Batman: Gotham Knights #1

One Year Ago

It can’t end like this, Batman thought as he fell to one knee. Fatigue was burning in his muscles and his eyes were feeling the pressure of unconsciousness beckoning him. His body armor weighing on him more and more with each breath and step he took. He grimaced and picked himself up, grabbing his side, gingerly making his way to the ledge of the rooftop in the Bowery.

Below was a scene that has been playing in about every neighborhood in Gotham. The city was burning, driven mad by a mixture of Fear Toxin and Smilex. People were tearing the city and each other apart, laughing gleefully or screaming in fear as they went. Gotham’s police were trying to contain the madness and those that didn’t succumb to it, were being overwhelmed. To compound matters, many of Gotham’s most infamous residents of Arkham Asylum had been broken out, starting wars with the GCPD, or picking up old grudges with each other. Batman and his allies had been able to help the GCPD subdue most of the Arkham Prisoners, but the cost had been great, and many allies had fallen.

He looked across the Sprang River at Von Gruenwald Tower on Gotham’s Center Island. It was Gotham’s second tallest building, next to Wayne Tower. There, from the thirty-third floor, a giant banner cascaded down the skyscraper with a grinning portrait of the person responsible for the chaos and anarchy running through the city. It made sure that nobody in Gotham would have any doubts about who was the mastermind behind this. It usually didn’t take much to cause the Joker to go on these types of rampages, and this one was no different, but now, the stakes were raised even more. James Gordon, Gotham City’s police commissioner, and Mayor Marion Grange held hostage on the thirty-third floor, along with someone else that hit close to the Dark Knight, Julie Madson, Bruce Wayne’s fiancée. GCPD had tried to infiltrate the Von Gruenwald Tower to save them, but their attempts failed and most of tried had met their maker.

Batman paused a moment and took a deep, painful breath to center himself. He grabbed his grapnel gun from his utility belt. Keep focused on the mission, he thought to himself. Don’t be distracted by the pain, by what’s happening to Julie and Jim, or what happened to Dick and Barbara… He shot his grapnel into the night and swung towards the tower. You've gone too far this time Joker.



Stay awake, stay alert, Jim Gordon kept thinking, despite the swimming sensation he was feeling in his head. He was bound to an office chair, with a piece of cloth shoved to his mouth. Gordon deduced it had to have been soaked with some kind of drug due to its funny taste and the extra grogginess he was feeling. To his right was Julie Madson, fiancée to Bruce Wayne and to his left was the Mayor of Gotham City, Marion Grange, both bound and gagged as he was. There was a fourth hostage with them, but Jim did not recognize him.

The left lens of his glasses were broken in a spider-web like pattern and the same side of his face was swollen, throbbing and caked in blood from a cut just above his temple. Through his right eye, he could see Julie Madson, with her head slumped into her chest. He could hear her crying. The unknown man, seated next to Julie seemed to be trying to plea with their captor, but his requests were muffled by the gag in his mouth. Through his broken left lens, he could see the Mayor tense up and tremble as a chalk-skinned, purple clad monster started walking towards him.

“How dare he?! Who does he think he is?!” The Joker screamed, waving his hands above his head while stomped down on the floor with feet, his dress shoes accessorized with white spats, speckled in blood. “Where does that blowhard get the nerve? Where the does he get the gumption to go on a nationally syndicated radio show and tell the whole bloody nation that I’M NOT FUNNY?!”

The Joker stopped his rant and looked at each one of his hostages with wide, bloodshot eyes. His hands were at his sides, clenched in fists and shaking with tension. He was breathing heavily though his yellow teeth, displayed though a hideous rectus grin that was permanently etched on his face. He made a pass by each hostage, before resting his hateful glare on the police commissioner. He held his breath for a moment then started to giggle.

“Now,” he continued, “I understand that this Arturo Rodriguez is new to the Gotham scene and might not be familiar with the iconic bits of my act. Like the cyanide pie to the face,” Joker extended his arm, palm up and on a slight angle, presenting to the captives one of the building’s security guards, sitting at a table, face down in a pile of whipped cream and pie crust. “The electric joy buzzer or the world famous, never imitated and never duplicated, Joker gas,” he presented two more dead guards, one corpse was charred and still smoldering and the other’s face was frozen into a smile.

While the Joker had been delivering his monologue, Gordon managed to loosen his bonds slightly and figured he would be able to free himself in a few moments, that is, if he had any. The smell of burning flesh migrated to Commissioner Gordon and he began to gag a bit. He remind himself to keep composed and fight the drugs. He needed to do whatever he could to get free and get the other hostages out of here and to safety.

The Joker continued, “But surely, he heard about my first appearance at the Gotham Reservoir, the gassing of Mr. Kimble’s kindergarten class at Johns-Lee Elementary, and for the love of god, The Joker Fish made national news!” Joker looked at the ground and sighed. “Now here we are, at the pinnacle of my greatest gag, my pièce de résistance, and my guest of honor is nowhere to be found… because of you,” Joker snarled, turning towards Gotham’s commissioner, pointing his long, white gloved index finger at him. “Because you decided he needed to be placed in protective custody.”

Joker walked towards Commissioner Gordon, ripping the gag from his mouth and cupping his hand around the Commissioner’s face, puckering his lips. “Well, Commissioner, I’m sure I speak for the others in this room and around the city when I say that wasn’t the greatest idea you’ve had, but, I am a fair clown and if you tell me where the bacon cavalcade stashed Gotham’s most controversial radio host, I’ll be on my way and we’ll let bygones be bygones, ‘kay?”

Gordon spat a mixture of blood and saliva at Joker’s face and his mood turned, his brow furrowed and he let loose a low, ethereal growl. He wiped the saliva from his face and slapped Gordon with the back of his hand. James Gordon remained stone faced. Mayor Grange began to sway frantically, attempting to say something, but his words muffled by his gag. “Looks like the Mayor has something to say,” Joker said, leaning into Gordon’s face. The Commissioner almost gagged on his repugnant breath.

Joker turned his back to the Commissioner and walked towards Mayor Grange, who toned down the histrionics as he approached. He reached in the Mayor’s mouth and pulled out his white cloth gag, which was stained pink from the blood dripping down his nose. “For the love of God Jim, just tell him what he wants to know. The price the city’s paying isn’t worth it.”

“Wow Grangey, I’m touched,” Joker said, putting his hand on his heart. “And to think, Rodriguez used to use his airtime to tell everyone how you where destroying this city by turning it into a socialist, welfare, nanny state…”

“Save your flattery you murderous, demented…”

“No talking out of turn,” Joker growled as he punched the Mayor in the face. He shoved the gag back into his mouth and turned back toward the Commissioner. “You do have to give it to him Jimbo, the man does talk some sense. So, are ya gonna tell me where that dastardly little disc jockey is?”

“Go to hell,” Gordon snarled. He could feel the rope around his wrists coming undone.

“Oh Jimmy, Jimmy….Jimmy” Joker turned toward Julie Madson, looking her up and down and licking his lips. He pranced on his toes over to the socialite and put his nose next to her neck, smelling her perfume. He ran his nose up her neck and her cheek, which was stained with runny mascara. Julie shuttered in disgust while he continued, running his nose up along the outside of her eye socket, above her eyebrow and moved down along the bridge of her nose, stopping at the tip and looking into her big, blue eyes.

“Now you Ms. Madson,” he giggled, running his fingers on her clavicle while he walked behind her. “You are a true vision, miles ahead of the strumpets that your fiancée usually canoodles with.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to slowly move them towards her neck. “I bet you were really looking forward to that party to celebrate your engagement.”

His hands connected around her neck and Julie began to tremble and cry. “I know you’re scared right now, but it’s really not my fault. It’s partially your beau’s fault.” His grip around her neck tightened. “I wanted to bring him to this get-together, considering he owns the radio station that broadcasts Arturo Rodriguez’s reprehensible radio program, so if there’s someone you really want to blame,” Julie’s face grew red and her eyes started to budge out.. “You can blame money bags Wayne and the Commissioner over there.”

“Stop it Joker!” Gordon yelled, drawing the clown’s attention.

“Do you have something to tell me?” Joker asked giggling as his grip tightened more and Julie’s eyes began to roll back.

“I’m warning you,” Gordon threatened.

“You know Jimmy, no one appreciates a joke more than little ol’ me,” Joker growled as he let go of Julie. She began gasping and coughing through her gag immediately, slumping over and whimpering. “And what I think Ms. Madson is trying to tell you, it’s not the appropriate time for you to crack jokes and quite frankly, I’m growing impatient.” Joker reached into his purple sports coat and pulled out a Magnum revolver. He cocked the hammer, rotating the bullet chamber.

“I want to know where Mr. Rodriguez is, or things are going to be getting real messy around here, starting with the Mayor, then the lovely Ms. Madson, then…” The Joker paused after pointing his gun at the fourth person in the room. A confused look washed over the Jokers face, his brow furrowed and lip slightly curled as he was lost in thought for a moment, waving the gun at the captive. “I’m sorry, I have no idea who you are,” Joker giggled. “But I’m sure you’ll make just as big a mess as everyone else and squirm around like the Commissioner’s daughter.”

“What?” Commissioner Gordon said, feeling the ropes around his wrists begin to fall off and his heart beat began to rise.

“Oh my goodness, I must be getting forgetful in my old age,” Joker said as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some pictures. “Before I found you in the East End, I paid a visit to your house in Tri-corner. Of course you weren't there, but your lovely daughter was, looking like she had a hot date.”

He began to laugh hysterically and threw the pictures at Gordon’s feet. Gordon’s heart jumped into his throat and eyes widened as he saw pictures of his daughter, Barbara, naked and lying in a pool of blood, clutching her stomach, with blood seeping through her fingers. Gordon frantically struggled against what remained of his bonds, freeing himself and leaping at the Joker.

“I’ll kill you, you son of a…” Gordon crashed into the Joker, catching him off his guard and causing him to drop the Magnum, which fired upon falling on the floor of the office. The bullet, found a home in the anonymous man’s skull.

“Now, now Jimmy,” Joker said, struggling with the Commissioner. “This is an all-ages homicide, so please watch the language.” They both started to crawl towards the gun, trading blows as they went. Joker tried to get to his feet, but his legs were swept out from underneath him by Gotham’s Commissioner. Gordon got to his feet, and stumbled a bit, his legs wobbly from the drugs in his system. He took two steps before the Joker leapt on his back, laughing and placing the Commissioner in a headlock. The hold was short lived as Gordon used Joker’s momentum and flipped him, slamming him into the ground.

The Commissioner took another step towards the gun, but was slowed when the Joker grabbed on to his left leg, beginning to laugh. Gordon swung his other leg around bashed his heel into the Joker’s side, causing the Clown Prince of Crime to groan and release his grip. The release of Joker’s grip caused Gordon to lose to lose his balance and fall to the tiled floor. Gordon looked up and saw the gun a few feet from him. He got to his hands and knees and crawled as fast as he could to the gun, hearing the Joker begin to laugh again behind him. He took hold of the Magnum, cocked the handle and rolled on his back, pointing the gun at an oncoming Joker and causing the clown to stop in his tracks.

“Okay Commish,” Joker said, putting his hands up and backing away Gordon got to his feet. “You got me, no need to do anything rash now.”

“This ends now,” Gordon said, walking towards Joker.

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Joker replied as Mayor Grange and Julie Madson began to move frantically, their eyes opened wide and mumbling loudly through their gags. Gordon heard something behind him and turned around, only to be met with a large mallet to his face, knocking him down causing him to drop the gun. He struggled to keep himself conscious and keep his eyes from rolling in the back of his head. He could hear the Joker fall to the ground laughing hysterically and through his good lens; he saw a pair of mismatching red and black jester boots.

“Oh Harley,” Joker said, rolling around on the ground laughing as his girlfriend extended a hand to help him up. “Cut that a bit close, eh?” He grabbed her hand and picked himself up, wiped a tear from his eye and dusted himself off. “But, as they say, comedy is in the timing.” He took a step towards Gordon and kicked him hard in the ribs, eliciting a groan from the Commissioner and defeated looks from Julie Madson and Mayor grange.

Joker walked to a cubicle and grabbed a purple trench coat and Stetson. He reached into the hat and grabbed a makeshift bomb, made of sticks of dynamite with wires attached to a detonation device in the shape of Joker’s face. He pressed the nose on the device causing the eyes to start blinking and tossed it onto the Mayor’s lap. “Well lady and gents, it’s been a blast, and in few minutes, it’s really going to be.” Joker said, putting on his coat and hat. He then began to walk away, arm in arm with Harley Quinn and laughing hysterically as they walked away.

James Gordon stirred on the floor. He saw the bomb roll off Mayor Grange’s lap and onto the floor through the cracked lens of his glasses. The eyes of the Joker-shaped detonation device blink faster and faster.

“Barbara… Sarah… I love you.” James Gordon said to himself with his final breath before the bomb exploded.



One Year Later

Why do I even bother? Alfred Pennyworth asked himself as he walked into the former study of Thomas Wayne, carrying a sliver tray with a club sandwich, chicken soup, a glass of water and hot tea. He placed it on the desk next to the non-functioning Grandfather clock under a portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne, opened the latch of the clock and turned the clock’s hands to 10:47. He stepped back as it slid open, revealing a descending staircase.

The English servant grabbed the tray and began to walk down the stairs. After a few turns on the staircase, a subterranean cave opened up, giving Alfred the full view of the state of the art crime fighting command center that his employer, Bruce Wayne had created to assist him in his crusade to save Gotham City. To the left, the Batmobile was situated on a large hydraulic turntable at the base of a long and winding driveway. It also had the ability to descend to a subsection of the cave that housed a garage which held vast array of vehicles and a workshop.

A level below the garage was the underground river that powered the cave’s generator and housed a dock for various watercraft. The Batplane was parked in the center of the cave, adjacent to the turntable where the Batmobile was parked. To the right was a multi-layered structure that housed a library, state of the art forensic laboratories, an armory and a storage area which stored the various deviations of the Batsuit, each suspended in glass case. Next to this structure was a storage area for memorabilia collected over the years from cases that Batman worked, including a large penny, a Tyrannosaurus Rex robot and a large Joker card.

Over looking all of this, just beyond the Batplane was the last subsection of the cave, a supercomputer system, featuring mainframes, firewalls and workstations that were powerful and cutting edge beyond anything that was currently in production for the public or military use. At both sides of the base of the staircase leading up to this area, were two display cases similar to the ones in the storage area housed Batman’s batsuits. Suspended in these cases were the uniforms of Batman’s former allies, Robin and Batgirl. A wave of sadness washed over Alfred whenever he looked at them. He sighed and ascended the staircase as a bats moved around the stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

Sitting in a large, throne like chair in front of the center workstation was Bruce Wayne, unmasked and dressed in grey body armor with a large black bat insignia on his chest, like a crest on a knight’s armor. Large, dark circles were present under his eyes, stubble adorned his chin and his blue eyes were bloodshot as he concentrated on a various displays in front of him while his gauntleted hands were typing away on an over-sized keyboard.

“Master Wayne, your dinner is ready.” Alfred said as he approached.

“I’m busy,” Bruce replied.

“I’ll just set it to the side,” Alfred said, placing the tray next to the one he left there last night, its food and drink still untouched. “Luscious called and is inquiring if you’ll be making an appearance at the benefit in remembrance of last year’s victims.”

“No time.”

“So, I should assume that reminding you that you have been up for 4 days and to implore you to get some rest will be futile?”

“Crime doesn't rest,” Bruce said.

Bruce had always attacked his mission with a steadfast relentless, but in the year since the Joker incident at the Von Gruenwald building, with the Joker still at large, he had even been more enveloped in his mission, forgoing any effort to keep up appearances as Bruce Wayne. He no longer appeared in public and left the running of Wayne Enterprises solely to Lucius Fox. Tabloids and bloggers were constantly speculating about the absence of Bruce Wayne and what he was doing with himself ranged from traveling the world as he did as a child to finding religion in a cult.

Most attributed the lack of a public presence to the death of his fiancée, Julie Madson, which was not untrue. James Gordon’s death, Robin’s brutalization, and Batgirl’s crippling also contributed to his decision to fight crime on a full time basis. He blamed himself for not getting to that building in time and for not saving Robin and Batgirl. He decided that he had no time for anything other than the mission if he was really to rid Gotham of the superstitious and cowardly lot that plagued it. This meant no Bruce Wayne, no Wayne Enterprises, no collateral damage, no allies. It was just going to be him and his crusade. And, as with most things that weighed heavily on Bruce Wayne’s mind, he did not talk about it. It caused Alfred a great sadness to see the man he had raised since the death of his parents like this. He knew where it was going to lead and Bruce’s indifference to it caused tension between the two.

“Well,” Alfred said, grabbing the tray with the previous night’s food, “I guess I shall go back to my daily duties at the manor.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he turned towards Bruce. He could see him focusing on a flashing monitor to the left of the center.

“The Chinese company that we buy the components of my cowl from, they just issued a refund for the latest shipment.”

“How is that possible?” A confused look fell over Alfred’s face as he placed the tray back down.

“They were requested to by the shell company, which then transferred the money to an account I’ve never seen before that was wiped out and closed. According to the transaction’s footprint, this was done by Bruce Wayne.”

“Well, at least somebody is benefiting from using Bruce Wayne’s identity.” Bruce’s confused look turned to a scowl directed at his long time servant and confidant. Alfred brushed the look aside as he had seen it many times from Bruce when he tried his hand to lighten things up. Another monitor began to flash, this one displayed details of a new murder that was called in to the GCPD.

“I’ve started a trace,” Bruce stood up, grabbed his cowl from the workstation desk and put it on. “Hopefully, it will be able to find the source before our own safeguards destroy the online footprint.”

“Perhaps we should call Miss Gordon for assistance, she did create the safeguards.”

“No,” Batman looked at the case that held Barbara’s Batgirl costume. “It’s not necessary. Just keep an eye on the trace and contact me if anything occurs.”

“Master Wayne, you cannot keep carrying on like this…”

“Now’s not the time for this Alfred,” Batman interrupted, growling as he walked down the stairs and towards the Batmobile.

“Well, Master Wayne, I hope that when you finally do have time, it is not because you are gravely injured or worse…”



Poor schmuck, Harvey Bullock thought to himself, removing his latex gloves as he surveyed the crime scene on the campus of Gotham University. CSU techs had been to taking pictures and cataloging evidence, while uniformed GCPD officers formed a perimeter, keeping nosy college students and their cell phone cameras at a distance. He reached into the pocket of his brown trench coat and grabbed a pack of Marlboro Reds, pulling out a cigarette from the box and bringing it to his lips.

It was an unseasonably cold and windy for a spring night and Bullock tied his trench coat tight, looking down at the victim, a fair-haired young man, who should’ve had his whole life ahead of him. His face was bloody and bruised, like he had stood in for Ted Grant’s speed bag. One eye was almost swollen shut and the other eye blown out by a gun shot. His arms were crossed, right over left across his chest with the ring and thumb fingers cut off of his right hand. Detective Bullock pulled a Bic lighter out of his pocket and brought it up to the cigarette on his lips, cupping his hands around it to protect it from the wind. With his cigarette lit, he took a long slow drag, filling his lungs with the smoke and exhaled it out slowly. He looked down at the victim and shook his head. Who did you piss off kid? He thought.

His pondering was interrupted by the sharp staccato of heels pounding the pavement of the sidewalk, growing louder with each step. It was a walk Bullock could pick out during lunch hour in the financial district. He turned his head to see a tall, blonde woman, dolled up in makeup, with hair styled for a night on the down. She was wearing a strapless green dress and a matching coat that she held close to herself, with her badge hanging from a small beaded chain around her neck.

“So, Detective… what have we got?” Lt. Sarah Essen, First Shift Commander of Gotham’s Major Crimes Unit, asked.

“Hey Es, you didn’t have to get all dressed up to see me” Bullock asked, taking a long, slow, drag of his cigarette. “But I do appreciate it.”

“Please Bullock,” Essen replied, rolling her eyes. “I’d have to lose a lot of respect for myself to ever do that?”

“Ouch, that was cold blooded Es,” Bullock said, clutching his chest. “Hot date?”

“It was more like a cold case and since MCU was requested here and I was around the corner, I’d figure I’d put the poor guy out of his misery,” Sarah replied. She had been trying to pick up the pieces and get on with her life since James passed on and she was finding it was still difficult over a year later, and at times, it felt pointless. James was the one and what was the point of trying to find someone else when you already had the one.

“Yikes,” Bullock replied, taking another drag of his cigarette. He grabbed the pack of Marlboros and offered one to Lt. Essen who declined. “While I’m glad I was able to get you off a sinking ship, I actually called for Del Arrazio. We found his card in the vic’s pocket.” As if on cue, a black SUV pulled up and pilling out was Vincent Del Arrazio, MCU’s second in command and his partner, Joely Bartlett.

“Hey Boss, thought you had the night off?” Del Arrazio said.

“I was, but when Central found out that Bullock caught this case, they thought it was necessary for a real cop to be at the scene until you arrived,” Essen joked.

“So you got jokes now Es?” Bullock said over the laughter of Del Arrazio and Bartlett. It was one thing that hadn’t changed despite all of the tragedy. MCU always kept things light between themselves, busting each other’s chops and playing jokes. In some ways, it was the only way they could cope with the things they had to deal with on the job. “We found you card in his pocket Vince… one of your snitches?”

“Yeah, $#%@,” Del Arrazio cursed. “He’s Jay McDermott. He was a member of the Brotherhood of the Fist. He was about to move up in their ranks and give us the people behind the group.” Originally starting out as a fight club, the Brotherhood of the Fist evolved into an anarchist group that began to surface in Gotham shortly after the Joker attack over a year ago. They usually caused most of their trouble during protests and public demonstrations, dressed head to toe in black, targeting Government buildings, big businesses and banks either by destroying property or tagging. Rumors also had it that they were getting into drug trafficking and had ties to Gotham’s super villain community.

“Looks like he was moved here, not much blood on the ground, no sign of his missing fingers, or the back of his head,” Bullock filled them in. “We have uniforms canvassing the area to see if anyone saw anything, but I doubt anything’ll turn up.”

“He was a student at G.I.T, not here at GU,” Bartlett said. “We’ll check with his roommate and friends to see who he was hanging out with and if he had any problems with anyone recently.”

“This really screws us,” Del Arrazio said. “The Fist is very tight-lipped, and this is just the kind of thing that makes people not wanna talk.”

“Well, these guys like to boast about their conquests on the internet,” Essen began, but pausing to look up at the liberal arts building that overlooked the quad, squinting her eyes.

“Boss?” Del Arrazio asked. “Something the matter?”

“I thought I saw something,” Essen regained her focus. “Anyway, let’s get our internet people on this. Hopefully, one of them will be stupid enough to post something online.”



Batman swung away from the crime scene at Gotham University. He reached the scene before the GCPD had, but did not get a chance to conduct a thorough investigation before the first units arrived. He observed the scene from the liberal arts building that overlooked the quad and listened in on the detectives through a bug he planted. The Brotherhood of the Fist was a group that had been under his radar, since they did nothing but stage fight clubs and engage in vandalism and Gotham was still feeling the aftershocks of the Joker’s rampage. Some criminals released from Arkham were still unaccounted for; gangs were fighting for territory and the Smilex compound that the Joker released to the public was still on the streets being sold as a designer drug. Graduating to murder meant that the Brotherhood must be jockeying for a position in the power vacuum and it was about time he paid them a little more attention to them, but he would not have the assistance of the GCPD.

Any police cooperation he had prior to Jim Gordon’s death was cut off by the new Mayor and Commissioner, who both had a strong anti-vigilante stance and declared that any person partaking in vigilantism would be arrested on site. That had always been the official policy of the GCPD regarding the so-called Batman, but because of James Gordon’s influence within the department and with the city government, many looked the other way. Since Gordon’s passing, Batman had kept such a low profile that many inside the department believed he had given up, but those we had worked with before, such as Gordon’s fiancée, Lt. Essen, knew he was still out there.

Batman landed down on a rooftop upon hearing a beep in his communicator. He tapped a button near the ear of his cowl, opening a line of communication. “Yes, Alfred?”

“Sir,” Alfred began, “the computer was able to trace the identity thief to the network he is logged into before the security measures erased the footprint.”

“Where?”

“That part you won’t believe, sir.”



Alfred was right, he couldn’t believe it. Crime Alley was as far from a technological hub as it was from the pristine neighborhood it had once been, making it the last place Batman would have thought to look for the identity thief. The only places with any internet connectivity in the area were located at medical clinics and government buildings. The trace had led him to the clinic that was run by Leslie Tompkins, a confidant and long-time friend of his father.

Batman landed on the roof of the clinic and pulled out a small tablet from his utility belt. The device recognized the wifi connection from the clinic and Batman logged in through the backdoor he had in place. He ran a diagnostic and found a hidden computer that was remotely logged in through a secure tunnel. Unbelievable, Batman thought to himself. He and Barbara had designed the protocols on these backdoors they had set up throughout the city and were the only ones with permissions to access them. For someone to just find them, they would have to be on the same skill level as Barbara and the villainous Calculator and it posed a great security risk, since they would have the capability to eventually find their way into the Batcave mainframe. He logged into the Batcave’s computer remotely and set it to break the hidden computer’s encryption. Once it was done, he would have all of the files and history logs of that computer and will have the evidence to see if this was his identity thief. He set a reminder for to wipe Leslie’s network clean of the connection and put the tablet back into its compartment on his utility belt.

He looked up at the buildings adjacent to the clinic. The wifi range was limited, so whoever was logging into the network had to be close by. The buildings were all abandoned and he found an air conditioner humming steadily in the top floor window in building to his right, despite the cool weather. Batman climbed up the fire escape to the window next to the air conditioner. He jimmied the window open and climbed into a dimly lit, run-down studio apartment. A few mattresses were piled in the far corner with pillows and a blanket thrown on top of them. Dirty clothes, fast food wrappers, soda bottles and cigarette butts littered the floor, and the tops of a dresser and coffee table. A flat-screen TV and a video game console were on a stand against the wall and across from a dirty sofa.

A soft, blue-tinted light emanated from a walkway past the television and Batman walked to it, careful not to make noise as he did, but all the garbage on the floor didn’t make it any easier. Once he reached the walkway he found the wall separating this apartment from the next was down and a cool breeze coming through. He stepped through the opening into another studio apartment. There were a couple of workstations set up in the room. Two desks were side by side, one with 2 monitors connected to what looked like a Windows desktop unit and the other had an all in one Mac. In front of the desks was a bench with a couple of laptops and tablets. A black, swiveling chair was in the middle of it, to allow a user to switch between workstations quickly.

Batman’s investigation was interrupted when the door to the apartment was opened by a skinny teenager with long black hair munching on a burrito. He was also carrying a bag of junk food and soda which found their way to the floor once he spotted the Dark Knight.

“Oh $@%#.”