Annual #1: (Burchette/HoM/Paugh/Villalobos/Tupper)

The fire was burning in one of the many warehouses that surrounded Port Adams. It had become a five-alarm fire in minutes and stations from all around the city were there, as well as Gotham’s finest. People were coming out of the woodwork to watch the inferno, as the good men of the GFD fought valiantly to contain the blaze.

Lt. James Gordon watched the warehouse burning with both sadness and outrage. He always felt this way when something like this happened. He had grown up here; had watched the increase in crime and corruption. He took something like this personally. He had since the first day he had put on a uniform. Gordon considered this his city and he was bound and determined to right every wrong and clean it up even if it took him the rest of his life.

“What’re you doing here?” Bullock’s voice bellowed from behind him. “I’ve got the situation under control.”

The hair on the back of Gordon’s neck went up at the sound of Bullocks voice. He turned to face the man, or as he thought to himself, the slob of a man. “You know why I’m here. This may end up being my crime scene, depending on what we find.”

Bullock chewed on the end of his cigar for a moment, staring at the blaze. “Yeah, well until then, keep outta my way.”

Jim Gordon caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced in Bullocks direction, but not to his surprise, the other man hadn’t noticed.

“Sure, you’ve got it,” he answered as he started to stroll away, not moving fast enough to spark any suspicions.

Gordon made his way to the alley across the street, where the fire was still in plane sight, and turned to watch it. He waited patiently, knowing that he was around; making sure Gordon hadn’t been followed.

“Third one this week,” the deep resonating voice said from the shadows behind him.

“You’re slipping,” Gordon replied with a slight smile. “I actually caught a glimpse of you.”

“I know,” came the reply as Batman stepped out of the shadows. “Third blaze this week.”

Jim nodded, “My guess, just like the other two…arson.”

“Any witnesses?”

“None that have come forward; however, we do know that the building is owned by Vito Bertinelli.”

“The Las Vegas crime boss.” Batman stated.

“Uh, huh, and with what we know about the other two buildings, it makes this entire mess an even bigger mystery.”

He stood there for a moment, but there was no reply. He glanced over his shoulder to find that Batman was gone. He frowned as he scanned the rooftops, but saw nothing. “I hope he doesn’t make a habit of that.”

Night in Gotham City can be a frightening place for even the most fearless of men. Its dark, dank streets are brimming with danger. Desperation and despair is so abundant that it is almost tangible; its own character in this lost city.

Samuel Soto was making his way back to his crummy one bedroom apartment with a shopping bag, when he heard his name. It came from the darkness all around him. He slowed momentarily but then continued his walk, clutching the bag closer to his chest.
His name, again, whispered into the wind. He stopped short and turned around, seeing a site he thought was unbelievable, but there it was…The Batman. He took a couple of steps back; his first reaction to run was overwhelmed by his fear. He could do nothing but stand there.

“What’s in the bag, Samuel?” The bat asked as he slowly approached.

“N-n-nothing. I haven’t done anything. P-p-please go away.”

“Three fires in four days, Samuel. Someone is trying to burn my city to the ground. I’ve worked too hard to rebuild it after the crisis. I want to know who and why. I think you know.”

The man was shaking his head, “Wasn’t me, man. I ain’t goin’ back to that again! I swore to my woman that I’d stay clean.”

“I believe you, but I still think you know something.”

“I don’t! Honest, I don’t!”

The caped crusader was fast as the batarang flew out of his hand and wrapped around the scared man. He grabbed the rope and pulled Soto off his feet and into his fist. The man fell to the ground, his bag dropping and the breaking of glass echoed against the walls of the building.

“Your choice, the hard way it is.”

“No, no, wait! Okay, I’ll tell you what I know…”

Alfred Pennyworth was a man of many talents. In his position, he had to be. As he moved along from one corridor of the mansion to the next, making sure all was in order, his thoughts were once again worrying about that of his employer and friend. Since the crisis, Bruce had acquired even less sleep then usual. How far could Bruce go before he collapsed?

As he was mulling over the situation, correcting several pictures that were crooked on the wall of the south wing, he heard the sound that made his blood run cold. It had only been used once before. It had been created by both himself and Bruce as a warning to Alfred, in case the Batman was not able to drive the batmobile back to the cave on his own. If his injuries were such that he was afraid of losing consciousness, he would use the automated guidance system he had built into the car to get him back; also triggering a warning to Alfred to be prepared when he arrived.

Alfred took off at a brisk pace. He quickly reached the library and moved the book that would release the hidden wall and reveal the elevator that would take him below. Even though the lift was created to move quickly towards the cave, it felt to Alfred as though it was moving like a slug. When he reached the cave he immediately went to the communication counsel, but after several attempts of contact, he gave up. He then went to the medical area and prepared for the worse, several scenarios playing out in his head as he began to lie out medical utensils.

He had just accomplished his task when he heard the familiar sound of the engine coming into the cave. He proceeded down the steps and across the platform to await the car. His heart was racing, his mind preparing him for the worse. He had seen blood many times before. The site of it didn’t bother him, per se; however, he would never fully get use to it when it was Master Bruce’s.

The batmobile pulled up, he flung open the door, but what he saw was nowhere near what he was prepared for. Batman’s outfit was charred in several places; the cape was completely gone, burned off by the looks of it. The cowl, as well, was mostly burned off, just a small portion hanging on. His face, his face was covered in what Alfred quickly assumed to be at least second-degree burns. He dragged Bruce out of the car and began to remove what he could of the uniform. He was careful to make sure that none of it was melted onto the skin, relieved to find that none was. It was apparent that Master Bruce had been quick to get out of whatever he had been in, or else it would have been much worse. Alfred could see that now.

After hooking Bruce up to an I.V., giving him back the fluids he so desperately needed, and connecting him to oxygen to clear his lungs, he began to wipe the body down with a cool damp cloth. He noted that the only serious burns he could find were on the lower part of his face, which was a relief in many aspects. They weren’t as severe as he had originally thought, although they were undoubtedly second degree, they were probably just barely that. He got out the fresh gauze and gingerly placed them on Bruce’s face. They needed to be protected, but he knew better then to use any kind of ointments. After making sure that his pulse, blood pressure, and temperature were normal, he sat back in a chair and waited for Bruce to awaken.

Several hours later the dark knight was back in front of his computer screens, fresh coffee in one hand while the other was gingerly touching the wounds on his face. He heard Alfred coming down the lift, but did not move. On the main view screen he was watching a tall dark haired young man walking into the Blackgate Prison visitation area, walking up to a man with white hair, black around the temples. He rewound the tape, playing it over again.

As Alfred walked up, he noticed some of the other view screens also had pictures of this man as well as one large one of Oswald Cobblepot; his prison profile on display. “I suppose if I tell you that you should be resting, you will just ignore me.”

“Look at this, Alfred,” Bruce said, pointing at the young man. “His name is Mitchell Taylor. He’s an orphan who now works at the Iceberg Lounge. Before he turned eighteen, however, he was living in the Freebird Orphanage; which was created by Cobblepot; in memory of his mother. Here Taylor is visiting Lyons, and after I paid Soto a visit last night, he told me that Taylor had come to visit him as well. Taylor had offered him a job working for Cobblepot, but Soto declined. It appears that Lyons may have taken the offer.”

“Then you believe Cobblepot to be behind the fires? Including one of his own buildings as well?”

“It seems to be the most likely scenario. I’m going to do some more research on Oswald, before I go back out this evening. I have a couple of stops to make before I go after Firefly again.”

“Sir, I know I will once again be ignored, but I must insist that you get some more rest. Your body has been through a traumatic event.”

“No time, Alfred. I’m almost positive I know where Lyons is going to strike tonight, and I’ve got to be there. Don’t worry, old friend, I’ll rest when this is over.”

“Of course you will,” Alfred replied.

There was only one part of his conversation with Thorne that he had lied about. He had not called the police yet. He wasn’t one hundred percent positive that Firefly would strike at that location. It was part detective work and part intuition that made him come to the conclusion that Thorne would be hit next, and the ship would be the target. If his hypothesis was correct, he would contact Gordon immediately.

He arrived at the docks only a few minutes later, hiding the car and making his way through the shadows, onto the pier. The first thing he noticed was the six men that were guarding the ship. By tipping off Thorne, he was hoping that he could draw most of the businessman’s thugs out in the open. Hopefully he could take them out and off ship before his possible confrontation. The cry of surprise, followed by gunfire, told him that he would not be that lucky.

As he quickly made his way onto the boat he heard the screams of men and saw the bright glow of fire coming from the other side of the deck. He jumped up on top of one of the cargo hatches, pulling out a batarang and scanning the sky. It took only a second to see Firefly; the nozzle of his weapon lit up brighter then a roman candle. After sending a quick message to Alfred telling him to contact Gordon, he threw the batarang, hitting Firefly on the side of the head and causing him to momentarily stop his attack.

“You,” the arsonist screamed as he saw his foe. “This time you’re not going to escape. I will make sure that the beauty of the fire consumes you.”
“You can try,” Batman growled as he turned and headed towards the bow of the ship, his enemy flying towards him, the flamethrower blasting at him, strafing the ground behind him, and coming up quickly.

Batman poured on the speed as he focused on the bow. He could feel the fire coming up behind him; practically licking at his cape, but he kept going. His chest still burned from the smoke inhalation, his body still sore from the fall he took. An extended battle would not be wise.

“Look at the bat run,” Firefly laughed. “What’s wrong, little bat, can’t you fly?”

“Sure I can,” Batman grumbled as he leapt forward, grabbing the railing on the bow of the ship. He flipped himself over and at the same moment was able to hook a batarang around the metal. He fell for several feet, a cord connecting from the hook to his belt. Just as his feet hit the water, the cord, having stretched past its limit, propelled him straight back up.

Firefly was caught off guard as he paused for a second, hovering at the bow of the ship, unsure of what his foe had just done. He flew a couple of feet forward to look down into the murky water; only to be surprised as a fist caught him right below his jaw. He jerked back as he felt Batman fly up past him. He looked up in time to see the creature of the night come down on top of him, causing him to lose his grip on his weapon. Batman quickly severed his connection between the tank and the gun; then ripped off the villain’s helmet.

“You’re out of fuel, Lyons,” Batman growled as he struck him in the back of the neck, hitting one of several pressure points that had been taught to him, many years ago.

Lyons fell to the deck of the ship unconscious. Batman pulled the tanks and costume off before handcuffing him. He could hear the sirens in the distance and looked around to make sure any fires on the ship were out. It had been a good night so far. Lyons was captured and once the ship was searched, Thorne could possibly be up to his neck in smuggling charges. His work was almost done.

Epilogue:

Commissioner Loeb paced nervously back and forth. He had just received a very disturbing phone call from not only the Mayor of Gotham, but from a very influential constituent, who had been a key player in Loeb’s promotion. He went to pick up the phone when the door opened and the man he had been waiting for walked in.

“Where the hell have you been,” Loeb hissed at him. “My phone hasn’t stopped ringing all morning. With Lyons arrest and Thorne under investigation, I’ve not only had the Mayor on my back, but our mutual business associate as well.”

D.A. Hughes stood by the closed door and looked at the Commissioner with disdain, “Will you calm yourself. He just wants to know who Lyons is working for. Once we get him in prison, we can have him worked over with relative ease. My new assistant is perfect for the job. Straight as an arrow and brilliant in dealing with this kind of case. The guy has a real hate on for organized crime.”

“Yeah, but can you control him?”

“Piece o’ cake. The self-righteous do gooders are usually the easiest to control. Just keep your cool; he should be here any minute.”

There was a knock on the door and D.A. Hughes smiled. “Two o clock, exactly when I told him to be here. See what I mean? Commissioner Loeb, allow me to introduce Gotham’s newest and brightest Assistant District Attorney,” he said as he opened the door.

A very handsome man in a well-tailored three-piece suit walked through the door. He wore the same kind of confident, almost arrogant smile that Hughes was wearing.

The new assistant stretched out his hand to the Commissioner and flashed a cocky grin, “Hello Commissioner, my name is Harvey Dent, and I’m at your service.”

The End?

* Editor’s note: This story takes place after the Apokolips Imperative & the upcoming miniseries: Gotham- City of the dead.




Gotham City, the Hyde Gotham Civic Centre,
Two hours from now, Vicki Vale:

The party was boring. It was the same old deal, the same old set up, the same old people. Nothing new tonight except what they were all celebrating. It was the first time that Gotham had been through an alien invasion, an alien occupation, and a zombie infestation that resulted in the city being declared a ‘No Man’s Land’. She couldn’t imagine how Max Lord was able to stand up on that podium and declare that zombies… Yes, zombies… Had forced the United States government to seal up a once prosperous city.

“Vicki, darling!” Vicki Vale turned at the person that called out her name, and then smiled when she saw who it was. This was her third night back in the city, and at last she saw a familiar face that actually knew her. What a face indeed. She’s had history with this one. A history that is certainly uncomfortable for her to recall. It’s that kind of history.

“Bruce Wayne, how about that…” Batman. He’s the Batman. His body was like that of a chiselled God for Christ sake’s, how did she miss it? Batman. Batman. The name echoed in her mind. She smiled as he hugged her; surprised at the familiarity he presented himself to her with. “This is a surprise…”

“What happened to you?” Bruce smiled that killer smile of his, showing off his almost too perfect to be true teeth and his thin lips, that chiselled chin, his striking cheek bones and the way his chest felt pressed against hers… She knew what he’s asked, about how she dropped off the map last year after that event with Hugo Strange and those horrible, vicious murders… And that little bit about her knowing his identity… She shook herself of the feeling, and then smiled.

“I told Alfred to call you, but you weren’t living in your apartment anymore… I was worried!” He said.

Worried? With his resources, if he really cared he would have been able to find her within 24 hours. He’s Batman. Batman. Come on, didn’t he even think about her?

“I moved, Bruce. Moved down to Gateway City because… well, good ol’ Gotham was getting to me. I was sick of being on the receiving end of threats and hostage taking escapades. So I moved to the Gate and picked up a job with the Gateway Mail. The pay was better than what I was getting at the Gazette anyway and the villains… Well Gateway doesn’t have it’s own hero so the villains weren’t of the masked persuasion. I felt safer away from Gotham. I just had to clear my head of certain things, you know?”

He smiled again, but not that killer smile of his, it was a weak smile, forced almost. For a moment his stone cold façade of perfection broke, and weakness seeped into the cracks. But then he sighed slightly, and he was back, the smile corrected, and his eyes piercing into hers.

“Do I. But you’re back now, is that it?” Bruce replied.

Batman. He’s Batman and he just showed weakness to me. Batman. Get it in your head Vicki, he’s Batman and… He’s… Bruce.

“Yeah, the Gotham Gazette offered me my old job back, but with some new perks. I’m back baby, so Gotham, look out!” She winked and nudged him, and then for a moment she’s wondered if that little act has scared him. His smile didn’t fade, it intensified, and he laughed a second later.

“That sounds wonderful, Vicki. We should do lunch, an interview maybe to nestle you into your new job? Something saucy…?” He smiled as he spoke, and her eyes widened. He’s back. Bruce Wayne is back. After his fiancée died that tragic afternoon two, three years back, he had became a shell of a man but this humanity, this… He’s ok. He’s really ok. But then his smile faded for a dark moment, and he uttered more words. “And a talk about what we both know.”

“That’s all… I ever wanted. Look, here’s my new number…” She took out a small card from her purse and smiled as he placed it in his jacket pocket. “Give me a call? Your people call my… Me.” She laughed and he smiled, his hand on her should for a moment, lingering longer that it has to. “Bruce?”

He looked her in the eye again, his attention was all hers, a momentary distraction passing. “Hmm?”

“You. Call me. Not Alfred.”

He smiled again and nodded. “I will.”

The Leslie Thompkins Clinic, Park Row,
Two hours ago, Alfred Pennyworth:

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. “Oh, Master Bruce, you did.” Alfred muttered pulling the two tickets out of his pocket. He hadn’t pressed the matter at the manor, but it seemed to Alfred that Bruce really wanted him there, and Leslie too.

He knocked on the door of Leslie’s home, all worn down on the outside but glowing inside with a radiance produced by the log fire in the fireplace. Park Row has been hit the worse by all of the events of the last year, entire blocks burnt down, knocked down. Electricity still appeared to be out, even after all this time. Typical Gotham City bureaucracy Alfred thought as Leslie opened the door. She smiled as relief swept over her.

“Miss Leslie.” He smiled and bowed.

“Alfred, you made it… I hope there was no trouble getting here?”

He shook his head. “None at all.”

“Do come in.” She replied moving her body to the side to allow him to enter.

“I’m afraid not, Leslie. You’re coming out with me. Seems we have a reopening to attend.” He produced the tickets as she blushed slightly.

“Alfred, you should have called ahead, I’m nowhere near ready…”

His smile widened. “We have time.”

Gotham City, the Hyde Gotham Civic Centre,
Two hours from now, Bruce Wayne:

“I hear you funded the building of that Hall that the Justice League were building… Is it true Bruce?”

He looked at Harold Johnson for a moment, and took him in. He dealt in real estate and he owed him money, so he made sure that Lucius slowly took their business away from him. He didn’t like dealing with deceivers and double dealers, and he loathed putting trust into people who don’t keep their promises.

“I’m one of a group of backers, Harry.” Bruce smiled putting on the charm. “I hear many organizations have decided to back the League, to help them ‘settle’ in with whatever they needed. Besides, the money I gave them has gone to charities, the League themselves provided everything they needed. I hear Superman and the Martian Manhunter mined a new form of metal off the moon to build the ‘Hall of Justice’ as it’s been so cunningly named…” He sipped his drink; the sparkling water went down well. He didn’t drink in public and rarely even drank in private, so he wasn’t going to indulge at a place like this, surrounded by people he didn’t like.

“I don’t like the look of that Martian.”

Bruce turned as a beautiful blonde woman walked towards Harold and himself, smiling seductively. He recognized her from the rags, her face plastered over them regularly. Daughter of a very rich father and Bruce felt was a spoiled brat.

“He’s… he’s green, and come on, no one can really work that look, can they? Julie Roberts can hardly pull off green chiffon, and I can’t bare his green skin…”

“Rose. A pleasure.” Harold sneered.

He knew that Harold didn’t want to get on her bad side as he worked for her father. I wonder if he owes him money too? Bruce thought as Harold bowed and kissed her hand She smiled smugly, and then turned to face Bruce.

She moved her hand down his chest and Bruce grimaced without her noticing. She looked up at him for a moment and he smiled, and then her lips parted. “Bruce, darling.”

“Rose.” He bowed slightly as well while he ignored her offered hand. She moved it away, irritated but trying not to play it off. “I think you’ll find… That the Martian Manhunter is one of the greatest heroes this world has ever had, alien or otherwise.”

“Yes, but he’s just that, isn’t he? Alien.” She shuddered dramatically. “Disgusting.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Superman’s an alien as well, did you know? It’s common knowledge that he’s not human. What do you think of him then?”

“Well Superman’s different, isn’t he? He looks…”

He clenched his fist, and tilted his head. “You’re a racist. And a xenophobe.” She looked at him, a small amount of horror spread across her features.

“My--”

“And I have just seen someone who I actually like, so if you excuse me Rose, I bid you adieu. Harry, we’ll speak later, is that ok?” Bruce said, as Harry stood there stunned with the hint of a smile on the edge of his lips. “Vicki! Darling!”

Gotham City, the Hyde Gotham Civic Centre,
Two hours from now, Bruce Wayne:

Bruce hurried over to Vicki; anything to get away from that horrible woman with Harry. He liked Vicki. She always spoke to him as someone who didn’t care if he was rich. Bruce liked her, and he always tried to be interviewed by her whenever he had to be. She looked at him for a moment and then he hugged her. And Bruce remembered why she left. “Bruce Wayne, how about that…” He released her, and smiled. She had a look of shock in her eyes. “This is a surprise…”

He asked the questions he thought Bruce Wayne would. He couldn’t tell her ‘I know you moved away for a year or so because I’m Batman.’ So he asked the questions he had to. “What happened to you?” Bruce smiled. She looked at him for a moment, seemingly mesmerised, but then shook her head, smiling. Bruce continued. “I told Alfred to call you, but you weren’t living in your apartment anymore… I was worried!” Of course Bruce really was worried about her. He didn’t call her because his act, his “façade” of Bruce Wayne, wouldn’t allow him. He needed to take back control. Bruce is not the mask, Batman is. It’s a mantle he can pass down, to Dick, maybe. No. He’s Nightwing.

“I moved, Bruce. Moved down to Gateway City because… Well, good ol’ Gotham was getting at me. I was sick of being on the receiving end of threats and hostage taking escapades. So I moved to the Gate and picked up a job with the Gateway Mail. The pay was better than what I was getting at the Gazette anyway and the villains… Well Gateway doesn’t have it’s own hero so the villains aren’t of the masked persuasion. I felt safer away from Gotham, you know?” Bruce watched her pause for a moment, and her smile seemed to weaken. “And I had to clear my head of certain things.”

He smiled slightly. Of course he knew what she meant. He fights these creatures every night and is worse for wear because of it. Bruce became depressed in his own darkness, lost in his own shadows, not trusting anyone. He even went so far as to push Dick away; Alfred too. Even Jim Gordon who Bruce has the utmost respect for, and he came to see that his mask was taking over his life. He saw this in his own reflection when he confronted The Reaper. Bruce could become him if he didn’t control himself, if he didn’t keep the line between darkness and light distinct. Bruce Wayne is light, Batman is dark, but they ultimately are the same person, so the lines blur slightly. A bit of Bruce in Batman, a seed of Batman in Bruce. He looked her in the eye and smiled. “Do I. But you’re back now, is that it?” And of course he knew that she trusts him. Even though he nearly killed her under the influence of Hugo Strange’s psychic virus. Damn. A loose end not tied.

She took him in for another moment, and then nodded. “Yeah, the Gotham Gazette offered me my old job back, but with some new perks. I’m back baby, so Gotham, look out!” She winked at Bruce and then nudged his shoulder. Bruce paused for a moment, remembering why he enjoyed her company so much. He smiled for a moment then laughed. Then he paused, thinking suddenly why am I doing that? It’s not false, I’m enjoying myself. I’m having fun.“That sounds wonderful, Vicki. We should do lunch. An interview, maybe one to nestle you into your new job? Something saucy…?” She nodded and Bruce smiled. He felt whole now. “And a talk about what we both know.” She passed him a piece of paper.

“That’s all… I ever wanted. Look, here’s my new number. Give me a call? Your people call my… Me.” She laughed and Bruce smiled. He placed his hand on her shoulder, taking her in as she took him in. He was lost for a moment, and then she brought him back. “Bruce?”

He was all hers; he took his concentration off of profiling her into… being with her. “Hmm?”

“You. Call me. Not Alfred.”

“I will.” He wasn’t lying like he did to others. Bruce really thought he would call her himself. She walked away from him, and he just stood there for a moment, watching her as she left. He turned to see Dick over by the bar, a red head in his sights. Bruce smiled to myself and looked around. Something tickled his spine as he thought it through. Then his eyes widened. All the waiters had beards. How strange. And all the men had bodies like the kind of people who trained down at the gym every day. Bruce knew Maxie, the guy who ran the catering service and he only hires students for the serving jobs. He can pay them less (still quite a lot for a student job, of course) and they’re more willing to learn than older people. So these bearded, body built waiters are out of the norm. Bruce walked into the darkest corner of the ballroom and leaned against the wall. As he moved his hand to his ear and pressed the flesh color earpiece that he had hidden behind it, he whispered something to the watch on his other hand. “Search, Kobra K. Naga. Cobra C.” A computerised voice whispered into his ear.

“Sightings in Las Vegas, Bludhaven, the dock side of known Kobra associates.”

Hmm. Maybe. Just maybe.

Gotham City, the Hyde Gotham Civic Centre,
Two hours from now, Vicki Vale:

It’s on. Vicki got the interview of her life and she couldn’t release it or give it to anyone because if she did then lives would be ruined. Bruce’s, Dick’s, Alfred; all the people of Gotham. And that weight on her shoulders pushes her down. She’s got a story for tomorrows front page though. Rose Hilter can’t handle alcohol. She just socked Harold Johnson in the corridor outside, called him a Martian son of a bitch. Dave better have photos, or Vicki could just call in a favour with the security camera providers. Get some screen captures from the feed. She looked around and saw Dick stumble toward one of the waiters and ask for another drink. She approached the scene, wary of something going on. Grayson hasn’t had more than one glass tonight; she’d been keeping an eye on him. Then something else clicked. Batman had a sidekick, didn’t he?

“I’d like another drink please.” He held onto the waiter’s sleeve. The bearded man grunted something indistinguishable, probably foreign.

“You’ve had enough sir…”

Dick jerked up, his finger pointing towards the ceiling. “I’ll be the shudge of that…” He stumbled back, and yanked the white sleeve off the man’s arm, falling to the ground with a bump as he hit. Vicki looked at the man; his bulging muscles on show. The thing that piqued her interest was the tattoo on the man’s arm. “You might be right.” Dick mumbled. Vicki walked over to Dick and smiled.

“Oh Dick, darling, you said you wouldn’t drink anymore…” Dick looked at Vicki and smiled. Bruce must have told him that she knew his secret.

“Well y’see… I didn’t… I think I need some air…” She supported him, his arm over her shoulder, and she was surprised at how little work she had to do. He wasn’t dead weight at all, which he should be, ‘considering’. Vicki helped him to the front door and she saw Alfred Pennyworth smile as she helped Dick down the steps.

“Ah, Ms Vale, I’m so sorry for his ruining of your evening, he’s been through quite a lot over the past year, what with the troubles with some friends of his in New York. Very upsetting.” He smiled and helped Dick into the car, and then turned to the main doors of the building. Just the Bruce Wayne burst through. “Sir?” Bruce?

“Ridiculous!” He shook his head, looked over to Pennyworth, then to Vicki. He seemed to relax slightly. “Vicki! Ah, I’m afraid I’m leaving. I’ve had enough. Roger Sykes just said something quite rude about me and I didn’t want to confront him on it.” Bruce bowed slightly, took her hand, and gently kissed it. “I will call you tomorrow.”

She smiled slightly. “Please do.” He stepped into the car. Alfred smiled to her, got into the drivers seat, and then the car vanished into the night. Vicki sighed slightly and returned to the party. It was going to get a lot more boring now that the only highlight of her night had left. She stepped through the threshold of the ballroom and was pulled to the side by a man clad in green, his eyes glowing red through the slits in his mask. She could see across the ballroom. About a dozen men were all clad in the same uniform, their waiters uniforms scattered across the floor. The men and women of the party were all on their knees. Vicki sobbed slightly and she couldn’t help but cry out in surprise when the man whispered something in her ear with his forked tongue. “I am Ganan of Kobra, and am here by ordersss of Lord Naga himssself. Make peaccce with your godsss, woman, you are about to meet them.” The light flickered slightly as he put his gun barrel to Vicki’s head. She began to shake as she heard his gloves creak as he moved his finger over the trigger. He looked up at the ceiling then his eyes widened as they turned off completely. “What isss… What is this? Kelar, I thought you secured the generator?”

Another man turned at his name, and shook his head. “Gustaf is there, he… he is in charge of the generator…”

“What is… What’s going on?”

The entrance exploded in light as the two wooden doors flew off their hinges, and a blanket of smoke swept out onto the ballroom floor. Vicki smiled slightly as the black and grey clad figure of Batman appeared, accompanied by Nightwing. She smiled as she remembered seeing Batman and Robin in action together. She nodded as it all clicked together. Robin was obviously now Nightwing. He had graduated from his original identity into his own. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, storm troopers of Kobra.” Nightwing smiled as he spook. “We’ll be beating you up tonight, so please, enjoy the evening while you can.” She saw Batman smile slightly as Nightwing talked, and then on some unseen signal they both moved; heroes of the night. They’re back. Bruce Wayne; Dick Grayson. Batman and Nightwing.

Gordon:

You know I love this city. Very few people see what I do when they look at it. They see the crime and the corruption; what’s on the surface. Me, I see what has always lain underneath that. I see a beautiful rose of a city that is crying out to be given the chance to bloom. Okay, that may sound corny, and I sure wouldn’t say it to out loud to anyone, but trust me, it’s true. I step through the door of my apartment to the sounds of my infant son crying. He’s unhappy about something, but even his cries have to make me grin. James Gordon, Jr. is one of the things I am most proud of in my life. Well, him and my daughter Barbara.

“I thought you were coming home early tonight?” It’s a simple question asked by my wife, Barb, but there is an edge in her tone. It tells me right away that it’s going to be one of those nights.

“Sorry dear,” I reply casually as I give her a peck on the cheek. “This arson case is taking up a lot of my time, but once it’s solved, things will get back to normal.”

She lets out a small snort as she picks up the baby and begins to bounce him in her arms. “Normal? This is normal, Jim? For the last year, this has been your version of normal.”

Well, so much for hoping that I could avoid this. Here we go again. “I know, I know. I thought things would slow down after the whole invasion thing last year, but it hasn’t. I understand that, and I understand that you’ve been carrying the load here at home. I promise you, though, that things will get better. You’ve just got to trust me.”

She turns and walks away from me. I don’t blame her. I could have phoned that in, since it’s the same thing I’ve told her for well over a year now. She doesn’t get it, and I can’t blame her for that, either. She doesn’t see what this city could be; she just sees what’s on the surface, just like all the rest of them. I’m beginning to think that I’ll never be able to show her, and if I can’t… well… I’m not sure what chance we have.

“Barbara…” I start to go after her, to explain again for the millionth time, when the phone rings. I check the caller ID and see that it’s a private call. My heart starts racing. My gut already tells me who this is. I pick it up and identify myself.

“James Gordon, there is an incident happening at Port Adams. The arsonist known as Firefly is striking again, as I speak. You may want to get down there as soon as you can.”

The phone goes dead. It was him. Well not him, but someone who works for him. Someone that is hiding an accent, I’ve figured out. Don’t know how I know that, but anytime he calls, I always get this feeling that he’s working too hard to sound American. I don’t dwell on it though, because in the back of my mind I realize that it’s part of a mystery that I might not want to figure out.

I hang up the phone and turn to see her staring at me, holding little Jimmy, her eyes telling me that she knows what I’m going to say. They look accusing and I can’t hold the gaze. I fold like a house of cards. I walk around her and grab my jacket. I’m feeling ashamed, but I’m not sure exactly why.

“You could at least ask for a raise,” she snaps as I head for the door. “For all the hours that you put in, you deserve a lot more then what they give you.”

“It’s not about the money…” I start to reply, but she cuts me off.

“No, it’s about doing what’s right, what needs to be done. I’ve heard it before, Jim. Too bad doing what’s right doesn’t put food in your son’s mouth.”

“I’ll be back as quick as I can, but don’t wait up.”

As I shut the door I hear her reply and it cuts me deep. “Don’t worry; I stopped waiting up a long time ago.”