EPISODE 13: The Crimes of Oswald Cobblepot
Bruce found himself gingerly crawling through the ventilation shaft. The fight with Bane had left him in a worse condition than he had initially thought. The left side of his torso hurt with every breath he took. His right knee ached and his head throbbed in pain. Nonetheless, Bruce persisted in his treacherous climb through the ventilation ducts at the Cobblepot Shoe Factory, eventually making his way to the factory floor that he had initially discovered Oswald's plan in. Once he reached the same duct where he dropped out of last time, he looked down and around the room. The lights were on revealing a crowded factory floor. About twenty of the remaining thirty men in Cobblepot's gang were now pacing back and forth, guarding the door that led in the direction of Oswald's office. Bruce recognized that this time, he had the upper hand. They did not know where he was, and they must have been ordered to protect Oswald, as men were no longer moving towards the lower levels of the factory or outside for that matter. Bruce could have escaped at this point, but he was so close to taking Oswald down personally that he decided to stay. The tide had now turned and it was decidedly in Bruce's favor.
He looked around the area to see a giant circuit breaker at the end of the room that was opposite of Oswald's office. There were a couple of men standing on either side of the breaker. Bruce knew that after what had transpired earlier in the night, that if Oswald's men couldn't see, they were not going to shoot. So if Bruce were able to turn the power off, the playing field would be leveled in the sense that he would no longer run the risk of being shot at. That said, he could not see in the dark either. But he could hear, or at least he hoped he could. Bruce reached for the backside of his utility belt to discover that his experimental hearing aid was still intact. What a lucky break! He had thought for sure that it was damaged in the fight with Bane. But nonetheless, the small, black rectangle still sat on Bruce's utility belt on his lower back. There was a small round microphone that fit in-line with the dimensions of the rectangularly shaped box. Attached to it were two wires that ran through Bruce's bat suit and stretched all of the way up to his head. A pair of headphones sat snugly over Bruce's ears and were ready to begin amplifying any sound that could be heard in the room.
"Just like a real bat." Bruce mumbled to himself, satisfied with his wit. He clicked the device on and he began to hear everything in his surroundings. He heard the air breeze past him in the ventilation duct. He heard the footsteps of the anxious men pacing below. He heard his own breathing even more prominently than before. He consciously slowed his breath down as he reached for his grappling gun on his belt. He detached the black gun and took aim at the circuit breaker. He mentally counted down in his head. 3. 2. 1. BANG.
The grappling gun fired its hook into the circuit breaker's front panel with a loud screech that came with the sound of tearing metal. The lights in the room went immediately shut off. The factory floor was now pitch dark. Bruce was nearly overwhelmed with the sound of the men screaming below. Not wasting any time, Bruce slid down the cable and collided with the two men who were standing by the circuit breaker. The two grunted as the rest of men were scrambling for a solution.
"Don't shoot. Nobody shoot!" One man screamed. Bruce ran to the sound of that voice first.
"Don't shoo-" The man's plea was interrupted by a right hook from Bruce. The next thing Bruce heard was the sound of the man's head slamming into the cement below. Bruce heard frantic breathing about two feet behind him and he threw a roundhouse kick that connected with the breathing man's jaw. The man flew straight into a machine behind him as his body collided with the metal with an almost gong-like ringing sound. Bruce heard several pairs of footsteps run towards him and he began to throw punches into the dark. He connected with chins, cheeks, shoulders and stomachs as he heard all kinds of forced exhalations of pain.
"He's over he-!" One of the men yelled as he was silenced by a punch.
"Somebody turn these lights on!" Another man yelled as Bruce silenced him with a kick. The more they screamed, the easier it was to find them. Bruce heard a lone pair of footsteps run towards Oswald's office as he continued to whale on the men. Eventually one man did land a punch on Bruce. Fueled with an increase in adrenaline, Bruce grabbed the man, picked him up held him in front of himself so he could take the punches from the other gang members. Bruce held him there until he felt the man's muscles relax into the stupor of unconsciousness and then he threw the man back into the dark mass before him. The screams became fewer and fewer as eventually Bruce silenced all of the men in the room. The factory floor was now as quiet as it was when Bruce had first entered all of those hours ago. Just then the lights came on as the lone man had finally found the emergency power switch. Bruce stood in the middle of the floor with a circle of unconscious bodies lying in various, mangled positions.
The man who turned the lights on nervously stood against the door towards Oswald's office. He was hardly a man at all. He looked to be about twenty-five years old and had long red hair that was sloppily tucked beneath a winter hat. Bruce walked over towards him.
"Please, Mr. Batman. Don't hurt me." The man said on a knee.
"This is for your own good." Bruce said slamming his right fist into the man's face. The man slumped down onto the floor. Having finished the job, Bruce turned the switch to his hearing aid off and opened the door to move into the executive level lobby.
Bruce pushed through the door into a hallway with red walls and ornate crown molding. He recognized this design and knew that he was about to enter the part of the building where he talked with Tracey Buxton. This was also where Oswald's office was. Bruce knew that Oswald was hiding away in that room, hoping that his hired guns would take care of Bruce so he wouldn't have to. As Bruce walked towards the lobby, his boots continued to click and clack on the marble floor beneath him. He then stopped in his tracks. Bruce turned his head up to see that there was a ventilation duct that he could climb into and drop directly into Oswald's office. Excited, and slightly relieved that he might not have to face down the remaining men in Oswald's operation, Bruce climbed into the vent and crawled towards Oswald's office, albeit slower than before and with much more effort.
Once he made his way into Oswald's office, Bruce gazed down through the slits in the vents. There he was. Sitting in the same chair, his gloved hands were pressed together against his lips. There was an air of nervousness about him that Bruce had never felt before. He saw Oswald's head jerk to one side and then the other as if he were looking for Bruce to come in at any moment. He had assumed that regardless of how many men he sent out, Batman would eventually be storming his office that night. Oswald was not wrong in making this assumption. Here Bruce was, crouched nearly ten feet above him, waiting to make his final move. Bruce noticed that there were two other men in the room with Oswald. Both were of a slight build and dressed in the typical messy dress of Oswald's employees, while Oswald's newly shined shoes glistened in the light of the office. The first stood by the large oak double doors and the second stood closer to Oswald's desk. All three men were in silent, waiting for the slightest disturbance of their quiet moment. Bruce slowed his breathing down again. He was to go for the man by the door first. He carefully unscrewed the vent from the shaft and made sure that it didn't fall. Once the vent had been released completely, Bruce held it in place with his hands as his black, gloved fingers curled around the metal and onto the other side of the vent. In an instant he freed the grate and dropped down to the floor. Before anyone in the room could realize it, Bruce dove towards the man by the door and slammed his head into the wood, knocking him unconscious. The second man was scrambling for his gun and Oswald snatched the pistol out of his hand. When Bruce turned around, he saw Oswald holding him, with the pistol pressed into the man's temple.
"If you take a step closer, his brains will be all over this desk." Oswald yelled at Bruce.
"Oswald. Let him go. He doesn't deserve to be caught up here like this." Bruce said to him calmly. The man was shaking in Oswald's grasp. He couldn't have been more than thirty years of age. His dark skin was glistening with sweat as it poured down his long forehead.
"He's in here, boys! Finish him off!" Oswald yelled so loudly that the remaining men in the lobby could hear. Bruce heard the men run towards the door. Moments later, the men barged in. There were only six left. Bruce landed a kick square in the chest of the first man who stormed the room causing him to fly backwards. He then jumped behind the second man and punched him in the kidneys, causing him to double over in pain. Bruce narrowly dodged a punch from the third but returned the favor, landing a punch on the man's temple, knocking him unconscious. Bruce grabbed the fourth man by the back of the head and slammed his face into the frame of the recently opened doors as he heard the sound of a cracking nose. The fifth man received three punches to the chest and head from Bruce before falling to the ground. And the sixth man backed away in fear, fumbling with his gun. BANG. A shot went off and Bruce felt a searing heat in his left thigh. In a surge of rage, he dove on top of the man and hit him in the head over and over again until the man went unconsciousness. Bruce then stopped. He sat up and exhaled deeply. That was everyone in Oswald's organization. Except for Oswald himself.