Batman
Long Days, Gotham Knights
Chapter 6
First Flight
"ImBahMaaaaaaaan!"
The cry only grew louder as the police cruiser arched through the air, impacting a nearby fire-hydrant.
"Jesus Christ…"
Jason Todd couldn't help but place two fingers on the bridge of his nose in a dejected motion, accompanied by a sigh.
The man-child was loose and on some sort of rampage. It'd happened after he'd overturned a street vendor's cart with batman paraphernalia for sale by accident. From the wreckage he'd salvaged a triple XL shirt with a batman logo on it that he'd somehow managed to fit over his oversized frame. It was already quite torn and stretched, but somehow managed to stay relatively intact.
"This is car 402! Backup needed! Officer down! Offer down!"
Now the cops were involved. Great.
"Aye Monk! It's it about time that you… you know… settled down and-"
A hotdog stand flew through the air and landed precariously close to Jason.
"HAY! MONK! Watch it would you! I'm on your side remember!"
Monk wheeled on him, his seething rage subsiding somewhat as he looked at Jason.
"Robin! What are you doing without your mask on!"
Monk was almost child-like in his word- simplistic and almost scolding. Jason felt like he was being treated like a pet.
"Screw off Monk! I'm not putting any mask on, or tights, and there is no way in hell I'm wearing no cape!"
The recently destroyed fire-hydrant landed a few feet from where Jason stood on the far side of the street from Monk.
"Jesus man! What the hell!"
"ROBIN! LOOK!" The big oaf pointed at the cops peeking out from over the one remaining squad car.
"They can see your secret identity!" Monk half whispered and half hissed… as if the cops couldn't hear it.
"What the hell man! I'm not Robin and you're sure as hell not Batman! Don't you get it Monk! Now take that shirt off and-"
A chunk of concrete the size of his head sailed passed Jason's head. Only by a quick bob and weave saved his life.
"I'm BahMaaaaaaaan!"
There was now rage and some almost sub-human psychosis slipped into his voice.
Jason could take a hint. Monk had snapped and now he was responsible for killing two cops. He had been on the wrong side of the law one to many times and Jason knew what the legal phrases "accomplice" and "murder of a police officer" meant. It would earn him a quick trip back to Blackgate and a very long stay. Every bone in his body told him to run- and he listen.
Like a flash, Jason was over two fences and down an alleyway before Monk could toss anything else at him. The standard Blackgate orange jumpsuit would attract to much attention and all he'd managed to grab when Monk busted up the street-vendors cart was a red shirt with a robin logo on the breast pocket. He'd put it on to humor Monk in the beginning, tying his jumpsuit around his waist and parading around with the massive idiot. When he started throwing things at the cops, he had regretted indulging him. He'd been whipped into some kind of bat-fueled frenzy and one of the cops had the misfortune to call him a "criminal". That had set the big baby off. Federal mailboxes and dumpsters came before the police cruiser had sailed through the air. He'd killed two cops and no doubt he was still trying to kill the other two who'd shown up a few minutes later.
Jason was brought out of his examination of the past events by the sound of a motorcycle heading down the alleyway. The motor slowed to a crawl and Jason turned around to see a pair on a red Kawasaki slowing down to get busy. The pair got off the motorcycle and the guy, a Russian or maybe an Italian, started to feel up the broad. She was a pro, letting him get a taste before she charged him.
"My my my… what do we have here…" Jason mused as he announced himself from the deeper shadows.
The two gave a start- the guy had nearly got her top off when Jason dropped in.
"Take it off." Jason ordered.
The girl started to take it off, panic in her eye.
Jason had been smart enough to keep a shiv he'd used in prison and now wielded with a strong forearm. She was pro- she knew better than to mess with an ex-con.
"Not you doll."
The guy, a Russian boy in his early 20 with bleach-blond he could now see, looked somewhat quizzically at him.
"Just shut up and take if off ya' halfwit, you were so eager to show some skin a few moments ago."
The boy froze-up and Jason sauntered a bit forward.
In a flash, the boy drew a silver pistol but Jason flew up to disarm him on the draw before he had even brought it fully out of its holster that he'd concealed in his motorcycle jacket.
"Nice pistol kid… TT-30, that's vintage. You got good tastes." Jason explained as he marveled at his new acquisition.He leveled it at the boy.
"Now strip."
The boy shook, half with rage and half with fear, as he took off it motorcycle jacket, black undershirt, blue jeans, boots, and socks. He was about to remove his boxers when Jason stopped him.
"No thanks. I'm all fed up with little pistols tonight… now git'! "
He waved the gun as a signal for them to take off. The boy moved towards the bike but Jason shook his head.
"That little toy is mine now."
The boy looked distraught but kept on running, leading the hooker by the hand.
Knocking the kickstand out of the parked position, Jason Todd revved the engine a few times on his new bike. Fitting the red motorcycle helmet over his head he listened to the engine purr for a moment before he allowed himself the indulgence of a laugh.
It was good to be king.
"YOU LOST MY BIKE!" Bogdan Popov bellowed at an ashamed Piotr Kuznetsov. His manservant had asked to borrow his bike for a date and he had ended up getting mugged. Bogdan was silently furious but said nothing. This city truly needed his help…