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Gotham – East End
The gaudy lights and garish, illicit advertisements faded with the rising sun. What seemed like a wild and dangerous place turned into a neighborhood once again. The shop owners, small markets, lunch counters, dry cleaners, hair salons and vendors of all other types reclaimed the neighborhood if only in the daylight. Families with children appeared on the street, going about the daily business of living.
Selina was up early today. Normally she preferred to sleep in, but she wanted to get the bank early. Selina didn't like leaving cash around her apartment, too many thieves out there, so a bank was relatively safer. She sat at one of the tables in front of a family run bakery having a cappuccino and fresh blueberry muffin. An iPad sat on the tabletop, but that was mostly to discourage any unwanted attention. There were a few files on it that she was interested in. She had 'picked it up' during her last job and it had some surprising details about Falcone's finances. More specifically where he kept most of his money. That sort of information could come in handy, she thought.
As she looked around at the 'day' people, she couldn't help being reminded this wasn't the public she usually saw in Gotham. Growing up how she didn't the 'straights' weren't part of her life. Everyone she knew was working an angle, either being taking advantage of or taking advantage. It wasn't a matter of the Haves versus the Have-nots. No one was a Have really, as she looked back. They were all just Have-nots; some just had even less or nothing.
These people, the 'straights' were the people you didn't hear about on the news. They lived their lives, working, trying to scratch out a living to take care of their families. Growing up Selina had been taught to laugh at them, as suckers that played by the rules. What did it get them, really, she always wondered? Watching them now going about their daily lives she wasn't laughing anymore. While she lived in the same place, her worldview had changed. As she watched families going about their daily business she couldn't help wondering if the people that taught her to laugh weren't the real suckers.
She had no desire to become one of the 'straights', but she did sort of see the appeal now. It was the reason in her new career; she never stole from those that couldn't afford it. This iPad meant nothing to Falcone. He probably had ten of them, all stolen of course. To these people an iPad meant something. They probably had to save up to get it, so their kid might have a bit of an edge in school. While Selina might not play by all the rules, she did have some. Not creating more victims was one of her main ones.
She did what she did because she'd grown up wanting things she was told she could have. Being a burglar was a way of making a living, but it was also for the excitement, risk, fun and danger. Her targets were people that could afford to loss a little, not everything. Stealing from those it would hurt the most seemed sad and pitiful. Selina hadn't fought to escape the users just to become one herself. Call it honor among thieves or whatever you wanted, some lines she would never cross.
Gotham – Iceberg Lounge
Oswald Cobblepot aka The Penguin was not a happy man. He sat deep in his plush chair just staring up at the repairmen working on the glass ceiling. His club was closed due to the damage, clean up and repairs. Every minute the doors weren't open was costing him money. They should be open by tonight, but that didn't solve his problem.
While he thought of himself primarily as a businessman, Oswald also liked to think of himself as a dangerous man. When you swim with the sharks as he did, you had to be dangerous. Any sign of weakness and they turned on you. While he straddled the line both as legit and illegal, his basic understanding of the world came from the illegal side. It was the code of respect that mattered to that kind of people. This 'Superman' as they were starting to call him had disrespected him. Oswald couldn't let that go or he would been seen as weak. If he was seen as weak and the sharks would be out for blood.
He did the figures in his head and roughly thought he was losing 30 thousand each day he was closed. Someone was going to pay for that and that someone was this so-called 'Superman.'
Oswald snapped his fingers and several of his flunkies came rushing over.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Get the word out,' Oswald said. "There's a bounty on this 'Superman.' Whoever brings his body to me or just his head, I don't care, they get the money."
"How much, boss?"
30 thousand a day, three days, Oswald thought.
"100 grand on delivering."
Gotham Outskirts
The private airfield sat well off the road. If you didn't know it was there you'd miss it. A single Gulf Stream glided in and landed, taxing over to the large hanger. When it stopped the door opened and Deadshot climbed off. The door immediately closed and the plane was already taxing for take off. A single man in a black suit stepped out from the hanger. He held up a set of keys and then tossed them to Deadshot.
"Everything you need is in the car,' the man said.
Headlights came on. A black car pulled up and the man got in. It drove away leaving Deadshot alone. He slowly walked into the hanger to find another nondescript black car sitting in the shadows. He moved over and unlocked the door. He reached in and popped the trunk. A smile crossed his face as he examined the contents. Guns, lots of guns packed the trunk. A folder sat on top of them. It contained pictures of his target and the latest information they had on her. He thought he was going to like working for the government. Slamming the lid closed, Deadshot climbed in and started the motor. He was out of the hanger and on the highway heading for Gotham. The whole thing had taken less than 5 minutes.
Gotham – East End
The sun slipped behind the tall buildings and darkness reclaimed the city. Another long day at the magazine and Clark was tired. His eyes were burning even worse than they had before. All he wanted to do was get to his apartment and climb into bed. It seemed fate had other plans for him. As he rounded the corner to his block he saw Carl and Wayne, the same two guys that had hassled Melinda. They were also the same two he'd followed and inadvertently got himself involved in some sort of gang war. They shoved someone into a van and then took off. Clark got a glimpse of the person they'd abducted it was Melinda. He started running.
He was new at this, so he had to stop at his apartment first to change. After a few frantic minutes he was out running over the rooftops, looking for the van. He was sure he'd lost it, cursing himself for being such an amateur when he saw just the taillights turn into the warehouse district. They had slowed considerably and he quickly caught up with them. He was just about to leap off the building onto the van when it pulled into a warehouse and the doors closed behind it.
Clark knew whatever Carl and Wayne had in mind; it wasn't going to be pleasant for Melinda. He wasn't going to allow that to happen. He made the leap to the warehouse's roof and then found a small window to climb through. He saw them, just standing near a large shipping container waiting. Melinda was crumbled up in the fetal position on the ground. Clark's temper flared as he kicked himself for not getting inside sooner. He dropped down in front of him.
"Let her go, now."
Clapping came from the shadows. Clark turned to see a small, thin man in a suit step out. He was smiling as he clapped.
"Well done, Mr. Superman, well done,' the man said. "When I hired these two I wasn't sure they could pull it off, but here you are. I told them to grab someone young and pretty from the East End. That's where you've been sighted before I found out. They already had someone in mind that owed them money. She is pretty, well, not right now, but she'll do."
"Who are you?' Clark asked.
"Jonathan Crane, Doctor Jonathan Crane."
"So doctor, what is this an ambush?' Clark asked, looking all around for others.
"Ambush sounds so tawdry, don't you think?" Crane replied. He kept walking towards Clark. Clark and Wayne moved away from the prone figure of Melinda and wearily moved closer. "I wanted to meet you."
"Why's that?"
"Cause you're worth a lot of money, Mr. Superman."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes, you got the wrong person's attention when you made your entrance at the Iceberg Lounge,' Crane explained, getting closer every moment. "You're to be made an example of and whoever does the deed will be handsomely rewarded."
"And you and your friends over there are here to collect, is that it?" Clark asked.
"Yes."
"You got me here, why don't you let the girl go,' Clark suggested. "She has no part in this."
"I'm multitasking, Mr. Superman,' Crane replied. "Besides, I doubt she's in any shape to go anywhere right now. By the time she is, she'll be far away. She'll be sold to the highest bidder. No one will wonder what happened to her and in a short while no one will even remember her."
"What the hell kind of doctor are you?" Clark asked in horror.
"I specialize in the mind, Mr. Superman,' Crane said. "People's fears are of great interest to me. NOW!"
Carl and Wayne lunged at Clark, but he spun and took them out with a left and a right. As he turned back to Crane, the man raised his arm and some sort of mist sprayed into Clark's face. A cloud of powder engulfed him. He tried not to breath, but it was too late and it was already in his system. Crane moved off, slipping into the shadows.
"Have you ever been afraid, Mr. Superman?' Crane's voice called to him. The room seemed to vibrate and flicker in and out. Sounds were amplified and Clark's perspective was all wrong. He stumbled over the body of Clark and lost his balance. The room seemed to telescope out and away from him. All of Clark's senses seemed heightened and on fire at once. He could hear Crane almost giggling as he whispered to him, yet Clark couldn't focus enough to find him.
"So sad, really. 'Crane whispered, staying in the shadows. "One mistake at the beginning and your future is snuffed out just like that. All those eyes on you wondering what in God's name are you. You're just some freak of nature, aren't you Mr. Superman?"
This was Crane's favorite part; the first signs of confusion, then panic and fear. He licked his smiling lips under his hood, his eyes intensely watching him. He had taken a full blast of the powder and it was already working it's magic. Crane would enjoy watching Superman suffer for a very long time before he killed him.
"All your skills stripped away by fear,' he continued. "You're helpless, aren't you, Mr. Superman?"
Clark's breathing was coming in gasps as he tried to understand and control what was happening to him. His heart was beating too fast and seemed to cause the whole warehouse to pulse with each beat. His eyes went wide as he swung his arms wildly at anything and everything. Crane's laugh echoed through him, like some haunted demon from hell. He was being overwhelmed by the panic, as the effects got stronger by the moment. Clark stumbled into some steel bars, knocking them down and when they hit the floor they transformed into snakes. Asps and vipers slithered at his feet and he backpedaled and fell.
"Helpless and hopeless,' Crane whispered. "The bigger they are, the easier they fall. You're nothing, Mr. Superman, just a freak that needs to be put down."
Clark scrambled on the floor, desperately to get away from the snakes, but as he glanced up, shadows darted across the dim lit roof. The whole warehouse seemed alive. Disembodies eyes were watching him, staring in horror at him. It was almost as if they could tell his whole life had been a lie. He was a freak, something that shouldn't be. He was an alien, not from this world and those eyes seemed to know it.
Crane played with him for several minutes, taunting and tormenting him. He relished the wild-eyed panic and fear in Clark's eyes and wanted more of it. The only thing that would make it perfect was to hear him scream. Crane wanted Superman to scream, to beg, to cry, and to fall deeper into his own fear and hopelessness. He craved it like a drug. Why hadn't he screamed, he wondered?
Clark managed to get to his feet and pressed his back against the cargo container, willing himself to stay upright, but every instinct within him wanted to curl up into a ball until the nightmares went away.
"You found your friend's new home,' Crane said to her. "Inside that crate are all her new playmates. Why don't you take a look?"
Clark shuddered as he looked at the cargo container, his mind bombarded with terrifying visions and ideas of what might be inside. Something seemed to draw his fingers towards the latch and he managed to get it open just a fraction. Darkness filled the container and he heard whimpers and sobs too numerous to count yet still he didn't scream. Then he saw the eyes, so many of them desperate and terrified looking out of the darkness at him.
"Even they can see you're a freak, Mr. Superman,' Crane said with a laugh. "Whatever things spawned you must have cursed the very sight of you. A freak, that's all you are. You're helpless and can't do anything to stop what's going to happen. All those eyes are just going to watch!"
This was the wrong thing to say, but Crane had no way of knowing it at the time. Clark had been fighting the effects as hard as he could for several minutes, but the mention of his parents snapped something inside Clark. Anger began to build within him. Crane's last words about how he couldn't do anything brought back another memory. He had said the words to Dinah, he could so he did. Even in this panic Clark knew that hadn't changed. He had the strength to fight this.
"Time to die, Mr. Superman,' Crane whispered. "At the hands of the Scarecrow!"
Crane was overconfident and stepped out of the shadows for the kill. Clark saw him, blurred and out of focus, the hideous mask distorting his features. Clark squinted, his eyes feeling like they were on fire. Crane came at him, but Clark somehow managed to dodge and move away.
"You can't escape!' Crane shouted as he reached down and picked up a thin, hard pipe. "Time to put the freak out of everyone's misery!"
Clark's vision was off, but he sensed Crane moving towards him. Pushing off from the container, he tried to fight but Crane swung the pipe before Clark could block it. He gasped in pain and crumbled to the ground as Crane viciously hit him across the back of the legs with the pipe. He smiled as he watched her fall.
"Don't worry, Mr. Superman, this is for your own good,' he gleefully said, striking Clark again on the shoulder. Pain lanced through him and tears came to his eyes as he tried to move away. His red cape with that huge S symbol on it hung down around his body. It made a perfect target, Crane thought.
"This will hurt you more than me, Mr. Superman,' he said. Raising the pipe over his head, he slammed it down across Clark's back, driving him into the cement floor. Crane watched his body shudder and writhe in pain, loving every minute of it. He started to laugh as he stood over him, wanting him to know fear right up to the end. His laugh died on his lips as he saw Clark look up at him. His eyes were glowing red.
"What the hell,' Crane shouted, jumping away from him. This wasn't how it was suppose to go, he desperately thought. He brought his arm up to spray another dose of the toxin. Clark saw it coming, his eyes burning, yet everything was starting to come back into focus. He reacted without thinking. Exhaling, he blew as hard as he could. The toxin seemed to stop in midair and then reverse course. Crane raised his hands too late as his own toxin engulfed him.
"No!" He screamed, stumbling back and falling to the ground. He felt the pipe still in his hand suddenly grow intensely hot. He dropped it, struggling with what was happening to him. He looked over, but it seemed the pipe was melting before his eyes. Crane shut them, desperate to stop the visions. He heard movement to his right and when he opened his again, Superman was standing over him. His eyes seemed to have vanished, red pulses with smoke coming off them in their place.
"What are you?" Crane screamed.
Clark reached down and picked Crane up be his collar. He held him several feet off the ground in front of him. The toxin was still in his system, but he was overcoming it. Anger filled him, as he looked at Crane.
"What are you?" Crane repeated, only this time it was more of a whimper.
"You talk about fear, doctor,' Clark managed to say. "I'm what you should fear."
Gotham – Upper West Side
Carmine Falcone stood in his penthouse apartment raging at his men.
"Someone stole from me?" He shouted. "From me?"
He swept the back of his hand across the main table, it's contains crashing to the floor and shattering.
"You think it was one of the other families?'
"No, they wouldn't have the balls," Carmine snapped. "A pro did this and I want whoever it was to pay. You hear me, pay!"
'We'll put the word out."
Carmine turned and stared at his open safe. The spoils of his criminal life were gone. No one stole from him, no one. He wanted blood. Whoever did this, he wanted to suffer and die knowing it was him that was responsible. He turned to his men and held up his hand, the diamond picky ring flashing in the light.
"No." Carmine said. "I want whoever did this to suffer. Get me Mr. Zsasz. Tell him I've got a life he needs to liberate in his own special way. Whatever his price, tell him I'll pay it."
"Boss, we can handle this,' Falcone's second offered. "I'll send a few guys to take care of it. Zsasz is a nut, a fucking wackjob."
Carmine backhanded the man, knocking him to the ground.
"Don't ever question me again. You hear?!" Carmine shouted. "We're going to have a war on our hands, we can't spare any of our men! I know Zsasz is a demented, sick bastard, that's why I want him! No, do what you're told!"
Gotham – The Warehouse District
Batman moved down front the rafters. He could hear the sirens getting closer. Two men were unconscious on the ground. A young woman seemed near catatonic, curled up in the fetal position. Off to the left a group of twenty young women sat together. They had blankets wrapped around them, but he could see the fear in their eyes. He had seen that look before and it only meant one man, Scarecrow, yet he wasn't anywhere to be found.
What happened here, he couldn't help wondering? Where was Crane? Who was the anonymous tipster that called this in to the police? He had only a short time to investigate. He surveyed everything but his eyes finally returned to the two unconscious men. They were the ones that were going to be killed on the rooftop, before the man in the red cape came jumping in. Was this tied to the Superman somehow he couldn't help wondering? A thousand questions went through his mind, but they would have to wait. He turned towards the young women and in his gentlest voice said.
"Everything is going to be okay. The police are on their way. You're nightmare is over, I promise you."
Gotham – The Harbor
The Iceberg Lounge was up and running. It was one minute till midnight and the place was packed. Oswald was happy as the money was once again coming in. It seemed Gotham's entire underworld was here tonight, so side deals and contracts would bring in even more money. If things kept up, he would make his 100 grand back by the end of the night. He was in such a good mood he had ordered champagne to be given out at midnight. The cheap stuff, of course, but it was the gesture that counted. He could see his staff moving through the crowd passing out the glasses and he decided he would make a toast. Signaling the DJ, the music stopped and Oswald stood.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the reopening of the Iceberg Lounge,' he said. "I want you all to have a good time and spend lots of money!"
There was a laugh and he was just about to continue, when two red beams sliced through the glass roof. The customers scrambled out the way, and in the next moment the glass shattered. People screamed and dove for cover. Oswald stood in stunned silence, his mouth open, as he couldn't believe this was happening again. Then he saw him. The man they were called Superman dropped down through the again shattered roof and landed on the center of the dance floor. He had something over his shoulder and let it slip to the floor once he stopped. A gasp went through the crowd as they recognized Scarecrow. He was unconscious. Everyone looked at Superman.
"I'm told someone here put a bounty on me,' he said. Clark was still angry over everything that had happened this evening. He knew this was rash, but in the moment he didn't give a damn. He glanced down at Crane. "He tried to collect it. He failed. If anyone else tried to collect, I'll come back for whoever's responsible. You have my promise on that."
He looked at everyone in the room for a moment and then slowly bent his knees. A collective gasp went through the room as he jumped, disappearing back through the shattered glass roof and into the darkness. Bedlam ensued.