9
After several paychecks, Heather was ready to move out on her own. Her new job paid quite decently. She'd spent a couple of days looking at apartments and now stood in one she knew she wanted. It was a nice little two-bedroom place overlooking the park. It allowed small pets, and Heather wanted a cat. The apartment was also much closer to work than Wayne Manor was.
Heather turned from the bedroom window she'd been gazing out of and returned to the living room, where the smiling apartment manager waited.
"Yes, I want it," Heather said. They had already discussed pricing.
"I could tell you liked it," the woman said. "Shall we go down to my office and get going on the paperwork?"
"Yes," Heather said and followed the woman. Bruce had offered to come along with Heather for her apartment shopping, but Heather had declined the offer. She could and would do it herself, she'd said. Bruce had, however, insisted he would provide some of the furniture and kitchen supplies for her.
After finishing business in the apartment manager's office, Heather left the building and got a cab. She gazed out the window as the vehicle headed toward Wayne Manor. She knew it was a good thing she was working again and getting ready to live in her own place, but she felt empty. Was this what her life was to be about now, just taking care of herself and getting by?
Well, there was the fact that she worked for Wayne Enterprises, and it was a good company headed by a good man. It was true her job seemed somewhat soulless, handling paperwork and office errands, but Wayne Enterprises was a respectable company that did good things. At least she wasn't working for one of the many companies out there with bad ethics and bad practices.
Heather decided that as soon as she got moved and settled into her new apartment, she'd begin helping the homeless again. Sure, it would be a little difficult to have time for that now that she was working a regular full-time job, but she could at least do it on the weekends. She smiled as she thought about returning to her passion.
The taxicab eventually arrived at Wayne Manor. Heather paid the driver and got out at the gate. As she walked up the long driveway, a breeze stirred the colorful leaves that had been collecting on the ground.
Alfred greeted her inside and asked if she'd like any refreshments.
"Some ice water would be nice," she said while walking toward the kitchen with him. "But you shouldn't keep waiting on me. I've become spoiled, and I'm about to have to start taking care of myself again!"
Alfred chuckled. "Have you found an apartment?" he asked as he held the kitchen door open and they entered. Bruce was sitting in the kitchen reading something.
"Hi, Bruce," Heather greeted him.
"Hello," he said with a smile.
"Yes, I did find one, Alfred," Heather answered and seated herself on a stool next to Bruce.
"Wonderful," Alfred responded as he fetched her ice water.
"An apartment? You've chosen one?" Bruce asked.
"Yes, and I've done the paperwork and paid the deposit," Heather said. "The apartment is ready for move-in." She held up the apartment key and dangled it.
"That's great," Bruce said. "Where is it?"
"Rose Garden Apartments across from the park."
"Oh," Bruce said. "Nice. That's close to work and lots of things."
"Did you get tired of living out here in the boonies?" Alfred asked, causing Heather and Bruce to laugh.
"I'd never get tired of you guys, Alfred, but a girl's got to grow up and take care of herself sometime," Heather said.
"When do you want to start moving your stuff in?" Bruce asked her.
"This week," she answered.
"How about today?" Bruce suggested.
Heather looked at him in surprise for a moment. "Well, why not?" she said, excitement setting in. "Let's get started."
Frank sat in his Cougar in the parking lot, waiting silently. He was strategically parked where no lights reached him.
He was in the parking lot of Arkham Asylum, which miraculously wasn't fenced in. The looming structure of the asylum did have a tall, black fence around the building, but he'd happily found that the parking lot was accessible to all.
He'd been by here a few nights already, watching. There was a shift change at one a.m. It was for this he waited.
He looked at his watch. About ten minutes. He moved over to the passenger seat of his car and looked out the rolled-down window.
The first couple of employees for the next shift arrived and headed inside the building. Employees had to arrive before employees could leave. Frank waited.
A few more arrived and went in. Finally, the first leaving employee emerged, soon followed by another. They got into their cars and left. Frank didn't move a muscle.
More left, some of them being picked up by prearranged taxis, and then finally the last one came out alone. Frank knew she'd be the last one, as he'd counted the last few nights. Her car was the one nearest his. Frank reached for the object on the passenger seat next to him and aimed it at the woman as she reached her car. As she stood readying her keys to unlock her door, Frank shot.
His aim was good. The tranquilizer hit her in her upper back between the shoulders. She visibly jolted, and almost immediately the chemical took effect, causing her to fall to the ground. Frank wasted no time in getting out of his car, adjusting the front passenger seat forward to allow access to the back, and going to her.
He bound her hands behind her back, tucked the car keys she'd dropped into her coat pocket, and lifted her from the ground. Moving swiftly, he took her to his car and awkwardly maneuvered her into the backseat, where he laid her down.
Then he left.
Just like that, it was done. Quickly. Smoothly.
He drove to his warehouse. He wondered if she would wake up on the way—wake up to the sound of the powerful piano music coming from under the hood and wonder where she was. He kept checking her in the mirror. She remained unconscious. That made it easy for now.
When he reached the warehouse, he made sure no one was around and then got her out of the car. He took her inside and tied her up, also placing a gag in her mouth. She would wake up alone.
Frank parked his Cougar inside the warehouse, locked up the building, and then left in his other car. He drove home feeling good.
The babysitter told him Katie was fine and had slept the whole time. Frank paid her and then went to check on Katie himself. She was sleeping peacefully.
Frank went to the kitchen for a snack. He was getting his appetite back, finally. He ate and then walked to his bedroom humming.
Susan Brown opened her eyes to darkness. Her body ached. She was seated on a hard chair and found that she couldn't move her limbs. They were bound.
Susan released a panicked squeal, which was muffled by the gag in her mouth. She struggled frantically for a minute, almost tipping over her chair, then stopped and sat still, breathing heavily.
There was enough faint light—moonlight, it seemed—coming in from the few small, high windows around her to allow her to see vaguely that she was in a large, mostly empty building.
She could make out the vague, dark form of something in a corner, probably a car.
Where was she? What had happened? She remembered walking up to her car after work, and then nothing. Even that seemed like some sort of dream.
Maybe she was dreaming now. Yes, this was a dream. She'd made it home from work just fine and was asleep in her bed. She was having a nightmare.
She sat in silence for a moment, hoping that was true. But nothing happened. She tried moving her arms again, but a strong cord around her wrists stopped her. This was all too real. She released another muffled wail.
Several days passed. About two weeks, in fact. Frank took care of the woman in his warehouse—kept her alive, anyway. His anger toward that place where she worked and everyone there made it impossible for him to feel any sympathy toward her. He went to her only at night, and then he sometimes went for a pleasure cruise in his Cougar before returning home to his sleeping daughter and the babysitter, who thought Frank had a night job.
Then he decided it was time to act again. He returned to Arkham Asylum, once again under the cover of night. But he was met with the discovery that a security guard now patrolled the large parking lot, driving around continuously.
Is it an armed security guard? Frank wondered. If not, he ought to be able to take care of him pretty easily. Even if he was armed, Frank could probably take him out with the tranquilizer if he caught him unsuspecting. But dealing with the guard would unnecessarily complicate things.
Frank opted to turn away from the parking lot at its entrance where he'd paused. He drove back up the road a little ways and parked by a bush, turning his car's lights off. There he waited for the shift change.
He let the first few cars leaving the asylum pass by. Then he chose a car to follow, a dark green Pontiac.
Many of the people working at Arkham lived in apartments in Gotham City, but Frank hoped some of them—particularly the one he was currently following—lived out here closer to the asylum, in a house, where it would be easier to make his move. Less chance of being seen.
But there was no such luck. Before long, it was obvious the car Frank stalked was headed right into Gotham City. He continued to follow, keeping just close enough to maintain visual contact but hanging back enough to hopefully avoid suspicion. He allowed cars to come between them when the chance arose, but there wasn't a whole lot of traffic at this time of night on a weeknight.
After a little while of traveling Gotham's streets, the Pontiac pulled into the parking area of an apartment complex. Frank followed and immediately started thinking about where to park, not wanting to park right next to the Pontiac. But the Pontiac's driver was out of the car the moment he parked it and was already heading for the building.
Frank stopped his car right where he was and quickly rolled down his window. "Excuse me!" he called out, causing the man to turn. Frank waved and tried to have a friendly look on his face, even though it was dark enough not to really matter until the man was closer.
The man did come closer, slowly and reluctantly. He looked at Frank questioningly. Frank's hand had already moved his tranquilizer gun into his lap.
"Hi. Sorry, I just wanted to ask—"
The man edged closer to listen, and Frank raised his gun. He aimed it and shot as quickly as he could, but the man still had time to turn and begin fleeing. Frank got him nonetheless.
Moving quickly, Frank turned off his Cougar's headlights to avoid drawing any eyes his way. Then he was out of the car scooping up the man and putting him into the back seat. Moving the man proved to be much more awkward and strenuous than moving the woman had been, and it took a little longer, but Frank managed. He cast a look up at the apartment building, not noticing anyone at any windows. Probably no one had heard the Cougar. Just like a normal engine, the piano strings were quieter when driving slowly. Frank left.
Batman stepped to the edge of a building and looked down into the alley below. No one was there yet. He crouched in the darkness, kept low, and listened.
Several minutes later, a car pulled into the alley and stopped, turning off its lights and engine. This was the first of two parties involved in a drug exchange about to take place.
After a few more minutes, a second car came, entering the alley from the opposite end. It stopped several feet away from the first car, facing it. Batman watched as both drivers emerged from their vehicles and approached each other.
A very thick paper envelope changed hands. After giving the envelope of cash some attention, the envelope's receiver tucked it inside his jacket and led the way to the trunk of his car, which he opened. Batman readied himself. As both men stood looking at the contents of the trunk, they were unaware of the caped figure that landed lightly several feet behind them.
Then Batman was upon them. He swiftly knocked their legs out from under them, bringing both men thudding to the ground. Getting one into a careful chokehold, he quickly brought him to unconsciousness and then pounced on the other. This one managed to try to fight back, but Batman dealt him a heavy punch and flipped him onto his stomach so that he could bind his hands behind his back. The man broke down and blurted fearful apologies to Batman.
"Quiet," Batman said. "Let's go."
He took both men to the nearby police station, where Commissioner Gordon was there late, waiting. Gordon had sent men from his force after this drug dealer before, but the officer in charge of that bust had come back to Gordon empty-handed and had suddenly had enough money to purchase a houseboat soon thereafter.
Batman left the police station and went on his way. After a little while of traveling via alleys and rooftops, he heard something unexpected and paused to listen. Classical music. Where would that be coming from? Walking to the front of the rooftop he was on, he looked to the street and caught a quick glimpse of a dark vehicle as it went down the road and disappeared, the music going with it.
Batman turned away and continued.
Susan Brown opened her eyes to the sound of piano music again. She hadn't been sleeping, just sitting with her eyes closed. She knew what the music meant. The man was back. The music stopped outside, and then she heard the warehouse's large side door rolling open. Light shined in—headlights. Susan squinted.
She saw the man get back into the vehicle and then he pulled it inside. He closed the warehouse door behind him, switched on some of the lights inside, and then, to Susan's surprise, he removed a human body from the vehicle. Susan's eyes widened with fright.
The kidnapper placed the man's limp body in a chair and bound him, as he had done to Susan. Susan felt mildly relieved that the limp body was not dead, but not very relieved. It didn't help her situation a whole lot.
