Possibly my fastest update ever. This is kind of a filler chapter to set up the events for later chapters.
And I have a very important Author's Note at the end of the chapter. PLEASE BE SURE TO READ!
I will update my profile page not long after I updated the story. Hope you guys enjoy!
Commissioner.
The title sounded alien, albeit familiar.
Commissioner Gordon.
Though Jim was still learning to adjust to his new ranking, the title overall felt...right.
It was interesting looking back now. Just two years ago, he had been a lower ranking Sergeant and with the help of a presumed vigilante, he had been promoted to Commissioner.
Course, just because the title of Commissioner changed hands didn't mean Gotham City had witnessed any distinct changes of progress. The mayor had shown considerable ambivalence towards the inner turmoil of the justice system since the attempt on his own life, Commissioner Loeb's death, Judge Surrillo's murder, and Harvey's downfall.
Therefore, the mayor left Gordon busy cleaning the streets of Gotham where Mr. Dent and Ms. Dawes had left off. The mob had all but disbanded after Maroni's untimely demise in a car incident and no one dared to re-ignite the dying flame of the mob gang after Joker had taken great amusement in picking off several head leaders.
Still, the mob's shadow of power didn't stop the would-be criminals from wrecking havoc on Gotham. Worst of all, many of the murderers and psychos that escaped Arkham two years ago were still on the loose, still slumming the decrepit alleys of the narrows.
However, in the past year, Gordon had been vigilant about putting the criminal back behind bars where they belong, including dirty lawyers and cops in the unit. And Gordon had only been able to do it with the aid from the same vigilante who had saved his life.
Yet that presumed vigilante was the one that Gordon was chasing. The Batman was seen as the reason for the chaos and the outbreak of vicious crimes throughout the city, even accused of several murders. And because of that, the people of Gotham were demanding his head.
With a sudden urgency, a knock pounded Gordon's office door. Before Jim could say a word edgewise, a rookie cop burst into the solemn office quarters, his voice an odd color of panic. "Commissioner? There's a disturbance in the lower east quadrant of the narrows. Dispatch just got a call from a frantic lady, describing one of the Arkham Asylum escapees."
Gordon didn't hesitate to react. Years of service and training to uphold the law had allowed him the focus to act and the clarity to think in such situations.
Hurried, the Commissioner pushed his chair back and rushed past the frazzled officer. "Come on, Chavez, let's move out." These days, any distraction that kept Gordon from arresting the Batman proved to be worthwhile.
The rotten smell of overflowing garbage permeated the air all around the sidewalks, a welcoming change from the smoggy air of the rooftops where he frequented.
He recognized these streets, knew them like the back of his hand. It was the bane of Gotham's existence; the scorned abomination that was a blatant sore on the city's eye. On this side of the bridge, there were no rules and no regard to authority.
Someone had once said that even the Batman feared the darkness of the narrows.
But it meant so much more to him than that. It had been the site where he drew his first blood and it would be the site of more to come.
Fortunately for him, the festering malice and pungent fear within the narrows made it the perfect breeding ground for some late night fun. Though, terrorizing that lady earlier in the evening had provided some marginal entertainment, he was looking for something a little more...naughty.
And he knew just the place.
Two blocks down on the corner of the street sat an old, abandoned orphanage. To any passerby, it seemed like an ordinary, rundown building that housed the homeless. But men who visited the narrows knew the orphanage really contained a debauch brothel just as criminals knew the brothel was a cover for street dealings in connection with the mob.
Yet somehow, he didn't think the mob mattered anymore.
Never a proponent of formalities, he barged straight through the creaky, wooden door, garnering the attention of the workers inside.
A half-naked woman with mussed hair and thick makeup stumbled out of a closed room and into the hallway, uncaring of her nudity and glassy eyed stare. "What the hell is going on? Who are you?" She seemed unsure if she should bother to call for help, attack him, or make a run for it. Either way, she couldn't do much of anything by the amount of drugs that were pumping through her system.
A man, her patron evidently, appeared behind her, his shirt still in tact but his trousers were missing. Ironically, he was wearing the remnants of a policeman uniform. "Come on, baby. My times not up yet." He voiced impatiently, using a harsh grip on her arm that was sure to leave bruises.
"Haven't I told your kind before not to come barging in here? It's hard enough keeping the cops away and even harder to keep them pleased." A haggard, elder lady with wise eyes bounded from the upstairs, her slender form slinking down the steps as if she had done so for decades. She reeked of cigarette smoke and a near palpable odor of numerous men; yet, her noble demeanor yielded a knowledgeable, crafty existence that only years of being a brothel's keeper could incite.
He wasted no time with minor chit-chat. He answered with a rough, gravelly voice."I want your best girl."
"Doesn't everyone? Listen, hun, she's busy with another client at the moment. But you're just in luck; we got a fresh one in this afternoon. You wanna break her in for me?" Her voice dripped with seduction, willing him to be enticed by her offer.
He snorted with distaste. It wasn't his first option but the girl wasn't a priority. He would take whatever he could get. Either way, they would suffer the same fate. "Fine."
"Follow me." Using a well manicured hand to coax him to follow, she directed him towards the upstairs and down a narrow hallway. "Second door on the left. If she does anything wrong, don't hesitate to show her the right way."
He made his way to the room without a sound, ready in anticipation for the fun to begin. Upon entering, he found the short, malnourished girl huddled near the window of the room, her slight build trembling. She turned slowly, her eyes wide with anxiety and trepidation. She sauntered towards him with a clumsy gawkiness, her body mimicking what she had been taught.
That's when he noticed the tell-tale needle marks on her arm.
She was drugged.
Well, it wasn't going to be much of a challenge like he had hoped but it would suffice.
She gestured him forward onto the bed, straddling his lap the moment he sat on the mattress. While she sat on his lap, he got a good look at her. Her limbs were small while her body and face still retained a certain roundness of youth. She couldn't have been older than sixteen years.
Young ones always had a tendency to be more squeamish. Maybe this would prove to be enjoyable after all.
"What's your name, big boy?" Her words slurred as she arched her chest forward provocatively yet her body still quaked on top of his. The drugs affected her enough to give her the courage to fulfill her duties but it belied her prominent fear.
"Bane." It had been his nickname on the street and in Arkham.
"Bane, what would you like my name to be?" She was reciting a script that had been memorized; he could hear it in the tremor of her voice.
"It doesn't matter." She would just be a nameless, faceless victim, much like the rest of them were.
"My name is Heather. T..tell me what you like." She seemed unsure of what to do with herself or with him. She kept squirming on his lap until he grabbed her hips to keep her still. He could gauge the alarm in her eyes, could sense her distress when she tensed at the contact.
"Let me show you." Rising from the bed in one movement, Bane tossed her onto her back against the mattress. Scrambling backwards, Heather's confusion became evident on her face and in her movements.
Bane leaned his head to the side and popped the crick in his neck.
"Let's play." Grabbing her ankle, Bane pulled her back to him. As she emitted a shriek, he wrapped a hand around her throat tightly, silencing the sound.
Heather clawed at his hand, desperate to pry him off of her. In response, Bane threw her against the wall, her left side making a sickening thud upon impact. Whimpering, she forced herself to sit up against the wall, shuttering from the effort she made. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came except for the pathetic, guttural sounds of anguish, no doubt the doing of Bane's assault. Forcing herself with weak effort, Heather began to crawl across the floor to the door, careful not to use the left side of her body. She kept her head down in a submissive and victimized gesture as her tears streamed to the sodden floor below.
Bane smirked with malign intent, satisfied with his effort so far.
With slow, predator steps, he advanced, his hulking form, a good foot taller than her own, loomed over her like an awaiting plague of death.
The drugs in her system made her clumsy, her eyes dilated wide with disorientation and her limbs slipping haphazardly on the floor.
He snatched Heather up by her negligee as if she weighed nothing more than a doll, holding her limp body high in the air to survey his prize. She hissed feeling the shadow of pain in her body as he lifted her, her face paling when she came face to face with her assailant. Upon knowing her impending death was approaching, Heather croaked with all the pain and sorrow of a little girl lost in the shuffle. "Please, don't kill me..."
His voice was crude and unforgiving yet his tone had a joyful lilt. "What is the loss of one prostitute in the scourge of the narrows?" He cracked his first smile since the moment he had arrived. It was grimy and menacing. And something misplaced about it made Heather cringe all the way down to the toes.
His words struck a chord, bringing to mind memories of a loveless childhood and a drug addicted mother that had pimped Heather out for a fix. He was going to kill her and not a soul would care.
Cause who could love a flimsy, scrimp of a child prostitute from the narrows? As far as the people of Gotham were concerned, it was a sign of fate answering an inevitable call that would save her from a life confined by destitution and rotting in a hell hole like the brothel.
There was nothing left for her now except a life of mind-numbing whore or to die by the hand of a stranger named Bane.
Shutting her teary eyes tight, Heather sucked in a short breath and steadied herself, resigned to embrace the freedom of complete darkness when he struck her.
But as the seconds ticked by, she was struck by no such final blow. Instead, his attention had been diverted to the threshold of the open doorway. In the shadows of the derelict hallways stood the sleek silhouette of a figure, a female figure at that.
Though Heather could not see her face, the woman spoke in a commanding tone that would not be ignored, her voice authoritative yet soothing to the ears. "Is there a problem?"
Bane didn't miss a beat. "Not at all. I was just showing your new girl the ropes." It occurred to Heather that this was not the first time he had pulled such a trick. However, Heather feared that it might not register with the woman since the bruises that were sure to be on the young girl's body had yet to materialize.
The woman stood unrelenting, dubious of his claims. "Don't let me stop you. I'm just here to watch her progress."
Yet no one was as surprised by the woman's words as Heather.
Bane wound his arms around the limp girl with a firm grip to stifle the woman's temperament, a move that spoke volumes of barely restrained violence. "I don't think so. If you'll excuse us, we were just getting to the good part."
Unwelcome by Bane, the statuesque woman entered the room without permission, coming fully into the dim light. Heather eyes widened in with innocent relief and a spark of hope. The woman had been one of the more experienced prostitutes that had trained her earlier.
Her name was Selina.
Though Selina wore only a skimpy, black robe that covered the essentials, she stalked proudly around the room, her aura radiating a slight undertone of danger that hung in the air with discomfort. It reminded Heather of a tiger circling its prey. "I think you're done. You should leave."
"I have a better idea. How about you go back to your room and I'll let you live?" He bit off tartly, certainly in no mood to have a whore with attitude try to run him out.
"If you don't leave then I'll make you." Her voice held an acidic, undeniable threat as she circled around him with sly, formulated precision. She reached for an object curled around her waist.
"Try me." Honing and controlling his rage, Bane flung the meager girl aside as the monster inside him strained to be unleashed on the audacious prostitute. He rolled his neck around and straightened his shoulders, charging towards the autocratic minx with eagerness.
With stealthy reflexes, Selina maneuvered out of his direct path, passing by the swing of his fists with effortless grace.
A tug from her hip produced a cat o' nine tails, the likes of which she wielded with unmatched proficiency. Waving her arm and snap her wrist in a concentrated movement, the nine tails cracked with a vindictive attack as they struck Bane on the arm and torso. The result left his shirt sliced with angry, puckering red marks left in the wake of her assault.
"I won't ask you again. So leave or I promise the next blow will draw blood." The threat was not without promise as the stripes on Bane's torso began to throb in a dull soreness. He grunted in a loathsome manner, acrimonious that she could evade and then strike him so easily.
Bane lashed out again with balled fists and heavy arms, daring her to attack him.
Recoiling with a learned expertise, Selina avoided his wide, boorish punches by dodging and twisting in alternate directions to baffle him. With a sudden vigor, the cat o' nine tails lambasted Bane with ten fold the power of before.
Lifting his arm, the stocky Bane roared as the taunt leather of the tails wrapped around his arm, breaking the skin below several layers and producing trickles of blood. Grinning wickedly, he turned his arm further into the whip and wrenched her end further into him.
The force had Selina lurching forward but she held tight, unrelenting to his massive weight.
Thankfully, a distraction manifested itself and became her most beneficial move.
Blaring sirens of police cars echoed in the distance, nearing with loud clarity at every passing second. Edgy and alert, Bane cast a brief look out the window before he re-engaged eye contact with his opponent. Selina understood his body language as she herself had flirted with that same situation before. "Looks like your friends are coming." Her silky voice inadvertently pointed out the possibility that he could lose this fight, either because of her, the cops, or maybe both.
At least a dozen police cars could be heard fast approaching, their sirens a shrill, scathing sound to the damned of the narrows.
They came to a screeching halt a few doors down from the orphanage.
A breath of reluctance was the only indication that he had processed her words; then Bane released the whip.
"I'll see you again." It was a promise, not a request. He would finish what he started one way or another.
As he unwillingly withdrew from the fight and out the door, he crossed paths with the elder lady, the brothel's keeper, who rushed down the hallway in a panic, pounding on doors and screaming. "Police! It's the Commissioner! Police!"
Gathering her nine tails, Selina motioned to exit the premises when a outstretched hand captured her ankle to stop her. With fierce, unwavering eyes, she turned to find badly beaten Heather crawling on her belly, begging for a reprieve.
"Please, help me!" Heather's insufferable plea of weakness caused a nauseated, churning sensation in Selina's stomach. She had already saved the slip of a girl once. The older woman scoffed in apathy.
"Learn to help yourself first, kitten." Selina brushed off the comment and the young girl with courteous indifference, spoken like a true vamp of experience.
The fire exit on the side of the building had proved to be most useful, both with quiet escapes and late night rendevous. Yet in haste, most of the other women had forgotten its existence. So while cops were arresting and detaining prostitutes flooding out the front and back doors of the brothel, Selina performed her own disappearing act by climbing the iron grates and bounding to neighboring rooftops.
For her part, she was undetected by the lawmen but the small backpack she carried and her lack of clothing significantly slowed her pace. Though, she had thrown on her cat eyed goggles in order to counteract the blinding lights of the patrol cars and street lamps, Selina progressed only a mere block away before someone else caught up to her.
"So we meet again." That unmistakable voice uttered, followed by a giddy laugh that unsettled her nerves.
"Nygma." She breathed, disbelieving at the gall he had and surprised by his bold address. Their last encounter had only been three days prior.
"I'm pleased you remember. My, you are a striking. Though, I'm sorry to say, we couldn't meet in more formal attire." He nodded with a polite wave of his hand at her missing clothing. However, being exposed didn't faze Selina; it was his blatant approach that discomforted her.
"Why are you here?" Her voice was deep, compelling and questioning, all obvious signs of someone throughly annoyed.
"I would ask you the same. That place seems so...uncouth for such an exquisite person." Gesturing at the brothel, he strode with a superior air of arrogance and pride along the edge of the rooftop casually, keenly aware yet avoiding the danger of the building's height.
She didn't answer. It was her business and hers alone with how she chose to spend her nights, whether it be with a stranger or on the rooftops of Gotham.
He took her cue of silence as an invitation for continuous banter. "You don't strike me as the silent type. Tell me, Catwoman. What falls but never breaks? And what breaks but never falls?"
Her beautiful features contorted into a veil of distaste. "I don't have time for this." She pushed past him, disregarding his question and unceremoniously ending her part of the conversation.
"Come now, surely you can provide me with an answer. Here, as I am generous enough, I will allow you clue. The answers are on opposite ends of the same spectrum, all within the span of earth and time." Edward made a valiant effort to engage her by giving her an advantage, as if he might be doing her a favor, but to no avail.
"I don't know." His persistence was beginning to make her consider implementing the use of the cat o' nine tails on her hip.
"You don't know or you don't wish to answer?" He called her bluff outright.
"Both." Selina freely admitted to the admission, hoping to quell the disturbed man's sense of fun.
"What if I can offer you something in return for your answer?" The slight annunciation and innuendo was meant to leave her wondering, intrigued by what he could be offering.
"There is nothing you have that I want." It was her final reply. She didn't budge, using scarce movement even while she breathed. Perching on the precipice of the building, she prepped herself for the physical act of leaping the skyline terrain.
Whether he wanted to admit to her or not, she possessed a talent that he needed and he refused to forfeit her so carelessly. "Physically, no, I have nothing. But what I do have is a proposition. I know the mob is in dire need of assistance and I have an insurmountable hold on information that could provide some leverage."
Entice her, he did not. "I've dealt with the mob long enough, thank you."
"Then you must have a debt with them. It is the only conclusive answer as to why someone of your caliber would be in the mob's drug and prostitution ring." After the Catwoman character had vanished from his balcony, it set the wheels of Edward's mind in accelerated motion, a dangerous prospect indeed. Now, he simply needed her to aid in his devious idea. Therefore, if the cat wouldn't relent, he would use his gift of perception to win her over.
She stopped her survey of the pillaring roofs cold. Her body language read a dangerous level of agitation and discretion, her answer filled with bitter spite. "Careful where you tread, Nygma. I don't take kindly to accusations."
Ah, so he had struck a nerve. Perfect.
"Please, call me Riddler. And what I am offering you is the opportunity of a lifetime. You'll be free of the mob and receive due pay for your participation." Her nature reflected the value of freedom without allegiance above all else. If she truly was in cohorts with the mob, there was undoubtably a contract involved.
Thus, with the power of his leverage and in return for her sly abilities, the cat could free herself from the confinements of the mob.
However, for Selina, it all sounded too good to be true. Therefore, it meant there was a hefty price to be paid. "What's the catch?"
"I want your full cooperation and an answer to my riddle." He felt it was an adequate price. After all, she seemed akin to be quite the little unpredictable minx.
It was a steep price without a doubt and she compromised herself for no one. Still, she was willing to take the risk. "I promise you nothing. But I'll take you up on the offer." The icy tone of her voice signaled her stubbornness and refusal to change her mind.
Riddler understood that it was the best answer he would pry out of her. But there was still the matter of his other demand. "Only if you can answer my riddle."
She took a deep breath, mulling over the possibilities for more than a few moments. She made a few passing guesses that were less than spectacular in Edward's point of view but it finally clicked around the third answer. "Night and Day. Night falls and day breaks."
"Ah, yes. But my interest lies with only the first part of the answer. And if night is parallel with darkness as from your deduction in our earlier encounter...." The unfinished sentence drifted on the smoggy breeze of the midnight air as he waited patiently for her conclusive analogy.
"Then darkness falls." As much as it disconcerted her, Selina believed that she was actually starting to understand Nygma in some way.
The sinful grin creased his mouth in the enlightenment of a calculated scheme. "As darkness will fall on Gotham. Here's the plan...."
Important Author's Note: Just so you guys know Bane has no significance in this story line. I just threw him in there because I figured in the realistic Nolan universe of Batman, he would be the most appropriate kind of villian that would have already been locked up in Arkham prior to the first movie.
So don't expect him to have a big role in the story. Thanks!