Part II
The night rolls on as Commissioner Gordon surveys the evening's work by the Caped Crusaders. They'd left with nary a word or gesture towards him or his men, as if something were plaguing their minds. The glint reflecting off the Commissioner's glasses changes angles as he focuses away from the giant vat of mildly radioactive Promethium to the lone rope dangling above it. Obviously a trap had been laid and sprung. Gordon recalls his HAZMAT team mentioning a pair of green boots being found in the bottom of the vat. He shakes his head and sighs quietly to himself, "Not your finest hour, was it? I wonder why?"
…
Jet black and as sleek as the night it cuts through, the Batmobile glides across the streets of Gotham City, its high-tech engine barely making a sound while bypassing every speed limit. Within the vehicle its passenger gazes at the grim driver, weighing whether or not to risk a conversation. Finally he decides that if he never asks, he'll never know.
Robin takes a gulp of air and feigns a grin, "What happened back there?"
Batman doesn't turn his gaze from the windshield, choosing to keep his focus away from the boy when he answers, "What?"
"Promethium," Robin retorts, "he's a third rate head-case at most. He's no Joker, heck he's not even a Tweedledum, but he got the drop on us. How in the world did that happen?"
"We got sloppy," Batman replies, "it happens…"
Robin could scarcely believe his ears, "Bruce, what's wrong with you? YOU don't get sloppy, not like you did back there anyway. Me, I'm a kid, I'm learning, of course I'm going to screw it up once in a while. But the Batman never goes into a situation without a dozen ways of getting out of it…"
Batman blinks and it happens again. The road, the car, Robin, all dissolve away and a new vision appears, one that glows clear as day. Shortly after the Justice League had stopped an alien invasion he was invited by a valued team member for a visit with their family and friends. He remembers the open land and smiling faces, and something more. It was as if an ominous presence seemed to hover over them. Finally he asked his host about the wizened old man he had seen earlier in the visit, an old man who seemed to haunt their every movement thereafter, and a story began to unfurl…
"Wake up Batman!" a voice screams in his ear. He looks about and finds himself still securely strapped into the Batmobile, only now the car was angled in a ditch. They'd made it out of the city, they were almost home.
"You veered into oncoming traffic so I twisted the wheel back and slammed on the brake. Not quick enough I guess," Robin looks earnestly at an obviously shaken Batman, "You want to tell me about it?"
Batman shakes his head.
"I know this wasn't the first OR second time it's happened," Robin frowns.
Batman grins, "So how many times has it happened, Robin?"
"Don't turn this into one of your tests," Robin huffs as he gets out of the car. Batman unbuckles his safety harness and follows suit. Fortunately it's a desolate road and no one saw his faux pas. He moves to the back of the car and opens a hidden panel, then dislodges a strong cable from a powerful winch. He surveys the area and chooses a sturdy looking evergreen tree.
"So you're not going to tell me what's happening to you?" Robin calls.
Batman pauses, "Only after I've figured it out, Robin. Only after it makes some sense. Until then it's just rambling nonsense." He turns towards the tree, "Let's get the car out of here. Bruce Wayne has an important meeting in the morning."
…
A global research station situated on the outskirts of Gotham City can be found humming with life at all times of night and day. Its single most generous patron, Mr. Bruce Wayne, makes sure of this, and it's his urging that requires human eyes to survey these instruments, and human hands to operate them, even in the dead of night. It's Bruce Wayne that wants the data checked and rechecked constantly. Water volume samplings, air currents, temperatures and so on. Each member of the team simply believes they are aiding in the study of global climate change and that Wayne Enterprises are merely trying to stay ahead of the curve in environmental research and politics.
Few would dream that Wayne himself uses the data. Once transferred to his own personal system hidden deep beneath Wayne Manor, the data is entered into sophisticated computer algorithms designed to track any impromptu changes which could be classified as intergalactic or mystical in origin. The Batman is well aware that there are many ways for enemies to strike, and he tries his best to make allowances for each of these.
The current research station attendee groans as he notes a sudden spike in the water volume readout. There are numerous answers to this phenomenon, such as a glacier or iceberg nearing the sampling site, or some other foreign body causing the displacement of a great deal of water. He sighs, the most likely explanation, however, is that the equipment requires recalibration, a long and arduous task he does not look forward to.
Within the Batcave the selfsame data is noted and begins its algorithmic run. Alone it hardly merits further study and is placed in a holding pattern…
…
A hand rises up from the murky depths of Gotham Harbor and reaches out into the night air. He has swum for what seems like an eternity, and now, his energy spent, he finds a haven in the rung of a ladder. With a final resolve he grasps the metal outcropping and pulls himself up. Step by arduous step he climbs.
Partway up he removes the heavy scuba tanks and drops them into the water, as well as the flippers and goggles. They didn't matter anymore, soon he would be on land. Unfortunately, once on land there will be scant time to rest as he must contact the authorities and let them know that the weapon failed. If he can survive the encounter with mankind's ultimate weapon, then surely their adversary did as well. A sigh could be heard as he manages the final rung and pulls himself to the wooden planks of the pier. He falls to his knees and coughs before taking in his surroundings. There before him is the effervescent glow of a modern metropolis, however its sharp spires and grimy air seem to suggest it was more spawned of the nether realms rather than built by human hands. It's landmarks are unfamiliar and ominous to him, and the neon adverts tip him off to his locale...
"America?" he gasps, puzzled, "how did I get here?"
Regaining his legs he sets toward the inhospitable urban jungle. Regardless of how he arrived, he still must warn them of the danger nearby...
…
Daybreak in the city brings with it a hive of activity as its denizens stir from their evening doldrums, and Bruce Wayne is no different. Having already dressed and eaten he speeds out the front door of opulent Wayne Manor and into a waiting limousine. The limousine door is shut behind him and the driver soon seats himself and starts their journey.
"Good morning Alfred," Bruce calls from the back seat. As always in these situations Bruce couldn't catch a glimpse of Alfred, his middle-aged butler and confidant, until the limo was parked and waiting his arrival. It's Alfred's dedication that keeps the playboy persona of Bruce Wayne from dropping to the realm of farce. Alfred prepared the meal, the car, Bruce's wardrobe for the day, his itinerary and even a short speech for his perusal during the drive. And it's Alfred who has already set the Batmobile up for repairs and ushered a young Robin to school.
"Good morning, sir," Alfred dryly replies, fully immersed in his chauffeur's role.
"The power plant opening is first, right?" Bruce continues, undeterred.
"I'm certain you knew that it was, sir," Alfred replies, "unless you momentary lapses have affected your memory as well."
"You know?" Bruce starts. He then shakes his head, of course Alfred would know. Nothing escapes his scrutiny. Alfred's so much like his father in that regard.
Bruce decides to change the subject and reaches for the prepared speech…
…
"… and I would like to thank everyone who has made the trip and braved the weather for this outdoor unveiling. Wayne Enterprises, in partnership with Moriko Energy Dynamics, is pleased to present the world the very first in what it hopes to be a truly revolutionary solution to the global energy crisis. Behind me are literally millions of man-hours, billions of dollars, and the penultimate creation of a handful of true visionaries, led by the drive and energy of one man in particular. In this modern age the term renewable is tossed around, the term recyclable is mentioned a great deal, but few would dare go a step further. Everything taken from the Earth should be returned to the Earth. In short, ladies and gentlemen, what this structure represents is utilization of the world's first Perpetual Energy Device! Through an ingenious design this device can harness the power of a novel creation, Dynthenium. This element holds one incredible property, it decays and fuses itself back together endlessly. In short, Dynthenium is perpetual atomic motion, and our complex harnesses this power. For all technical details I will refer you to people much more adept than myself. I'm only here to push a button, so without further delay I give you Gotham's P.E.D!"
Bruce Wayne depresses a garishly large red button on the stage podium and the ominous white building behind him comes to life with coursing energy. There's a smattering of applause and numerous photography flashes at this moment. As the fervor dies down Bruce Wayne takes a step back as one of the more technology savvy members of the P.E.D collective takes the podium.
"Good morning, honored guests," the speaker begins, "although Mr. Wayne failed to introduce me," Bruce merely shrugs at the dig, seeing it merely as an opportunity to maintain the playboy image, "I am not deterred as his exuberance for this project has made it possible to stand before you all today, before what I would like to call my child. I am Professor Hiroshi Kobayashi I would like to thank everyone for attending…"
"Liar!" a voice calls out in the back of the throng in attendance. Already a pair of Commissioner Gordon's crowd control officers is moving in to deal with the interloper. Before they arrive the interloper continues his defiant shouting, "You can't be Hiroshi Kobayashi! You can't be him, because I AM!"
The officers take down the shouter and handcuff him. Almost in unison the crowd then turns its gaze back towards the podium, and a stunned looking Professor Kobayashi stands open mouthed as his wife grasps his arm and stands beside him.
"It's like looking in a mirror," he whispers, unable to grasp what has happened.
His wife gently touches his arm as she whispers, "He even sounded like you."
In all the excitement Bruce Wayne is nowhere to be found…
…
"Pull her in, damn you! Pull her in for all you're worth! Heave!"
In silent diligence they obey the barking commands of their Captain. They know his bark is worse than his bite, and each man knows that it's his uncanny sense for these waters that ensure a fine catch during fishing season. It's only a few more days and then they'll be home in Gotham Harbor, and then they'll be paid handsomely. Until then it's work across slippery decks and bounding seas.
The Captain peers across the sky and scratches his grizzled beard. He doesn't like the appearance of some clouds in the distance and steps into the communications room.
"Have you checked the weather reports yet?" he asks his communications officer.
The young man nods without removing his headset, "Aye, sir. Fair with partial cloud cover."
The Captain nods and turns away, but the officer continues before the Captain departs, "Sonar picks up something large below Captain."
The Captain is about to reply when one of his deck hands pokes his head in and calls, "Captain! Captain! The crew, well, you need to see this! Hurry!"
Both men scamper out of the control room and make their way down to the deck. What should have been a hive of activity was now eerily still with every man standing and staring at the large net they've hoisted onboard. Murmurs and whispers abound as the Captain approaches the net…
"Never seen anything like it before…"
"How on earth could it happen…"
"What does it mean…"
The Captain pauses, unable to express properly his amazement and horror. Within the massive fishing net were not one, not two, but three full grown, man-eating sharks. In all his years he'd never, ever been able to spy so many in a single catch. Occasionally one may get caught in their nets, but three is unheard of, especially so close to shore.
And yet that isn't as disturbing as the fact that one of the man-eaters was bitten clean in two. Only the tail half was onboard, a-washing the deck with its blood. He could make out the gashes where tooth bit into flesh and the communication officer's final words come to his mind.
"What should we do Captain?" the deck hand manages.
"Do?" the Captain cries, "Do? We put it back! We put it all back and the quicker the better!"
The men merely turn and look at each other, perplexed by the command. The Captain raises his arm and points at the carcass, "Whatever did this is in the water below. It was EATING and WE disturbed the meal! Now put it back before we end up on the menu!"
Too late. What feels like a giant wave turns their entire world upside down, tossing a few lucky sailors into the water, trapping others in the upturned ship. Then the apparent touch of a gigantic undertow pulls the entire fishing vessel into the briny deep, never to surface again.
Moments before the end the doomed communication officer manages to send out a single SOS. This message is intercepted and logged by the vast computer network situated below Wayne Manor. The data is inserted to a complex algorithm and soon encounters a previous bit of information in a holding pattern regarding earlier water volume measurements…