What's happening, ladies and gentlemen? This is my first fanfic, so any comment you guys have would be greatly appreciated. I have already written down most of chapter two on my notebook, it just needs to be typed. So, without further ado, let's get this party started!
Disclaimer: Batman and all Batman characters mentioned are property of Warner Bros. and DC Comics. Enjoy!
The Prodigal Nightmare
Chapter 1: Batman vs. Penguin
Gotham City. Home to nearly 8 million people, seventy percent of which live in poverty. The wealthy thirty percent are either bought and paid for politicians, or crime bosses who have nothing to lose and everything to gain, or in most cases, buy. But that doesn't always mean that there aren't honest people.
First, there is James Gordon, commissioner for the Gotham City Police Department, and long time ally in the fight against organized crime. His partner/mentor, Harvey Bullock, is one of those honest people as well, just a little most hard-headed than most.
Then there is Bruce Wayne. Playboy billionaire. Spends most of his money on luxury cars, beach houses on islands no one has ever heard of, the islands themselves; usual rich people stuff. But, in fact, he has done more for the city of Gotham than most people give him credit for. On occasion, he has donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to orphanages across the city, helped eliminate homelessness by fifty percent in the last decade, even donated substantial amounts of dollars to the GCPD, much to the commissioner's chagrin.
Finally, there's another man. A man no criminal has escaped from unscathed. A man who represents the honesty and the soul of Gotham. Some say he's just an urban myth, others say he's a demon, others say he's an angel. A protector, a monster, a spirit, an alien; so many rumors and stories about this one dark entity, but for those who know him, those who fear him, those who have seen him in all his dark glory only know him as...
"Batman!"
Shots were fired, thousands of those flaming needles reaching nothing but the cold December night as the thugs attempted to shoot down the Dark Knight. The Caped Crusader landed effortlessly into the snow, launched himself towards the gunman closest to him, then threw him to a shipping crate on the other side of the field.
The goon to Batman's left pulled a hunting knife from his boot and swung expertly at the Bat. Unfortunately for the goon, Batman was just as experienced in knife-fighting, ten-fold in fact, and dodged every swipe of the enemy's knife. As the thug thrusted his knife at the Batman, aiming for his gut, the Dark Knight blocked it with his palm, leaving the knifeman open for him to deliver two kicks, one to his abdomen, one to his chin, and delivered a swift roundhouse to the man's cheek, leaving him unconscious.
Three goons were left standing, according to Batman's line of sight, and they were all trembling in fear as he made his way to the lone henchman behind him who was holding his pistol in his shaking hands. The Dark Knight's cape surrounding his form as he slowly walked to him.
"Stay back!" the shaking gunman exclaimed as he pointed his gun at him with both hands, attempting to steady his aim. Batman's feet never faltered, clearly ignoring him, and continued to walk towards him.
"I said stay back!" the gunman exclaimed once more before he finally had the gall to shoot him point blank in the chest. To his shock, the bullet bounced off his chest as Batman's cape was covering the majority of his body. Little to his knowledge, the cape and cowl were actually designed to protect the Caped Crusader from oncoming gunfire, tasers, and the occasional Ms. Selina Kyle who every now and then, meaning almost every day, would decide to ogle at Batman's physique.
Sooner than the thug had anticipated, Batman was already in front of him. A foot taller than the thug, shoulders wide as if he had shoulder pads, and eyes whiter than the snow beneath their feet, blank but more ferocious than that of a lion's.
"Please", the thug whimpered. All Batman did was look at him. Then delivered a head-butt, knocking him unconscious.
The crime-fighter looked to his side and saw the last two thugs, wielding semi-automatics, shaking in their boots, not unlike how their last buddy was acting not even a half-minute earlier. Batman looked at them, giving them an evil grin that only meant one thing: pain.
The thugs shared the same frightened look, dropped their guns and ran as if their lives depended on it. As they were running, the sound of a gun firing was heard and one of the thugs dropped on the snow covered ground, then looked up in shock. He knew what had just transpired: his foot was caught by the Bat's grappling hook. He heard the sound of a wire being pulled back, and soon, so was he. As he was screaming bloody murder, his buddy never stopped running and was about to reach his getaway car, a sleek black Lincoln he got from his boss, until he felt something hit his head. If he learned anything from the stories about the Dark Knight, he can almost be sure he got hit by one of his Batarangs.
With his vision returning, the thug felt large, strong hands on his bony shoulders and lifted him up, pushing him to the crate behind him. He finally saw the face of his nightmares. The square chin, riddled with black dots of his five o'clock shadow, the leather of his cowl with tall ears, standing at attention, and eyes of the Devil himself.
"Where's the Penguin?" asked Batman with his strong hands still on the thugs shoulders. The Bat's voice was dark, ominous, threatening with no obvious effort, as if he was born with the voice of evil incarnate.
"I-I don't know," the thug whimpered, willing to tell the Batman everything as long as he gave him a quick and painless end. "He-He only told us to watch the crates while he was out doing business with some 'associates'. He never said who though."
"What's in the crates?"
"Guns. Lots of 'em. Military grade. Rumor has it that some of the boss's 'associates' gave these to him as a loan, in exchange for a body."
"Whose body?"
"The Re-"
He would never get the chance to finish his sentence, as a gunshot was heard, followed by the thug getting a single hole on his forehead, with brain matter plastered on the crate behind him. This shocked even the Batman as he took a step back and watched as the thug fell lifelessly on the ground like a rag doll. That was when the Dark Knight heard the maniacal laughter of one short, stocky, arms-dealing Gothamite with a British accent known as Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, AKA, The Penguin.
"Well, spilled like a can a beans, he did," The Penguin snickered as he brought his umbrella, which was smoking from the tip from where the bullet shot from, down and used it as a makeshift walking stick. "Can't have any snitches in the business, eh boys?" he continued as he motioned his two goons to step forward. One was holding another umbrella above Cobblepot's head, the other holding a lighter in one hand and a cigar in the other.
"Cobblepot," Batman sneered with a tinge of disgust in his voice.
Penguin motioned with his free hand towards the goon with the cigar and put it in his boss's mouth and lit it up with the lighter. As Cobblepot blew out the smoke he continued his speech.
"Y'know, I can see the curiosity in your eyes. You already know what's in these here crates. Imagine, Batman, all of this fine weaponry, just ripe for the pickin'."
"I'm going to give you one last chance, Cobblepot," Batman said, clearly ignoring what The Penguin had just said. "You can give yourself up right now, and maybe I'll send you to Blackgate without any broken bones."
"That's quite a tempting offer, Batman," Penguin said sarcastically. "But I'm afraid I'll have to decline." The Penguin waved his hand, and out of nowhere, two snipers revealed themselves on the bird's nest, the two goons on either side of Cobblepot dropped everything and pulled their semi-automatics from their backs, and other armed thugs appeared from behind and the crate next to him, almost as if it was magic. And he should know, he used to date Zatanna.
"Is that all?" asked Batman in a deadpan voice, clearly unimpressed.
"Oh, come on, Batman. Even you have to admit that with all of these fine men carrying the latest in military warfare that surrounds you, you're a little afraid," said Penguin, waving his cigar at him.
If he was honest with himself, under normal circumstances, Batman would've had a little trouble taking all of these men down, including Cobblepot. Not that he wouldn't have succeeded, of course, but he would still have suffered some lacerations and flesh wounds, results from state-of-the-art military grade bullets making hard contact with the Kevlar of his Batsuit. But these were not normal circumstances.
Tonight was going to be interesting.
"Trust me, Penguin, I'm not the one who should be afraid," said Batman with an evil smirk spread across his face.
Oswald saw that smirk. Even though he failed time and time again, all he has ever wanted to do was wipe that smug little grin, and the rest of his being, off the face of existence. He felt that it was his destiny, the one he dreadfully shared with the rest of the rogues of this godforsaken city, and he'll be damned if he didn't fulfill it.
"Oh? And why is that?"
Batman didn't answer. In fact, he didn't even move, not that he needed to, as the two snipers from the birds-nest fell from the railing and were screaming as they were awaiting to make contact with the boat, but it never came as they were halted by the ropes gripping their ankles.
Penguin and the rest of his henchmen looked up at where the snipers were previously stationed and saw the silhouette of a… petite figure before said figure threw a smoke bomb at the bald kingpin and the two gunmen at his sides.
"Don't just stand there, you bloody wankers! Get up there and KILL 'EM!" Penguin screamed at his goons, who he could not see as his peripheral vision was covered in smoke, as was the rest of starboard.
The figure did a mock salute to the Dark Knight, who had not moved since the smoke bomb was thrown to Cobblepot, and dived right into it, leaving Batman to take down the rest of the goons. Luckily for him, they were all a little flabbergasted that someone other than the Caped Crusader himself had made it to the scene, and wasn't Robin. His guess was that these were rookies, unaware that the Dark Knight has an extended family, a "Batfamily" of sorts, and a whole "Batman Incorporated" all over the world, so men like these weren't a real threat.
Batman pulled out three Batarangs from his belt, one for each gunmen behind him and swiftly threw them, like a ninja with his shurikens, only using a fraction of his power and strength to knock them unconscious, which they did.
The armed henchmen on the crate next to him quickly opened fire, but threw down his very own smoke bomb, much like his mysterious ally on the boat, disappearing from sight. Behind the smoke, The Dark Knight fired his grappling hook at one of the assailants, but instead of pulling him towards Batman, the hook actually allowed the Caped Crusader to soar towards said assailant, clotheslining him in the process.
The lone gunman behind him tried to strike him in the head with the butt of his gun, but Batman countered it by grabbing the rifle and pulling it from his grasp, then swung it to the thugs head like a baseball bat. The three left standing tried to shoot him down, but it proved futile as Batman easily dodged them and delivered an uppercut to the gunman in the front, rendering him out cold. The gunmen resorted to melee, but, once again, Batman was far more experienced as he blocked every punch and kick they delivered and once they were both open, grabbed both of their heads and bashed them together, leaving the Dark Knight the last man standing.
The smoke on the boat finally cleared, giving Batman the chance to fire his grappling hook on the railing and setting foot on the starboard. On the floor was Penguin and his two henchmen, bruised and battered as they were bound together by a single bolo rope. As Batman finally reached them, they stirred out of their unconsciousness and looked up at the Caped Crusader.
"You should've taken my offer when you had the chance, Cobblepot," Batman spoke smugly.
"Especially since arms dealing is so mainstream."
Even though Cobblepot couldn't turn around, he knew who that voice belonged to. The figure that apprehended the two snipers and the Penguin, standing before them now was none other than…
"Batgirl," Penguin sneered.
Batgirl stood heroically behind them, with her fists planted on her hips. Her form fitting black outfit reflected off the light of the full moon that was hoisted up high in the dead night. Her gauntlets, boots and bat-symbol shined a rich gold, while her utility belt wielded the same hue but without the luster. Her black and yellow cape waved with the wind current, as did her red hair, which, along with her mouth and eyes, was the only thing that wasn't hidden by her black cowl that had smaller ears than that of her mentor.
"Have you alerted the police, Batgirl?" Batman asked with a deep, but less intimidating voice.
"Yeah, I called up Commissioner Gordon and he said he's bringing up some feds to get Penguin and his goons. I also alerted Christmas and Montoya to take care of all these guns," Batgirl said. Her voice was like that of a teenage girl, but still with more authority. "Shouldn't be long now, though."
As soon as she said that, sirens were blaring on the far side of the pier, followed by the sight of patrol cars and bright lights of blue and red.
"Well speak of the devil," Batgirl mentioned. She then picked up Penguin by the collar of his fur coat.
"Next stop: Blackgate."