Cycle 1: Acceptance
Bruce's Dairy
How did I end up here?
I remember the chase.
I was investigating a drug deal, to be closed at Maroni's burnt down diner at 23rd Street. When Sal Falcone was convicted under the Dent Act, his position at the head of the crime family was taken in by an opportunistic handyman by the name of Roderico Balzani. He wasn't a bad choice: he knew how to walk the walk, how to talk the talk, but he turned out to be too greedy. He could have just settled with his newfound position and make the best of it, but instead he tried harvesting more power by taking on Felipé Torres, a petty drug lord who had his business in the Narrows. Unfortunately, Torres wasn't nearly as petty as Balzani's bad intelligence had had him informed, and Balzani ended up losing both his newfound empire and his life when the diner was rigged with explosives and blown apart. After that, the Maroni's took to doing their business in one of the clubs at 2nd Roosevelt Street. Torres took 23rd Street and the surrounding areas, worked himself up and earned a reputation that would keep him in league with the large crime-families for months. I believe he was killed about six weeks ago.
There were two reasons why I was interested in the deal. First: the diner. It should have been broken down by now, but for some reason it had been kept around as a reminder of Balzani's failed ambition. And now it seemed it had found a new purpose.
The second reason: because ex-detective Flass was involved. If Gotham was ever synonymous to 'state of corruption', that would have been when Flass was still wearing a badge. The man had eyes and ears on every street corner and he was always following the money – no matter who would get killed due to his selling of information. If someone waved a couple of Ben Franklins in his face, he'd rat his mother out in the blink of an eye.
So I didn't expect the police to be in on it – after all, Flass had more to fear from the Gotham Police Department than the Batman. Or at least, that's what I thought. The whole thing turned out to be a set-up.
As soon as I landed on the floor of what used to be one of the most prominent crime cafes of downtown Gotham, the trap shut. Flass and his gang drawing their weapons – that I expected. I had no problem deflecting their shots and taking them down – I broke a nose, a kneecap and a wrist before I even reached Flass. That was when I started to get shot from behind. My armor stopped the bullets before any serious damage could be done, but nonetheless, the shots forced me to pull back into the remainders of the diner. I prepared to get myself out, when suddenly I heard a loud, high-pitched noise, followed by a blow.
The floor exploded underneath my feet, and I was propelled into the air. I did manage to keep myself from landing on my face, but due to the instability of the remaining floor and my own imbalance I sprained my left ankle and fell. In the meantime, the police was closing in and firing bullets and me, and the only thing I could think of was to reach for my grappling hook and make a desperate shot for what used to be the roof of Maroni's Little Italy, and get myself to safety.
I remember the fall.
A miscalculation of my own combined weight – myself including the suit, the heaviness of the new armor – and how much the concrete should be able to hold. But it didn't hold and I fell, over fifty feet. If it hadn't been for that same suit, and the police car that broke my fall, I would probably have died.
I didn't die. I was taken in by Gotham's finest, brought to the stockades at MCU. I remember waking up in an interrogation room, my hands cuffed to a chair, and Inspector Gordon sitting at the other side of a table.
"You realize it's over?" he asked, and he sounded remorseful. I know he never wanted to take me in, but I knew like he knew that he couldn't possibly let me go under the suspicious eyes of Commissioner Loeb. I opened my mouth to answer him – nothing came out but a crack.
"I have to take your mask," Gordon continued. I saw his hands shake when he lifted them. "And your suit. I'm sorry."I know he meant it. I pulled the handcuffs and felt a rush of pain running through my broken body. I should have been in a hospital, but they couldn't have taken me there while I was still in my suit. Maybe they didn't even know I was so wounded. Gordon pulled the mask from my face and all I could do was wheeze. I'd never felt so defeated in my life.
Selina Kyle
Damn this shit!