The City in Pieces II

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Tick Tock

Gotham Stadium was home to the big game between Gotham Rogues and the Rapid City Monuments. The new $300 million arena was the jewel of Mayor Garcia's urban renewal program, built on top of a formerly blighted stretch of riverfront property. The huge open-air venue was built of stone, steel, and glass—

All materials, thought Chance mindfully, that can shatter upon a very dense blast of energy.

Her reverie was broken when Ace hurried toward her with the hand-held radio, turning up the volume. The mayor was speaking on the other line to paparazzi.

"A training exercise," he said, "is what's going on—thousands of police heading in the sewers are merely performing a training exercise. Nothing to worry about."

"Said the spider to the fly," Ace remarked.

She plucked down at the radio antennae and passed the little hand-held into Chance's palm. Ace didn't like the mayor. It was obvious in her face. It was more obvious when she said,

"I hope he's one of the unlucky ones that get caught in the explosion."

Chance gave her a considerate smile, hooking the radio on her belt.

"Then it'll please you to know," said Chance, "that there is a bomb in the private box."

It apparently did brighten her day, for Ace grinned in mischievous delight.

Chance left Ace with that private notion, and then approached Bane. He was seated on a stone that looked like a carved bench. He was thinking. Chance passed a hand along his shoulder.

"What's rattling your cage, hm?" she asked him gently.

"Listening to the scanner," said Bane, indicating the device sleeping on Chance's belt loop. Chance shrugged carelessly.

"They'd be searching the underground tunnels without success, Sir," she dismissed lightly. "They haven't ever been down through the sewers, except for the few feet to search for alligators." She smiled at Bane, who looked at her at the vague mention of Killer Croc. "They'll be following city prints, Bane," continued Chance in a reassuring tone. "We've changed quite a few things around here since they've printed them out."

Bane gave her a concentrated look.

"Ace seemed to find the locations quite easily…" he reminded.

"Ace is intelligent, Bane. These cops aren't," retorted Chance as if this was solely based on fact. For all she knew, it was. Ace appeared by Chance, glancing uneasily at Bane.

"Seems quite level down here," she mentioned, "what, with the absence of bombs and gunfire…Quite boring someone to ask me."

Chance was about to speak until Dr. Pavel approached from Ace's right-hand side, saying dolefully,

"It is done."

He stood but a few inches below Ace.

Pavel indicated the reactor core.

"This is now a four megaton nuclear bomb."

"I was wrong," said Ace, impressed. "This is two-hundred times more powerful than the atomic bomb that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki…Wow…" Ace admired the bomb with fascination. Chance regarded the machine with some interest, glancing at Bane. He nodded in approval. Pavel relaxed.

"Pull the core out of the reactor."

Pavel immediately tensed, approaching Bane, draining of all color,

"But you can't!" he blurted out. Chance stopped him from coming any closer. "This is the only power source capable of sustaining it. If you move it, the core will decay in a matter of months—"

"Five," replied Bane calmly, "by my calculations.

"And then it will go off!" Pavel cried out, trying to explain the desperate measures that would result.

As the men began to disconnect the core, Chance watched Bane rise to his feet, sighing,

"For the sake of your family, Dr. Pavel, I hope so."

What's left of it, thought Chance to herself.

Chance turned behind her to grab the nervous Pavel by the nape of his dirty collar. Resignation crossed the old doctor's face as he realized what he had done. His hands fell to his sides, agreeing to being pushed through the tunnel by Bane's right hand woman. Chance followed Bane.

The boiler room was in a sub-basement of the stadium, far below the cheering crowds. With all eyes on the field, no one was watching as Bane's men broke the basement floor. Drills and explosive charges, created at the hands of Ace Leswaae, had carved out a path from the tunnels below. The mercenaries climbed up into the stadium.

Bane emerged from the underground. He gestured for Chance to bring the doctor alongside him. Chance held the passive man by his hands, forcing his arms behind his back, but the doctor didn't fight. He merely gazed up into the face of Chance, pleading eyes. Ace emerged from the darkness as well, holding the radio in her hand. From the receiver, her eyes glanced to it as an officer's voice that she didn't recognize screamed,

"It's a trap!"

Chance, like a deer in an open field, jerked her head to the panicked voice on the radio. She heard that one before, though it had been fleeting. John Blake.

"Pull everyone out! Bane's men been pouring concrete laced with explosives—"

Ace gave an amused chortle,

"What d'you know, Chance." She met the Lieutenant's eyes. "They figured it out."

"Two months, too late," Chance retorted.

The National Anthem could be heard wafting down from above. Thousands of sports fan, stranded at the attention, paid silence to the great country. No doubt the mayor had his hand over his heart. The sound of a beautiful vibrato emitted from the tenor of a small boy at the microphone on the pitcher's mound. Bane reached into his pocket to withdraw one of the ten detonators that he had distributed among his followers.

"What a lovely, lovely voice," he commented softly.

Chance withdrew a detonator from her marine trousers. Ace reached across her belt to withdraw a clipped detonator. From behind Ace, several men withdrew their own detonators. Chance continued to hold Pavel by his arms, he kneeled.

The mercenaries advanced to the empty locker room tunnels. Bane cocked his head to the sound of the kickoff, like a hunting dog catching the scent in the wind. He glanced at Chance, then said in finality,

"Let the games begin."

The holders hit the detonators.

The mayor's box exploded, raining blood and debris onto the field. The cheers turned into screams from the football stadium. People panicked and leapt from their seats. Smoke blew over the field. The grassy field dropped into the earth, swallowing the players. Rogues and Monuments alike tumbled into the smoking chasm that seemed to be chasing each receiver as they tried to pelt away. An earth-shaking rumble competed with the shrieks of more than sixty-thousand spectators, many of whom were already stampeding toward the exits. However, Bane's men had plotted around the gateways, forcing all the attendants to get back. Ace's face was priceless, staring at the scene before her in hardly mistaken astonishment.

She had to admit it: Bane could give her a run for her money.

The concrete smashed every tunnel that any cop could escape through; trapping them inside with no way out, buried alive. Chance withdrew her hand-held to see a satellite image of Gotham.

The streets erupted in clamoring panic as well. Chunks of asphalt flew through the air. Thick black smoke billowed from below. Manhole covers shout upward. Water gushed from broken fire hydrants. Street lamps toppled over, crashing onto the streets and sidewalks.

Snapped electrical wires sparked and hissed; pedestrians ran in terror. Horns honked frantically, brake squealed, sirens blared, and vehicles collided.

From above, the Granton Bridge collapsed, sending all but one bridge into the rivers. Cars spilled off the side, sending the drivers' cars full of children, pets, women, and children to their watery graves. Massive telephone poles and towers, deck, and cables crashed into the river in a controlled demolition.

Chance's grip on Pavel's hands loosened dramatically, staring at the creation of mass panic before her. She had seen quite a few things in her day, some things that would make the hair on Batman's neck stand on end. But this…was something quite different.

So permanent.

The once-green football field was now a smoking wasteland except for one narrow strip of turf that had survived the disaster, though this wasn't by accident. Dead bodies littered the remaining land.

Bane's men poured out of the locker room tunnel and onto the ruined field, forming a protective gauntlet for his entrance. More soldiers were posted at all exits. Chance stayed back in the shadows, holding Pavel. Ace steadied as the crowd reacted when Bane strode into view: everywhere, the crowd sobbed and shouted at no sign of escape. Television cameras swung in his direction, filming live on every channel of the world.

A dead umpire, killed by a chuck of flying debris from the mayor's box, lay sprawled upon the turf. The man's headset appeared to have survived and Bane plucked it from the remains. The panicked crowd grew hushed as Bane took command. He held out his arm for silence and raised the microphone to the mouthpiece of his mask.

"Gotham!" he shouted. "Take control of your city. This is the instrument"—he beckoned to Chance—"of your liberation."

Chance and Ace stepped into the light. Chance glanced at the large screen over the scoreboard. At first, footage was on Bane's face, but now the large picture showed the faces of her and Ace. More screams came from the crowd. Chance didn't know if the majority was for the fact that she was confirmed to be alive, or that Ace wasn't where she was supposed to be until she died. Chance took hold of Pavel and dragged him onto the field, thrusting him on his knees before Bane.

Bane held the microphone to the nuclear physicist's mouth.

"Identify yourself to the world."

"Dr. Leonid Pavel," he answered. "Nuclear Physicist…"

Behind Chance and Ace, Bane's men pulled out the nuclear bomb on wheels, showing the world what it was.

"Tell the world what this is." Bane instructed.

"A fully primed neutron bomb. With a blast radius of six miles."

Bane nodded.

"And who can disarm this device?"

"Only me."

"Thank you, doctor."

With the entire world watching, Bane effortlessly snapped the scientist's neck. Chance jumped slightly; Ace stared, practically enthralled at such casualty ratings. The audience didn't take it so well. Screams erupted from the bleachers.

"The bomb is armed," Bane said, ignoring the screams. "The bomb is mobile; the identity of the triggerman is a mystery. One of you holds the detonator. We come not as conquerors, but as liberators to return control of this city to the people, so we give it to you. At the first sign of interference from the outside world, or if anybody attempts to flee, this anonymous Gothamites—this unsung hero—will trigger the bomb.

"For now, martial law is in effect. Return to your homes. Hold your families close, and wait." He threw out his arms. "Tomorrow you will claim what is rightfully yours."

Bane turned and left the field. Chance and Ace left Pavel's remaining body of the field. His men rolled the bomb off the field.

No one spoke.