#15 Masks, Pt 2 (Burchette / Villalobos)

“Get down! Get the boss outta here,” shouted one of Falcone’s men as bullets began to riddle the car the Gotham crime boss had just stepped out of.

“Who the hell are they?” Falcone shouted as he was being pushed into a back alley.

“Looks like The False Face Gang, boss. Just stay here til we can deal with them.”

“I don’t think we’re going to have to,” another one of his men shouted as he pointed to the skyline.

They all looked up in time to see the familiar silhouette of Batman as he swung from one end of the roof, to the other. Then they watched as a second figure swung up right behind him. They stood together, both barely visible in the shadows.

“Who the hell is that with him?”

“Robin?”

“Nah, there ain’t no more Robin. This guy calls himself Nightwing. He comes around now and then. Last time he was here, was cause a that zombie thing.”

Falcone and his men watched as the caped crusader and the young man in black and blue both leapt off the building and dove right into the middle of the False Face Gang. Both men were moving so fast and so gracefully, that to Carmine, it seemed like some sort of bizarre dance. Both of them seemed to be in some kind of unspoken sync with each other. The Bat would bring two down by slamming their heads together, the younger one right next to him, his arms knocking away the weapon as he would bring his leg up and around, sending the guy flying a few feet.

The mob boss watched with a growing respect and disdain for these two costumed heroes. Both of them were back to back, taking out one after the other of this new gang that was trying desperately to take over Gotham’s underworld.

As the last gunman fell, they both turned to leave, but by then Falcone was more then upset, he was furious. He screamed Batman’s name, marching towards the two of them; ignoring the pleas of his bodyguards.

“You told me to back off and you’d take care of this, you freakin’ idiot. Now I’m dodging bullets right and left. What the hell have you been doin’, cause I’m tellin’ ya right now, Carmine Falcone ain’t about to let this ride.”

Before anyone could move Batman was on top of him. He came up swift and had Falcone pinned against the wall while his men were still fumbling for their guns.

“I don’t think I’d do that if I were you, boys,” Nightwing said. “He’s not in the best of moods right now, as the dozen or so men that he just took down, would verify, if they were conscious.”

“I am taking care of this, Falcone,” Batman growled, his voice deeper then usual. “And I want you to tell me what you know about this False Face Gang. Right now!”

Although Carmine’s eyes were wide, he held Batman’s gaze, never once looking away. “If I knew anything, I’d sure in the hell tell ya. These guys are gunnin’ for me and Maroni, and probably the one’s who took out Thorne.”

“Maybe,” Batman whispered. “But if I find out there’s more that you know, that you’re not telling me, I’ll break every bone in your damn body!” He emphasized the last two words with a punch to the gut that doubled Falcone over.

His men advanced a step, but Nightwing stepped in and they all stayed in place.

“Stay off the streets, Falcone,” Batman growled. “You’ll live longer.”

Then he released the mob boss and both he and his companion were soon sailing up the side of the building, the whir of the ropes pulling them away.

As they landed on the roof, Nightwing spoke, “Haven’t seen you like this since…”

“Don’t!” Batman barked back and leapt onto the next roof.

Nightwing watched him sail across the chasm, a troubled look on his face, and then he followed his old mentor to their next stop.

Barbara Gordon, Babs to her friends and Batgirl by her closest friends, hesitated as she stepped into the hospital room of the man she had called father for most of her life. Everything that she had faced in her short time as a crime-fighter, was nothing compared to the sight that awaited her as she entered the hospital room.

James Gordon’s face was drained of color, black circles so dark under his eyes that one would think they had put make-up on him. So many tubes and wires flowed from him that for a second an image of the Borg flashed to the front of her mind.

“Babs?” the voice came from James Gordon’s wife, also called Barbara.

Nothing else was said as they came together and clutched each other. Although Barbara broke down in tears, Babs didn’t. She couldn’t, not yet. It’s not was her father would have wanted from her.

It’s also not how he had trained her, and she could never help herself. Every time Babs came back to Gotham, she always seemed to fall into that same thought pattern, the student who never felt as accomplished as the teacher wanted. She also wondered where Batman was, at that moment.

Hopefully getting the s.o.b who did this to her father.

Harvey Bullock walked the streets of Gotham, his right hand in his pocket, holding steady to the item that was contained within the brown paper bag.

His plan was simple enough, go back to his place, clean up, and get back out on the streets. He hadn’t heard from IA yet, but it was just a matter of time. His entire world was going to hell in a hand basket and at this point, he could see very few options of which way to go.

He climbed his apartment steps to find that his door was wide open. The hair on the back of his head stood up straight and he pulled his gun, moving cautiously towards the door. He braced himself against the hallway wall, gun up in front of him, sweat beginning to drip down his round face. He took a deep breath and was just about to move when he heard…

“Of for Pete’s sake! We’re not going to kill you… yet. Just get your fat ass in here and shut the door so we can talk.”

Harvey froze in his tracks. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it sounded both cold and playful at the same time. He stepped in out of the shadows and into the door frame. His face fell as he stood in front of the man in a very expensive three piece business suit, and a large black mask covering his face. There were four men standing around him, all armed and pointing their guns at him.

“Please close the door behind you, detective. I think it’s time we sat down and discussed what you did in Hub City before you moved to Gotham, and just how you might best serve The Black Mask.”

The door slowly shut behind Harvey Bullock.

The window in Oswald Cobblepot’s office had one of the most breath taking views in all of Gotham. From Wayne Tower to so many of the other high rises, it could honestly be said that from where Oswald sat, he could behold the beauty that lay above the squalor of the city.

Oswald, himself, admitted as much to everyone who would listen to him, and in his corner of the world, which was anyone who wanted to continue frequenting one of the newest hot spots in the city.
At first the noise coming from down the hall was a minor annoyance, but as it drew closer, he realized that the ruckus was something bigger.

He rose from his desk and moved quicker then one would expect. He had barely reached his collection of umbrellas when his office door opened with a resounding crash, the mahogany wood splintering into a million pieces. He stopped short as the figure of Batman came crashing through.

It wasn’t just the sight of the Bat that made him stop, but the fact that he was dragging two of Oswald’s own personal guards behind him, with another attached to his back and doing everything he could to bring him down.

As soon as Batman was through the door he dropped the two that were unconscious and flung the other one over his head, slamming him hard onto the wood floor. His face was contorted into a rage that few had ever seen, and upon seeing Cobblepot, he took a couple of steps towards the man.

“Don’t you ever knock like a normal human being,” Oswald shouted as he drew an umbrella from the stand and aimed it at his nemesis.

“Put it down,” Batman growled. “Play time is over.”

“I assure you, I’m not playing. I think it’s time that someone taught you some manners.”

The umbrella went off and the bullet struck Batman square in the chest. He stumbled back and dropped to one knee.

“I told you the next time you come into my place uninvited, it would be your last, you stupid rodent.” Penguin’s face broke into a smirk as he held the umbrella in front of him.

Slowly Batman began to rise, and if there was rage on his face before, what it had morphed into was nearly monstrous.

“Worst mistake of your life, Penguin,” he said quietly through gritted teeth.

The cigarette holder that had been in the corner of Penguin’s mouth fell, along with the look on his face. He stumbled back and tripped over his own stand. He fell, arms and legs tangled up with the remaining umbrellas. He was frantically trying to get a grip on one when the shadow of the bat came over him.

“Do you know why you’re still in this town, Oswald? It’s because I’ve allowed it. I’ve known from the start that you’re up to your neck in all of this. You want to continue to survive in my city, then you better start talking… NOW!”

It came over him in a tidal wave and before he even realized it, Penguin began to speak. “He calls himself the Black Mask. I’ve only seen him once, but never his face. He wants control of Gotham, all of it. He was the one who hired Firefly to burn the families’ buildings to the ground. He hired Ventriloquist to take out the Mayor, and those hit men to take out Gordon. He’s behind it all.”

“And Thorne?”

“I don’t know who took out Thorne, but if it was Mask, then he didn’t tell me anything about it.”

“I want the name of the assassin who took out Thorne’s killer.”

“I don’t know his name.”

Batman’s foot came down hard on Penguin’s extended stomach and the crooked little man let out a cry and a gasp as the air left him. The dark knight waited until Cobblepot could talk again before speaking.

“His name!”

“Donovan,” Penguin gasped. “Justin Donovan.”

“Last question for now, and if you answer this one correct, you walk the streets for another day. What else has Black Mask got in store for Gordon?”

For the first time, Oswald hesitated. It was one thing to give up what had gone down, but to give out information of what was to come… information that he had received through his own inside man… that was a whole different ball game.

Batman let out a large cry of anger as he picked up the one time thief and lifted him into the air. “I’ll start with the fingers, then work my way to the hand and arm.”

“Okay, okay! If Gordon lives, Mask wants to make sure that there’s nothing left for him in this city… nothing,” he emphasized.

Batman stared hard at him for a moment, wheels turning inside his head. Then he heard the voice of Barbara Gordon junior come back into his mind:

She went to check on Jimmy. Said she’d be back in a couple of hours.

He tossed Penguin to the side. “We’re not done yet.” Then he spun around and threw himself out the window, glass shattering, and swung off into the night air.

Penguin stood up and dusted himself off, “Of course not, my dear man. You and I have only just begun to dance.” He let out that short squawk of a laugh.

The Batmobile was hurtling towards its destination. Gordon’s apartment had been empty, so the only logical place that the two of them could be was the nearest living relative… Claire. It had taken only seconds to find the address. He informed Alfred to call the authorities, but he knew he was closer and would be there way before their help.

He pulled up just in time to see several men entering the brownstone. The car screeched to a halt and he jumped out, taking the steps two at a time, his cape billowing out behind him. His hands were already going to his utility belt when he heard the laughter from across the street. It echoed into the night air and pulled him up short.

Batman swung around at the top of the steps, and saw standing just down the street, a figure, a man, and by his appearance, he knew exactly who he was looking at… the creator of all the chaos that had been going on for the last couple of months.

Black Mask brought his arms up and extended his hands out to his sides, as if to imply, “what can I say”. Batman took a hesitant step back down when he heard the piercing scream from inside the apartment.

“Them or me, Batman,” the voice came calling. “I think we both know who you’re going to choose.”

Batman gritted his teeth and turned back towards the door, kicking it in and bringing out a batarang.

He quickly sized up the situation, Barbara Gordon senior was trying desperately to get away from the four men that were surrounding her. He threw his batarang at just the right angle, causing it to strike two of the men in the back of the head. They fell to the ground as the other two turned with guns drawn. They fired at him but he was already moving away, grabbing the small coffee table that was in the living area.

He flung it at them and they were not able to dodge it. The bullets went wild and they stumbled back. Barbara grabbed an iron statue on a shelf and brought it down hard on one of the thugs. Batman took the advantage and leapt forward, striking the last one in the jaw. The crook flew off the ground and smashed into an end table, where he lay dazed.

It was at that moment that he heard the faint sounds of a baby crying.

“Oh God, Jimmy! They’ve got Jimmy!” Barbara screamed.

It was coming from somewhere in back. There was a back way out of there. He took two huge leaps across the wrecked room and bodies and entered the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the prone body of Claire, registered it for later, and made it to the back door.

As he opened it, he saw two men get into a parked car, one of them holding the swaddling child as the door shut. He dove for the car at the same instant that the ignition was turned, and suddenly the car went up into a ball of fire.

The heat and fire rushed at him. He was in mid-air, there was no where to go. He only had time to grab the corner of his cape and shield his face as the force of the explosion flung him back and into the brick wall. Pieces of metal struck him as he landed on the hard concrete. The world began to fade into blackness, but not before he heard the sirens coming towards him.

He struggled to stay conscious, but he knew it was a loosing battle. He heard the wailing of a mother who had just lost her child, and then suddenly that too was silenced.

Then he saw the face of Black Mask as it was shoved into his own. The face of death was his thought.

“Sill two steps behind me, Batman. Pity, isn’t it? You’re city is mine now. Goodbye you freak of nature.”

There was the cocking of a gun when suddenly the dark was consumed by a bright light that seemed to surround him and everything in the alley.

“Police, don’t move!”

Suddenly gunfire erupted from both ends of the alleyway. He rolled onto his back, grabbing frantically for the special gun in his belt. He fired the line onto the roof of the building, then snapped the other end back onto his belt and pressed the button. He was immediately pulled upward; his limp body letting the cord and pulley do all the work.

He grabbed a hold of the ledge and with the gun battle still being waged below him; he pulled himself up over the edge and onto the roof. He fell to his knees, realizing that he had failed. He had failed his friend, his partners, and his city. Then the blackness took him…