Post by HoM on Nov 17, 2009 19:27:36 GMT -5
Gotham Central:
[/center]“Surrender now, Drakon,” Commissioner Gordon said, aiming his shotgun at the assassin. He was flanked in this standoff on the roof of Gotham Central by Sarah Essen at his right, Robin the Teen Wonder at his left, and backed up by a few dozen heavily armed GCPD officers, each with the Constantine Drakon in their cross-hairs. “No need to make this harder on yourself. You’re outnumbered, outclassed and out armed…”
“Literally,” Robin joked at Drakon’s busted arm. Robin’s smile faded away once the Commissioner gave him a wide-eyed glare.
“I’ve taken out more men…better men than this-- with less. So you should ask yourself, Commissioner--” Drakon began holding his injured arm, not losing an inch of confidence or bravado despite his current situation, “--Are you prepared to live with the guilt of knowing you just signed the death warrants of all of these people?" Drakon began to smile. "Not that you’ll have much time to live with said guilt.”
Gordon was seething. Robin imagined that he could hear the Commissioner's teeth grinding, and he could understand why. “Every day I assign a new detail in this city, promote someone or hire a new officer, I’m potentially signing someone’s death warrant. It's part of the job and something I’ve been living with since I took it. But that's not going to stop me doing it. Not going to stop me trying to stem the tide in this place. We're not going to let scum like you continue to cause havoc and spread fear in our city,” Gordon stated. “And that’s something we are prepared to stop at any cost, so you’ve got the count to five to surrender... or not. It doesn’t really matter, because one way or another, you’re going down HARD."
“So, five…” Gordon stared his countdown. The remaining officers who haven’t cocked their weapons began to do so, creating a cascading sound. “Four…” Drakon shifted into a fighting stance, keeping the arm that was shot earlier by Gordon close to his chest. “Three…” Robin shifted into a fighting stance in response to Drakon, expanding his retractable Bo staff and grabbing a handful or R-shaped shurikens. “Two…” Gordon continued.
“You’re time will come, Gordon,” Drakon said, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a handful of smoke pellets. “And you can believe I’m going to make it slow and enjoy every moment of it.” Drakon threw the black spheres on the ground as the Gordon led a charge towards him, enveloping the roof in smoke. Once it dissipated, Drakon was gone.
“Dammit!” Gordon screamed.
“Easy commish,” Robin said with a smile, pulling out a modified iPhone from one of the pouches on his utility belt. After pressing a few buttons on the touch screen, he activated a map application which showed a blinking dot moving away from their current position. “I managed to sneak a tracer on him. He’s done.”
Detective Comics
Issue Forty-Three: The Return
Part Five (of Seven): “Check”
Written by Alex Vasquez
Cover by Alex Vasquez
Edited by House Of Mystery
Secret Location:
[/center]Boss Synth was hard at work in his workshop, designing and building new high tech weapons for his foot soldiers for the escalating war that was raging in the streets of Gotham. The truce that he brokered between the new gangs was beginning to deteriorate, which didn’t surprise Synth at all. In fact, he was surprised it lasted this long. But it was only to buy him time to enact his ultimate plan, one that would make him the undisputed king of Gotham’s underworld and completely untouchable.
“Boss,” Randal Kennedy, Synth’s main henchman walked into the workshop, holding out his flip-top cell phone. “The Lab is calling; apparently, they are having some difficulty with your ‘assistant’.”
“What kind of trouble?” Synth asked, not taking his attention off of his task of wielding machine parts together.
“Two more of her handlers committed suicide and Jones is on the phone with a gun in his mouth.”
“@#$%,” Synth muttered under his breath as he put his acetylene torch down and lifted his goggles. He grabbed the phone away from Randal. “Jones… get the gun out of your mouth, I can’t understand you… get over it, she’s important to the whole operation… I don’t care if she’s driving everyone crazy; get a set of ear plugs…Jones wait…” Synth pulled the phone away from his ear as a loud bang rang out of the ear piece.
“Get some more people over there asap,” Synth told Randal, who took back his phone and put it in the pocket of his black trench coat. “That operation is too important to let her go unsupervised.”
“No problem, boss.” Randal said putting on his sunglasses.
Synth looked at the wall-mounted clock and saw it was about one hour until midnight. “Make sure I’m not disturbed for the next 24 hours. I feel a bad day coming…”
Before Randal could respond, another of Boss Synth’s henchmen walked into his workshop. This one was sickly pale, with what seemed to be small black bugs crawling around his face from the corners of his eyes, ears and mouth. He reached out with his right hand towards Synth, before he collapsed to the ground. Standing behind him, wearing a pinstriped sports coat and his eyes smoldering was Milo Vesuvius, the Prince of Lies loyal aide-de-campe.
“Boss Synth,” Milo said as his blue hair began to smolder. “My master, the Prince of Lies, requests your immediate presence at an emergency meeting. It seems your plan is faltering and further action needs to be discussed.”
Boss Synth looked at the clock and adjusted his silver mask. “I’m unable to attend any meeting at this moment, but in 24 hours…”
Before Synth could finish, Milo Vesuvius extended his hand towards Randal Kennedy who immediately was engulfed in flames so intense, he had no opportunity to scream and was quickly reduced to a smoking pile of ash. “I’m afraid that your reply is unacceptable,” the pyrokenetic said.
The Narrows:
[/center]Jason Todd slumped in his chair, staring at the keyboard of the computer in the satellite bat-cave that had served as his base of operations for the past few weeks. He couldn’t feel any of the cuts, bruises, broken or crack bones he suffered from earlier in the night. He did feel a growing lump, starting in his chest and expanding into his throat, making him want to throw up. He felt rage welling up in his temples, flooding his brain, grinding his teeth and squeezing his hands around the arm rests of his chair so tight, the molding began to crack and crumble.
Jason looked back up at the screen, which displayed the results of the analysis on Hush’s blood. Hush’s real name was Willis Todd, a highly decorated Special Forces operative with several letters of commendation and a purple heart which he received after he was released from a P.O.W. camp and had been off the grid ever since. His wife Catherine gave birth to their only child shortly after Willis was deployed on the mission that resulted in his decade-long capture. It had taken all of the Bat-computer's power to locate this information. It wasn't on any of the public mainframes, and he had to delve deep into the government computers to even scratch the surface of Hush's identity.
Everything Hush said was true, he was Jason’s father.
“It can’t be true. It’s impossible.” Jason muttered to himself, looking up at the computer screen one more time, hoping that this time, the results would be different. “I can’t be…”
'Bruce had to know.' The little girl in the red hood said to Jason. 'He must have kept it from you.'
“No way!” Jason quickly dismissed. “He wouldn’t have kept something like that from me. He was declared dead by the army. Bruce couldn’t have known… could he?” Jason buried his fingers into his sweat soaked hair and held his head. “Did he keep it from me? Did he tell me that my father died in the home invasion that took my mother, or was it something that I just told myself? I can’t remember.” Jason stared at the picture of his father. "Why can't I remember?"
'Bruce could’ve saved him from that camp,' the girl said, creeping behind Jason.
“He would have if he knew,” Jason responded with a snarl.
'Or maybe Bruce kept it from you because he knew what you were,' the girl whispered into his ear. 'a failure...'
“That’s not true,” Jason yelled as he spun the chair around. “I did my best, I do my best… I’m trying!”
'What you call effort, most people would call recklessness,' the girl mocked, again behind him. 'Did that work for you when you went against the Wrath? All it got you was tortured and killed many times over the years.' She looked at the computer image of Jason’s father. 'Something, that apparently runs in the family, but that doesn’t change the fact that you know, deep down, that Bruce had to know. He always knows and he didn’t do anything. He created Hush.'
“He didn’t know, he couldn’t have… could he?”
The Cave:
[/center]“Alfred, are you down here?” Batwoman asked while exiting the Batcave garage, where she had just parked her motorcycle. The bats above began to stir as she walked into the medical bay. She saw Orpheus laying down on a cot, unconscious and sporting a nasty wound in his stomach. Next to him was a tray with blood soaked gauze, instruments and a freshly pulled out slug. She checked his vitals. They were weak, but steady, so he should be alright. What else should I expect? She thought to herself. Alfred’s the best.
“He went upstairs for some supplies,” a chill went down Batwoman’s spine from hearing that voice. She grabbed a couple of batarangs from her belt and turned, ready to fire.
“I’m not here as an enemy, Batwoman,” Talia Al Ghul, daughter of the centuries old eco-terroist Ra’s Al Ghul said. Talia lowered the hood of her green and white cloak and put her hands on her hips, showing Batwoman the hilt of her sword, before crossing her arms.
"I know, Batman filled me in on what’s going on,” Batwoman said, placing the batarangs back on her belt. “Looks like I’m your new bodyguard for the time being.”
“I don’t need to depend on you to protect me,” Talia said with a smug undertone. “And if I did, I would be better served committing seppuku for the trouble.”
“Well, I see you’re not doing anything to bely your reputation as a bitch,” Batwoman said as she walked out of the medical bay and towards the batcomputer. She immediately noticed there was a new staircase, one she had never seen before. “What’s that about?”
“Richard wouldn’t say,” Talia answered, following her. “All he said, it was a surprise Bruce left him.”
“Bruce?” Barbara said with her heart jumping in her chest as she looked down the stair way. “I suppose you went down there to check out for yourself after Dick left.”
“Of course I did.”
“Well…”
“There was a phone,” Talia said.
“A phone?” Barbara asked.
“Yes, a red phone.” Talia answered. “And it was dead.”
“That was all?”
“If you don’t believe me, go down and see for yourself.”
Barbara thought about it and took one step down before stopping. She looked towards the trophy room and saw that the glass case memorial where they kept Bruce’s costume was empty. “What happened to that costume?” Barbara pointed in the direction of the case.
“What costume?” Talia asked, looking where Barbara was pointing.
“Bruce’s costume? “ Barbara turned her attention back to Talia. “Did Dick take it or wear it?”
“No,” Talia said as she surveyed the area.
“Then what happened to…” Barbara began but stopped when she saw Talia get wide-eyed and her lower lip began to quiver. Barbara looked back in to the trophy room and she saw it, just outside of the lighting’s range, but just enough to see a broad shouldered figure, the pointed ears of the cowl and two glowing white eyes staring back at them. Soon, Barbara Gordon’s lower lip began to quiver like Talia’s and her heart was trying to escape from her chest.
“Beloved?” Talia whispered.
“Bruce?” Barbara followed.
The Narrows:
[/center]“No. There’s no way Bruce would’ve allowed that.” Jason said, pacing back and forth in the satellite cave. “He would’ve told me and we would’ve searched the world for him.”
'Jason, it pains me… it pains you that you keep yourself in denial about this,' the girl in the red hood said. 'Jason… Do you remember the day you were abducted by the Wrath?' Jason stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. 'Well, do you?' The girl asked again.
“Yes,” Jason said through his grinding teeth.
'Say it.'
“No.”
'Tell me.'
“You already know,” Jason raised his voice. “You’re in my head.”
'Bruce…' The girl began.
“STOP!” Jason yelled.
'He fired you,' the girl said laughing.
“NO HE DIDN’T! HE DID NOT FIRE ME!” Jason screamed. His breathing became ragged and choppy as he tried to control his anger. After a few deep breaths, he was finally in control of himself. “He told me that I was suspended from active duty and that I needed more training before he would let me go back on the streets.”
'Was that all?'
“He told me…” Jason began to quiver as he took a breath to finish the sentence. “He told me that I was to reckless and I was going to get myself…killed.”
'And you didn’t agree with him, did you Jason?' The girl asked. 'But as we know, history proved him right, over and over and over again.' The girl giggled while Jason sat back down in his chair and held his head. 'Now, let’s go back to that rebellious teenage boy playing superhero, that boy who kept a picture of his parents under his pillow. Imagine that he just found out that his father, a war hero, is imprisoned overseas. What do you think he would’ve done?'
“My head hurts,” Jason said.
'Jason, it was the first thought you had when your test came back. Do you remember that Jason?'
Jason looked up at the computer screen, still displaying the picture of his biological father in his military dress uniform. “I could’ve saved him.”
'Now you don’t think that boy, who just got fired off of his sidekick gig, would’ve run off to some god-awful Middle Eastern country, find the terrorist camp his father was imprisoned at and risk everything to save him and probably get killed in the process? When you think of it like that, then maybe Bruce was right to keep the knowledge of your father from you.'
“No.” Jason said with sternness in his voice. “He wouldn’t. We would’ve gone to save him… together… as partners... like always…”
'The partners’ thing? Again, Jason? The man erased all evidence of your existence and did such a good job at it, that your replacement, who would become his replacement, didn’t even know about you until you came back to Gotham a few months ago. You still view him in that same light, after all these years, after everything you’ve found out? We know why he did it, you know why you did it, but not admitting it is what’s driving you crazy.'
Jason spun the chair away from the girl in the red hood and grabbed two fistfuls of hair. “Just… shut up.” He said with a whimper.
'Just say it Jason, 'I’m a failure'.'
“Shut up.” Jason began to pull his hair to the point where it was about to be pulled out by the roots.
''I’ll never measure up.''
“Shut up!” Jason yelled, letting his hair go and grabbing the arm rests of the chair.
''I’ve let one daddy down.''
“SHUT UP!” Jason screamed.
''And now, I’m about to let another.''
“I SAID SHUT THE @#$% UP!” Jason screamed at the top of his lungs as he jumped out of his seat, grabbed it and whipped it around, smashing it into the computer console. He took the remains of the chair and hurled it as the screen, screaming while it cracked the surface. Jason walked over to the makeshift lab table and flipped it over, causing microscopes, test tubes, Bunsen Burners and beakers to crash and shatter on the floor. He grabbed his homemade, leather Batsuit that he wore before finding the satellite cave off of its rack and tore it down the middle. Holding pieces of the suit in both hands, Jason fell to his knees and let out a roaring primal scream, before covering his face in the leather and lying down on the floor, in a fetal position. The room started to spin, his breathing was getting difficult and what felt like a tidal wave of blood rushed to his brain.
“Why is this happening to me?”
Secret Location – 11:41 PM
[/center]“Did you call Mulholland?” Boss Synth asked Jared Duncan, his new second in command. Synth adjusted his grey mask, finding it uncomfortable at the moment.
“He said he would be here.” Duncan said as they reached a staircase. “With all of the crazy @#$% going on out in the streets, he’s probably running a little late.”
“That’s not going to compare to the crazy @#$% these freaks are going to do to us if he doesn’t get here within the next 19 minutes.” Synth whispered into Duncan’s ear.
A small ball of fire careened between the two of them. They looked behind them at Milo Vesuvius, the loyal servant of the Prince of Lies. “Keep it moving.” He warned as his hand was enveloped in flame.
Boss Synth checked his jacket pocket to see if the red syringe was still there. Once he confirmed it, he and his henchman climbed the staircase and opened the large door at the top. Inside, sitting like they were in their first meeting, were the new heads of Gotham’s Underworld. Gun Moll, with a couple of her men, dressed in their trademark 50’s motif. The Prince of Lies sat across from the Synth’s empty seat, and scowled at the sight of Synth. Flesh Monger sat to his left, and had another leather clad man, wearing a choke chain and a leather mask with zippers standing behind her. She had her eyes closed and head tilted towards the ceiling, moaning softly, but Boss Synth couldn’t see any reason as to why.
“Have a seat,” Milo said. Boss Synth did and Milo walked over to his seat, next to the Prince, before he continued. “Gun Moll, Flesh Monger and my master have already spoken. My master made the contents of their conversation was made available to me, so I will be speaking for them. We are not pleased. Your plan is not going as promised. All of us have used a lot of man power and resources to combat these Bat-people and the Jokerz. The results have been disastrous. The Bat-people’s resolve seems to be strengthening and the Jokerz are causing more problems than before. Now, these ninja-clad men have appeared on the scene…”
“Look, I admit I didn’t anticipate the ninjas,” Synth interrupted then looked at his watch. It was 11:45. “But from what I’ve been hearing, they are mostly going after Batman and his allies, so all we need to do is let them battle it out, take out whose left and we’re back to business as usual. This is probably the best thing for us. Give us a chance to re-gather some of our lost resources. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get…”
Gun Moll pulled out a magnum from a holster she had hidden underneath her red trench coat and interrupted Synth by shooting his henchman in the head. She immediately turned and pointed the cannon at Synth. “Sit down. We ain’t finished by a long shot.”
“There’s also the issue of the presence of your gang,” Milo continued as Synth sat down. “Or should I say lack thereof. It has not gone unnoticed that your people have not been engaged with our enemies as we have.”
“You guys knew that my territory has the least amount of Jokerz activity,” Synth said on the defensive.
“Yeah, but ya got as much to gain as everyone else if we win this thing,” Gun Moll jumped in, still pointing her Magnum at Synth. “And considering your mooks got all this high tech doodads, going on the offensive would be good for ya, but for some reason you ain’t.”Gun Moll leaned closer to Synth and cocked the hammer of the gun. “And I think its cause you’re a rat.”
“That’s bull #$%&,” Synth yelled, standing to his feet.
“No, what’s bull #$%& is when Jokerz, with high tech whoseamawhatitz that got yer stench on them, slaughtering my boys, who were taking out those hoods on the Hill.”
“Impossible,” Synth said. “I wouldn’t go in league with them. They’re animals. If they got a hold of my weapons, they either stole them or killed my men for them.”
“We know everything,” the Prince of Lies said, pounding the table while Flesh Monger’s moaning began to get louder. “Denial is futile. We have already divided up your territory and our people are raiding your safe houses, slaughtering your men and stealing your munitions.”
“Impossible,” Synth said as he looked at his watch, it was 11:53.
“Oh yes,” Flesh Monger screamed. “That’s my cue.” She grabbed the choke chain tied around her henchman’s neck and pulled it down, bringing him to one knee. She got out of her chair and began to unzip his mask.
“Mulholland?” Synth said after the mask was removed.
“I’m sorry boss,” Mullholland apologized. “It’s just that…” Before he could finish, Flesh Monger wrapped the extra slack of the choke chain around her hand and punched Mulholland in the face. She followed it with a back hand, cutting Synth’s former lackey before he could finish.
“You speak, when and only when I give you permission to speak. Is that understood?” Mulholland did not say a word. The Flesh Monger smiled. “You may speak.”
“Yes Mistress, I’m sorry.”
“Good boy,” Flesh Monger said, lifting her foot on his knee. “But unfortunately, my boots now have your blood on them. I want them cleaned… now.” Mulholland silently grabbed Flesh Monger’s foot as if it were some artifact of antiquity and began to lick every inch of her thigh-high leather boots.
“So, why am I still alive?” Synth asked.
“Project: Changeling,” Milo answered.
“Of course you would be interested in that,” Synth looked at Milo, then his master.
“Fleshie’s slave over there was tellin’ us stories about this top secret lab you got. Working on bioweapons, called it Changeling…” Gun Moll explained. “Unfortunately, he’s as dumb as an ox and don’t know where it is.”
“And no one else will. I’m the only person who knows where it is,” Synth said, leaning back in his chair. “Your stoolie,” he said, looking at the Prince and pointing at Milo. “Killed the only other person that knew and I ain’t talking.”
The Prince of Lies and Milo stood up from their seats. Gun Moll followed and Flesh Monger joined the group, with her clean boots. “Fortunately,” The Prince began. “We don’t need you to.” The Prince opened his mouth wide, like a snake eating a rodent. A thick, black swarm flew from his mouth and enveloped Boss Synth.
But all they could hear was Boss Synth laughing and the swarm immediately dissipated. “You don’t think I know what you are? You don’t think I would’ve inoculated myself from you?”
“Well, maybe we should do this the ol’ fashioned way,” Gun Moll took a deliberate shot over Synth’s head.
“What are you gonna do, kill me? Then you’ll never find Changeling and you’ll never be protected from him,” Synth stood up and pointed at the Prince.
“Sweetie, there are worse things than death,” Flesh Monger warned him and licked her lips.
“Go ahead. Make your bed with him. But I know what he is, where he came from and who’s eventually going to come after him, so keep your alliance with him if you don’t mind dying relatively soon.” Synth reached into his pocket and grabbed his red syringe, making sure his thumb was on the plunger and held it up. “This will kill him and his little partner.”
“You dare challenge my master’s divinity?” Milo said, with his eyes glowing bright orange.
“Divinity my ass, your boss is nothing more than a…” Boss Synth was interrupted by his watch alarm, indicating that it was midnight. Boss Synth fell back into his chair and slumped down. His head tilted to the left and began to sag.
“What the #$%&, did you do something to him?” Gun Moll looked to Flesh Monger.
“No, I can’t do anything unless I’m touching flesh,” she responded.
Gun Moll walked to the other side of the table, still pointing the gun at Synth. All he could do was follow her with his eyes. She reached his chair, grabbed his mask and pulled it off to reveal a man in his forties, with his tongue sticking out and drool escaping from the corner of his lip.
“Ewwww, that’s gross,” Flesh Monger said, hiding behind the Prince of Lies.
“We took advice from this thing?” Gun Moll asked, walking back after throwing Synth’s mask in his face.
“Flesh Monger, perhaps your servant can shed some light, if you don’t mind.” The Prince said.
“Awww, only cause you’re so polite,” Flesh Monger grabbed Mulholland’s choke chain and dragged him over to the group. “Now,” she addressed him. “Mr. Prince is going to ask you some questions. And you’re going to tell the truth.”
“What is wrong with your former Master?” the Prince asked. Mulholland did not respond. The Prince looked at Flesh Monger who was full of glee.
“He’s such a fast learner. It makes me so happy. You may speak, and speak as much as Mr. Prince needs you to.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” Mulholland replied. “I don’t know why he does that, but it happens every 24 hours. One day, he’ll be a super-smart, criminal mastermind. The next day, he’s that. We called them good days and bad days.”
“Might as well get rid of him,” Gun Moll suggested. “He’ll only cause trouble.”
The Prince looked at Flesh Monger who nodded in agreement. “Milo…”
Milo Vesuvius extended his hand and Synth was swallowed up in flames. A few seconds later, nothing but a charred skeleton was left of the former super-genius.
The Cave:
[/center]“Bruce?” Barbara Gordon whispered to herself as she and Talia walked cautiously over towards the trophy room. As they got closer, they could see that it wasn’t a ghost, or some prank of putting Bruce’s costume on a mannequin or something. It was a man, they could see him breathe. As they passed the glass case that had contained Bruce’s costume, Barbara glanced at it. No broken glass, no cuts made, looks normal, she thought to herself. Could it really be him?
Batwoman heard the bats above beginning to more restless than usual. She looked up and saw they were moving towards the medical bay, away from her current destination. She looked once again at Bruce; every slow step she took seemed to take an eternity. She could see that he was holding his left side. He began to reach out with the right, before he collapsed.
“He must be hurt,” Talia said as she sprinted forward. Barbara followed and they found him, huddled on the ground, clutching his side. Both ladies reached down to help him up, and Barbara could tell right away that something was amiss. It didn’t feel like she was touching body armor, or muscle. It felt soft and flimsy like a robe. Barbara’s keen ear picked up a low level hissing sound coming from the body.
Within the blink of an eye, Talia grabbed the hand that was cradling his left side and pinned it to his body. She followed through with a lunge punch that dropped the creature and unsheathed her sword. “Batwoman run. Get Alfred and that injured boy out of here. That’s not him.”
“I can’t leave you here. “Batwoman said, grabbing her batarangs, holding them between her fingers. The cowl wearing person got up and Barbara could see his sword glisten as it was unsheathed. He stepped forward with an overhead attack that Talia parried. She used her forward motion to spin into her attacker and hit him with the handle of her sword. He stumbled towards Batwoman and tried a forward thrust, but she parried it with her batarangs and side stepped him. She loaded up for a thrust kick and connected, sending the attacker into the trophy room light with a loud hiss.
Talia and Barbara could see long, flowing Crimson robes from underneath the cape. He turned around and brandished his sword at them with an ear piercing hiss. It was the Wrath, wearing Bruce’s cowl on top of his skull like face
The Narrows:
[/center]I must have passed out, Jason Todd thought to himself as he opened his eyes, sat up and leaned against a wall. He looked at all of the carnage he caused earlier. Broken glass, equipment and leather were all over the floor. He looked up at the computer screen, cracked like a spider web, but the picture of his father was still displayed. The room started to spin a little. Jason needed to take a few deep breaths to get composed. He took another look at the picture of his father, former war hero Willis Todd, now the supervillian known as Hush. Jason was a spitting image of him. Jason leaned his head back against the wall and smiled. He then began to laugh, slowly and to himself at first, but then he started getting louder. He held his head in his hands for a moment and continued to laugh.
'What’s so funny, Jason?' the voice of the girl in the red hood asked.
“I’m just thinking how funny life is. I turned out exactly like my father, and I never knew him.” Jason got up and gathered his Batman equipment and started to suit up.
Jason was about to put the cowl back on, but stopped. “On second thought, no, I didn’t.” He turned to look at the girl. “I’m nothing like my father. He’s dead. He died at the Gotham Reservoir a year ago trying to save Gotham. This guy,” He looked at the picture of Willis Todd one more time, and then turned the computer off. “He’s just another loser, looking to blame someone else for his #$%^, using it as an excuse to #$%& with my city. And he’s going to get a beat down, just like all the others.” Jason put on his cowl and exited his cave. The little girl faded away and the Dark Knight was on the prowl again.