BLINDSIDE
Chris Goodmakers
Chapter oneGotham, City Of Glamour
The 10:30 from Alaska to Gotham arrived at 11:00 on the dot. The 767 landed smoothly on the long runway with the ease of a goose in water. It parked at the terminal and unloaded its human cargo. Alex shuffled his way through the exiting crowds, his single carry on bag clutched in his hand. He threw the strap for the small duffle over his shoulder. It briefly rubbed up against a small 3rd degree burn scar that emerged from the left side of his neck, up to behind his ear. It was the Tip of a very painful iceberg.
Being a man of good size Alex had little problem navigating through the hoards of people pouring of the plane into Gotham. Tourists. The man in front of him was snapping incessant pictures through a small digital camera. Alex's attention was drawn to his ball cap. Something he had no doubt bought especially for this trip. A black full back with the words "I Heart Gotham" sewed in white on the front, and on the back was the yellow oval and black symbol of "The Batman". That was a popular gimmick for Gotham. Even there travel brochure read "Gotham City, Birthplace Of Justice". There was a long-standing feud between them and Metropolis for that.
Metropolis claimed that they had Superman first, and Batman came second. However die hard Gothamites argued that the rumours of Batman on the street existed before Superman made his official debut at the Metropolis world's fair, when he rescued a crashing experimental aircraft.
Alex was filled with useless knowledge like that; he idolized the world's finest as a kid. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Green Arrow. There used to be a reverence when one spoke their name. People used to be proud of those names. Although they were all dead by the time Alex was born he always used to read about them. He obsessed over them as a kid, collected all the comics that chronicled their adventures, watched all the news programs that had exclusive footage just recovered. Being a superhero used to be an art, used to be pure, used to exist in only the noblest of those on earth. That was hasn't been the case in a long time.
After wrestling with the crowd Alex grabbed his few bags off the conveyer belt and headed out the terminal door. He desperately tried to hail a cab, but before he could grab some eager tourist or obnoxious businessman always snatched one it out from under him. Finally he flagged one down to him and defended it with his life. He quickly threw his bags in the trunk and climbed in the back seat.
He buckled up and the cabbie drove out of the Airport round about and onto the Gotham Freeway.
"So, were may I take you this fine afternoon" he asked in a slight Hindi accent. Alex looked up from the floor of the cab.
"Any good long term motels?" he asked inquisitively, knowing that his stay in Gotham would be well extended.
"Ah yes, I know many mighty fine places, you planning on being here long?" The cabbie asked, obviously trying to hide his accent in a slew of contemporary American expressions. Alex stared off blankly into space, having only one thing as his particular point of interest.
"No longer then I need to" he exclaimed monotonous, detached. His mind was adrift. He quickly snapped out of it and brought his attention back to the cabbie. Inconspicuous, he had to be that. So what does someone who doesn't want to be particularly odd ask a cabbie upon entering one of the tourism capitals of America? "So, what is there to do in Gotham?" Alex feigned a perfect amount of interest.
"Oh, yes. There are many good things to do" The cabbie was excited, his voice traveled at great speed, almost matching his cab. "There is "The Dark Knight", a mighty fine musical. Also you can also visit the very nice Wayne Manor and see the Batman Museum, they have actually fully reconstructed the Bat-Cave as it was back in 1956. Plus they have all 3-Batmobiles on display. Also you can take the "on streets of Gotham" tour, which is a midnight tour that's re-traces Batman's nightly patrol over the city. They have some most entertaining re-enactments" Alex fuzzed out the rest of the cabby's boastings about the city. He got the basic idea after he said "Batman" twenty times.
The cab pulled of the extensive Gotham freeway and into the Hotel district of the city. A place built solely to house and impresses the endless stream of tourists to Gotham. The Cabby pulled up to a large building, massive in size, but in perspective of the other buildings around it lacked grandness. The cab pulled up the front entrance; Alex slowly stepped out of the car. He passed a few bills to the Cabby through his open passenger window.
After grabbing his luggage from the trunk he walked up to the front doors. The cab peeled away quickly, no doubt back to the airport to transport another batch of eager tourists. The lobby of the hotel was nice. It had red carpet, hanging crystal chandelier, oak furniture, and the works. Anything to separate the tourists from there money.
A strikingly pretty receptionist waived over Alex to the front desk. He strolled over, lugging his bags over his shoulder.
"How may I help you this fine afternoon" She exclaimed all perky and sickeningly nice. Dropping his bags Alex placed his hands on the counter and leaned over it a bit.
"Yeah, I would like to get a room please" He made sure he was polite, courteous. People usually remember the rude ones.
"Certainly" she peppery replied. Turning to the computer to her right she began to type incessantly on the keyboard. The clacking of the keys annoyed Alex to no end. What ever happened to a black logbook and a pencil? "We seem to have a vacancy in the "Trumpet Sweet", would you like to book you in there?" Trumpet Sweet eh? Sounded expensive, but Alex wasn't one to argue. He gave his approval and the r
Receptionist went back to typing on her computer. "Ok, your all done here, our room clerk will show you to it" Alex nodded and turned around. He was greeted by a kid no more then twenty who took his bags and walked to the elevator.
They took it up to the 6th floor. Alex and the Bag Boy exited and walked down a long hall covered in a plus red carpet and wood grain walls. Everything was so nice and presentable, an obvious façade. Alex's room was room 627 at the very end of the hall. The Bag Boy unlocked the door and stepped through, Alex followed. The place was amazing, large living room with centre fireplace and bed in the far corner. By the looks of it Alex would only be able to stay in this place for about a week, but it would be enough time.
After placing his bags in the room the Bag Boy stood there, his hand pompously sticking out. Alex looked at for a second. He brushed his long black hair away from his eyes and looked up at the Bag Boy, who was refusing to make eye contact. Reaching into his pocket Alex pulled out a dollar bill and placed it in the Bag Boy's hand. Apparently money was to the Bag Boy's offence because he stuck his nose up at Alex and stomped out of the room.
After being rid of the annoyance Alex laid his feet up on the couch that sat in the far side of the room, it looked out of the large bay window over all of Gotham. He reached over and grabbed the Phone next to his bed, the caption on the top read "dial #9 to get out". He did so.
He punched in a phone number he had committed to memory, 371-555-3485.
"Gotham Pier Hotel, How may I help you?" asked a voice on the other end.
"Yes, um I'm looking for Travis Cane" Alex asked. The voice paused for a moment and then came back to the phone.
"Sorry Sir, we have no one checked in under that name, however we do have a T Cane with a room reserved. However he isn't scheduled to be in for 2 weeks" Shit! Alex had jumped the gun; he came in to Gotham to early. Apparently he didn't pay enough for his reliable information. Oh well, he could wait the days out in Gotham. However he had to go down to the post office, because a very important package had undoubtedly arrived for him.
He pulled a phone book out from under the table the phone sat on. He flipped through the Gotham yellow pages until he came to the section for "Car Rentals". He would need one. Seeing the ad for "Gotham Knight Auto Rentals" he picked up the phone and dialled in their number.
The phone rang and a rather surly sounding man answered.
"Yeah, Got'am Ca Rentels" He exclaimed, sounding like he was eating something as he was on the phone. Alex went about booking a car for a week, while he was on business in Gotham. The guy on the other end went about the routine of getting his insurance information, credit card number, name and current residence. All of which Alex supplied was Fake. He gave the receptionist at the front desk of the hotel a fake name; he even mailed the important package to himself under a fake name. He did not want anybody knowing he was in Gotham.
"Alright, the ca will be ready in a hours," Exclaimed the surly man in his brisk un-identifiable accent. Alex thanked him and hung up the phone. Great he had an hour to kill. TV was always good for that.
He hunted down the remote and pointed it towards the large box on the far wall. The TV turned on with a click and a hum. Naturally the channel last on was CNN. Most people who could afford this room spent their time oscillating between that and Pay-Per-View porn.
The pretty boy newscaster was reporting on some press conference going on. The station constantly cut between him and the actual conference, like the production director suffered from ADD. Finally they switched the broadcast over to the full conference.
The press hall was filled with reporters snapping photos and trying desperately to get their question answered. Standing at the podium, with a big seal behind his head that read. "JLA was some guy in a very expensive business suit. The skin on his was laminated Gold and he had short neon green hair and two sharp orange eyes. The scrolling caption under him read "Star-Pulse: Superhero and Justice League Spokesman". He started to speak in mid sentence.
"First, as to the rumours that the JLA has formed a treaty with North Korean leader Gen, May Lu Wong I must say that we are in fact in current talks. However as to the rumours that we have offered JLA members for use in there military in exchange for the rights to North Korean gold deposits. Well let me just dismiss those as what they are, unsubstantiated and completely untrue rumours. The JLA has not, and would never arrive at such a deal with a foreign leader"
The press rushed to raise their hands and they began to shout out his name, begging for attention. He pointed to a female reporter in the front with his gold stubby finger. She quickly jumped to her question.
"Yes Mr. Star-Pulse. Cindy Mangles, Metropolis Daily Planet. How can you say you would never arrive at such a deal with a nations leader when in the past JLA members have secured Kuwaiti oil fields during the US invasion, in exchange for a percent of the profits from the oil sales?" Cindy's question seemed to make the pore less Star-Pulse sweat a little. The reporters from the Daily Planet were well known for their hard edge style reporting, and Star-Pulse had made a grave mistake in selecting one of there top investigative reporters for her question. He squirmed a little before he came up with his answer
"Well Cindy, I didn't say "nation's leader" I clearly said foreign leader. Since the JLA is based out of America and is part of NATO we are more then obligated to assist whenever we can in matters of state and country. And well, the JLA, like any other organization requires funds to operate. What would you expect us to do, organize a bake sale?" he exclaimed in a patronizing manor. Every other reporter in the room laughed or giggled, not Cindy though. She just stood there fuming. Star-Pulse continued his speech.
"We are working towards this treaty in the name of peace and prosperity, that is what the JLA stands for, and that is what we have fought time and time again for" the cocky little gold freak gave a toothy grin. Alex reached for the remote and shut the TV off; he had had more then enough of that.
Alex stood up and wandered over to the large bay window. He looked over Gotham. A thick cloud of smog hung over the city, casting shadows into its depths. A city with a permanent veil of darkness hanging over its head. This certainly wasn't the Gotham city Alex read about as a kid. The large stone gargoyles had been replaced by TV and radio transponders, the Gothic buildings torn down and large glass towers erected in their place.
Behind him the phone began to ring. He walked over to it and lifted the receiver, putting it to his ear.
"Hello?" he asked waiting for a reply. On the other end was the receptionist from the front desk; she exclaimed that a car had arrived at the front for him from a Rental service. Had it been an hour already. "Alright, I'm coming down" he exclaimed, hanging up the phone promptly after.
He grabbed his room key and left the hotel room, locking it behind him. He walked to the elevator, and rode it down to the main lobby, were a driver greeted him with the keys to his black rental car. After he accepted them and signed for the car. The driver got in another car that came with him and drove off.
Alex got in his newly rented sedan and drove out into Gotham. The city was wall-to-wall traffic, he had to fight to get to the post office, and while he was there he had to wait in what seemed an endless line to get his package. A small box about the size of a textbook. He quickly whisked it out of the office and back into his car.
He sat there staring at it like it held inside all the answers to his problems. Yet he felt a mass of trepidation about opening it, like to do so would commit him to some terrible deed. He finally took in a deep breath and tore away the binding strip with his fingers. He discarded it into his passenger seat, and slowly lifted the box lids. He looked inside at the object, a small 22-calibre pistol with clip. He pulled it out and cocked in the clip. The gun was small in his hand, perfect for concealing in a coat pocket or inside a shirt.
He pulled back on the top, ejecting a bullet from the chamber. It flew through the air in a spinning motion. He caught it in a sudden display of reflexes. Fiddling, he ran it trough his fingers, examining it. Such a small thing, would it be capable of undoing so much pain. With his other free hand he reached over and rubbed the bit of scar tissue running up his neck and under his ear. It was always a helpful reminder whenever he felt like putting all his baggage away, he knew he couldn't. At the very least he couldn't until what he had to do was done. Two weeks, he had to kill time till then.
So what do you do in a town known for a figure that's been dead for nearly 20 years. Just then a bus pumping exuberant amounts of smog out of it's tail pipe passed. The side of it had a huge banner that read "Visit The Batman Museum, See The History". Why not, he was only going to be in Gotham once, might as well take in the sites. As inane as most of them would probably be. The batman museum didn't sound like it would be to bad, and he knew exactly how to get there to, from the comics we would read as a kid.
He slipped the stray bullet into his pocket and started up the car. He grabbed the gun out of the box and slipped it into his glove compartment for safekeeping. He then merged into traffic and headed for Wayne Manor.