EPISODE 11: A Trap for a Bat
Bruce stepped his right foot into a heavy black boot. The left followed suit with a gentle thump. He slipped the left glove over his hand and stretched the black material over his forearm. Then the right, as a set of three spikes sprouted out of his muscular forearms. He attached the long, flowing cape to two clips on either side of his neck and he slid a dark cowl over his head until it fit snuggly on his face, neck and shoulders. Bruce took a slow breath in and staggered his exhale into two separate out-breaths. After repeating the cycle three times, he strode towards the Bat-Mobile.
It was now February 3rd. The night of the next weapons deal at the Cobblepot Shoe Factory. After his meeting with Tracey Buxton, Bruce had enough information to put a stop to Oswald Cobblepot's illegal weapons business once and for all. If he were to get the police to see the results of the operation in person and leave the voice recording behind, the case would be as good as closed. Bruce reached the Bat-Mobile with a fire in his eyes. Today, he would make Oswald pay. Bruce turned the car on and flames shot out of the rear as Bruce rocketed towards Gotham City.
The jet black cruiser sat incredibly low to the ground as it slithered on the same country roads that Bruce travelled on during the day, but with an increased speed and precision. The Bat-Mobile was a long car. Its front end looked as it if were stretched out and it possessed an intimidating presence. Three pairs of headlights shined brightly in the night on either side of the silver grill which had a bat shaped crest in the middle. Two black wings extended from the back of the car just above the rear tires to complete the car's menacing silhouette. Bruce sat in a cockpit with dozens of dials and meters surrounding him. The vehicle was one of the most advanced cars in the world with deployable nets, pop up guns and cables to help Bruce in his fight against Gotham's Most Wanted. Now, it was hurtling towards the Cobblepot Shoe Factory at dangerously fast speeds.
When Bruce finally arrived in Gotham, he parked the car a few block away from the factory and grappled to the nearest rooftop. He leapt from roof to roof until he found the familiar vent at the Cobblepot Factory. He slipped silencers onto his boots once again and dove down into the vents. Bruce was unsure where the deal was going to take place, but he thought it was best to visit Oswald's office first. He carefully snuck through the vents until he arrived at the office. He gently gazed down into the room to see that it was empty and that the lights were off. He heard a crashing sound coming from further down the vent and began to move out of the office.
"That's weird," Bruce said to himself. "He should be in tonight." He shook his head and continued to the factory floor. He looked through the narrow slits in the vent to find that the factory floor was as dark and empty as Oswald's office. Bruce was concerned. He exited the ventilation shaft as he carefully removed and caught the vent before it fell to the factory floor below. He reached for his grappling gun and shot himself over to the top of a large machine that was used to assemble the soles of a shoe. He delicately perched himself on top of the hunk of metal as he planned his next move. In the midst of his thoughts, Bruce heard something. Something very horrible. Slow, deep, breathing. Right next to him.
"Hello, Batman." A confident man with a slight Latin accent spoke next to him. Bruce shot his head around, but it was too late, the aggressor had already landed a punch on him as Bruce fell to the floor. He landed hard on his back and a yelp of pain escaped Bruce's lips. The man climbed down from the machine and plopped down next to Bruce. Bruce began to slowly get up but he was struck on the back of the head by his attacker. Bruce's vision began to become blurry as he reached for one of his smoke pellets. The man grabbed Bruce's wrist with one arm and used his other to land another devastating blow, this time on Bruce's right cheek. Bruce fell to the ground again in pain. Before the man could land another critical hit on Bruce, the lights of the floor turned on with a flash.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome, my dear Batman!" It was Oswald. Bruce couldn't believe it. He had been tricked.
"I thought I would set this all up for you so that I could deal with my bat problem tonight. You've been hurting my business and my poor innocent employees for long enough." Oswald said, yelling to a factory floor full of sixty men roaring with fury at the sight of the man who took out so many of their friends.
"Oh, and where are my manners. This here is Bane. He's one of the finest mercenaries money can buy. And he happens to hate bats as well. I'll let you two settle your differences so my employees can enjoy a good show for all of the good work they've been doing for me. Bane, he's all yours." Oswald said with an air of cockiness. And he had every right to be cocky. He had Bruce beat.
Bruce was currently struggling to rise to his feet following the unexpected beating from Bane. While Oswald was speaking, he got a good look at the dire situation he found himself in. He and Bane were inside a circle that was about twenty feet in diameter comprised of sixty, armed and angry men that made up the remainder of Oswald's arms gang. Oswald was behind the circle, standing on his makeshift stage spouting off angry speeches to make violent the hearts of his dear employees. Bruce knew he had very little time to act. And he knew that he couldn't face these men head on. He looked at Bane, who was staring at Oswald and went to grab his grappling gun and a smoke pellet as Oswald was finishing his speech. Before Bane could turn his head, a cloud of smoke appeared followed by the firing of Bruce's grappling gun into the ceiling above. Gun shots rang out into the cloud of smoke, but all that could be heard were the screams of Oswald's own men.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Shouted Oswald. The gunfire immediately ceased as a handful of groans could be heard throughout the floor. During the incident of friendly fire, Bruce disappeared into the dark ceiling above, slipping carefully into one of the vents again.
Bruce's heart was still pounding. His strategy had only bought him time. There was still a large mob of armed men beneath him and a mercenary who could climb around just as well as Bruce could. This was not good and Bruce knew it.
"Fan out, boys!" Each of you take a room and let's make sure that we catch this bat tonight!" Oswald screamed out to his men. Bruce heard a roar of applause and screaming followed by footsteps scattering off in every direction. The noise was so loud that Bruce felt the shaft he was in vibrate slightly. Bruce figured the best way out was to escape and live to fight another day. So he bolted to the same vent that he came in. Moving past the metal sheets, he finally arrived only to find that it had been sealed off. The metal pieces were welded together, trapping Bruce in the Cobblepot Shoe Factory. Bruce concluded that there was no way out. The best he could do was to pick off the sixty men one at a time as they spread themselves out over the factory as there were still some men outside of the factory reading to take aim at Bruce if he left through any other way but the roof. Bruce took a deep breath. He felt the chilled air of the vents slide passed his teeth and he descended further into the ventilation system.
Figuring that very few people would be sent down to the first floor of the factory, Bruce thought his best bet was to start at the main lobby. Once he had arrived, he slowly detached the vent and slid out into the shadows of the lobby. The four portraits of the Cobblepot family took on an eerie feeling as now the only thing lighting them was the pale moonlight entering through the narrow windows of the lobby. Every hard edge was heightened and every contrast was even deeper than it was in the daylight. Bruce heard footsteps. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. There were four pairs of feet walking around the lobby. Bruce couldn't tell exactly where they were, but they were near the reception desk. He slowly crept over towards the desk to find his suspicions confirmed. There were four silhouettes of men, two with small pistols, the other two with tommy guns. Bruce reached for the grappling gun and aimed it between the two men with tommy guns. He fired it and it whizzed past their heads. When the two men turned their heads around, they were greeted by the bottom side of Bruce's boots. Each boot landed on a man's face with a resounding crunch as the two flopped to the floor immediately. Bruce released the grappling gun as he landed near the other two men. Before the third man could steady his aim, Bruce knocked the pistol out of his hand and onto the floor. The fourth man let of a warrant shot, connecting with the ceiling above before Bruce landed a round house kick on his right temple, knocking him unconscious in an instant. The third man cowered before Bruce.
"Please, don't hurt me. Just let me go." He begged as his voice raised an octave. Bruce looked around, his cape moving to wherever his body turned. He gazed up at the large chandelier above them.
"Call more men in here." Bruce said.
"What?" The man said through tears running down his face.
"Get more men to come in here. Run up and get them to come down here." Bruce said plainly. The man nodded in fear as he ran off. Bruce head him scream out in the distance.
"THE BAT IS IN THE LOBBY! HELP!" Bruce reached for the pistol that he knocked to the floor and he returned to hiding in the shadows. The man brought with him another fourteen men who were ready to fill Bruce's body with bullet holes.
"Where is he?" One of the men asked. They moved as one unit. The blob of gang members swept the room in a winding, circular motion. Bruce watched their movements closely. He saw them slowly walk under the gargantuan chandelier in the middle of the lobby. He pulled out the pistol and fired it at the chain supporting the chandelier. After firing the shot, Bruce hid himself behind his leathery black cape. The chain snapped and the glass structure came crashing down on the men below. Fifteen shrieks of pain followed the destruction of the chandelier. Bruce waited a few moments to see if anyone was going to get up, but no one did. All he heard was fifteen groans of pain emanating from the pile of broken glass and broken bones. With about a third of the men gone, Bruce disappeared back into the ventilation shaft and headed towards the next level of the factory.