OooooO
The darkness in Gotham was rarely disturbed so late into the night, but tonight a shadow moved across the rooftops of the Narrows. Gothams most rundown district was home to many underprivileged families and abandoned buildings. The shadow ran, jumping over a gap between buildings, and landed in a crouch on a ledge overlooking what was supposed to be one of the many abandoned buildings.
This building was the source, or at least one of them, of the drugs that flooded Gothams streets. One hard blink of the eye activated the special contact lenses in the shadows eyes making the world around him turn blue. He scanned the building looking for a source of power, which he found on the roof. On his shoulders was a cape made from thick black cloth, with a touch it hardened allowing the shadow to freely glide to the other rooftop.
The power box on the roof was only guarded by a simple padlock. With great strength the shadow grabbed hold of the cabinet door and pried it loose, the pad lock snapping off as he pulled the door off of its hinges. A few wires ripped out of the box, and the building inside was left in darkness as the power went off.
OooooO
The interior of the building was one of the largest drug labs in the city, it was also a main source of income for the Bravta. Dozens of people at their stations worked, most of them vagrants who needed the work. Some cooked up the various narcotics while others packed them into bags labeled with the Brava emblem. There was a constant stream of armed guards patrolling, mostly to keep the works from using the products instead of just making them.
The workers stopped when lights suddenly cut out. Many lifted their clear goggles off of their eyes with rubber gloved hands, looking around in the darkness. The darkness was broken by the guards who all carried flashlights. "Get back to work." The head guard, Victor commanded in his heavy Russian accent. "Piotr, get the lights." When the other guard didn't respond Victor added. "Piotr?"
"Over here!" One of the other guards shouted. His flashlight was pointed up. Victor shined his light up where the other guard light was, and there was Piotr hanging upside down silent and unmoving. He gently swung back and forth suspended by his ankle by a black cord.
Victor was unsure why, but he slowly moved his light upwards, and he saw it. Hanging upside down above Piotr was a creature, large and black with long pointed ears and deep white eyes. It just stood there, upside down, staring at them. One of the other guards panicked and opened fire, the shots from his sub-machine gun lighting up the dark as the workers ducked under their tables for protection. Victor stood unblinking, as the creature disappeared into the dark.
The guards search around, finding nothing. Then Victor heard a yell along with a burst of gun fire, then silence. Victor found the guard who had just fired slump up against the wall, still with blood trailing from his head up the wall. Victor heard something move behind him. He turned about face and unloaded a burst from his MP5 into the darkness.
There was a crash of glass and wood. Victor found another guard in the middle of the broken remains of one of the tables, broken glassware and equipment covering him. "Who is left?" Victor called to the other guards. No one answered.
Victor heard the swift rustle moving behind him again, and once again he turned around and fired the sub-machine gun and again again it nothing but some concrete wall on the opposite side of the room. Cursing, Victor threw down his now empty MP5 and drew his sidearm. He heard the noise again, and again he fired into the dark, but this time he heard a soft tump. This time Victor had hit something.
Moving his flashlight Victor saw it. The creature was on the floor still. Victor slowly stepped up to it, ready to fire again if moved. Then it's white eyes snapped open, and with inhuman speed it sprang up. The shadowy creature grabbed hold of Victors arm, his gun flying out of his hand in to the dark. The flashlight fell from Victors other hand as the creature twisted his arm, snapping the bone in two. Victor cried out in pain, but it was short lived. The next second the Russian gangster was flying up into the air, and the second after that he was hitting the ground, hard.
The creature leaned over him and in a growling voice said. "Where is your boss!"
"I don't," Victor started but as soon as he said the second word the creatures foot slammed down onto Victors broken arm.
"Where is he!" The creature yelled over Victors agony.
"He has meeting, we don't know where." Victor said through pain induced tears.
"Now go to sleep." The creature growled. The last Victor saw of it was its fist coming down at him.
OooooO
The Gotham City Police Department arrived less than twenty minutes later, arresting most of the people inside the drug den. The ones who weren't arrested, the guards mostly, were being sent to Gotham General Hospital for broken bones, shock, and head trauma.
Vice detectives Gordon and Bullock were on the scene. "Biggest drug bust on the east coast in the last five years." Said Bullock. "The workers claim that they saw, get this, a giant bat like creature taking down the Russians."
"Two drug related incidents with this 'bat creature' in one night." Gordon said. "I don't like this."
"Which part?" Bullock asked. "That are jobs were done for us, or that you were wrong about this bat thing?" Gordon didn't answer his partner, but he did ponder the question on on the entire ride back to the thirty-second precinct. "I don't know about you Gordon, but I'm checking out for the night." Bullock said as they pulled up to the station. "You need a ride?"
"No, I'm going to get started on the paperwork." Gordon said as he left the car.
"Don't work too hard," Bullock called after him. "You'll make me look bad!"
"G'night Harv." Gordon called back. The precinct was quiet at night often with a skeleton crew of about four to five officers that were ready to answer an emergency call. No one bothered him on his way to the office he shared with Bullock. Gordon entered the office, closed the door behind him and rubbed his tired eyes under his glasses. He flipped the light switch like he had done a thousand times, but the lights didn't go on. He flipped the switch a couple more times and still nothing happened.
That's when Gordon saw something in the dark. A shadow stood in the dark corner, the only thing visible were its white eyes that stared back at him. Instinctively Gordon drew his sidearm, but in the half second he took his eyes off of the shadow it had crossed the distance between them, grabbing Gordon's arm and twisting the gun out of his hand.
Holding his wrist Gordon watched as the shadow retreated back into the corner, placing the now disassembled pistol on Gordon's desk. Then it spoke. "Lester Buchinsky is flooding the streets with drugs," It's voice a growl. "Why has no one brought him in?"
It wanted to talk? Gordon was hesitant, but he spoke. "We arrested him twice, but there was never enough evidence to convict him. There's never enough evidence to get any of them, and what we get is too general for a direct link. And even if we could, no D. convict."
"What if I brought you a enough evidence to link Buchinsky to his crimes?" The shadow asked.
"Wouldn't you rather just break his arm?" Gordon asked almost sarcastically.
"I didn't say I wouldn't."
"We'd still need a D.A. who will convict."
"I'm sure you'll find someone. You're one of the only good cops left."
When the shadow turned to the window, Gordon found himself stopping it. "Wait, who are you. Why are you doing this."
"Who I am doesn't matter." It said simply, looking over its shoulder. "I just want to give this city to the people who deserve it. Not left in the hands of men like Buchinsky."
The shadow leapt out of the window, and Gordon ran to his desk pulling out his spare weapon from the top draw. He aimed out the window looking for it, but the shadow was gone. Defeated, Gordon realized something was wrong with his gun. He checked it and found that the firing pin was missing. He quickly found it sitting next to the pens on his desk.
"Son of a bitch." He said quietly to himself. Finally with a flicker the lights came back on.
OooooO
On the corner five blocks away from the thirty-second precinct police station a man stood leaning against the side of a closed liquor store. Most people in Gotham stayed out of the streets at night through fear of running into one of the gangs, but this man stood calmly with a small smile on his face. He was tall, well built but thin, and was well dressed in a black suit with a long coat. Red tinted sunglasses covered his eyes as he enjoyed a large sandwich for an early morning snack that he held in gloved hands.
"So how'd it go?" He said in his playful voice, his mouth half full, to seemingly no one.
"Dead end." The shadow said from darkness on other side of the wall. "Buchinsky was at some kind meeting, not overlooking the drugs like you said."
"No need to get testy. I said he might be there tonight, sometimes the bosses meet up. One of those meetings just happened to be tonight."
"Where do they meet?" The shadow demanded.
He looked over into the ally over his shoulder, looking where the shadow hid. "Don't know. It's a well kept secret, they say the location changes."
"They say a lot of things."
"Don't I know it. Don't worry though, I'm sure you've just pissed ole' Buchy off. He'll come looking for you, he'll be angry, and he'll walk right into your hands."
"You make it sound easy." The shadow said.
"That's because it is. You're pretty smart, I can tell. Stick with me though and you'll really learn how people think."
"Why help me?" The shadow asked him for the second time since they met.
He just smiled at him again, the same thing he did the last time, then he turned back to his sandwich. "I let you know through our mutual friend if I get another lead."
Knowing he wouldn't get anything else out of the man named Jacob tonight the shadow left without a word.
OooooO
Wayne Manor was one of the oldest houses in Gotham, maybe even in all of America. It was built long ago as a shelter during the Revolutionary War, and purchased by wealthy fur traders who were some of the earliest of the Wayne family.
The Manor however was often dark and cold. The only person who lived was a British man who once served the family who lived there. He took care of the inside of the house by himself, rarely leaving the mansion save for every Saturday where he would go into the city.
Beneath the manor grounds ran a system of caves, tunnels, and caverns that ran for miles underground. A motorcycle was running through one of the tunnels heading towards one of the cave. The motorcycle couldn't be found in any dealership, it was technologically advanced and designed for military infiltration mission. It was never put into production as it was deemed to expensive for military use. It consisted of an armored central pod that had the driver lean forward to avoid gunfire, with two additional pods where the wheels were housed. The Pod also had several weapons, had the ability to scale walls in emergency, and was light enough that it could glide over minefields without setting any of them off.
The Pod belonged to a dead man, or at least a man that everyone believed to dead. He rode into the large cave that he used as his home base from where he waged his one man war on Gothams gangs. The Pod wasn't very loud, but the motion of it caused the citizens of the cave to swarm in a frenzy. The caves true owners where the collective of omnivorous bats, but they treated him as one of their own. The flew around him in swarms as parked the Pod on the octagonal vehicle platform.
Their was a time when bats frightened him, but as he stepped off of the motorcycle one could see that was no longer the case. He was one with them, but he was neither man or bat. He was a Batman.
He was six feet tall, his body built to physical perfection, with a determined expression that almost seemed permanent. Taking off the horned cloth mask that covered his head, he approached his desk of computers, the twelve monitors staring back at him with their blue screens.
On one of the monitors was the largest bat in the cave, a fruit bat the size of a fully grown Pug sat staring at him as it always did. The roughly named King of the bats often waited for the Batman to return as a dog would loyally wait for its master. Many believed that bats were blind when in reality they had very good eye sight. King was living proof.
He gently pet the large bat with one hand and took of the special Memory-Cloth cape off of his shoulders with the other. He threw the cape onto the back of his chair, turned to his computer and decide to type a quick message.
Echolocal1046 to Oracle1: "Failed to find Buchinsky. Try again tomorrow. Is Glaser reliable?"
He sent the message but he didn't expect a reply this late at night, he would get his response in the morning.
With nothing left to do for tonight the Batman removed his armored gauntlets and the gloves underneath as well as his armored boots setting them both aside. Next was the utility belt of pouches where he kept several items and tools that he might need, and placed it with his boots. Finally he removed the Kevlar vest that currently had two slugs planted firmly where his heart would have been if left unprotected.
"Armor needs to finish." He grumbled to himself as he gently rubbed the bruises on his chest. He was waiting for a set of light weight armor to finish but it was taking longer he had hoped to synthesize. Normal Kevlar wasn't strong or reliable enough for his mission, he couldn't afford to continue running around in grey sweats and a simple bulletproof vest.
Leaning back in his chair with a heavy, tired sigh the Batman closed his eyes, crossed his arms and gently slipped off to sleep as morning begun to shine over Gotham.
OooooO
