A/N: Okay, so I originally was going to publish a single, ridiculously long chapter called Azrael Unleashed which covered all the events of episodes 19 and 20 of Season 2. But when I finished writing it, I realized it was almost ten thousand words long, so I decided to split them up and publish them at the same time. I need to stay on schedule for the April 25th debut of Season 3 after all. So without further ado, here are Chapter 29 and 30! Hope you enjoy!
Azrael
"Welcome, Mr. St. Cloud," a middle aged, African-American lady greeted. Jean had just pulled through the gates of Arkham in his bright red Maserati, stepping out of the car to greet Arkham's chief of staff, Miss Ethel Peabody.
"Thank you for having me," Jean told her. He tossed the keys to a valet boy and warned, "Be careful with that. It's worth more than you." He turned back to Peabody with a questioning smile. "Wasn't Strange supposed to be here? I thought we'd arranged a meeting."
Peabody nodded. "Professor Strange is currently with a patient, but you can wait in his office until he is finished."
Jean huffed loudly. "Fine, but make it quick. I have more important things to do today."
Peabody nodded again, although it looked like it took everything in her not to strangle the brat. "Of course, Mr. St. Cloud. Right this way, please."
She led him through the maze that was Arkham Asylum. He noted that even if a patient were to escape their cell, they'd have a hell of a time getting out of the building. They walked deeper and deeper into the Asylum to the point where he could practically smell the crazy. Finally, they reached a corridor that led to a pair of glass double doors.
Peabody opened them and told him to take a seat wherever he liked. He opted for the chair behind the desk, kicking his feet up on the counter. If he was playing the billionaire brat role, he wasn't gonna hold back. Peabody rolled her eyes and told him, "Professor Strange will only be a minute."
"Thank you, Ethel," Jean told her, grabbing a pencil off the desk and twirling it around in his fingers.
Peabody walked off.
Jean had half a mind to ransack the room right then and there for evidence. He had the opportunity…
But no, that wasn't his job. Besides that, he felt like he was being watched. So he sat there, waiting patiently for Strange to arrive.
It only took half a minute for the doors to open again, but it wasn't Ethel who'd opened them.
"Mr. Strange!" Jean announced, standing from the chair to shake the man's hand.
Strange's eye visibly twitched at seeing Jean behind his desk. He gave the smallest of grins and said, "Hello, Mr. St. Cloud. Are you well?"
Jean nodded. "I'm doing great, and please call me Sterling. Mr. St. Cloud was my dad."
The doctor nodded. "Of course…Sterling." He gestured for Jean to take the visitor's chair, taking the chair behind the desk for himself. "Now, what can I do for you?"
Jean sighed. "Well, it's not as overly important as my secretary," (who'd been voiced reluctantly by Bruce), "probably made it seem. As you know, my poor, late Uncle Theo was brought here after he…died. Well, my sister and I received the belongings from his final will, but there was a family ring ascribed to me, as the next male heir, that I never received. I was led to believe that my uncle had it in his possession when he met his unfortunate end, so I was wondering if you were in possession of it."
Strange sighed and silently thought for a moment. He shook his head. "My sincerest apologizes, but I have no recollection of finding any such ring. We removed all clothing items before cremating the body."
Jean shook his head. "I'm certain he was wearing it that night. Would you mind if I looked through his belongings? That ring is worth a lot of money, and I'd be happy to accommodate you for your time," he told the man, already reaching for his wallet.
Strange nodded slowly. "Very well, Mr. St. Cloud, follow me."
They walked down a pair of hallways before reaching a room filled with large lockers, the confiscated belongings of the inmates of Arkham.
The doctor led him down the rows, eventually reaching 'T. Galavan.'
There were no locks on the doors, so Jean opened it. Inside hung an old, withered suit, a pair of expensive shoes caked in sand and mud, and a small cardboard box sitting on the top shelf. Jean took the box and opened it. There was a watch, a wallet, a ring of keys, and some lint, but no ring.
"Is this everything?" Jean asked, going through the pockets of the suit.
Dr. Strange nodded. "Yes. This is all Mr. Galavan had on his person at the time of his death. Perhaps it was taken before his body was found? Perhaps by Mr. Cobblepot?"
Jean sighed. "Whatever. It's only a ring." He reached into his wallet and removed several hundred dollar bills, handing them to Strange. "Thank you for your help."
The doctor smiled, slipping the money into his pocket. "It is no problem at all. May I escort you out?"
Jean nodded and they started out of the room. He read the names of the lockers as they went, saying, "You've got some pretty big names in here. Pike, Cobblepot, Valeska…whatever happened to that guy anyway?"
Strange sighed with false grief. "Found dead the day after he broke out. A shame, really. We were making much progress on his mental–"
"Oh, no way, you have Mr. Freeze's stuff!?" Jean asked excitedly, impulsively opening Victor Fries' locker.
It was only open for a split second before Strange slammed it shut, chiding, "Mr. St. Cloud, you are already receiving our fullest graces in letting you access your uncle's belongings. Do not test that grace."
Jean shook his head shamefully. "I'm sorry, Professor Strange. I wasn't thinking."
"I think it'd be best if you leave," Strange stated coldly, keeping his hand firmly on the locker.
Jean nodded. "Right. Well, thank you for your–"
"No problem," Strange told him with a small, cold grin.
A pair of guards escorted Jean out of the Asylum and back to his car. The valet cautiously handed him back his keys.
Jean smirked, removing five hundred dollar bills from his wallet and handing them to the valet. "Word of advice: get the hell out of here," Jean told him, keeping his face light and warm while his words were cold and forewarning. He patted the guy on the shoulder and stepped into his car, flooring it away from the Asylum.
He'd been kicked out, but it wasn't a big deal. He got what he needed.
Mr. Freeze's gun was missing from his locker.
Meanwhile, Bruce snuck down the hallway, following a pair of guards and a middle aged, African-American lady. The guards were dragging a massive man along with them. It was Aaron Helzinger, one of the only two Maniax who'd survived long enough to get caught, accompanied solely by Barbara Keen.
He'd followed Peabody and Jean inside, disguised as an Arkham security guard. The uniform was a little big on him, but it didn't matter. If he got caught, they'd just throw him out.
And he wasn't planning on getting caught.
He followed Peabody after she left Jean, who'd played his billionaire brat role perfectly. Peabody walked through the maze, eventually reaching a large caged area where the inmates were allowed to interact.
"Inmate Helzinger," she stated in an authoritative, "step forward."
The massive man did as he was told, looking between the lady and the pair of guards with child-like fear. They took him from the cage and led him through the Asylum, Bruce following at a distance.
Where were they going?
They suddenly turned a corner, breaking his line of sight. Bruce quickened his pace. If he lost them in there, he'd never find them again. He rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.
There was nothing there, just a small room with three walls, no doors, no windows, nothing.
And four people had disappeared into it.
He was missing something…a sliding door, a hidden room…something.
His mental clock was ticking away. Just down the hallway, Strange and Jean had left the office. He needed to move quickly.
The floor hadn't moved, and it didn't seem likely that an elevator came down from the roof and ascended again in the time that Bruce lost vision. More likely, there was something wrong in the walls. He felt around, searching for something. A false wall, a revolving door, a loose panel…
For once in his life, the universe threw him a freebie.
He felt around the edging of the room and found a panel that flipped down, revealing a key hole.
Down the hall, Jean had just made his way out of the locker room.
"Shit…" Bruce muttered. He didn't have time to pick the lock. He had to be in the car by the time Jean drove away.
He put the panel back and ran off towards the parking lot, taking his position in the trunk just as the valet came to get the Maserati for Jean.
The car stopped, he heard Jean thanking the valet, and the car drove off.
Bruce moved the back seat and climbed out of the trunk, saying, "Found a secret panel, possibly a hidden room or elevator or something."
"A secret room?" Jean asked. "Don't you think that's a little far-fetched?"
Bruce scoffed. "It wouldn't be the first time."
Jean nodded. "Well, I know for certain that Mr. Freeze's gun was missing. That and Strange lied about cremating Galavan, I could see it in his face."
"This man ordered your parents' death? You're sure?" Gordon asked, staring at the photograph of the Wayne Enterprises Cricket Team. First thing that morning, he and Harvey had received an invitation to Wayne Manor, the reasons unspecified.
Selina nodded. "I know he was part of the reason they were killed," she stated. "Why is he not under arrest?"
Bullock sighed. "It's not so simple."
"The evidence we have is far too tenuous for a warrant," Jim told her.
"It's ancient hearsay, not fingerprints, only witness…" Harvey trailed off. She had told them all about Karen Jennings, how the woman had risked her life to help them find Hugo Strange, how she'd eventually sacrificed her life to protect Selina. And even an old, hardened Irishman could tell the poor girl was not over it. "Barnes wouldn't even say no, he would just look at me like I was nuts."
Selina shook her head. "I'm sick of this. We know where Strange is, we know he's hurting people right now, and you two are talking about politics with your boss and getting a piece of paper signed," she chided.
"This is the way it works, Selina," Jim told her calmly.
"Why? You're not a cop anymore," she challenged.
Jim and Bullock simply stared at her. Gordon turned to his partner, asking, "Give us a sec?" Bullock obliged and walked off, leaving her alone with the former detective. "Selina, I know you're frustrated, but we need to do this the right way."
"The right way?" she asked with a mocking tone. "And how many times did that fail with Galavan?"
"It's not the same."
"He bent and broke the law over and over again," Selina said. "And Strange is doing the same thing. His men killed Karen, and maybe my parents." She paused and took a deep breath. "Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me. But I fear we're going down the same path as before, and we won't get justice unless–"
"Unless what?" Gordon interrupted.
Selina steeled herself. "What you did to Galavan. What you knew you had to do because of the bureaucracy and the red tape–"
"What I had to do?" Jim growled. "I chose to kill a man in cold blood. And it was the wrong choice. Crossing that line, you'll pay for it. Over and over again, like I have been. Like I still am. And it will make you more like the evil you're trying to fight." Jim took a deep breathe and sighed. "You need to be better. Do you understand me?" Selina simply stared at him, unwavering. "Just hold out a little bit longer. We'll work on Barnes, get him to sign off our warrant and put Strange away for good. The right way."
Selina clenched her jaw. She wasn't going to win this debate, but she wasn't completely giving in. "Fine," she muttered. "But I'm going with you."
"Jim!" Bullock yelled, barging into the study and holding out his police radio. "You're not gonna believe this."
They arrived in the Narrows at a horrifying crime scene. Four male victims had been hung from the ceiling by their ankles, each of their heads encased in a bucket of cement. Captain Barnes was standing in front of them, addressing the press.
He caught a glimpse of Gordon and made a beeline for them.
"Hey, Cap, look who I found," Harvey said.
"Shut it, Bullock!" Barnes chided, turning his rage on Gordon. "You have one hell of a nerve."
"Listen, I just need five minutes of your time…" Gordon told him.
Barnes was having none of it. "Hargrove, Steve! Escort Mr. Gordon off my crime scene immediately. And you," he said, turning on Bullock, "we're gonna have a little discussion about this tomorrow morning."
"Captain Barnes, please, hear him out," Selina interjected.
"Listen, kid…" Barnes started angrily. He paused, realized who he was talking to, and then corrected himself, "Miss Wayne, I don't care how much money or pull you have in this town, I'm through talking to him."
"Are you through listening to the truth?" she asked.
Barnes rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, give me a break." Selina simply stared at him, determination written in her eyes. Barnes sighed and relented, "All right, five minutes. No, three minutes."
Jim nodded and they walked off. Selina looked around the building from where they were standing. She recognized the place. They'd never gone inside, but Bruce and her had run over or past it dozens of times. The Factory was only a few blocks south of there. She caught herself looking up at the rafters and the structural supports, formulating how she'd get from one end to the other. This building was still under construction, leaving endless possibilities of perilous jumps and climbs. This place was like a playground for her.
She caught a shift of movement in the corner of her eye. It was up near the roof of the building, and although it was nearly pitch black in the rafters she'd definitely seen something move.
For half a moment, she let herself hope it was Bruce up there watching over them.
But no, that couldn't be right. He was off hunting Jean. He'd only be there if…
Her stomach turned over.
Bruce would only be there if Jean was there, too.
Gunshots echoed through the building, and Selina ran towards them, a small army of cops surrounding her.
They rounded the corner. Barnes was on the ground, seemingly knocked out, and Jim was on his back staring up at a man holding a sword. He was dressed in all black armor and a cloak, his metal mask decorated with red designs that looked suspiciously like blood. Needless to say, the cops opened fire on the attacker.
Selina simply watched in awe as the man turned away from them, leaping up two stories in a single bound, climbing a solid cement pillar barehanded, and escaping into the night.
It was inhuman, impossible, but she'd just witnessed it.
And all Selina could think was, "Jean?"
That night, Bruce and Jean sat around the Galavan penthouse, as they'd done all day. Jean was adamant all they needed to do was wait for Strange to tip his hand. Once he did, they'd find Galavan and kill him. Bruce didn't trust him at first, but then, later that night, the news broke.
Meanwhile, Selina sat on a couch in the study, sulking over Barnes' and Gordon's harsh words to her. "Stay out of police business," they said. "They had this handled," they said. Bullshit. She'd found out more in twenty four hours than they had in three weeks of investigating Strange. And yet they acted like they knew best? She stared at the muted television. Maybe she should call Bruce, update him on all that she'd found. Hell, she could probably help him track down Jean, if he hadn't already. She didn't know the city quite as well as he did, but two heads were always better than one. She was a second away from dialing his number when the TV caught her eye. She unmuted it.
"That's right, Dawn. The masked assassin that attacked the GCPD earlier tonight has been identified as the former Mayor, Theo Galavan."
Without a word, Bruce and Jean hastily armed themselves and ran out of the apartment. They hit the streets, climbing up a building to get an overhead view. If they moved quickly, Galavan couldn't get too far. They sprinted across the city towards the GCPD, scouring the rooftops for any sign of the man.
Bruce tried to remain calm. Getting worked up would only hinder the mission, but this guy had nearly killed Selina and he would've been successful had Bruce and the police not intervened.
So, needless to say, he was itching for a fight.
When he got his hands on Galavan, he'd make him wish he'd stayed dead.
"Up there!" Jean called over the roaring wind. He was pointing several buildings in front of them where a man in a cloak and armor was running towards them, away from the GCPD.
They leapt across a gap between buildings, and came to a halt. Galavan was only three rooftops away and closing the distance fast.
Jean drew his sword and Bruce pulled on his brass knuckles, both of them putting on their masks and hoods.
"Here he comes…" Bruce muttered. He was only two rooftops away, now. "Should we hide? Ambush him?"
Jean shook his head. "Wait."
Galavan leapt over another gap, now on the adjacent building to them. He stopped, staring across the distance at them.
Bruce saw him reach for his side, where his sword should've been, but there was nothing there. He could make out his face clear as day from there.
Whatever hope he'd had that it wasn't Theo Galavan vanished.
He'd recognize that sneer anywhere.
"Who art thou?" Galavan called to them.
Bruce heard Jean chuckle. "You're demise," he replied.
Bruce rolled his eyes. This wasn't Shakespeare in the park. This was Gotham. "How are you alive, Galavan?" he called.
Galavan shook his head. "I know not who you speak. I am Azrael, the angel of death! Hand of the Order of St. Dumas. You dare stand before me, boy?"
"Azrael…" Jean muttered softly.
"Who the hell is Azrael?" Bruce asked him.
Jean shook his head. "A myth of the Order, a warrior so great Dumas raised him from the dead…"
Bruce couldn't see his face, but he could hear the genuine awe in his voice. Whatever they'd done to Jean for all those years, the 'conditioning', it could resurface at any moment…
He had to take control of the situation right now.
"Nah, I'm pretty sure you're Theo Galavan, ya know, the asshole terrorist-mayor. And who the hell are you calling 'boy', old man?" he teased.
"YOU DARE INSULT–"
"Look, can we just fight already and be done with it? I got more important stuff to do tonight," Bruce drawled boredly. "Come on, Jean. Let's kill this clown." No response. "Jean?" he asked, poking his ally's arm.
Jean shook his head quickly, as if coming out of a trance. He nodded. "Yeah. I couldn't have said it better myself." He turned to Galavan, announcing, "We're here to challenge you for the mantle of Hand of the Order! Do you surrender?"
Bruce scoffed. Jumping him would've worked just fine, too. They didn't have to make it a formal challenge. But Jean's words seemed to get a rise out of Galavan.
"If it is death you crave, then I shall provide it!" he roared.
Bruce eyes widened as Galavan jumped across the gap, no run-up, just a straight broad jump, leaping several dozen feet in a single bound.
He dove out of the way as Galavan came crashing down. He didn't have a sword, but the spikes on his gauntlets didn't look too friendly either.
Jean, on the other hand, engaged immediately, swinging his sword around with such speed and grace that even Galavan seemed momentarily overwhelmed. Maybe this was all he could handle…
Unfortunately, it was not the case.
Instead, Galavan punched Jean hard in a chink in his armor, ripped the sword from his hands, and slammed the pommel into Jean's temple. His mask clattered on the floor, bringing Bruce out of his trance.
Bruce charged Galavan, barely deflecting a swing of the sword that otherwise would've decapitated him. He got inside Galavan's guard, grabbing onto the fabric near his collarbone. Galavan head-butted him, and his vision went blurry. Galavan hit him hard in the stomach causing him to double over, and then put a hard knee to the side of his head. Bruce collapsed.
He stepped on Bruce's chest, raising the sword high in the air with its tip pointed at Bruce's head. "Die, demon!" he yelled, plunging the blade downwards.
Bruce grabbed his ankle and twisted it as hard as he could, knocking Galavan off balance momentarily. He scrambled to his feet, but Galavan recovered faster. He swung the sword, grazing Bruce's neck. He felt something trickle down it to his shoulder, but ignored it. Galavan swung again, this time at his left knee. Bruce was able to dodge it initially, but Galavan followed through, gashing the inside of his right calf. Bruce cried out in pain and fell to the ground, his neck stinging and his right leg on fire. He scrambled backwards on his hands and knees, dodging Galavan's half-hearted swings by the narrowest of margins.
His back slammed into the edge of the building. Behind him was a five story drop. There was nowhere left to run.
Galavan kicked his right calf, and Bruce screamed. He threw one of his brass knuckles, but Galavan simply caught it. He smirked, offhandedly tossing it over his shoulder.
He watched it go, but something else behind Galavan caught Bruce's eye. The dawn was beginning to break. It was going to be a beautiful morning, not a cloud in the sky.
It was almost insulting.
"You've fought well," Galavan told him, casually reaching down and removing Bruce's mask.
"Galavan, you son of a bitch…" Bruce growled, anger taking priority over the agony he was in. "If you so much as touch Selina…"
Galavan stared at him, suddenly frozen in thought. Bruce could see Galavan's mind working.
He suddenly wished he hadn't mentioned Selina.
"The Son of Gotham…" he muttered. "Selina…Selina Wayne." His eyes cleared of their haze and Bruce's heart plummeted. "Death to the Son of Gotham," he chanted.
It all happened in a matter of seconds. Bruce didn't even see Jean approaching them, but suddenly he was there, shield-bashing Galavan from behind. Bruce didn't think. He moved on instinct, locking his good foot into Galavan's hip and moving along with Jean's momentum.
The next thing he knew, they'd thrown Galavan clear over the side of the building.
Jean and Bruce stared at each other, not entirely sure if what they'd just done had actually happened, or if they'd just imagined it.
Bruce scrambled to his knees and looked over the edge, searching the streets for Galavan's body. He'd never wanted to see a corpse so badly in his life.
Alas, Galavan had disappeared.
"Where…" Bruce muttered, searching the streets below for any sign of their attacker.
Jean sighed. "We need to go," he stated. "Can you walk?"
"But Galavan–"
"We know where he'll go next," Jean said gravely. "But we have until tonight."
Bruce shook his head. "Why?" he asked, taking Jean's extended hand and hoisting himself up on his good leg, using Jean as a support.
"If he's remembering the night in the tower, the ceremony, he'll wait until midnight. That's when the prophecy can be fulfilled. He'll wait until then to go after Selina."
"But how do you know?" Bruce asked.
Jean shrugged, his expression grim and foreboding. "I don't."
A/N: The next chapter should be out right after this one is published, so thanks for reading and I'll see you in the next one!
