Knight of Gotham: Split
CHAPTER I
As Slade drove down the road, he looked this way and that for any oncoming police cars. "There's no way they haven't put a BOLO out on me," he said to himself. He checked his rearview mirror for the fourteenth time in as many minutes. "You're just paranoid," he said, again to himself, "Just calm down. Drive normally." He wiped his brow, beads of sweat rolling down his face. He looked at his speedometer, realizing he was way over the speed limit. He slowed down, entering a part of the city filled with different shopping centers. He parked in front of a JC Penny, getting out and saying, "I need new clothes." The store was closed, but that wouldn't stop someone like him. He carefully picked the lock on the door, deactivating the alarm. He went inside, going to the men's section. There he found expensive suits, including Armani and Gucci. He tried on several, looking at himself in the mirror each time. Eventually, he decided to go with an Armani. "Looks good," he said. He then proceeded to raid the cash registers with just enough for gassing up the car and other essentials. With that, he walked out, heading to the car. He jumped in, starting it and driving out of the parking lot. The suit somehow made him feel more at ease, and so he drove like it was a normal day. The rest of the night consisted of driving aimlessly and refilling when needed. He couldn't risk staying anywhere. When morning came, he went to Wal-Mart to buy some breakfast. He simply bought a sandwich, walking to a register. The girl behind the register looked at him, her eyes widening.
Slade began to fear that she recognized him as the now-famous doctor killer, but she whispered excitedly, "Are you Jesse Spencer? What are you doing here?" Slade didn't respond for a second, not really knowing who it was that the girl seemed to think he was. But he responded anyway, "Oh, I'm just passing through." "Oh, I love your accent!" said the girl excitedly. Luckily, both Jesse Spencer and Slade were native Australians, and so one could pass off as the other. "Thanks," said Slade, wanting to get out of there. The girl rang up the sandwich, saying, "Okay, that'll be three dollars and thirty-two cents, Mr. Spencer." She laughed giddily as Slade handed her the money. "Well, thank you," said Slade with a fake smile. The girl laughed again, saying, "You're very welcome, Mr. Spencer." Slade walked out, getting in the car and saying, "Jesse Spencer? I don't even know…" He started driving down the road once again. "Time to head for some big business," he said. He was near the city limits when a large black SUV suddenly pulled out in front of him. Slade slammed on the brakes, but that didn't help. He careened into the car, the airbag deploying and hitting him in the face. The blow knocked him unconscious. As he was knocked out, two men in sunglasses and suits pulled him from the car, putting a hood over his face and throwing him into the back of a black van. They hopped in, closing the doors and saying to the driver, "Let's get him to the boss." The driver nodded, driving away from the scene of the crash.
Slade woke up in darkness. At least, that's what he thought it was, until the hood was pulled off his head. The sudden bright lights made him squint. He said angrily, "What is this, a 007 movie?" "Quite the opposite, Mr. Wilson," said an unseen woman. She stepped out from the shadows a second later. Slade stared. She had perfect dark skin, silky black hair drawn back into a tight bun, and she was wearing a business dress along with high heels. The final piece of her outfit: a .45 caliber handgun in her left hand, aimed directly at Slade's face. All the other people in the room were armed with the same weapon and dressed just as sharp. "All right, all right, what is it you want?" asked Slade, annoyed. "I want your particular services," said the woman. "Who's paying?" asked Slade, suddenly interested. "That's not pertinent," said the woman, "All that is…is how much we're paying." She held up a check. Slade raised his eyebrows, saying, "That's a lot of money." "Which is exactly why we expect you to take this job," said the woman. "What is the 'job', anyway?" asked Slade. "Like I said, we need your particular services," replied the woman. "Yes, I realize you want someone dead," said Slade, "But who?" The woman said, "Here's his photo." She held up his target's picture. Slade said, "Looks pretty clean-cut. What's your problem with him?" "He's not as clean-cut as he seems," said the woman, "That's why. Also, keep in mind he doesn't look exactly like this anymore." "Got it," said Slade, "I'll find him. Do I kill him right away?" "That's not required," said the woman, "Only observe him at first. You need a probable cause, at least, if you want to kill him." Slade nodded, ready.
"What happened to him?" asked Slade suddenly. The woman said, "You'll find out if you ask him. Then again, it's not too hard to tell." "Interesting," said Slade, "So, to be clear, it'll be my decision as to when I kill him?" "Unless you take too long," said the woman, "And all you need to know about him…he's inside the Gotham city limits. That is all. Time to go to sleep." As one of the men in suits walked up behind Slade with a cloth, Slade said, "Oh, you're talking about chloroform, aren't y…" The man in the suit forcefully placed the cloth over Slade's face. After a few seconds, he withdrew it. Slade was still awake, saying, "Real funny." He looked back at the man in the suit, saying, "You might want to douse that thing a little more. It's…difficult to knock me out." The man did as Slade said, and by this time the fumes were enough to make the man woozy. He put it over Slade's face once more, and right before he went unconscious, Slade said, "G'day, mates." The woman said, "Keep tabs on him. If he doesn't find his target soon enough, take him out and find someone else." "Yes, Ms. Waller," said one of the men in suits. A few hours later, Slade woke up on a park bench, dressed as a homeless person, albeit with a smart phone. It rang, and Slade answered it, saying, "You couldn't have just dropped me in a penthouse?" "I don't think you'd really prefer that," said Ms. Waller. Slade nodded, saying, "You're right. At least I'm lying low this way. Wait a minute." He felt his hair. It was short and choppy, not at all how he usually styled it.
Angry, Slade said loudly, "You SUCK! What did you do to my hair?!" Ms. Waller said, "Well, a homeless man can't have too nice of a haircut, can he?" "Yes, he CAN," said Slade, angrier, "I bet you're smiling on your end, aren't you?" "See for yourself," said Ms. Waller. Slade looked all around, eventually seeing Ms. Waller sitting on a bench about fifty yards away. She was, in fact, smirking. Slade immediately lifted his middle finger high in the air, like a beacon of offensiveness. He lowered it after a few seconds, and Ms. Waller said, "Now that you've vented properly, I'll let you know that we have supplied you with all you need." Slade looked up and all around once more, saying, "I don't see anything! What are you talking about?" Ms. Waller said, "Look about three hundred feet to the west." Slade did as he was told, seeing a mausoleum. "You want me to kill this guy with some dead guy's arm, or what?" asked Slade. "It's not what's in the mausoleum," said Ms. Waller, "It's what's beneath it. Check your left back pocket." Slade reached into it, pulling out a small remote with a single button. "And this does…?" said Slade. "Walk to the mausoleum," said Ms. Waller. Slade, though at this point skeptical, was still curious, and so he listened and obeyed. When he reached it, he said, "So I just push the button now, I'm guessing?" "Yes," said Ms. Waller. Slade looked down at the remote and then back up at the entrance to the mausoleum, sighing. He pushed the button, and he heard a shifting from inside the mausoleum, like rocks scraping up against each other.
Slade looked around one last time, making sure no one was watching him aside from Ms. Waller. He then proceeded to open the mausoleum. It was incredibly dark on the inside. "Go inside," said Ms. Waller. Slade, though slightly suspicious, turned and walked inside, closing the door behind him. Immediately, lights flickered on. He found himself three feet from recently dead bodies on either side. He coughed, the stench overwhelming. He looked down at the floor, seeing an open spot with stairs leading into darkness. Slade walked down the stairs cautiously, his hands up in case he needed to defend himself. He reached the bottom of the stairs in a few seconds, realizing it suddenly felt as if he was in a larger space than before. He held the phone up to his ear, saying, "Do I still get a signal down here?" "Yes," said Ms. Waller, "Are you down the stairs?" "Yeah," said Slade, "Now what?" Ms. Waller said, "Turn to your left. There's a light switch on the wall." Slade did as Ms. Waller said, feeling his way around the wall to his left, until his hand landed on what felt like a switch. He flipped it upwards, and the room lit up. He turned, seeing he was in a room about the size of an average apartment. The walls were lined with TV monitors and computers. Directly opposite from Slade, there stood a large, black, ornate, wooden cabinet. "This is nice," said Slade, "But you could've made this a man cave. That would have been more fun." "That's not what we're concerned with, Mr. Wilson," said Ms. Waller. Slade rolled his eyes.
A second later, Ms. Waller said, "I saw that." Shocked, Slade stood completely still, looking around. "But…" he began. Ms. Waller said, "Look in the corner in front of you." Slade looked, seeing a security camera. "Of course," said Slade, "Can't let a mercenary run amok without proper surveillance." "If you could, Mr. Wilson," said Ms. Waller, "please refrain from flipping me off again." "Quite the challenge, if I do say so myself," said Slade, still severely annoyed, "Now, do I take a look in that cabinet, there?" "Yes," said Ms. Waller, "I think you'll be quite pleased." Slade approached it, opening up its left side. He smiled, seeing all manner of weaponry. His favorite, however, was set carefully in the center. He pulled it out. It was a large, well-made broadsword. Slade put the phone on speaker and set it on a nearby desk. He then ran one hand down the sword's blade, firmly grasping the hilt with his other hand. He whispered happily, "Damascus steel. Nice." "Indeed," said Ms. Waller, "It's hand-made." Slade laughed, saying, "I think I'm actually starting to like you." "I'm afraid the feeling isn't mutual," said Ms. Waller. "All right, woman," said Slade, "Way to ruin the mood." "The 'mood', as you put it, isn't my priority," said Ms. Waller. "You know what?" said Slade, "I'm done with that. What else do I have?" "Are you rushing me because you want to stop talking to me?" asked Ms. Waller, seemingly amused. Slade rolled his eyes again, saying, "What else do I have?" "Look in the right side," said Ms. Waller. Slade put the sword back in its place, closing the left side and opening the right.
"Do you remember your old ASIS uniform?" asked Ms. Waller, as Slade's jaw dropped. The suit that stood before him was modeled exactly like his old uniform, with a design focused primarily on stealth. The armor that would go around his chest was made of carbon fiber, and was colored pitch black. Plating was included on black military cargo pants and combat boots. The piéce de résistance was a sleek, black mask. Slade looked at it for a few seconds, eventually grabbing it. He held it in his hands, seeing how the mask was made. "Reminiscing?" asked Ms. Waller. "No," said Slade, "This just reminds me of an old job." Ms. Waller hung up, and Slade smirked, still staring at the mask.