[[Author's intro, as has become customary:
The title of this story has nothing to do with the animated series of the same name. It is a reference to the expression, Beware the Superman. I've had something like this stewing in the back of my mind for a while, but only just recently hit the inspiration I was looking for to write it.
This story is set in the same continuity as Angel of the Bat, but that story shouldn't be necessary reading to understand this one. I think those who aren't familiar with that one can put the pieces together. Whether this is definitively the universe I'm using to follow Angel or just a universe I don't know yet.
Batman and company are the property of DC Comics. This is a strictly fan-made storyline.]]
Beware the Batman
…
The call had been made just after four in the morning, the Gotham Police Commissioner just ready to hang up the badge for the night. It was an unpleasant surprise. Of course calls still came in at that horrible hour, but at least they didn't come with the same frequency that they used to. A call out to the slums used to be a regular experience. Now it was uncommon enough to be a little surprising as well as annoying.
The commissioner sent Bullock to the scene, hoping to avoid the unpleasantries, at least for the night. There would be paperwork, of course, and crime wasn't going to stop while the commissioner was asleep. But enough was enough for the night. It was time to get home, lay next to the wife for twenty minutes before she left for her job.
It was about twenty-five minutes later when the radio flickered to life. "Uh… Commish? You still in the car?"
"What is it Bullock?"
"This… I don't know how to tell you this… Uh… That thing we don't talk about anymore? That thing we haven't talked about since Gordon left? That thing."
Commissioner Maggie Sawyer brought the car to a screeching halt on the street two blocks from her apartment, eliciting a few honks and yells from the handful of drivers still on the streets. "You're sure?"
"It's in blood, Mrs. Sawyer. There's three bodies here, two of them had their necks snapped, looks like the third had it cut. I'm still investigating, but I'm pretty sure the one who got slashed was carrying some crack."
"Wait there Bullock, I'll be over as fast as I can be." Sawyer sighed as she set the radio down, looking longingly in the direction of her apartment. "Sorry Toby, looks like I've got some more work to do."
…
Commissioner Sawyer parked the car just outside the apartment on Brubaker and 22nd. Officer Bullock nervously reviewed the scene over and over with his eyes and notebook as Sawyer made her way over. "Thank God you're here," Bullock said. "Permission to take a smoke, ma'am?"
"Granted," Sawyer said with a nod. Bullock pulled off his wet rubber gloves, walking across the street and fumbling through his coat for a cigarette. "The guy who discovered the bodies is just inside, room 24."
Sawyer proceeded into the dark alleyway, the faintest showing of daylight just coming up over the horizon. One hand kept ahold of her flashlight, the other her pistol. "Is anyone in there?" She asked, slowly proceeding. "Maggie Sawyer, Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department. If you're there I'd advise you put your hands up, I have some questions for you."
The only response Sawyer got was from a handful of rats scurrying as she walked past a row of trash cans. A few more feet and the light fell upon a limp foot, thereafter revealing the dead body it was attached to. The years had not made Sawyer jaded to the sight of death laying in her streets, and as she continued she saw the other two, she could feel a sickness building in her stomach. The latter two corpses were young, the youngest probably just around fourteen. The oldest one, a fat, balding white man, laid in a pool of his own blood. But within moments, swallowing hard, Sawyer turned her flashlight towards the wall.
Wordlessly, Sawyer pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched in a number. The number wasn't kept readily available to the men and women on the squad, but she could recite it by heart.
…
Across the city, in a large high rise apartment a cell phone on the bedside table began to ring. The two sleeping next to it both clutched their blankets and each let out their own groans.
"I'm not answering it," the woman said. "I don't care who it is. They can wait."
"It's your phone," her husband said, still half-asleep. "You get it."
The two got a few seconds of bickering in before their bedroom door was opened, an annoyed red haired girl glaring at them as she crossed the room.
"I'll get it then!" She yelled towards her groaning parents. She grabbed ahold of her mother's phone and was about to answer it when it was snatched out of her hand.
Her equally red-headed mother sighed and gave her a look. "Go back to bed, Sarah." She told her, the little girl standing still a little longer, still glaring at her mother before she repeated, "Go." And she cooperated. With that, she raised the phone to her ear. "Who is it?"
"O, is that you?"
She sighed. "Yes commissioner, it's me. Any reason this couldn't wait until morning?"
"Babs, is that Sawyer?" Her dark haired husband asked, pushing up and letting out a yawn. "What's she doing calling us at this hour?"
"We have a situation out here."
"Yeah, I figured as much," Barbara said with a stretch. "Dic- Sorry, N wants to know what you're calling about."
"There's someone out there. Right this minute. Three people were just found dead, two of them teenagers."
"Okay… But… Sawyer what does that-"
"He left a calling card," Sawyer said. "He drew it in their fresh blood. Whoever this freak is, he's got a thing for bats."