoke, a plump waiter interrupted them with offerings of more champagne. Bruce’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he turned his attention back to his new acquaintance.

“I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts on not only Judge Vicula but anything else that an outstanding member of this community could tell me. Perhaps I need to hear more from someone who’s lived in this town since birth.”

Bruce gave him a smile, “I think I’d like that. Here’s my personal number, give me a call this week and we’ll set something up.”

As Bruce left the party he couldn’t help but think that he may be gaining another ally in his crusade. His instincts rarely proved wrong, and this time it was telling him that Harvey Dent was on the level; a man who wanted to see justice done as much as he did. He made a mental note to check on the history of Harvey Dent, when he had a chance. He opened the back door to the limo and slid inside. The plump waiter turned around from the driver’s seat, giving him a blank look. He turned back and took the car down the road a bit.

“Well…” Bruce asked after a small pause.

The waiter brought up his hand to the top of his head and pulled off the latex mask with a quick flourish. Alfred looked at his friend in the rear-view mirror. “Your information seems correct sir. Falcone has hired a small group of mercenaries to stop the car that will be transporting Lyons to Blackgate from the county jail.”

“… and that’s going to happen in the next half hour. Let’s go Alfred, we don’t have much time.”

Milton Danner and Michael Stars had been transferring prisoners from the county jail to Blackgate for the last three years. It was a job they had grown accustomed too, and never in those three years did they have one problem or mishap… until Garfield Lyons, a.k.a. Firefly. With a squad car in front and one behind them, they made their way down side streets and less crowded intersections. It was the way they usually went with some of the more infamous criminals. The trip was done late at night and as quiet as possible.

They were just turning the corner from Elm onto the one-way street of Perkins when an explosion brought them to a sudden halt. Something had caused the car in front of them to go up in a ball of fire. Danner was on the radio immediately bellowing for backup. The small one-way street was narrow, making it futile to try going around the inferno that was the squad car. Stars, instead, motioned for the patrol car behind him to back up as he threw his car in reverse. By then, it was too late. Five men came out of the shadows of the doorways, semi-automatic weapons in hand, and headed towards the two remaining cars. Danner and Stars pulled their weapons while Lyons made small noises of excitement as he watched the blaze in front of him; seemingly oblivious to the danger he was in.

The cops in the squad car jumped out and almost immediately gunfire began. Danner opened his passenger door and jumped out, grabbing hold of the backdoor on his side and swinging it open. He reached in and pulled a chained and shackled Lyons out onto the pavement as well. Stars ducked down and was making his way out of the car on the passenger side, too.

“This is not good, partner,” Stars shouted as his body fell onto the cement. “They’ve got a guy on the corner of the northwest corner building with a rocket launcher. I caught a glimpse of him as I ducked down.”

“Then why hasn’t he finished us off? What’s he doing up there?”

The answer came to them a second later as the man with the rocket launcher let out a cry of surprise. The cops took a quick look up to see the merc hanging upside down from the fire escape. They glanced at each other in momentary confusion before the explanation was given to them in the form of a two batarangs that flew through the air, the tips sticking into the back of the hands of two gunmen.

“Heads up, boys,” one of them shouted, “The bats he…” and then he was suddenly yanked up off his feet and disappeared in the air as he shot straight up.

The mercenaries suddenly stopped shooting at the cops, turning their attention to the rooftops surrounding them. There was a startled cry to their left and they looked in that direction to see another one of their men was gone.

The two that had been hit with the batarangs began to back away slowly, their eyes desperately trying to be everywhere at once.

“… and then there were three,” the gruff sounding voice whispered from the darkness.

The same two swung back around, believing the voice to have come from behind them, only to be pounced on by the full weight of the Batman. He came down from behind, smashing their heads together in the process and knocking them unconscious.

The final mercenary swung around and fired at Batman, narrowly missing him as the dark night jumped high into the air, coming down with legs together, cape billowing out and blocking the moonlight that had been shining down on the gunman. His feet landed squarely on the man’s arms, causing him to drop the weapon. Batman swung hard with his right, but the mercenary was quick and dodged the blow, coming up with an uppercut that caught the masked man squarely on the chin, knocking him back.

Attempting to press his attack, the merc pulled out a large bowing knife and leapt towards his nemesis, only to be grabbed by the wrists and flung over the caped crusaders head, having used his own momentum against him. The mercenary hit the wall hard with a thud and slid down unconscious.

Sirens were beginning to be heard in the distance. Danner was the first to stand up, his face etched in awe of what he had just seen. Batman nodded in his general direction and then fired some sort of grappling hook towards one of the roofs. As he flew up and out of site, the other officers also came out from behind their cars and watched him leave.

“The wife ain’t gonna believe this,” he muttered to himself.

“…that’s not a good idea, right now.” Commissioner Loeb spoke slowly into the phone becoming visibly angry.

“Don’t worry about Dent, I’ll take care of it.” He continued slowly getting louder.

“Yes, yes I do sound angry and would like to know why?! Because YOU are not holding up your end of the deal! I have done my part, I have rolled over more times than I can count and this is the last straw. You think you can just order me around? We had a deal…” He was almost at a full yell by now.

“Yes the thing with Lyons is most unfortunate, but you can’t blame that on me. I got every one I can aff--” The voice on the other line cut him off in mid-sentence. His face was getting redder by the second.

”… just who the hell do you think you’re dealing with?! I’m done! I will no longer be owned by you or anyone else in this sh@t hole town, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!!!
Loeb slammed the phone down and reached into a cabinet in the corner of his office pulling out a bottle and a dirty glass. Pouring himself a drink of scotch he turned around as Jim Gordon knocked on his opened office door.

“How long you been standing there, Gordon?” Loeb asked in a curious tone.

Jim squinted and replied, “Just got here sir.”

“What do you want?” Loeb asked shortly.

Gordon handed him a thin folder. “It’s what you wanted, sir my initial report on the Thorne murder case. It seems that we are looking for a bald man with wire rimmed glasses who carry’s around a puppet.”

“Now’s not the time for jokes, Gordon.”

“Not joking sir. Also got a question for you about…”

“Not now, Gordon!” the Commissioner shouted suddenly. “I need to be left alone.”

James Gordon paused for a moment, then nodded and left his boss; shutting the door behind him.