Investigating the Thompkins Clinic
Exploding into the night air, Batman burst through the open doorway, his feet smacking down hard on the sidewalk. His head darted from side to side, searching for the assailant of the man that desperately sought refuge in Leslie Thompkins' clinic.
"Please help me," the man pitifully begged, lying on the floor behind the vigilante.
"Shhhh," Leslie shushed him softly, kneeling at his side. "You're safe now. Everything is going to be okay."
As this was going on behind him, Batman grew more and more frustrated. The streets were deserted at this time of night, so that left no one in sight for him to chase down. No way could he let an attack happen mere feet from him go unpunished.
That was when he noticed the blood trail on the ground. Spatters marred the grimy cement of the sidewalk, leading away from the clinic and to an alleyway. Launching himself forward, the dark-clad man raced towards the alley, skidding to a stop at its entrance.
There, right in the middle of the alley was a puddle of blood. There were a couple of trash cans lying on their sides, spilling their contents out; they were signs that a struggle had occurred here. Even more promising was another trail of blood drops leading in the other direction. Unlike the one he had followed, this trail was made of smaller drops, which were fewer and farther in-between. Some of the victims blood had gotten on the attacker.
Pulling out his grapple, Batman fired up to the roof of the building next to him, repelling up it until he was on the roof. Immediately he ran to the other side, looking over the edge.
There! Perhaps a hundred feet away from the alley was a man walking down the sidewalk, a hoodie covering his upper body, the hood over his head. Pulling out a bat-shaped shuriken, the Dark Knight sent it flying at the man, watching as it whirled through the air until it hit the man in the back of the head.
Even from where he stood, he heard the cry of pain and surprise as the man stumbled forward and fell to the ground. Immediately, Batman began running along the roof's edge, leaping onto the next building. The closer he got, the more he was able to make out of the man, such as his hood having fallen off his head, revealing it to be bald.
Closing in on a building that stood a good ten feet higher than the one he was on, Batman eyed an air conditioning unit near the wall. As he closed in on it, the vigilante leaped onto the large unit and sprung off of it, his body ramming into the brick wall. However, his hands had gained enough height to grab onto the ledge, allowing him to dangle there for a moment before he pulled himself up, his feet kicking against the brick surface to help haul him up.
The moment he was up there, the Dark Knight was back on his feet. Peering over the roof's edge, he found he was practically over his target. As it turned out, the bald man was looking around and ended up looking up at him. Even from that distance, Batman knew their eyes met, though the usual terror never showed itself in the man's. Instead there was…anticipation?
Immediately, the man took off down the street, his arms pumping at his sides. Instantly Batman gave chase, running on the rooftops. Coming to an alleyway, the vigilante leaped over it, clearing it easily and never breaking his stride as he continued his chase.
However, that's when the man took off into the street, not bothering to attempt to dodge traffic. Instead, the drivers of the approaching cars hit their brakes, their tires squealing from friction as they skid to stops, horns blaring out in outrage. None of this bothered the fleeing man as he even jumped onto the hood of the car, his feet pounding on the metal surface before he jumped onto the sidewalk on the other side.
With his grapple back in hand, Batman spotted a water tower on the building across the street and aimed the grapple gun, firing it a moment later. The moment the cable went taut, he flew up into the air, soaring towards the tower. At the last moment, he deactivated the grapple claw and used his momentum to land on top of the water tower, the vigilante shoving the grapple back into his belt.
He wasn't done though as the dark-clad man pushed off of the metal roof with his legs, launching himself into the air once more. This time, however, he activated the current in his gauntlet and grabbed his cape, causing it to stiffen and go into glider mode. Sailing gently through the night sky, Batman watched his prey dart into an alleyway, disappearing from sight.
Pulling his left arm up as his right dropped down, Batman swooped to his right, angling himself towards the street on the other side of the alley. As he reached it, he leaned in the opposite direction so that he could begin dropping down on the bald man.
Unfortunately, Batman discovered that this street was a lot more populated than the previous ones. People were walking up and down the sidewalk, crossing the streets. Even more irritated was that there was no sign of the bald man.
Damn it, no!
Batman angled himself to a rooftop, coming to a landing on it as he released his cape so that it could return to its limper form. His head jerked from side to side as he searched the street, looking for anyone wearing a hoodie, be it with a hood on or hanging on the wearer's back. He even sought out bald heads, but saw none.
God damn it.
Fortunately, the building the vigilante stood on was right next to the alley his target had disappeared into. Turning his attention to it, he noticed a trash can about a third of the way into it, its lid lying next to it.
More importantly, there was a dark piece of cloth hanging over its edge.
Jumping into the alley, Batman grabbed onto the edge of his cape, using it to parachute down as he landed roughly on the ground. Moving to the trash can, he grabbed the cloth and pulled it out of the garbage can, his face scowling as he recognized it for a hoodie.
Apparently the man had discarded the jacket here, meaning he was wearing something else now, most likely the clothes he had underneath it. He was still bald though, so that was a characteristic he should've been able to pick out up on the roof—that is if the man hadn't put a hat on.
Eyes staring at the hoodie still, it was then Batman noticed the blood stain on it. This time the corner of his mouth twitched up, forming a small smile. Though he hadn't caught the man, he had evidence of him, linking him to the attack. Though not as satisfying as apprehending the perp, this was still better than nothing.
Your days are numbered, punk.
It was just coincidence Vicki was here. It was on her way home from another story she had wrapped up and lo and behold, there were police cars blocking the street. Just on principle she pulled over to see what all the red-and-blue lights were about.
Apparently someone had been stabbed just outside of some rundown clinic—how convenient for the stab victim. Somehow he had managed to live long enough to crawl his way into the clinic's lobby, right where a doctor happened to be. According to the chatter she gathered—i.e. eavesdropped—from some cops, the guy was having surgery at the moment. He might actually live.
Booooring.
Vicki strolled around the police barricade, faintly wondering just how much longer she needed to stay here before she could jet. Already she was imagining writing up a quick story, calling Harry at the office with the details, and then relaxing with a glass of wine in her bathtub. Sigh. That sounded pretty good right now.
It certainly beat all the rubbernecking going on from the people leaning over the barricades. There were a lot of them that looked like they needed a bath themselves. They had even brought their kids, who really didn't give a damn about what was going on and were…she didn't know, playing? They were just running in circles chasing each other, screaming and shouting. Thank God she wasn't a parent.
Spotting a couple of cops lounging against a squad car, Vicki figured this would be her last stop before she got out of here. Sauntering over, she slowed to a stop when she could make out what they were saying.
"So you heard, right?"
Oh, how vague.
"Besides how lucky this son of a bitch was? What are the odds of getting attacked by a clinic with a surgeon on call?"
"That is pretty lucky. Know if he'll make it?"
"Hope so. The surgery should be ending anytime now."
A silence. Then, "Good to know. But that wasn't what I was talking about."
Ugh, spit it out already.
"I heard the Bat was sighted around here."
The reporter's head perked up. Oh? What's this?
"What's new? The Bat's everywhere nowadays."
"Well, I heard he was at the clinic, at least that's what the doc said when the vic showed up at her front door."
Batman. Here. In the clinic? Vicki's nose was nearly twitching at this tip. Now, what would Batman be doing in a rundown place like this? Hmm, seems like she needed to do some closer investigating.
Moving once again, Vicki made a beeline for the open front doors of the clinic. Though the police barricade blocked the entrance, that hadn't stopped the redhead before. Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, she slipped underneath the crossbar of the wooden blockade and slinked into the clinic.
The first thing she noticed was the numbered placards the police had placed in the lobby, the most noticeable one being the pool of blood puddling on the floor. Apparently no one had attempted to mop the area up, but then again this was a crime scene.
There wasn't much else here either, even cops since they were most likely out in the street. The forensics team had long since left, so that left Vicki all on her own. Noticing the front desk, she made her way to it and a door beyond it. This led her to the hallways beyond the lobby, and most likely the location of any Bat-evidence.
Roaming the halls, Vicki searched the place, checking every room, and avoiding the operating room. If there was anyone here that didn't want her here, that was the most likely place.
Unfortunately, the longer she searched, the more she was coming to the conclusion that she wasn't going to find anything here. There wasn't even so much as a batarang or a bat-rope lying around for her to filch. That annoyed Vicki more than anything. There had to be a reason why Batman came here and she highly doubted it was for the doctor. A picture in the lobby had shown some old woman named Thompkins as the operator of this place; unless Bruce Wayne had a fetish for very old ladies, there wasn't going to be a booty call here.
So what did that leave? Medical attention was an obvious motive to be here and the redhead knew the rich-boy-turned-vigilante collected injures like a little boy and baseball cards. The image of the burn on the man's chest was seared into her mind.
"What are you doing here?"
Jolting out of her thoughts, Vicki spun around, only to come face-to-face with the very woman whose picture she had seen in the lobby. So this was Dr. Thompkins and she didn't looked pleased to see her. Most people with secrets to hide didn't like to see her, so that was nothing new.
"Hi, Vicki Vale, Gotham Star," the reporter immediately introduced herself, closing the distance between her and Dr. Thompkins. She held a hand out to offer a handshake, but found herself rebutted as Thompkins rubbed her hands together, some sort of lotion on them. Dropping her hand, she continued, "I heard there was a stabbing recently and the victim was here."
"I am not obliged to confirm that," the older woman said before she gestured with a hand to a nearby hallway. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Doctor-patient confidentiality, I understand," Vicki replied, not the least bit taken back. "You can at least tell me if the…man? If he'll be alright?"
The doctor didn't respond, merely gesturing to the hall again.
Well, that was fine. Let her continue her silent act after she was asked this: "How about the report that the Batman was seen exiting your clinic? Surely you can answer that."
Thompkins' face hardened at the question. "Leave now, or I will ask the police to escort you off the premises. I'm sure they would love to question you as to how you got onto an active crime scene."
Vicki scowled. Bitch. This wasn't over, not by a long shot. Unfortunately, she was at a disadvantage here, so she needed to retreat for now. Once she had something more tangible than a rumor, then she could make demands.
Turning around, Vicki began to walk towards the directed corridor when she noticed for a split-second, something waving as it disappeared around a corner. Blinking her eyes, her mind tried to puzzle over what she had seen. It had been some sort of dark color, black or blue. Its waving flow made it look like some sort of cloth too. The redhead's eyes narrowed.
A dark piece of waving cloth? More like the edge of a fleeing cape.
There was definitely something going on in this place. If it was the last thing Vicki did, she was going to find out what it was, how it was linked to either Batman or Bruce Wayne, and then she was going to make this doctor spill her guts as to everything she knew about it.
For now though, she was leaving.
Bullock hadn't expected to be at some run-down clinic tonight, but the news of a stabbing was kinda hard to ignore. Especially since he was in the middle of an investigation into a serial killer who had a nasty habit of stabbing people to death. It needed to be checked out, if only to make sure that it was completely unrelated.
Getting the area around the clinic cordoned off had been difficult. Sure, blocking the streets with cop cars had been the easy part, but getting all the bystanders and gawkers who were coming over to see what was going on? Not as easy. It only increased his frustration when a whole alley had to be blocked off too. Apparently, that was where the attack had happened.
When he had arrived and gotten what he needed from the cops on the scene, the alley was his first place to go. Already he was picking up on clues just looking at the place. Definite signs of struggle, no doubt. Their vic had managed to fight off the perp, whoever that was, and that would be a good thing if the guy survived.
Something about the alley gave him a feeling, that maybe there was a connection to the serial killer. This was definitely the kind of place he could ambush or drag his victims into. What looked like scuffed marks at the entrance seemed to jive with that theory, that the victim had been ambushed and indeed dragged in.
But what could be the motive? For all Bullock knew, it was a mugging gone wrong. Their witness still better be alive in there or he swore to God somebody else was going to need a doctor.
Speaking of doctors, the old lady in charge of the place, and the person operating on the victim, was some piece of work. She was able to shut him down quickly, telling him in no uncertain words that their witness would answer question if and when she said he could. Something about health and bleeding heart liberal talk came after that, but the detective had his fill and would wait.
Some hours later, the clear came in and oh boy was he glad that the witness was awake. Sure, the lady doc said only a few minutes, but he was going to take full advantage of it.
So when questioning the guy, he had to…um…okay, what was that word again? It was something that he sure as hell wasn't. What was it, what was it… Oh yeah, now he remembered.
He had to be gentle.
It was half an hour later when Cort showed up, but Bullock was feeling a bit excited about what he had managed to find out. Before he would share with his—take a deep breath, you can say it, Harv—partner, he was gonna bust his balls a bit.
"What took you so long, Cort? Did you stop a couple red light runners on your way here?"
"What's the state of the witness?" the other man half asked, half demanded, ignoring him.
Shrugging, knowing that the time for fun was over before it could begin, Bullock answered, "He's alive. Resting and not up for any more questions. The doc was very clear about him needing his rest."
"We can't wait for him to regain conscious," Cort growled.
"Don't get your tits in a twist, I managed to get a little time in with him before I got kicked out," Bullock replied. "So get this, our victim was minding his business when he was attacked from behind and dragged into the alley we have blocked off. Sounds like your standard mugging, 'cept the perp never asked for his wallet. Instead, he pulls out a knife and tries to stab him. There's a fight, the victim manages to get the knife away from the perp and runs to find help. Obviously he was injured during the fight, but lucky him, he finds this place before the perp can catch up with him."
"Where's the knife?" Cort gave him a sharp look.
"Tagged and bagged. I had it sent to the lab at the precinct. Should be arriving any minute now," the huskier man said. "I've order every test we have, fingerprints, DNA, the works. If we're lucky, this might be our ticket to finding our guy."
Cort grunted, nodding his head. Eh, that was probably the best he was going to get out of the prick. The only sign that the other detective approved of his actions. Not that Bullock cared in the first place. Cort could take that approval and shove it up his ass for all he cared.
"Anything about the bat freak?"
Talk about a question coming from left field, but Bullock was far from being blindsided by it. Yeah, he had been hearing all about that freaking vigilante being in the area. There was even talk that he had been inside the clinic at some point. Naturally, when the lady doc was refusing to let him see their witness, he was asking about the Bat.
Now, Bullock was used to two groups of people, those who loved the freak and those who hated him. Tonight he met up with a third group: people who didn't care one way or the other. The lady doc was in that third group. Then again, she was more concerned about keeping their witness alive than what the Bat was doing in the area.
"Other than the gossip, not much." He shrugged his shoulder, glancing away from Cort and towards the other cops on the scene. "The doc's not gonna be any help. She's too busy making sure the vic lasts the night. If we're lucky, he'll be more stable tomorrow and then we can get some more out of him."
"We need to get him moved," Cort stated, looking over the front of the clinic. "To a more secure location, safer too. I feel like I'm going to be shot just standing here."
Bullock grunted in agreement, as hard to believe as that was. Cort did have a point; where the lady doc decided to set up shop was not one of the safer neighborhoods. If he wasn't wrong, Crime Alley was a few blocks from here. Definitely a bad neighborhood.
"Personally, I think it's a fixer upper."
Bullock's eyes widened and he slowly turned his head to his left. Standing closer to the doors was the lady doc herself, cool as a cucumber, and showing no signs of offense.
"Excuse us, ma'am," Cort coughed into one hand. "You're the doctor, Thompkins, right?"
"I am," Dr. Thompkins answered.
"We need to ask a few questions of you," the sergeant stated.
"I have time. Shoot."
Bullock had to hand it to her, she was taking this all in stride.
"When do you think the witness will be able to be transported?" Ah, going for a soft question there, eh, Cort? Probably trying to pick up whatever bits of professionalism he still had left.
"Depends on how stable he is. I want to keep him another hour, but you can call for an ambulance. I don't have the equipment or resources to keep him here long term."
Wow, that was different. Cooperation. Now Bullock had seen everything.
"So where were you when you first encountered the witness?" Cort continued with his questioning.
"Just a few feet from here. You have the exact spot marked off over there," the lady doc gestured with her head back into the clinic.
"And he was injured at that time, correct?" Cort pressed.
"He was," she answered, nodding her head.
"Were you aware of the Batman before or after you encountered the witness?"
Okay, what the hell was up with that question? Bullock turned himself enough to shoot his "partner" here a look. Yeah, it was a question that he'd like to be answered too, but what did Cort think he'd get out of asking this very nice lady who happened to be the person standing between them and really getting some answers out of their still living victim. Actually, now that he thought about it, that might be reason enough.
"By the time I was aware of this Batman, he was already running down the street. I had more important concerns at that point, such as keeping an injured man from dying from blood loss," Dr. Thompkins answered without missing a beat.
"So you didn't see who injured the witness, correct?" Cort pressed.
"I can't say that I did." Huh, no sign of flustering from the lady doc. It was like she was answering whatever questions they threw at her.
"So you would have no idea why the Batman would be in your clinic?" Cort asked.
"I would not. Unless he was here for medical treatment, there's very little one would find here."
"Would you mind doing an inventory for me? Just to make sure nothing is missing." Where was Cort going with this?
"I was intending to do that anyway, to see if I would need any more supplies after this recent emergency. That is, once you clear my clinic from being a crime scene that I may take inventory. I know how you officers like to restrict access to such sensitive places." Damn, she was a professional. And maybe a bit too aware of police procedure here.
As if sensing his scrutiny, Dr. Thompkins turned her gaze to him. "There are quite a few incidents in this area that require the attention of law enforcement, detective. After spending a few decades here, it stands to reason I would pick up on a few things here and there."
A likely story, something Bullock would check up on later.
"Once I'm able to do inventory, is there anything in particular you want me to look out for?" Now she was looking back at Cort.
"Just a list of what you have here and if you notice if anything is missing," Cort replied.
"Alright. If I may ask you, when will I be able to resume services? I am expecting patients in the morning and they have nowhere else to go."
"We'll get something worked out," Cort assured her. "I'll have an officer accompany you to the back so you can get started on inventory in the meantime."
Bullock waited for Cort to wrap things up with the lady doc, and once she was out of earshot, he pounced. "Okay, Cort, what was that all about?"
"We have a Batman sighting at the same time a stabbing victim shows up to this building," Cort summed up, looking straight at him. "What do you think the odds are that that freak is the one responsible?"
Bullock liked where Cort was going with this, but he needed to put the brakes on this thing. Even though he would love nothing more than to finally, finally put an end to all this Batman nonsense, they had a job they needed to do first, and that was tracking down a sicko with a stabbing fetish.
"You got any proof? Til ya show me otherwise, don't forget what we're suppose to be doing. We need to figure out if the guy we're supposed to be after is the guy responsible for all this." Bullock gestured at all the activity and flashing lights of police vehicles that lit up the night. "The vic already described someone else, someone who doesn't look like a bat."
"You can't tell me that you haven't thought about it," Cort stated. "What if the asshole we're after is the bat freak himself? He shows his real face to the victim and then when out of sight, gets dressed up and tries to play hero. This may be our biggest break."
Batman the serial killer? Tempting, only one problem with that. Even he, Bullock, knew that the vigilante only targeted mobsters, crooks, and the usual citywide crisis. And it had never been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had ever killed anyone before. There was too much evidence against that theory.
"Again, show me the proof, then we nail him," Bullock told the other officer. "In the meantime, I think I have an idea how we can find our perp."
"You do? Tell me." There was some skepticism in Cort's reply, but wait until he showed that sergeant asshole.
"See those cameras over there?" he gestured with his head down the street and towards an intersection. Situated on top of a pole was a camera, its gaze directed down at the sidewalk. "Those look like CCTV to me. What are our chances our perp and witness show up on them?"
Cort looked thoughtful, but Bullock knew he had made his point.
You didn't need to be the world's greatest detective to put two and two together.
The Gotham harbor was usually silent at night. Maybe there had been a time where it was much busier, though not all of the business conducted there was of the legal nature. Over the past few years, the nights had been getting more and more quiet, which may or may not have occurred alongside the diminishing power of organized crime.
None of that mattered to the security guards who roamed about, patrolling the area to make sure there weren't anybody who didn't belong here. Typically, there were a bunch of kids and/or punks who might try to sneak in but they were rarely quiet about it. Why on earth they'd want to come here of all places was a mystery unto itself.
Thus, a bunch of men who only had to worry about youthful intruders could be forgiven from being genuinely started by the loud, cracking sound of splintering wood. For a moment, they kept still, listening for a possible, follow-up sound. None came, but they already knew what they needed to do. It was their jobs to keep this place secure, and any sound that wasn't supposed to occur was to be investigated.
Armed with flashlights and tasers, and keeping in touch via walkie-talkie, the harbor guards who had heard the noise hurried towards the area where the sound originated. Beams of light cut through the darkness of the night, searching for any signs of anything unusual. With the moments ticking by, anxiety increased within the man when nothing was discovered.
Were their ears playing tricks on them? No, couldn't be. The fact that as many of them had heard it meant that it couldn't be some mass coincidence. What was going on?
One portly guard made a note of how far away one of his fellow guards was by the distance between him and the other's beam of light when an odd sound caught his attention. Outside of the static sounds of walkie-talkies and footsteps, there wasn't too much sound being made. For this one particular guard, what he heard didn't sound like any of that.
It kinda sounded like…chewing?
Taking a step in a random direction, he noted how this chewing sound became louder. Slowly, he made his way closer and closer, one hand clutching onto his taser while the other tightened its grip on his flashlight.
He was getting closer, unfortunately. Taking a second to request the other guards to come to his location, he continued moving closer and closer to a gathering of wooden crates. Some were stacked on top one another, others lined up in rows in front of those stacked. He hadn't seen anything yet, but those chewing sounds were becoming louder and louder…
Moving his flashlight side to said, he raised the light up, keeping an eye out for any—
He froze. He had been moving his light a bit quickly, so he had passed by some strange object that had appeared for an instant. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him now, but he needed to be sure. Besides, help was on the way, right?
Moving his beam of light back, he stopped it as it came across a moving, brown-colored figure. It was hunched over, from what the guard could see, and paying no attention to him. It kinda looked light some kind of…beast, or maybe an animal. Something. The guard couldn't tell what. The thing continued to make those chewing noises, though.
Was this what they were all looking for?
As if sensing it was being watched, the thing stopped all movement. The guard didn't know if he was breathing or not as this unexpected turn of events.
Then he heard one of his coworkers call out his name five feet away from him.
The thing spun around, revealing an ugly, snouted face. Large, red eyes took in the terrified guard, the light of the flashlight reflecting off those eyes and giving this…this creature a more hellish look. An inhuman shriek screamed at him right before the creature leapt up into the air
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT!
However, the creature did not come back down. Instead, there was a flapping sound that made the guard lift his head to follow the now flying figure as it disappeared into the darkness. He could still hear those flapping sounds, even as they grew softer and softer as whatever that thing was moved further and further away.
When all seemed like it was safe, the guard slowly lowered his head, and stare at what his flashlight revealed. He could hear the voices of the other guards, some demanding to know what the hell happened, a couple others crying back that some sort of monster was on the loose. All of this sounded so far away as he stared at what was in front of him.
Revealed by his flashlight, there laid a wooden crate that had been torn into, its contents spilling out. Torn into and dropped carelessly about laid mangled fruit.
Unable to really grasp what he was seeing and what he had seen, the guard's mind decided enough was enough and allowed him to escape consciousness through fainting.
