Chapter 20
Barbara had hope that the coming of dawn would cause the violence in Gotham to ebb, at least long enough for the police and the other rescue workers in the city to gain some kind of control over the situation. Unfortunately, while she-- and everyone else in Gotham-- were focused on the crisis within the city, a problem she hadn't expected had emerged.
The media in Gotham had gone wild when the Joker's crucifixion became public knowledge. For months, they had become intensely frustrated that the police and various high-ranking executives had put a freeze on information relating to all the suspicious deaths and gang related disappearances that were going on. (The Joker wasn't the only one who was frustrated his work wasn't being plastered on the front page, after all) Yet they had gone along with for the good of the city.
Now that the 'explosion' had begun, the media had broken off of the leash. Of course, they were all shocked and appalled that this was going on in their home city, but come on-- it was the biggest domestic violence story since the Rodney King riots in LA. Carnage and death sell papers, and the members of the news media were not about to let a story this big get away - not when it was right in front of them-- even if it was the death throes of Gotham.
So with the coming of dawn, all of the major media outlets in Gotham began to broadcast the amount of bloodshed that had been going on in Gotham for the world to hear. Phrases like 'dozens dead', "corpses of prominent crime lords' and 'police helpless' were used over and over with no restraint. Strangely, the word 'vampire' never came up-- neither did 'gangs on PCP's'' The jackals of the media didn't care about whatever it was that was really causing the chaos, only the end results and what those results did for their advertising revenues.
An hour after the first broadcast hit the airwaves, a chopper from CNN showed up in the city. Following it were representatives of all the major national networks (television and radio), and almost half of the newspapers on the east coast.
By noon, it seemed like the count of journalists on the streets of Gotham was higher than the number of corpses relating to the story that brought them. They kept using different cities as metaphors-- Phnom Penh, Saigon, Baghdad, Sarajevo, Johannesburg (one particularly inventive reporter had called it 'London after the Blitz'), all of which essentially amounted to the same thing-- the city was finished.
The press they were getting was bad enough, but the ripple effect were having a more dangerous ripple effect, as Barbara saw when watching one of the hourly reports from Fox News.
"Behind me the morgue attendants of Gotham are, as they have been since early this morning, removing bodies from the streets of the city... " The gray-haired reporter, known for his career as a correspondent in Africa, walked around what was the one of the main streets of Gotham. "More than fourteen hours in to what can only be described as a city-wide gang war, still no one is prepared to say how many have died in the gunfire and explosions that have been rocking Gotham since the New Year began."
"But the number of dead is the least of the concerns facing the city as the day has progressed. While there have been no battles in the street, reports of individual murders-- most of them known underworld figures-- have proliferated since dawn. Unofficially, reports have come in that the heads of all of the major syndicates, including the Maronis and the Falcones, are either dead or missing. "
"I say 'unofficially' because no one in the law enforcement community of Gotham seems willing to discuss what is happening in the city. Gotham has had a bloody history, and it was only recently that the United States lifted its orders declaring Gotham a national disaster area, cutting it off from the rest of the country for almost a year—a time where it was known only as 'No Man's Land'. "
The reporter cleared his throat, and continued. "All of these past horrors, however, pale in comparison to what has taken place today today. It is rumored half the District Attorneys in Gotham have gone into hiding, that Commissioner James Gordon has had a nervous breakdown from the strain of dealing with the situation, and that the Mayor and Governor are in a pitched debate whether or not to once again declare a state of emergency for Gotham City."
"Because of this, no one is answering or even attempting to answer the underlying questions. What started the chaos? Who or what is behind this horror? Has the carnage stopped or are all the relevant parties just taking the day off to lick their wounds? And, above all, where is the Batman when we once again need him more than ever?"
(Barbara cringed as she heard this question.)
"This last may be an unfair question to raise, as it has been verified by reliable sources that the so-called Caped Crusader has been busy throughout the night trying desperately to put a stop to the bloodshed. However, when given the report of the damages to this city, it is clear that for what may be the first time in his career, at least to myself, that the Batman has failed."
("He has not, asshole!" yelled Tim Drake. Faith put her hand on the young boy's wrist-- but she did not refute the charge.)
"For months Gotham City has been plagued by numerous gang related deaths and a mysterious string of 'blood-letting' murders, indicating that events in the city have been spiraling out of control. It is clear, now, that these were mere symptoms of a larger problem, one that the police, despite frantic reports to the contrary, could not control. And if the protector of Gotham is helpless to stop the violence, what hope do other conventional forces have?"
"This question has plagued the citizenry, and since early this morning, many of the citizens of Gotham have been leaving the city in dribs and drabs. Some of them have lived here all their lives, some have nowhere to go, but all that matters to them is that they no longer consider their homes safe."
A moment afterward, the camera cut from the reporter to a man in street clothes. Standing next to him were two young boys that looked as if they were barely out of kindergarten. "All my friends, my job, my life are in this city…" the man said in a shaky voice, "…but I can't stay here. We live in the middle of town, but I could hear the screams all the way from our apartment." He looked at his children. "I've lost my wife…" He paused, swallowing, once again looking at his sons. "…I can't lose my kids too."
The camera shifted back to the reporter after that. "I have traveled to many countries in my career in a journalist, and I have heard that story or a variation of it, at least a thousand times from hundreds of refugees. But I never expected to hear it on American soil, let alone in one of the most prosperous cities in the nation." For a moment a look of genuine pain appeared on the reporter's face. "Yet even this is not the saddest part of the story I have to tell you today."
("That's right, pile it on," Andrew said bitterly. "The mood's not grim enough?")
"Throughout the city the poor, the homeless, the infirm, all those people who have no assets of their own and no way to depart, have been going through their own version of hell."
The camera then cut to an old man who was suffering from some kind of tremor. "They've been killing my friends for weeks."
"Who has, sir?" asked the reporter.
The old man shook his head. "No idea. None of us know. All I know is that there are less of us everyday."
"Have the police investigated?"
For a moment the homeless man turned bitter. "They could give a damn…" Then it his face became resigned. "They couldn't bring 'em back anyway, even if they did help."
"And you're still on the street."
The old men spread his arms wide. "Where else we gonna go, pal?"
"The ugly truth of the matter is that hundreds of thousands of transients are murdered every year," The camera cut back to the reporter as he spoke. "But in Gotham City, the murder rate of homeless people has increased sevenfold over the past four months. What is more, there is every sign that this vicious killing spree will continue. Of the confirmed one hundred and five people who died last night, more than a third were homeless. No one is sure why they are still being targeted, and no one can explain how they were killed-- only that they suffered severe blood loss due to neck ruptures."
At this Dick looked at everyone incredulously. "Christ, these media people are thick." He snarled, voice rising as he glared at the reporter on the television. "How many hints does it take before you see vampires?"
Andrew fixed Dick with an unbelieving look of his own. "You want the media to be more accurate with what's going on?"
"Well, no but-- I mean-- well?" Dick trailed off, uncertain.
"The media is the least of our problems right now," Barbara said as she turned off the television.
"On the contrary… I'd say the media is a huge problem."
"Why, Spike?" said Dick exasperatedly. "They have no idea what the hell's going on in the city."
"Maybe not, but they're spreading the word that Gotham's falling apart, m'boy," Spike held up his hand to stave off any objections "I don't care if we're still holding it together; it LOOKS like the city's in turmoil and that nobody's in charge anymore. All you need now is a fire in the Reichstag and the people in this town'll welcome anybody who looks like he can stop the problem for 'em."
There was silence as the others in the room digested what Spike had just said. "Gotham is not '30's Berlin," Dick said finally, taking a deep breath.
Spike fixed him with a look. "Suit yourself, mate. I was there and I'm betting Prince Nick was too. I can recognize terror in the streets, and the people in Gotham are scared shitless."
There was a long silence as everyone in the room considered what had been said. Barbara wanted to say that Spike was wrong. She knew Dick and Tim well enough to know they wanted to say the same. This time, though, it would be a lie. Gotham City had been through some absolutely horrific times in its history but never-- not even during the year of No Man's Land-- had it been so close to its total, final destruction.
When Spike and Dick had come back to the clock tower and demanded what Spike had only half in jest referred to as 'the White Knights of the Dark City', Barbara knew that the news was going to be grim. The well-placed connections on the street that she had painstakingly assembled over the past few years appeared to have been wiped out in the space of a single day. Several were among the dead, others had disappeared and their fates were unknown. Barbara hoped that they were still alive, but she was enough of a realist to know that given their positions and the violence on the street, they were probably dead-- or worse.
Still, Barbara supposed she was safe-- until she remembered that more than one of her people on the street knew who Oracle was and where to find her. She had avoiding dealing with the problem by not thinking about it. There was little she could do, and beside that, there were far more serious issues-- things she could help solve.
Then they had started taking stock about Gotham-- and the immensity of what was happening finally came into focus.
To begin with, there were the immediate dead. The news had undercounted - there weren't a hundred and five; there were two hundred and nine. Only fifty-eight of those had been criminals of any kind.
Barbara was ashamed that she considered the life of a Falcone soldier to have less value than that of a high school senior, but the 'war on crime' in Gotham had gotten much more brutal, and soldiers were going to die, no matter what was done. The uninvolved were on the sidelines - their deaths were collateral damage - something to be avoided at any and all costs.
Until last night, their opponents had been quietly taking civilians down, one at a time, and as inconspicuously as possible. As the New Year approached, however, Nicholae's troops had dropped any pretense of tact. People were dying now in numbers she might have once (before her first encounters with the Joker) found unthinkable. People were dying everywhere - her associates had come across corpses in restaurants, at libraries, at nightclubs.
The grimmest find had occurred when Tim had encountered a cross-town bus, in which the driver and all ten passengers had been slaughtered. The only reason the media hadn't seized on to the image was that Tim had found the bys before the overextended police force had (and done his best to keep it out of the direct line-of-sight), though the press would probably find out about it when they got a few moments free to explore.
There wasn't a single one of them who was willing to estimate how many people had disappeared because no one -- not even the Sunnydale contingent-- was willing to guess just how many people had been eaten alive, turned or had just started to make a (desperate) run for safety. There might be a hundred people missing; there could be a thousand. Someone would have to do a head count and right now, everyone who could do it reliably had a full dance card.
Then there were the casualties in the Gotham underworld. In a very grim and scientific way, Barbara was amazed by the power of Nicholae's army; they had managed to do more damage to the crime syndicates of Gotham then her father and Bruce had done in a year or more. Usually, when a major chief fell among the mob, there was a struggle to seize the reins left hanging. In this case, however, holding on to those reins was more difficult than usual, and right now a healthy portion of the Gotham mob didn't want to be anywhere near the head of a family. Several-- the smarter ones—had gotten out of Gotham altogether, which did nothing to abate the chaos. If anything, it made things worse.
As far as anyone knew, in the crime families or without, twenty-seven major players in the Five Families of Gotham were dead. Only the Maroni's had anything resembling a skeleton of an organization left; all of the other families were pretty much gone. In addition, the Thorne syndicate had been obliterated. Rupert Thorne himself was seen getting thrown off of his fourth story mansion balcony, and all of his lieutenants had met their own gruesome fates.
Right now, there was still no real organization remaining among the men who were left. However, Barbara had heard that the remains of the Napoli and Gianelli's-- two families that until now had gotten along as well as the Hatfields and the McCoys-- had formed an alliance and were working together under the leadership of a previously low-level thug named Jimmy Eisenberg. No one knew who Eisenberg really was, but Barbara had connected him to Robson, one of Nicholae's lieutenants. She didn't like the implication.
Both she and Batman were certain that the alliance was at least a part of how Nicholae planned to take control of the remnants of the Gotham Families; get the scattered survivors of the war to swear loyalty to him in the chaos left behind by the horrific bloodshed. Some of her associates found it hard to believe that anyone alive would swear loyalty to a vampire. The rest of them knew better-- criminals would do whatever they felt was necessary to protect themselves.
But, despite all of these difficulties, they still had gotten nowhere on what was ultimately the real issue-- locating the Prince. For all the effort they had put into it, they were no closer to finding him then they had been three days ago. All of the buildings that the group knew were under the control of the 'darkness' (including the ones where Spike and Dick had taken orders in their undercover work) had not turned up even a hint of where Nicholae was. Everyone they had captured, interrogated, and (in most cases) tortured continued to maintain that they had no idea where his Excellency was hiding. Spike had been inclined to believe them, after considerable effort (on his part) to extract information otherwise from them.
"This ponce has managed to protect himself so well that I'm betting maybe three high-class blokes know where he's hid," Spike had said. "And I'm pretty sure Kotaski is one. We find him, we find the puppet master." Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to locate anyone with a bead on the Carpathian. Not yet.
Which led to their most serious problem -- and it was one that none of them were sure how to handle.
The problem of Batman.
Barbara and Dick had seen Bruce through some pretty bleak times, from his brush with death, the battle with the System-inspired Bat that Azrael had tried to fill his cape with, and his struggles to keep the city safe and intact when the government had cast it aside for naught. Through it all, they had understood (as well as any of them could know) Bruce's psyche and his methodology. But now, something was wrong … something was very wrong.
Batman was the original lone wolf and he had always been extremely reluctant to take advice from anyone (nothing unusual, to those who knew him well), much less from a century-old vampire and a Slayer with a couple of murders on her file. The Bat had kept them at arms length for the past six weeks with no stated explanation.
However, now, they needed to come together—but it was clear even to the casual observer that Bruce didn't trust and wasn't going to follow the advice of the Sunnydale contingent -- no matter how important that advice might be to the success of his efforts.
For starters, he had kept them completely in the dark as to who he really was. This wasn't a huge surprise to any of the others -- he only revealed his identity under the direst of circumstances.
Spike and Faith had considered that they had arrived at that point-- Nicholae was going to come looking for him soon enough. Still, Batman had kept his face hidden and refused any further discussion of the matter. And even though the tower was becoming crowded, he had mentioned nothing about moving to the Batcave where they could get a broader view of the city and rearm themselves more thoroughly.
Also, there was the fact that the worse the situation in Gotham had become, the quieter Batman had been becoming. He had made fewer communications to Barbara and Tim as the crisis worsened, and those had been shorter.
This was also according to Batman's pattern; he got more upset the closer his city came to ruin. Right now, however, they couldn't get him to share his plans as to what he was going to do to save Gotham. For that matter, in this meeting he had said little - the closest he had come, in fact, was pacing the length of the room like a caged tiger.
The pacing was very odd, to Barbara. Bruce had a habit of remaining very still when he was thinking, no matter the situation. He seemed more nervous, more on edge than she had seen him, even during No Man's Land. It would be understandable for any of them to be acting that way, given the circumstances, but for Batman…
… it was unheard of.
"You want to get Nicholae to show his face, I can think of one thing that'll guarantee his surfacing."
Spike had sounded entire too cheerful when he had made that remark. Nevertheless, at this point they couldn't dismiss any suggestion that was made. "How?" asked Barbara.
"The guy has made it pretty clear that he wants to see the Bat. I say you send out a message saying that you want a face to face with 'im," Spike put his hand on the table. "Say that you want to have some kind of summit about who gets what in Gotham."
"And you think that Nicholae will go for something like that?" asked Dick incredulously. His eyes were red around the edges from stress and lack of sleep. His concern about Bruce wasn't helping, either, as Barbara knew only too well.
Spike snorted. "He might, he might not. But just by making the offer, you force him to make some kind of movement. Might be a way to flush him out."
"You really think that after all the maneuvering that this guy's done to get where he is, he's just gonna pop out his head and shake hands because we ask him to?" Barbara tried to sound more even-handed than Dick, but she was as appalled by the suggestion as he was.
"You never know," said Spike thoughtfully. "I've seen a lot of Big Bads who really are that stupidly arrogant, in the end."
Her voice was incredulous. "You honestly think Nicholae's like that? After all he's done you think he's that stupid."
"I don't know. Right now I know more about Nicholae's plans than I do about the Man in Black."
"What do you mean?"
Everybody turned at that. It was the first time Batman had spoken in at least thirty minutes. From his tone, he sounded a little more wound up than was his norm. Spike either didn't hear it, or, more likely, heard but chose to ignore it.
"I mean that we're getting right down to where the cheese binds, oh shrouded one, and you are playing whatever grand strategy you have remarkably close to the vest," Spike's tone was sarcastic.
"Spike," Faith, the only one of them who would directly challenge the punk, gently put her hand on his shoulder. "This isn't the time to start going negative."
"No, actually I think this is exactly the time to raise the issue," he said, glancing at Faith, then at Batman. "The guy's already demonstrated how well he can do the old blitzkrieg and things are only going to be getting uglier when the sun sets in…" he paused, looking at his watch "…three hours. We can beat this guy but only if you let us in on the game."
Batman seemed to consider this. "And you believe the best way to bring Nicholae out of hiding is by operating from a position of weakness?" he said slowly. "If I should even suggest this, he'll think that I'm operating from a position of weakness and attempt to take advantage of it."
"In his mind, you already are," Spike said gently.
Batman pretended that he hadn't heard Spike, and continued. "In any case, it's a moot point; I do not negotiate with evil," His voice was hard, tone flat, and it was clear he would allow no argument. "Not now… not ever."
There was an awkward silence. Faith spoke next. "I don't? This is no longer an 'I' kind of situation, anymore."
"She's right." said Dick. "We have to operate as a group. Otherwise, we stand no chance of beating him."
There was another long pause. "This is my city." Batman said again. "And I am not going to give this monster any more control than he has already."
"Um… Look out the window," Spike said sardonically. "Nicholae has control over the city. He's wrecked the Five families, he's driven out the minor crime syndicates, and he's beaten up all the supervillains. He can disappear into the shadows now and he'd still control Gotham's underworld," Spike looked straight in to Batman's eyes, as best he could within the cowl the Caped Crusader wore. "Even if you beat him, your city's going to be years getting over the damage that he did in just one night."
Everything that Spike had said was true. Cold hard facts had always been vital to Batman… and that more than anything else made his next reaction even more out of character.
"This city is not under Nicholae's control. And as long as I am drawing breath, it never will be." Bruce's voice was getting a bit loud as he finished speaking.
"And how long," said Faith gently "do you think that will be?"
Batman's reaction to this was lost in Dick's whirling around at Faith. "Why the hell are you talking like that?" he said angrily.
Barbara had expected that Faith was going to turn on Dick and then there would be the fun of a free-for-all erupting… instead, Faith became pensive.
"Because that's the way life is when you're fighting vampires and you try to run the whole show by yourself," Faith turned back to Batman. "I've seen it happen more than once. Eventually, despite everything that's in you, you hit the wall. And the second that happens…." Faith trailed off, but all of them knew what she had been saying.
For a long moment, Bruce was silent. While that moment lasted, Barbara had become dangerously afraid. She wasn't sure of what-- that Batman was folding in on himself when they needed him to be more outgoing, that he was seriously considering the truth of Faith's words, or if, like her father, he was just considering giving up. All she knew was that Bruce had been hesitating a lot in his choices lately, and she was afraid that he'd become so unsure of himself that he would stop completely.
Finally, though, he spoke. "What do you suggest we do?" Batman asked calmly.
Faith sighed with relief. "First, we take things in order. We can't stop Nicholae, at least right now, because we don't know where he is." She took a long breath, and continued. "And we can't find out where he is unless we find Kotaski. We have to bring Kotaski out, and the only way that we can do that is if we can throw a serious monkey wrench into this well-oiled machine they've been working on for four months."
"We know all that," said Tim patiently. "But we don't have a way we can do it."
"Maybe we do…" Faith reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a flask of blue powder. "This is a magical powder that some of my friends in LA concocted after six months of research. It's made up primarily of root-based plants such as leeks and garlic."
Bruce silently watched Faith, listening to her explanation, but the others had their own reactions. Nightwing spoke first.
"So apart from making vegetable soup when we add water, how does that help us in this situation?" asked Dick somewhat sardonically
"On a human being, it does nothing. But on a vampire," Faith gave a mysterious smile "it has two uses. It turns the vampire's skin blue, marking it the same way a dye-pack does stolen money."
Nightwing nodded his head slightly, now listening as intently as Batman, curious as to what else the powder might be capable of. He had learned during his time with Bruce that there were some remarkable substances ready for use in the world, if you were willing to make the effort and find them.
"Well, that makes finding them easier," admitted Tim, "but how does knowing how many killers there are help us stop them?"
"That's the second thing it does." said Faith. "It has the same effect as a pesticide. It won't kill a vamp, but it will be a lot harder for them to put up a fight," She flashed her smile at Spike. "Want to try it on for size?"
"Bloody hell, don't even joke about that!" Spike recoiled.
"There must be somewhere between three or four hundred of Nicholae's troops in the city by now," said Batman, implying that a more accurate figure could not be had, on his present information. He turned to Faith. "Can you get enough of the powder for it to be useful to us?"
"And even if you can, how do we make sure the vamps get it?" added Barbara
Faith looked at Andrew. "That's where you people come in," the young nerd said. "I have a cunning plan that just might stop the madness and the enemy." He smiled. "Thank you, V: The Final Battle"
Everyone looked at Andrew in total ignorance. "Excuse me?" said Dick finally.
"Come here, I'll explain."