#23: The Falcone And The Snowman (Burchette / Myrick)

“Are you coming home at all, Sir?” Alfred’s voice asked through the communication device in his cowl.

Batman grunted, but said nothing as he made his way to his destination. It had been a while since he had visited his friend, and yes, he did consider him a friend, one of the few he had in his city.

“I’ll take that as a no,” his butler said with a sigh. “Very well, you know how to reach me if you need to. I will see you in the morning.”

“It’s already morning,” the cowled crusader replied crisply.

“I’m well aware of that.” Alfred replied shortly and the transmission ended.

Just in time, too, as Batman landed on the fire escape outside of Commissioner Gordon’s apartment building. The kitchen light was on, and he glanced in the window to see Jim sitting at the table, a half empty bottle and a glass in front of him. There were papers on the table as well. He expected Gordon to be awake, but not drinking at one in the morning. Something was obviously wrong.

He tapped lightly on the glass, watching as James Gordon turned towards him, sluggishly. Gordon barely raised his arm and swayed when he stood up, then stumbled to the window and opened it up.

“Where have you been?” The Commissioner asked, is words slurring just slightly.

“Out of town, investigating. It’s why I’m here. I’ve got questions.”

Jim turned around and motioned for him to follow. Batman did so, realizing that this was the first time he had actually stepped foot inside the apartment itself. It felt slightly unnatural to do so.

“Jim… are you… are you okay?” he asked, hesitantly.

The head of Gotham’s police department said nothing, but motioned to the papers lying on the table as he poured himself another drink and drank it down in one gulp.

Batman examined the reports, it appeared that the False Face Gang was back in action, which they both knew, was an indication that their leader-Black Mask, was almost certainly still alive.

“I’m not surprised,” he said gruffly. Then noticed the papers lying underneath the report, and moved some of the typed pages to look at the one’s underneath. It was the complaint for divorce that Barbara had sent him.

Commissioner Gordon turned to see him staring at it. “Guess Gotham won,” he said sarcastically as he went for the bottle, but was stopped by the gloved hand of his guest.

“That isn’t going to help you,” Batman said quietly.

“At this point, it isn’t going to hurt me either.” Jim snapped a bit harshly.

Batman let go of the hand and watched him pour another drink. He looked back down at the photos of the False Face Gang. “I heard about the assassination attempt on Falcone. I suppose it wouldn’t be a fair guess to say that they did it?”

“That’s what our witnesses say.”

“He’s back.” It was a statement from Batman. “And he’s after Falcone. Makes sense, Carmine is the last and largest of the old crime bosses in Gotham. With him out of the way, the number one spot would be up for grabs.”

“Yeah, we’ve got Falcone under surveillance.”

Batman headed back to the window, “Good, but I’ll think I’ll keep an eye on him, myself, as well.” As he crawled out the window he stopped, looking at the man whose heart was shattered in a million pieces. “Jim, you’re a good man… a great man. The best this city has. I know this is rough, but never forget, this city needs you,” and with that he had disappeared into the night.

“Of course the city needs me,” Gordon mumbled, “So did my wife and child, and look what my choice has cost me.” He poured another drink

The car pulled up in front of the brownstone and Crispus Allen studied it for a moment. It was in a moderately nice neighborhood, and the particular building they were looking for, seemed even more kept up then those around it.

“Nice place,” Renee Montoya murmured.

“Yeah, this is the address alright.”

They got out of the car and walked up the steps, ringing the doorbell and waiting. Thirty seconds later the door opened and an elderly lady stared at them through blood shot eyes. The had the look of someone who had been on an all night binge and was obviously still feeling the effects as she leaned on the door to steady herself.

“What you want?” She asked abruptly.

“Ms. Tate?” Renee asked.

“Who wants to know?”

“My name is Detective Montoya and this is my partner, Detective Allen,” she said, as they flashed their badges. “May we speak to you for a moment?”

“Wha ‘bout?” the old lady asked suspiciously.

“Your daughter,” Crispus replied gently. “We have some questions we were hoping you would answer for us.”

After a moment of looking them up and down, she shrugged her shoulders and left the door open as she turned away and stumbled back into her living room. They followed and as nice as the outside of the building was, the inside was even more immaculate. No dust, no dirt, no scent of anything rancid; not even the odor of alcohol, which is what they were expecting.

They watched her stagger to the couch and slowly lower herself into it. She half-heartily motioned for them to have a seat, and they dutifully did so, in two very expensive chairs across from her.

“First,” Renee said, “We would just like to offer our condolences on the death of your daughter.”

Ms. Tate shrugged, “She was a whore. She lived the hard life… she died the hard life. Can’t say I didn’t warn her. She didn’t want to listen to me, and she ended up right where I knew she was going to, six feet under.”

“So much for maternal love,” Renee mumbled under her breath to her partner.

“Ms. Tate,” Crispus continued, “We are looking for your son, Danny Tate?”

The older woman’s eyes came alive through the red glaze for the first time since they had been ushered in. “What do you want with my Danny? He hasn’t done nuthin’ wrong.! He’s a good boy.”

“We just need to ask him a few questions,” Renee said as she got up, stretching her legs. She glanced around the living room, noticing the pictures of her son everywhere.

“I… I haven’t seen him,” she muttered, her eyes falling to her lap.

The two detectives looked at each other than Crispus stood up as well. “Alright, well, thank you for your time. If you do see him, please have him call us,” he said, handing her his card.

As they reached the door Crispus turned around suddenly, his hand going up to the side of his head as if just remember something. “One last question, Ms. Tate. Does Danny still live with you?”

She hesitated for a second, seemingly caught of guard. “No,” she answered quickly. “No, hasn’t for years.”

Detective Allen nodded, “Well then you’re a very kind mother, still doing his laundry and all,” he replied as he motioned to the laundry basket sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, a pair of boxer shorts folded neatly on top.

The woman’s face turned red, “He’s a very busy young man, I help him out when I can.”

The two officers said their goodbye’s and got back into their car.

“Nice catch,” Renee said.

“What do you think?”

“I think she was drugged up on something. My guess is prescription medication of some sort. Danny either still lives with her, or sees her enough to be bringing his laundry over. I also think she’s a crappy mother when it comes to her daughter. Not one picture of her kid, even as a child. Just pictures of Danny.”

“Still don’t have much to go on,” Crispus said, sighing. “We have a dead hooker whose brother is connected with Falcone, but not much else. Let’s head back to the station, go through her personal effects. There has to be a list of clients, maybe, or friends that we haven’t talked to.”

Captain Cornwell of the Major Crime Unit watched two of his detectives making phone calls and pouring over evidence. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and walked over to them.

At first it didn’t seem that they were going to notice him at all, but then he cleared his throat and they looked up at him.

“The Walker case, any leads?”

“A brother who works for Carmine Falcone is our best lead, but we can’t seem to find him,” Renee said, leaning back in her chair. “We’ve talked to a few of her ‘co-workers’ and none of them had much to say. She did her job, was one of the few that wasn’t hooked on drugs, and stayed to herself most of the time.”

“Well, if you want to find the brother, perhaps he’ll be at the charity event this evening in Robertson Park. Falcone is going to be there, as are a load of Gotham’s finest, just in case. Might not hurt to be there as well.”

Crispus was already on the phone, calling his wife to tell her he’d be working late. When he hung up, he smiled at is new partner. “I usually don’t get to go to charity events.”

“Well isn’t tonight your lucky night then,” she replied, giving him a small smile in return.

The celebration was in full swing, music playing loudly on the clear night, as people laughed, drank champagne and mingled with each other. It was one of the few events where the middle class came together with the upper class, for what all considered to be a good cause.

Carmine Falcone and several of his men had been there nearly an hour before the attack happened. Several shots were fired from several different places in the crowd. Two of Falcone’s men shoved him to the ground, while two more were hit by bullets and slumped onto the grass, dark blood pouring from their wounds.

Batman dove from the building ledge that he had been perched on, cursing himself for not seeing any of the gunmen. He fired his cable into one of the trees, and swung down into the panicked crowd, hitting a plastic faced man with an automatic. He came down hard on him, and the man was unconscious before he knew what had hit him.

There was more gunfire and then a scream. Batman raced to the spot, only to find the member of the False Face gang, gun still in his hand, had been frozen solid. Before he could move, the statue shattered into a million pieces and behind it stood a foe that he had least expected to see in the middle of something like this.

“YOU!” Both Batman and Mr. Freeze exclaimed at the same time, as they faced each other; the people of the city still running and screaming wildly, more gunfire being heard in the near distance.

“What are you doing here, Freeze?” Batman demanded as he crouched down, his cape surrounding him.

“I am working. We all have to survive, after all, don’t we?”

Batman feigned a leap to the left, but at the last second leapt right, catching Victor off guard for a second. It was all the time Batman needed to make another jump and tackle the villain.

If Batman was expecting a cry of frustration, or a sound of pain, he did not get it. Instead, there was a low chuckle as the two men grappled on the ground, their hands locked together.

“As I said, Batman,” Freeze stated through gritted teeth, “I have been planning for this day for some time now, and I’ve made many moderations to my suit.”

Even through the insulation that was built into the costume, Batman felt the sudden charge of cold come channeling through Freezes gloves and into his. There was very little in the way of flash or show to the effect. A small discharge of ice blue color from one pair of gloves to the other, and then Batman felt the artic cold enter into his body, shooting through his arms and down into his body. His body wasn’t being frozen; his internal organs were, instead. He let out a gasp and tried to release his grip from that of his enemies, but his fingers wouldn’t move, the nerves had already been destroyed.

He looked into the glasses that Freeze wore, and a small smile formed on Freezes lips as Batman felt the coldness go through his lungs, he was choking to death, unable to acquire air, then the last thing he felt was his heart… his heart just stopped, and then there was nothing but blackness.

Mr. Freeze let go of his grip and watched the famous Batman fall back onto the ground. He smiled to himself. Although it hadn’t even been on his mind or his goal, he knew that he would be the one forever known, from this moment forward, as the genius who had killed The Batman

He turned and walked away from the lifeless body, a satisfied look on his face. “Eat your heart out, Joker.” He said to himself as he pushed his way through the panicked crowd.