10. Umbrella
"I have to get going or I will be late," Oswald complained as he made his way down the stairs to Ed's den. "I have another investment to look after; I don't need to be late for my appointment."
"I know that you have an appearance to keep up," the voice of Edward responded from his den. "But I assure you this will only take a moment of your precious time."
It had been almost a week since Ed had appeared at Cobblepot's doorstep. He was glad that Ed was back in town working for him, but Ed had become engrossed in his work. He barely allowed time for the occasional chat. When he went downstairs to simply talk with one of his only and oldest friends, he would either find him asleep in his chair at the strangest times or he would be quickly repelled with a "Not now, Oswald," "Just let me finish this thought," or an "I really need to focus right now." Oswald often felt like he was simply the landlord to Ed.
"Well it better be only a moment," he knew he was being snippy, but he felt that Ed deserved it.
Ed, who was standing near his workbench, simply smiled playfully as he turned around, "Oh? I've never known you for one to be turning down a gift."
Oswald realized that Ed was standing next to the table that housed the long object that he had questioned several days ago. He raised an eyebrow, "Gift?"
The Riddler yanked back a cloth to reveal the object underneath. He picked it up delicately and held it out to him like a sword. The lengthy black umbrella looked rather large in his hands.
"I just wanted to give you something of appreciation since I had come in so quickly and demanded a wager," he looked rather pleased with himself despite the simplicity of the gift he presented. "I remembered those puzzles that you sent me during my stay in Arkham. I've missed enough time to feel like I should repay you in some respects. So, I made you—"
"It's an umbrella, Ed," Oswald pursed his lip in disappointment. He grabbed it from Ed's hands and was surprised by the weight and the thickness of the stem. "Well, I can't say it's the worst gift I've ever—"
"Oswald," Ed added quickly as the umbrella was jerked away from him, "I wouldn't—"
Oswald's finger grazed the crook of the umbrella handle accidentally; he felt something like a little button there. Thinking it was to open the umbrella, he pushed it in.
There was a loud BANG! They both cringed and recoiled as the resounding sound echoed through the large, soundproof room. Oswald felt his hand kick up into the air with tremendous force and something like splinters graze his exposed skin. When he looked up, half expecting his hand to be blown completely off, he saw the damage. The wooden table that had been in front of the umbrella's tip had been blown to a splintery mess. It hardly looked like a table with the main structure fractured beyond repair.
"Ed," Oswald asked loudly; his ears still ringing with the sound of the shot. "What was that?"
Ed pushed his crooked glasses back onto his nose, "Well, I used a modified 12 gauge and—"
"English," Oswald had to stop him before he went on further.
"It's a shotgun in an umbrella."
"Really?" Oswald suddenly pointed it upward just in case it went off again.
"Don't worry," Ed nodded, "it only has one shot in it for now. The shot ruins the umbrella." He took the umbrella from the Penguin and pointed to the tip. The pointed tip was now blown off and the umbrella started to peel away in various directions like a wilted flower. "I'm working to fix that problem as well as find a cloth material for the umbrella that is bullet retardant and a better compact design. Fortunately," Ed tossed the umbrella to the side, went over to the bench again, and pulled out another umbrella identical to the last one, "I foresaw that something like this might happen."
Oswald was a bit flabbergasted as he took the spare umbrella from Edward. Ed started to ramble on about the modifications that he had implemented to make the concealed weapon and how it could act as a regular umbrella when needed. Oswald felt a swell of emotion; he hadn't received a gift that wasn't coerced out of someone in over ten years. That's what bothered him. He remained quiet and mulled over the implications of the gift. Ed was often obtuse about remembering social related events or customs—even to the point of forgetting his own birthday. He had rarely shown this much appreciation. The gift was touching, but Oswald felt the need to question it for safety's sake.
"Why did you do this for me?" Oswald asked finally.
"I was thinking about it for a while. Since you are a man of power, yet you need to keep up a good public appearance, I decided that you might require a concealed weapon since your bodyguards cannot be everywhere with you." He shrugged his shoulders, "Let's just say I had a lot of time to think in a Bialyan bunker."
Maybe he was overthinking it. Ed didn't seem to have any gain in betraying him. Oswald knew that he had to assume that there was someone he could at least trust. Otherwise, he would lose his mind. Prison had been a time when he didn't know who to trust, but he knew that Ed wouldn't let him down—or at least plan to kill him without provocation.
With a grin stretched across his face, Oswald nodded, "I guarantee it will be put to good use."
"I don't doubt it," Ed smiled back and suddenly checked his watch. "You'd better get going to see your—" he paused for a moment to think of the word "—chickens, was it?"
"Chickens of a sort. You are most certainly right; I am late," Oswald snapped out of his thoughts. He thought to show his gratitude at least a little, "Thank you, Ed."
With that, he turned around and made his way to the stairs. Ed turned back to his corkboard and started adding new data.
After a few moments, Edward thought it would be good to call after him with a final note of warning, "Mind not to point that in the direction of children, the firing mechanism is a little touchy."
"Come on, stop it, you look pathetic."
"Whoever dumped you here, they're not coming back."
"You're not getting out again, Jay."
Jason ignored the constant jeering as he made his way around the perimeter of the Falcone Home and School for Orphans. Recess only lasted for forty-five minutes, and he needed every minute of it to scour the fence line for a weakness. It had changed so much since his last escape. He wasn't glad to be back. The standard, mandatory burgundy sweater vest clothing of the orphanage was just an extra annoyance.
He had grown up at the orphanage. It was where he had gone to school; it was practically the only reason he was even literate. It was a nice life, but Jason had always been a bit of a trouble maker and a hothead. He made one crying, bloody nosed kid and the threat of a juvenile behavior correctional facility was on the immediate horizon. Jason knew he'd take his chances anywhere else but there. He had abandoned the place and decided to never look back. Living in the orphanage just didn't seem like the kind of life he wanted. He hadn't set foot there in four or five years; he wouldn't have returned willingly.
It had been almost a week since the Bat had arrested him to the metal fence of the orphanage. He had spent the past several days being locked away in the practical prison. They were accustomed to taking care of "troubled youths" and that made escape—especially escape on an injured leg—much harder. He spotted more security improvements from the last time he had been there.
"Just give it a rest, gimpy."
Of course, the residents of the orphanage kept him company with all their jeering and what not. Orphanages like these had a social hierarchy to them; right now, he was flat at the bottom of the totem pole. Now that he had returned, he was treated like he was a miscreant. Most of the other kids were too innocent to know what it was really like; so, when Jason, a known juvenile delinquent, showed up handcuffed to the gates, there was a lot of talk about why. Most came to the conclusion that he was involved in one of the gangs or other stupid stories like that. Part of him wanted to tell them the real deal—that he had been practically arrested because he had aided in stealing one of the most precious jewels in Gotham—but he knew they wouldn't believe him. This led to small bouts of bullying. Usually verbal abuse, but he didn't mind. It gave him some practice on comebacks. It was almost amusing with how ill-constructed all of their insults were.
One of the factors that added to his treatment was his injury. His limp hadn't completely healed, but he refused to use crutches. Still, the other kids took advantage of his state as they would often berate him and then run. He knew that his reactions only spurred them on, but sometimes they really pissed him off. It wasn't bad enough that he was stuck in the orphanage. He would have at least attempted an escape if it wasn't for his leg.
Suddenly, something got his attention. Out on the street, a black car pulled around the corner and headed towards the front of the orphanage. Jason noticed that a group of the children decided to rush to the front to see the new arrival. He rolled his eyes; it was probably some rich benefactor that wanted a tour. What was strange was that it drew a substantial crowd at the front of the orphanage that slowly moved inside with the person. Strange, he'd never known one of the benefactors to be so beloved.
Curiously, Jason entered the orphanage through a side door and made his way to the open hall at the front. He was shocked to find a crowd of children and teens around all murmuring. He furrowed his brow at the behavior and drew closer. Being relatively short, he couldn't see too much over their heads. He approached the crowd and heard the head matron speaking quickly.
"—has dedicated his hard-earned money to keep this school open and renovate it after the horrors ten years ago," the head matron said cheerfully. "Thank you for being a constant investor in the Falcone Home and School for Orphans, Mr. Cobblepot,"
"Think nothing of it," the piercing voice echoed in the hall. "I was good friends with Mr. Falcone. I want nothing more than to see that the good work the home does continue into the future."
Jason froze. He found himself looking over the crowd even more now. All he got was a glimpse of the tip of a top hat. Jason thought for a moment. Cobblepot had long been a primary donator to the funding and rebuilding of the orphanage. Jason always thought that it had to do with some respect-points paid to the Falcone family or as a front for something else. He had spent many nights during his childhood looking for secret hideaways or stashes, but nothing had ever come of it. This was his first time having seen the man show up in person.
"Children leave Mr. Cobblepot alone," the matron called. "He's a very busy man and just wants a tour."
The crowd started to disperse, and Jason got a better look at the man. He looked rather pathetic for a man of power—more like a bowling ball really. He had heard tales of the vengeful Penguin, a man who would boil a man alive in chicken broth for simply looking at him wrong. Now that just seemed like Narrows legends. The man with a top hat, garish clothing, monocle, and black umbrella before him just didn't live up to the hype. Then again, appearances were often deceiving.
He watched as the matron and the crime lord started to chat. Jason scoffed. If anything, it was an insult for him to be there. It was no doubt thanks to the Penguin that several of the orphans were there. His exploits during No Man's Land were notorious, starving his own people just to enjoy some prime rib. It made him sick to think that this bulbous man was just enjoying his visit to his PR stunt.
A thought occurred to him. Penguin didn't seem to be the type of man to do anything without it benefiting himself. Penguin was up to something. He knew that it wasn't his business and usually he would let his "lay low" instincts take over, but he couldn't help but see an opportunity. He had been dumped at the orphanage because the Bat didn't want his help. Of course, the vigilante wouldn't take the help of just a random street kid. He felt the need to prove himself. If Penguin dropped some pearls of knowledge, then that would be invaluable to him. The Bat doubted him now, but if he got some real information and showed his worth, then he would have to accept something of a partnership. So, he would follow them and see what he could learn.
Jason tailed the head matron and the Penguin on their tour through the halls. He moved as quietly as he could, not even daring to peek around corners. There was very little said of note between the two—mostly funding and how it was used. If it was some kind of code, which he doubted, he would have no way of decoding it. He took notice of what he could, which wasn't much.
They finally ended up in the main office room. Jason crouched around the other side of the door frame—the orphanage had an open-door policy—and made sure that he could hear what they were talking about. They were just finishing up their conversation about the general welfare of the children, and Jason was starting to regret his decision to spend his afternoon sneaking about on an injured knee. Suddenly, a cellphone went off. Cobblepot waved off the head matron as his cellphone rang. She left the room quickly and didn't notice Jason at the door as she left. Jason remained still and strained his ear to hear the call.
"So, he talked, good," He sounded satisfied with himself. Jason's ears perked up as the vague dialogue between the Penguin and his subordinate played out. "That's enough to get his attention. The trap is set. Now, all we need is for you—"
"Hey, Jay, still got that stupid limp," Jay heard from behind him.
"Not now, I don't have time, Anatoli," He growled as he recognized the voice. He was an older kid who had never really left. He was also the reason Jason had almost been put in juvey. The sixteen-year-old was one of the more outwardly malicious children at the orphanage and at the top of the totem pole.
"What are you doing?" The older teen cocked his head to the side. The boy looked around the corner to see the Penguin on the phone. "Are you spying?"
"Shut up," Jason whispered furiously. If Anatoli blew his cover now, he'd never be able to get the information that he needed.
Meanwhile, Oswald became distracted from his call as harsh whispering came from around the bend.
"Stop being such a spying freak, Jay!" Anatoli yelled intentionally.
"Piss off!" Jason hissed hoping the Penguin wouldn't hear.
"I'll call you back," Penguin shut his phone to listen to the argument unfolding around the corner.
Jason now stood up and faced the older teen, "What do you want?"
"Guess what I found in confiscation," Anatoli held up a picture between his fingers. Jason glanced at it sideways before slowly turning to face him. It was the picture of Jason and his parents.
Jason felt his blood boil as he turned to the kid, "Give that to me."
"Come on, Jay, you have to move on," He shrugged with a grin.
"Give it to me right now," Jason forgot his spy mission and raised his voice at the sight of the photo. His face turned a dark red with the realization that his most treasured possession was in the hands of the older boy.
"I don't know," the other boy smirked. "You broke my nose last time we met. I don't think you deserve it. You should be off in juvey not coming back here after all the crap you put me through."
"Shut up," Jason gritted his teeth. He stepped forward to take it from him, but Anatoli simply took several steps back to avoid him. Things were becoming blurry as Jason's vision went red. "Give it to me!"
"If you want it so bad, come and ge—"
It was because of Jay's leg injury that Anatoli didn't expect Jason to tackle him. Jason felt a ping of pain as he put his full weight on his bad knee. He didn't care. He needed to get that picture out of his grubby hands.
Oswald was a little shocked to see the brawl break out in front of him. Then he found himself huff with amusement. A small red-haired boy was beating a much larger, burly boy. It was almost amusing how quickly the larger teen was overwhelmed despite his effort to push him off. The redhaired boy fought with such ferocity that it brought a small smile to his face.
Jason managed to get in several good punches. He didn't even hear the sound of the matron yelling at him to stop. He only realized it when he was jerked by the collar of his outfit. Before he was pulled off, he snatched the photo from Anatoli's hand. He stumbled to his feet at the matron separated them and started to scold both of them. Anatoli scrambled up and spat some blood on the ground. He glared at Jason through a new black eye. Jason felt his knuckles swell, and he flexed his hand. He felt his knee throb with the strain of being used too early again.
The Matron, seeing most of the damage on Anatoli, turned on Jason, "Jason, I gave you one chance; this behavior is unacceptable. I'm going to make a call to the juv—"
"I don't think that's necessary," Jason stiffened as he heard the sound of a new voice enter the conversation. The Penguin stepped forward and spoke, "I believe that the story is, unfortunately, the other way around." Jason suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. "This boy was merely protecting himself. I saw the whole thing. I don't think there is a need to call the authorities."
The matron simply glanced about as she didn't know what to do. She couldn't go against the main benefactor's word. She simply thinned her lip and grabbed the other boy's ear. Anatoli complained as he was led down the hall by his ear.
Meanwhile, the hand released Jason's shoulder as the Penguin shifted to resume his spot at the window. Jason glanced between the hallway and Cobblepot. He knew his spying operation wasn't going to happen now. If Penguin hadn't learned that he was spying on him from Anatoli's yelling, then he would keep an eye out for the kid he saw violently punch someone's lights out. He couldn't stay. Jason took the chance to vacate the area.
"Come here, boy," Jason stopped instinctually. He slowly swiveled his head to glance sideways at the crime lord as he gestured to him with a finger. Jason swallowed. He was smart enough to know that when the Penguin, one of the most powerful and mentally unstable men in Gotham, beckons you over, you don't ignore him. The Penguin gestured to follow him over to the window. Jason slowly shuffled over to where the short man was overseeing the playground below. After a moment of silence, Jason followed his gaze out onto the playground.
"What do you see when you look out this window?" Cobblepot spoke.
Jason was taken aback by the question. He knew the Penguin's reputation from old stories, but it seemed strange to think he would even stoop so low as to talk to a child. Still, this was an opportunity to get information out of him. He just needed to be careful. Jason thought back to the day he had visited the museum with Selina. He remembered the way she had sobbed into the security guard's good graces. Acting: he'd never been convincing when it came to long-term lies, but maybe he could fake it for just a little while. He swallowed. He'd have to act cute, innocent, and dumb if he was going to get information out of him.
"Oh," Jason shrugged. "I don't know." Something innocent, "Just a lot of my friends playing outside."
Cobblepot glanced at him sideways, "I've seen how your 'friends' treat you. You don't need to dignify them with that word."
"Ok then," Jason glanced outside and tried again. "I see a bunch of kids playing."
"Clinical, precise," the Penguin's eyes rolled to look at the boy. "Tell me what you really think."
Jason weighed his options for a moment. He knew that if he gave his innocent answer again it wouldn't help. Cobblepot didn't seem to believe it either. He might as well tell the truth.
"I see a bunch of carefree kids who don't know the half of what it's like out there. Those that do know they have it good and use their security as an ego boost while they intimidate people into doing what they want with their knowledge of the street. It's a hierarchy of the strongest and toughest."
The Penguin blinked, he hadn't expected such an astute answer, "Precisely. The brutes win out. Let me tell you, that's only true in here. Out there, you need more than muscle and a criminal record. That barbarous boy will end up a grunt at best. Might I see?" Oswald asked and gestured to the photograph.
Taking a second, Jason decided to hand over the picture. The Penguin's good eye scanned the photo and there was an emotion that Jason couldn't quite pin down. Empathy? Recognition? It was strange to see it on the face of a man who he knew was responsible for countless deaths and ruined lives. He simply handed back the photo to Jason.
"Good photograph," He said simply. "A shame he creased it. When you pay him back for it, make sure that they don't know it's you. There's a store down the way that sells explicit material. Imagine the shock and horror the matrons would have if they discovered such material in his possession."
Jason found himself smirk at the idea and folded his arms, "I don't know; I've never been one for subtlety."
"I know," The Penguin smiled slyly and looked at him sideways. "That's why your little spying expedition failed."
Jason unfolded his arms as the shock ran through him. His mouth ran dry. He remembered that he wasn't in the presence of a fuddy-duddy man but in the presence of a crime lord who could end him at any moment without the blink of an eye.
Seeing the shock, Oswald continued, "Tell me, boy. Why would you think that it would be a smart idea to do that?"
Jason frantically searched his thoughts for an answer, an answer that didn't start and end with, "I thought it would be cool to help out that vigilante that has been going around ruining your business." He didn't know what to say for a moment and dropped his gaze guiltily. He searched for some reason that didn't sound too suspicious but not too unbelievably innocent. An idea popped into his mind and he had to keep from gagging at the thought. It was possibly the only way to have a chance to convince him.
"Why were you spying on me?" The Penguin asked again, this time, there was a heavier tinge of suspicion and malice.
Jason lifted his gaze and forced the words out, "I just couldn't believe that my personal hero actually came to visit."
"Personal hero?" Penguin blinked in a state of shock.
"Of course," Jason felt his cheeks tinge red; he hoped it looked like bashfulness rather than the absolute hatred of every word that tumbled from his mouth. "I heard a lot about your exploits from people in the Narrows. You are a respected man among them. You control everything. You're one of the most powerful men in Gotham."
The Penguin seemed dissatisfied with his reasoning, "There are many people with arguably as much power as I. The mayor came last week. Did you spy on him as well?"
Jason kept his mask of admiration going as he thought. He realized he was repeating himself. He needed another angle to make it more natural.
An idea pinged into his mind, "I mean, it's not every day that you meet someone who garners your respect and who also," he gestured to his injured leg, "walks like me."
A look of understanding crossed the man's face, "It is hard, isn't it. How did it happen?"
"I've had it since I was born. It's a birth defect," Jason lied.
Pity crossed his expression, "They all treat you poorly because of it."
"More than you'd care to think," Jason realized he was hamming it up a little too much, but the Penguin responded with complete sincerity.
"You don't need to take their abuse," Penguin assured him. "You have the gumption to run this place; you've already demonstrated that when you punched that brute for taking what's yours. You have passion for what you care about, and that's what matters," He smiled a little. "You're going places. Don't let anyone stop you because of the way you walk. Who knows? Maybe you could meet me on the outside one day. I could use someone with your fire."
He tapped the tip of the umbrella to the boy's shoulder. There was a flicker of fear as if he had suddenly remembered something, and he directed the tip skyward.
Jason, a little bewildered and disgusted simply replied, "Uh, thank you, Mr. Penguin."
Suddenly, there was a buzz. Penguin simply smirked and pulled out his cellphone.
"Duty calls," he said as he turned away and answered the phone. "So, are you done setting up to deal with our problem?"
Jason's ears perked up when he heard it. Problem: there were dozens of people whom the Penguin would label a problem. It wasn't specific enough information for anything.
"Yes, he should come tonight. . . At least fifteen men," He growled; after remembering that Jason was there, he spoke in a low tone. "That's the only way to deal with him thoroughly."
Who the hell would need fifteen guys to take down one person? He thought for a moment and came to his conclusion. The Bat: Penguin was going after the Bat; by the sound of it, it seemed like a trap. He knew he had gaps in his information and that he couldn't confirm anything, but he finally had his nugget of information.
"Good," Cobblepot smiled. "He won't suspect a thing."
Jason felt his chest seize up. He needed to warn the Bat somehow. If there was a plot against the vigilante, then he needed to be told immediately. Anything less and the Bat would die. He couldn't take on fifteen people—no one could. Even if he was wrong, it was better for the bat to know.
With a satisfied smile, Oswald closed his phone and turned back to the young boy, "So, boy, tell me, what was your name ag—"
The boy was gone.
Night had just fallen over the city; it was the perfect time for the raid. Bruce was scouting out a warehouse by the Gotham docks. There appeared to be no human activity, but that was just a front like always. The location came courtesy of a lucky find. He had found one of Penguin's men drunkenly harassing people on the street for their cash. It only took dangling over a four-story drop to sober him up. He had gotten a good deal of information from him.
"So, Cobblepot has been keeping a majority of his guns stored right in the old warehouse," Alfred noted through the communicator. "Call me cautious, but it seems almost too good to be true."
"Exactly," Bruce nodded. The unwilling source was a bit too loose-tongued for someone working for Penguin.
"Just be ready for anything."
"I always am."
In a flash, he glided down to the roof of the abandoned warehouse. The old ceiling had given way in parts leaving small holes to see inside. Bruce crouched down and surveyed the inside. Below there was a group of four armed guards on duty. They were illuminated by generator-based standee floodlights, no way to shut it off. They seemed to be huddled in a group next to a metal shipping crate—where they probably stashed the guns—and taking advantage of their lighted situation.
Bruce quickly took to plotting out his situation. He wouldn't be able to use the cover of darkness to approach; he doubted that he would be able to lure one of them out into the darkness. He'd have to obstruct their vision another way in order to start his assault.
"Cobblepot says he can hit as early as tonight," One of the grunts said.
"He'd be stupid to do that."
"I dunno, man. Guy took down some crazy anarchists in a matter of minutes. We got to keep our eyes open."
Suddenly, something clattered onto the floor in the middle of the group. There was a moment of surprise as they saw the small device simply fall from the sky. The shock turned into panic as the device exploded into a cloud of smoke. They were enveloped in a cloud of white in an instant.
"What the hell?" One of them spluttered.
"It's smoke!" Another declared.
Through the tear-inducing smog, one of them saw a figure descend from the ceiling, "Look out! It—" he was thrown to the ground as the figure slammed into him from above.
The next one got his head smashed into the side of the metal shipping car. The smoke was dissipating at this point. The second to last caught sight of the figure and aimed his gun. The gun was seized, and the butt was jammed into his face. The final guard aimed and fired, but the vigilante dodged to the side and threw a shuriken at him that caught him in the arm. The second of hesitation was enough for the dark figure to advance and slam the guard in the jaw, knocking him out.
In a manner of seconds, the four guards were knocked unconscious.
"That was a little too easy," Alfred commented.
"Exactly," the vigilante turned to look out into the darkness.
Suddenly, a bright flash of light covered the entire warehouse and the hum of electricity echoed through the warehouse. The vigilante had to shield his eyes for a moment at the sudden blinding light. After adjusting for a second, he lowered his hand and took in his surroundings. Hiding in the darkness, above, there was a line of hanging, supported scaffolding that had been concealed by darkness. On the scaffolding walkway, there were a handful of armed men; their guns were all trained on him. A slow clap echoed through the empty space.
"You are an impressive man," a voice carried through the warehouse with ease. He looked up on to the main scaffolding to see Oswald Cobblepot standing between two armed guards. He was dressed for the occasion with a black suit for hiding in the dark and carrying a rather large umbrella. "The way that you just pulverized my men, it was chillingly entertaining." He grinned as he looked down at the shadow-clad figure. "Don't think about escaping. From what a little anarchist told me, you like to work in the dark. I've taken care of that. So, no disappearing acts this time."
"Alfred," the vigilante muttered.
"On it," the butler returned.
"What do you want?" Bruce spoke up. The room was lit so that every corner was illuminated; he wouldn't escape without being shot at by the men with their automatic rifles. The suit could take a bullet from a handgun and maybe a rifle but not concentrated fire. He knew he wasn't going to be able to disappear, so, he just needed to buy Alfred some time. Oswald wanted something. He knew that if Cobblepot wanted him dead, he would have already fired.
Cobblepot made a playful expression, "I need to know some things. I don't know what I've done to you to make you want to ruin my business, but I intend to find out." He waved the umbrella around theatrically. "Who you're working for, why you chose me, what the hell compelled you to dress like Dracula reincarnated: basic stuff. Then I'll make an example of you for anyone else who thinks about crossing me again." He leaned forward on the railing. "So, how's about it. Who are you working for?"
"The people of Gotham City, the ones you've been building your empire on," He answered instinctually.
Oswald blinked with confusion, "Didn't think the people of Gotham had a big enough pocketbook to support a vigilante. Cut the lines please. I know that you work for someone. Who is it? Thorn? The Irish? The government? I wouldn't even be surprised if Gordon threw you in the mix."
There was a pause, so Oswald continued.
"Oh, come on! Someone has to pay for that getup! You're going to die in a couple of seconds. You might want to earn some extra heavenly reward points before you get there. Tell me the truth."
"I serve the people of Gotham when the night falls. I protect them from people like you."
"Almost there," Alfred's voice said. "Just a few more seconds."
Oswald realized that the vigilante was being brutally, honestly serious. He let out an exacerbated sigh and covered his face with his hand, "Oh great, just what I need: another nut trying to make his mark. You know what?" Oswald waved his hand. "Forget it. I've learned that your kind's reason is usually some sort of moralistic gobbledygook. No real interesting motive. Best to get rid of you now. You can kill—"
"I have to thank you," the vigilante's voice cut across the room like a knife.
Oswald paused, "Thank me for what?" Cobblepot asked falling hook, line, and sinker for the stall.
"Got it," the confirmation came through the COM.
"You just saved me the trouble of tying you to incriminating evidence," the vigilante spoke, then he whispered. "Cut the power."
The power went off suddenly. The entire facility went dark. Cobblepot inhaled a little at the surprising darkness. The only thing still illuminated was the small floodlights. The vigilante was nowhere to be seen in that spotlight. There was cursing from all around the warehouse as the once confident men started to cower.
"Get the power on, NOW!" Cobblepot screamed as he quickly thumbed the secret remote in his hand. Backup would arrive any second. Oswald knew it was only a matter of moments before—
The first scream came from the left. It was on the scaffolding though. How had he gotten up there in such a short time? Oswald started to grit his teeth to hide the panic as another man let out a cry. Someone started to fire wildly, only causing the bullets to ricochet off the metal walls around them.
"Stop it you IDIOT!" Oswald yelled.
He suddenly stopped, but Oswald doubted it was from taking orders. He knew that his men were being systematically taken down, but from the multiple directions of the screams, he couldn't pinpoint where the vigilante was at any time. He finally felt a rush of air and heard a scream to his left. One of his bodyguards went careening off the scaffolding. He whirled around to face the darkness.
A fist collided with Cobblepot's nose. His eyes watered and there was a SNAP. He tumbled back onto the metal deck. Through the tears and pain, he managed to spy a shadow standing over him. He was now engaged with one of his bodyguards, who was putting up a fight. Still, Oswald knew he was no match for the vigilante in the dark. It was only a matter of time before the masked man turned his attention back to him.
Suddenly, Oswald remembered something. The umbrella was still in his hand. Being sprawled back, he would have a hard time aiming it. He managed to tip his foot and prop the tip of the umbrella on his shoe. He could just barely make out the figure. He just needed to aim it right—one shot. The bodyguard was slammed into the railing and clattered to the ground. The vigilante turned to face Cobblepot again.
Bruce stepped forward with a sense of triumph, "You're coming with me Cobbl—"
BANG!
The deafening sound echoed through the warehouse. The vigilante reeled back for a moment; he suddenly felt an intense pain race through his right shoulder. His vision danced for a moment at the sudden shock of the impact. It felt like he had been hit by a train.
Oswald slowly started to sit up as he recovered from the kickback. A sneer crept across his face as he saw the vigilante stumble back and grip his shoulder. He took his chance. With a warrior-like blood-curdling scream, Penguin stepped forward and raised his half-destroyed umbrella to swing it. He got in a few ferocious slams before the sole of the vigilante's boot pushed him back and was sent sprawling into the railing.
In a complete daze, Oswald heard the sound of shouting and footsteps. It was about time the backup showed up! He pulled himself up using the railing.
"UP HERE!" He called immediately. "Don't let him get away!"
It was no use. In a whirl of wind, the vigilante was gone from Oswald's sight. Oswald let out a frustrated yell.
Bruce was still reeling from the shot as he recovered to the roof of the warehouse. Intense pain flashed through his shoulder. When he touched it, there was a distinct red coloration on his fingertips. He didn't know what kind of weapon had been used, but it was enough to pierce the armor. His mind was racing on trained survivor instincts. He barely registered that he had reached the car until he had entered and was speeding down the street.
"Bruce, Bruce! What happened?" Alfred called through the haze.
Bruce relayed the situation to Alfred quickly. His speech slurred a little as he tore through the city streets.
"You're going to need immediate care to stop the bleeding," Alfred emphasized.
"I can make it back," Bruce insisted. He quickly pulled off his armored glove of his left hand. He took his bare fingers and plugged the wound as best as he could through the armor.
"Lucius hasn't finished designing the auto-drive function to be that accurate. If you pass out on the way back, you're going to crash." As if to prove Alfred right, Bruce's vision went spotty and the car jerked from one lane to the next. "I don't know if I have the medical skills yet to operate on something that might have punctured an artery. You need proper medical attention now."
"Alfred, I can make it back," Neither of them believed it. Bruce was simply highlighting that getting back to the cave was the only option for him right now. Bruce couldn't exactly drive to Gotham General. "There's no other option."
Alfred paused for a moment as he thought, "You're not going to like it, but there is one other option."
Selina stepped out onto the dark streets of Gotham. Her stealth suit and whip at her side signified that she was not just having a regular outing. She walked down the street to the tallest building on the block and entered the alleyway next to it. A wall kick and a hurdle later and she was climbing up the fire escape to the top. Once at the edge of the building, she felt her head start to clear as she surveyed the city below.
As the cooling summer night air hit her, she found herself muttering, "I said a couple of days, kid. If I find you goofing off in some arcade, I swear I'm going to. . ."
This was more to relax than an actual threat to Jason. A week, it had almost been a week since she saw him sprint off into the night. Plan "Go Away" had only called for him to disappear for a couple of days: five at most. Since the fifth day passed with no sign of the boy appearing on her doorstep, she had spent the next couple of days finding herself actually worrying. It just didn't feel right to wake up without the sound of him harassing her cats.
There were a couple of options that came to mind as to why he was still missing. She was sure that the kid hadn't just abandoned her. He had left the diamond in the hiding spot, that was her first clue. Her second was the fact that his stuff hadn't disappeared while she was out; it wasn't like he had taken his things with him on the heist. Kids like him never left their stuff behind. She refused to believe he was dead. He might have been a hothead, but he had enough smarts to get himself out of any immediate danger.
That only left one option: he was in serious trouble and restrained somewhere.
All she had to do, was figure out where. So many places to check for the kid—she certainly couldn't check them all. She needed to be smart, figure out who might have taken him and why. She set her jaw. There was only one place to start looking; to choose anywhere else would be to ignore basic logic. She sneered. Fate would just have to be cruel and bring them together. She certainly wasn't going to enjoy her visit.
Lee was unsurprisingly working overtime for the night. This often happened at the clinic. As much as she wanted to keep the clinic open all night, she knew that it was a dangerous impossibility. People in the Narrows were already stigmatized for seeking her help—primarily because of her background. She didn't need someone getting shanked on the steps of her clinic, and Jim worried about her safety.
The clinic was modest at best; it was refurbished from an old Narrow's building that had closed down due to No-Man's Land. She had worked overtime on patching up a last-minute broken nose from a street brawl. She honestly didn't care where they came from as long as she could help. A lot of the more gang-affiliated members of the community stayed far away from her because of Jim's position and the fact that police cars patrolled that part of the Narrows more than anywhere else.
The late night would have normally been a lonely one after everyone else on her staff left, but she wasn't alone. The young brown-copper-haired Barbara Lee sat upon the patient chair as she scribbled into her notebook. Barbara had a business event and Jim was predictably unavailable, so neither had been able to watch over her. That was alright in Lee's book; she didn't mind the girl's company. Despite her technically being a stepmother to the young girl, she had never felt distant or awkward talking to her. Barbara Lee always had a rather mellow if occasionally sharp personality. Lee found it easy to hold a conversation, and she was very much a part of her crazy, extended family.
"So, how's homework going?" Lee asked casually as she counted up the sedative pill bottles—she loved the people of the Narrows, but sometimes their kleptomaniacal habits were hard to control.
Barbara shrugged, "Good. School hasn't started really, it's just simple stuff right now."
Lee glanced over at her homework, "Oh, so pre-calc is simple now?"
Barbara smirked a little, "Last year I told mom I was bored, and she told my teacher that I could need more advanced homework. When she ran out of that, she gave me a high school textbook."
"Ok," Lee said. "Just don't get too smart too soon. I would still like to be smarter than you for at least two more years."
Barbara shrugged, "It's just math. The other stuff doesn't make too much sense to me yet. Computers are fun though. Speaking of which," She licked her lip before diving into her backpack and pulling out a white release form. "Can you sign the form so that I can join the computer club?"
Lee was taken aback by her sudden question as she took the forum, "Oh, sure. You sure know how to smoothly insert what you want into the conversations," She paused. "Why didn't you ask your mom?" There were a couple of opportunities between her school and the clinic that she could have asked Barbara Kean for a signature.
Barbara shrugged, "I don't know. Mom's pretty busy nowadays; I don't want to bother her with it."
Lee made a concerned expression, "Hey, I'll sign it for you if you want, but," she turned so that she was seriously facing the young girl, "know that you could ask your mom for anything. She named you after three of the people you can trust most; she put her name first, right?"
Barbara Lee Gordon nodded, "Right. But—" She shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't seem mom's speed. She's all Ms. Serious Businesswoman or fun-time mom, there's not really much in-between. It's hard to get her attention sometimes."
Lee frowned a little. Though most of Kean's mental problems had been cured or treated over the years, the state still required that she take medicine to control herself. Barbara had very little say in the matter; she was already on incredibly thin ice. The only thing that had kept her afloat was Jim's testimony about how she had sheltered people during the chaos of No Man's land and how she should be forgiven for past offenses. Still, the medication they put her on often left her at the two extremes of either incredibly focused or unfocused. Lee knew it was hard on both Kean and her daughter but it was the only way to keep Kean on the straight and narrow.
"Sometimes I think that she's more like the crazy aunt and you're the mom," Barbara Lee grinned a little. "I mean, how many kids can say that their mom owned a nightclub? That's such a crazy aunt move."
Lee was about to answer with a kind rebuttal but was interrupted by a sudden sound. It came from the main lobby. It was a thudding sound as something gracelessly stepped onto the creaky wooden paneling of the main room. Lee jolted up; she had locked the door once the sun had gone down like her procedure dictated—it was too dangerous to leave her door open after dark. Another step came with the sound of creeping. Barbara went pale as she came to the same conclusion as Lee; someone had broken into the clinic.
In a whirl of maternal instincts, Lee quickly picked up Barbara and went over to the only other door out of the small patient room. It was a small closet. It was the best she could do right then; the only window to the room had metal bars to prevent thieves. She gracelessly shoved the young girl into the closet full of medicine and into a space that would only fit her.
"Stay in here, don't say a word," Lee ordered quickly in a low tone and slid the closet door shut.
Lee glanced around for her next step in protecting herself. She felt her heart seize as she dove into her lab coat pocket and didn't find her cellphone. She remembered that she had left her cellphone in her office to charge; there were no phone lines in the room. She felt a pang of panic run through her chest as she realized the situation. Springing into action, she grabbed a pair of surgical scissors that had been left out after a quick stitch job. She then flicked the lights off and retreated back into the room so that the examination table was between her and the door. She flipped the scissors so that they were held backward to make it easy to make a quick jab and a run. She brought the scissors close to her chest.
All she could do was wait.
Suddenly, a shadow crossed the door window. Whoever was there was at least six feet tall. The door handle jiggled open and she felt her blood freeze. From the closet, Barbara let out a sharp gasp. Lee prayed the intruder didn't hear. The door opened and the heavy footfall entered the room. The tall black figure seemed huge in the dimly lit room. Lee couldn't feel herself breath anymore.
She had a suspicion as to who was in front of her. Gordon had warned her about the Bat and from what she saw from the museum video that the GCPD put out, this guy was it. Her breath came to her faster now as the shadow-clad figure approached. Had he come for her since Gordon was hunting him down? Was he going to hold her ransom or worse kill her as a warning against those who got in his way? Gordon had a love/hate relationship with the Bat since he had saved his life. Now, she forgot that as he stepped into her clinic uninvited. She was glad that she hid Barbara in the closet away from the psychopath.
"I don't know who the hell you are, but you better leave," Lee kept a low, serious tone as she clutched the scissors in her hand. It wasn't the most menacing of weapons, but she hoped it was enough to keep him away.
"Dr. Tompkins," The figure spoke in a distorted voice; he sounded weak. "I need—"
Lee knew she couldn't let him control the situation; she couldn't wait to hear his demands, "Get out now; the police are already on their way."
The figure reached up and tapped something on his neck, "Lesley, I need your help."
Lee stilled for a moment. Only now did she notice the red coloration of blood on the plated armor. He needed immediate attention. That wasn't the only thing that stunned her. His voice: it was familiar.
"Lee, please," the man saw the hesitation in her eyes and reached up to pull off the cowl.
Lee paused because she couldn't believe that she was seeing the man who was bleeding in front of her, "Bruce?"
Woah, I did not mean for the chapter to turn out this long, but I am glad it did!
Now that Gotham season 5 is out, I'm going to try and finish one of my other stories involving Gotham. I'll keep updating this one, it's just that the other one will take precedence until it is finished—which should only be about 4 or 5 more chapters. It kind of ties into this story (or at least how I perceive certain characters), so I want to finish it before I go too far into this one.
If you're interested, the story is called Best Friends.
Anyway, I'll aim to update this story in a week or two so I don't leave you on a cliffhanger too long (I have a lull in assignments so I can dedicate it to writing both of the stories). Thanks for reading!