SON OF SADY
Chapter One – Conception of a Madman – Part 1.
DISCLAIMER: All characters contained herein are copyright (c)2000 by DC Comics Inc. and are used here without permission for non-profit, fan fiction entertainment only. No copyright infringement is intended.
With infinite fortitude, the cloaked figure stood shrouded atop the Clocktower, his gaze transfixed on the distant penitentiary they called Blackgate. Far below, on the deserted, dimly lit streets and alleys of Old Gotham, the few who were brave or foolish enough to walk these parts at such an hour, could be forgiven for raising their gaze to the glowing face of the clock and leave the Detective unnoticed. Only a trick of light would discern the black cowl against the night.
The Batman was neither concerned with the citizens of Gotham nor whether he was sighted. He traced the path of squad cars and Gordon's classic Plymouth, headed for Blackgate. As they approached the heavily guarded entrance, he lightly brushed a muscular finger against his belt. Momentarily, his eyesight enhanced by the magnified vision afforded by the retracting black slivers set into his mask, he watched his friend Gordon lead his posse into the penitentiary. For the first time since he had alighted on his rooftop vigil, the Dark Knight moved, stepping into the waiting abyss and allowed the cold bite of the wind to transform his cloak into a billowing carapace and carry him toward his destination.
Jim Gordon cursed under his breath. He watched the approaching shadow of the Bat against the moonlit sky and made a mental note to berate his men. The signal should have been lit the moment he left GCPDHQ. His men were getting sloppy. He spoke to his man at the gate.
"You see him? Let him in when he arrives. He won't be long." The officer nodded, lit a cigarette and settled in for a long night. He had seen the dark shadow flitting across the sky, the smoke more to calm the shivers the approaching shadow had evoked than to break the boredom.
Doctor Elliot Bannerman looked dishevelled, despite his attempts to contain his unkempt hair. As the incumbent Head of this maximum security installation, he did not relish having to explain the disappearance of Blackgate's most notorious inmate to the approaching Commissioner. And to make matters worse, his staff had just informed him of the imminent arrival of The Bat. If it was left to him, he would not allow that flying freak within a mile of his premises. He had crossed paths with The Batman only once, literally as he passed him in the corridor of the GCPDHQ. Like many before him, he was astonished at the size of the man – the enveloping cloak adding to the effect. But it was not the sheer breadth of him that unnerved the doctor; it was the weight of his presence. As if Death himself were gliding through the hallways, he moved with a single purpose toward the target of his visits, neither looking at passers-by, staring in awe or engaging in banter. On reflection he had never spoken to him or heard his voice. As far he could remember, The Batman had never spoken to reporters or given interviews. The doctor would have no hesitation in declaring this man a psychopath; he needed to be locked deep inside Arkham along with the rest of the loons.
Commissioner Gordon approached with a single intent apparent on his grim features. "Who have you spoken with about this?" Bannerman shook his head vehemently.
"Nobody" He protested. "What do you mean?"
"Press? DA? Anyone?" Gordon looked the man up and down, noticing that the man had probably been dragged out of his bed at this ungodly hour. He had to be sure that this was contained. The last thing he needed was panic on the streets. Bannerman shook his head again, just as vigorously. "Good. Let's keep it like that…I don't have to remind you when he was last out…" Gordon interrupted himself looking back over his shoulder as a hubbub among the meagre night staff and his men ensued. The doctor looked over the Commissioner's shoulder and although expecting his presence, was startled as the Dark Knight appeared from the darkness beyond the entrance and into the holding area, like a phantom appearing out of thin air. Bannerman shuddered, reminded of the sensation he always felt when crossing a busy road and feeling the proximity of a speeding car close behind his back as he reaches the sidewalk just in time. He hated that feeling. He hated The Batman. And now, his eyes were searching his, a full twelve inches above his ruffled pate. For the first time, he heard is voice; deep, strong, menacing, guttural – yet quiet; so quiet.
"You Bannerman?" The face was vacant and expressionless and the doctor felt insignificant in the presence of him. He mustered up the courage to retort.
"Doctor Bannerman. Yes."
"Stay here." Batman looked at the Commissioner and the doctor studied the mask. He noticed for the first time the length of the pointed ears. Much longer than he expected, they gave his face a devil-like appearance. "Jim?"
Gordon led the way to the lifer's cells, two floors below ground level. The doctor looked after them. As they departed, he shouted after them. "Commissioner, what shall I tell the press if they arrive." It was The Bat that answered.
"Nothing"
Sady's cell stood open in the north-easternmost corner of the second floor below ground. Gordon was standing at reception signing himself and Batman in as visitors whilst The Detective had already started to do what he did best. He was already in Sady's cell when Gordon walked over with the visitor's passes. As he approached the cell, Batman's voice warned him away.
"You may not want to see this Jim." Gordon stopped for a moment. What could be worse than the state of the countless victims The Joker had left him? A baptism he had endured many years ago. He continued warily and stood at the entrance to Sady's cell. Batman was kneeling close to one of the three victims that had been 'arranged' in the cell – one was a night shift guard and the other two were orderlies; both female. Gordon's revulsion was not due to their nakedness; more so the positions in which they had been arranged.
The male guard had been killed with two distinct lacerations. One extended across this abdomen from left to right. The other across his right wrist. The result was that the lower half of the man and his entire right hand were coated in crimson congealed blood giving the appearance that he had been dipped in blood to the waist and his right hand inserted in the same. Across his chest, a pentagram with a cross had been daubed in blood. He hung against the wall, suspended by the neck by his bed linen, so that he appeared to be standing upright. On either side of him were seated the two female orderlies on standard issue steel chairs. To the guard's right, the poor woman exhibited a gaping wound directly at the point of the heart. The finger's of the suspended guard's bloodied right hand had been inserted into the wound. The second female sat in her chair with face turned up toward the ceiling. Her throat had been cut and with a piece of wire, her index fingertip had been attached to the left index fingertip of the hanging guard. If the scene were not so grotesque, one might interpret this as a human sculpture fashioned by The Beast himself. Gordon stepped out of the cell. "Jesus". The single word alerted The Batman to Gordon's arrival and he followed him out. He looked at his friend for a moment grimly, before he spoke.
"You OK?"
"I will be." Gordon needed a moment. "What do you make of it?"
"Sady's capable of this…" Gordon detected the hesitation in his voice. There was doubt there.
"But?"
"I don't know. Something. The way they've been positioned. Just not like him. Sady takes his victims with him. Takes his time. And never more than one at a time. It's a completely different MO. Something's not right – it doesn't fit."
"He's been in here for a long time. Maybe he's had time to come up with new ways…" He was reaching. It had to be Sady. He had escaped after all. But he knew that The Detective was onto something. Sady would never have stuck around to do this. He would have killed two of them and taken one with him; probably one of the women. Then he would have taken months to torture her and drive her mad before dispensing with her. What could this mean? The Batman looked at him finishing the thought.
"No. Not Sady. This is something else. We need Klaus on this one." Gordon shook his head as soon as he had said it.
"Forget it. You know Klaus is out of the picture now. After what this bastard did to him and his. Can you blame him? He won't work on this again."
"Where is he?" He was determined, Gordon could see that. Sometimes Gordon wondered if this man had a conscience left at all.
"I think he lives out in Wisconsin somewhere. Went back to live with his mother I think. Took some teaching job at the University out there or something. He won't come back, I'm telling you."
"He knows Sady better than any of us. We need him. I'll find him." Gordon flinched away instinctively as the huge frame turned quickly sending his cloak lashing out across the room. He called after the departing figure.
"For God's sake! Leave the man alone! Don't you think he's been through enough!"
His words fell on deaf ears. His masked colleague was not interested in the sensibilities of this psychopath's only surviving victim. He wanted his quarry and he would go to any length to find him. Gordon hung his head and sighed. Sometimes, he wished there was no Batman and they did things by the book.
The slight figure stood looking at the bound man in the chair. The bright light behind him silhouetted his feminine frame; the movement of his thin wispy hair accentuated by the trick of the light. His eyes closed, he thought of times gone by as he waited for the seated figure to regain consciousness. He remembered the pleading, which soon turned to curses when unanswered. He had been ignored when he needed them the most. Both of them.
Please Lord. Don't let them go through this. I will do anything you ask. Anything…only not this. Take me instead.
And when his pleas had fallen on deaf ears, he did the only other thing he could do.
Oh Lord. Hear me. I shall devote myself to Thee. Take me as your own and I will serve Thine ends. Spare them and I offer you my soul.
And yet there was no reprieve. None.
And now the bound figure was awake. And fearful. And at his mercy.
At long last.