Author's Note: Afghanistan deployment is nearly at an end. This is somewhat hastily written but I believe it to be of a high enough quality for release. I apologize for my extended absence. I have been busy.
Hearts 2
In Greek mythology, the Lernaean Hydra beast was finally slain by Heracles as the second of his twelve labours. Although it was said that each time one of the Hydra's heads was cut, three would grow in its place, Heracles overcame this by using fire to cauterize the stump and thus prevent the regrowth. Despite its last head being immortal, Heracles dealt with this by first decapitating the head and then trapping it beneath heavy rock from which it could not escape. In tackling the surge in Gotham's criminal activities since Fognini's incarceration, I have adopted a similar strategy.
I start by targeting a single facet of crime in the city. Once it has been arrested or slowed, I cauterize it by getting Gordon to set up dedicated units in the freed areas. These units, ranging in size from twelve to thirty law enforcement personnel, then police a small pocket of the city, no more than ten or twelve square blocks with smaller forces and no larger than twenty-five square blocks with larger units. The key aspect of this idea that allows it to work effectively and efficiently is how all these areas intersect. As long as there are no clear gaps between the areas, criminals cannot operate outside the law. To aid the GCPD with this scheme, Wayne Enterprises is financing the venture as part of a community outreach program. We not only supply them with vital equipment such as riot gear, vehicles and fortifiable buildings to work from, but also sufficient surveillance and computer equipment to identify and respond to criminal activity as and when it happens.
This strategy is extensive and costly, but it is paying dividends. In the nine weeks following Daniel Kane's death, we have taken back the Narrows, Gotham Docks and the Bowery from criminal control. Defences are holding and the degenerates of this city are losing their appetite for confrontation with every failure. I already know they will be back though. Their resurgence is inevitable. Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises cannot continue to finance these control measures indefinitely and the bottom-feeders know it all too well. So this measure is only a temporary solution to hold back the tide until I can devise a permanent solution.
It is two-thirty A.M. I am returning from patrols in the more affluent areas of the city having concluded criminals will migrate to less stringently policed areas of Gotham to conduct their business. Fortunately, they are not familiar with this part of the cityscape and its abundance of surveillance technology. They trip every alarm and alert every homeowner in the area with their clumsiness. Foiling them is proving to be child's play…for now. Adaptation is the hallmark of Gotham's criminal population. Given a few more weeks, they will surmount these early setbacks. I must devise a solution soon or suffer exhaustion in trying to slay crime's immortal head.
Upon reaching the cave, I find Dick slouched in my command chair and idly scrolling through media reports on Luciano Fognini's unmasking as head of the largest criminal empire in Gotham. He is still dressed in his school clothes, a French shirt, a red sweater vest and blue jeans, despite the late hour and the fact it is Friday morning. The boy chose to attend Kane's funeral in the end. Alfred accompanied him and later commented on his maturity and admirable conduct. Since then, Dick has been assisting me as best he can with maintaining order and finding an answer to our problem. We found and arrested the men responsible for killing Kane five weeks ago. They were prosecuted accordingly and are now awaiting trial in Gotham County Jail. His behavior when apprehending them was admirable too. He kept his emotions in check and was always in control. I pull back my cowl as I approach him.
"You should be in bed." I tell him whilst pulling off my gloves and gauntlets. Dick shrugs his shoulders.
"Alfie said the same thing an hour ago."
"And what did you say?" I ask standing to his immediate left. Our eyes meet.
"I'm working on something big." He replies to peak my curiosity. I gesture at the screen.
"Something to do with Fognini I take it?"
"When we put him away, he didn't just leave a void. He also left a blueprint." I am intrigued by what he is suggesting. He is positing that Fognini is a perfect model for any aspiring crime boss who wishes to monopolize a city's criminal infrastructure. His green eyes briefly offer disappointment.
"You're not even going to ask me what I mean, are you? You already know." He says with a sigh. I often sense the boy is frustrated with my intellect's ability to interpret meaning without any significant background. It means he does not get to display his working and his efforts with lengthy explanations as I typically deduce everything from his first few sentences. Although I do not say anything to interrupt him when he is speaking, Dick has somehow identified an expression on my face that signals when I fully grasp everything he is saying. When he sees this, he instantly stops talking and we act. I crouch down beside him.
"I am going to ask you what you mean, Dick. Please tell me your idea." I say with a small smile I hope is encouraging. His face lights up with an enormous grin. I have succeeded. He nods.
"Okay then." He looks back at the screen, "Gotham's criminals are like any other part of society: without a centralized leadership, they go nuts. They need a figurehead like the police need Commissioner Gordon or city hall needs the Mayor. For years, Fognini was that figurehead and gave them all order. Now with him gone, they've lost their order. I figure that all they need to get back into line is another figurehead to take Fognini's place. Then everything will calm down again because they'll have someone to answer to if they cause trouble." He looks over at me. "I thought Matches Malone could be that figurehead."
Dick's reasoning is sound enough as is his research. But Malone is the wrong fit for such a lofty position. I agree with him that I should adopt some kind of persona to unite all warring factions, but it must be more credible. I nod in appreciation.
"It is a viable solution. However, Matches is not quite up to such a task. I believe I will have to fabricate a new identity for this plan to have any chance of success."
"Great, I'll help." Dick says already pulling up the identikit software program and criminal database. I put my hand on his forearm to stop him pressing any more keys.
"You will go to bed. You have school in six hours." The boy regards me in a mixture of disbelief and indignation.
"But it's my idea. I want to help. Please can't I just miss one day of school?"
"Your formal education takes precedence over any extra-curricular activities. We have always said as much. I doubt I will have created an entire crime boss by this evening. You can help then." Dick shakes his head. I am at a loss to explain his unruly behavior. He is not like other boys his age and is not prone to acting out. His green eyes bore into mine as if trying to read my soul.
"How long do you think you've been gone, Bruce?"
"I don't quite understand."
"Your patrol tonight: how long have you been out?" He asks. I consider the question briefly.
"Perhaps eight or nine hours." The boy adopts a sad smile.
"That's what I thought. You literally have no idea how much time passes when you're under the cowl." He gestures to the digital clock display at the top left corner of the screen. "According to that, which is apparently the most accurate clock in the universe, you've been out on patrol for at least forty-nine hours. We last had a meal together on Tuesday evening. It was also when I last spoke to you as Bruce. All your radio checks and database requests have been as Batman since then. Did you even notice?" I must admit I did not observe such a prolonged passage of time go by. During daylight hours I sequestered myself in my safe houses to monitor the strength of the GCPD in their respective areas. I do not believe I have eaten or slept since Tuesday but feel neither tired nor hungry. I would surmise that my recent work with Gordon and the GCPD units has consumed me whole to the point I am oblivious to anything outside that task. I frown at the boy: he looks angry with me.
"I apologize Dick but I fail to see what my absence has to do with your school attendance." Dick rolls his eyes.
"Um, how about I miss you? Does that make it any clearer?"
"I often disappear for up to seventy-two hours when conducting an intensive operation. You have never complained before."
"You tell us when you're going to do that so we're prepared. The last few weeks, you've literally just gone without a word. It worries the hell out of Alfie and me. I've been out looking for you four times in the last fourteen days because I thought you might be in trouble. I really think you might be getting lost in this criminal power struggle." He informs me with more than a little emotion towards the latter part of his fears. He is right of course: my obsessions are beginning to swallow me yet again as they did when I began my mission. It is difficult sometimes to remember my responsibilities to this city are immaterial to the boy before me. I am supposed to be his guardian and I am supposed to be there for him. I am absent when he is sick or injured or upset because of my mission, something Alfred frequently chides me for but I often fail to act upon. I squeeze his forearm.
"I forget too often I know." I begin, "I neglect you too often as well. You're right: you have done some impressive work whilst I have been indisposed and it is only right you should participate further. You can miss school this once and I will curtail my solo operations too. In future, you will accompany me as my timekeeper." I manage to get a smile of relief and satisfaction from my companion who nods in agreement at the new arrangement.
"You could just set an alarm." He suggests as I release his arm and stand up.
"I think I would prefer you shouting in my ear instead. It is less…ignorable."
It is four-thirty-nine A.M. Dick and I have been constructing my new identity for almost two hours. I have dispensed with my suit in favor of my pajamas and dressing gown. The boy is also now dressed in his nightwear, a Gotham Knights T-shirt and pair of loose gym shorts, as we insert rap sheets into police databases and biographical histories into more high-ranking systems. Criminals will look into my new persona with a scrutiny that exceeds all others. They are suspicious of anybody they do not know and rightly so. My identity must therefore be watertight and unbreakable. Soon enough, the life of Michael Anthony Andolucci, A.K.A Tony Sicily, will be everywhere one might look. After we have amended all biographical data, we begin work on his appearance.
By the time it nears six in the morning, we have reached an agreement on age, weight and hair color. We decide Tony should be in his mid to late forties, be overweight by ten to fifteen pounds and have greying hair. We however cannot agree on facial hair. Dick wants a goatee whereas I want a moustache only. I suggest a beard as a compromise only for the boy to refuse it, claiming it to be 'too Santa Claus'. I concede to his point by six A.M. By six fifty-three A.M. Dick is fast asleep in his chair under a pile of blankets. At close to seven-thirty, I decide to retire to bed for the foreseeable future. The creation process is almost in its final stages and I am satisfied with our progress thus far. I carefully pick the boy up and carry him up to the house.
"You have managed to spend some 'quality time' with him have you, Sir?" Alfred inquires after meeting me in the parlor. The old man's tenor is one of subtle irritation. He is angry with my absences too.
"We have reached an understanding, Alfred. I am no longer allowed to go out on patrols solo anymore." I explain whilst adjusting my grip on Dick's back. I feel his cheek rub against my neck in reply.
"Surely a simple stopwatch would be more prudent, Master Bruce."
"I apologize old friend. I promise it will not happen again."
"Oh it will happen again, Sir, of that I have no doubt. But I suppose we are all safe for the foreseeable future. Shall I call Mr. Fox and inform him you are still busy recovering from your hangover?" I am always grateful for Alfred's alibis: they are remarkably put together.
"Remind me, what party was I at?"
"The Gotham Yacht Owners Club party, Sir. It was on Tuesday."
"And there are witnesses to place me there?"
"At least a dozen, Sir."
"And it was a really serious party was it, Alfred?"
"Many people are still in drunken comas as a result of its debauchery, Sir."
"In that case I shall see you for lunch."
"And Master Dick?"
"Perhaps early afternoon would be best for him."
"What should I tell his school?"
"Tell them he's got insomnia." I say with a brief smile. The old man smiles too.
"Very good, Sir. Pleasant dreams."
"Goodnight."
