Gotham Knights, Book One: Preparations

by Ali2

Written for YesterYear in 1998, Gotham Knights follows the adventures of Batman in 1938 and the other heroes who joined him in his crusade against the underworld... The prelude was written by Tony Wilson and is used with permission from the author.

4. Gotham Knights: Preparations, Part Four

The author acknowledges that names, concepts, and images of
many characters that may be used here and ALL related characters
may be owned by other individuals and/or companies and that said
owners retain complete rights to said characters. These concepts
are used WITHOUT permission for NO PROFIT, but rather a strong
desire to peer into the potential these characters have in a
combined setting.

This also acknowledges that original concepts presented here
are the intellectual property of the author.

*****************************************************
GOTHAM KNIGHTS

Preparations, Part 4

Written by -- Ali
Email -- SEricAli1@aol.com

Edited by: Jason Tippitt & Tommy Hancock
*****************************************************

INTERLUDE

FINGER ALLEY, GOTHAM CITY, DECEMBER 20, 1938, DAWN...

She was comforted by the closeness of him in the first rays of the
morning sun. She rocked gently in his embrace, her tears a
symphony of joy, relief and disbelief that he was really here.
She relished everything about him, everything she thought she'd
never see or feel about him again, but had regained through some
miracle; some odd, wonderful twist of fate. His touch, his
breathing, the sweet smell of his skin, the warmth of him made her
feel so safe that she never wanted him to let go. She wanted this
moment to freeze and stand still for as long as possible. She
wanted to spend forever right here in his arms. Clarice Winston
sighed quietly, contentedly, she was safe at last, safe in the
arms of her fiancŽ, Jim Corrigan.

"Jim, they said you were dead." Clarice managed to gasp out
between sobs, "They said they killed you."

"Nothing could keep me from you baby, not even death." Jim stroked
her hair quietly and continued to gently rock back and forth, the
rhythm of his motions helping to calm her down. "Those rats won't
be causing you any more problems. That's a promise."

They hadn't left the back room since Jim came in and untied her.
She thought that she had heard screaming earlier, screaming that
seemed to come from the depths of hell itself. In the back of her
mind, she tried to figure out if those wails of terror were real
or part of her feverish imagination. It didn't matter, none of it
mattered, Jim walked in and slowly closed the door behind him.
All that mattered was that Jim was with her now and everything was
going to be fine. If anything took away from the quiet reunion
was an occasional skittering noise from just beyond the door. To
Clarice's ears it sounded like a mouse, several mice actually, but
the tread was heavier, almost like a cat.

"Jim what's that noise?"

"What noise sweetheart?"

"That scratching, it sounds like mice."

"It's just a few rats, darling. Nothing to be afraid of, I'm here
and they can't hurt you." Clarice noted a curious tone in Jim's
voice as he said that, but when she looked up at his face, he wore
the same expression of quiet confidence that made her feel at
ease. If Jim said not to worry, she knew she could bank on that.
She nuzzled closer to him and they sat in silence, drinking in the
dawning of the new day.

The stillness, the rightness of the moment was eventually
interrupted by a new noise, the sound of people at the door in the
other room. The rattle of the door handle had Clarice in a panic
almost immediately as she hissed quietly, "Jim! Someone's trying
to get in!"

She looked up to see Jim smiling back at her. "It's probably just
Gordon and the boys. I called them before I came in here to free
you." Jim pulled Clarice a little closer and stroked her shoulder
reassuringly. The rattling handle became a pounding at the door.
"I'd better go let them in, before they break the door down or
something."

Clarice's fingernails dug deeply into Jim's forearm before he
could fully rise from where they sat. "No Jim, let them break it
down if they must," Clarice pleaded, "just don't leave me."

Jim looked down at his fiancŽe thoughtfully. Clarice knew Jim was
a man of action and that his sitting around waiting on the door to
be broken in was not a part of his nature. She chewed on her
lower lip before saying, "Jim, you don't know for sure if it's the
police or those thugs that kidnapped us." Jim must have seen just
how scared she was, he relented and settled back into his former
position. Clarice relaxed a little bit as he smiled at her with a
knowing look in his eye.

"I told you honey, those rats won't be back." Reaching into the
waistband of his trousers, Jim produced an ugly looking revolver.
"Still it doesn't hurt to be prepared."

The door in the other room shuddered with the force of bodies
smashing into it and eventually it gave way with a loud snap and a
thundering crash. The falling door was followed by a sudden rush
of footfalls and the murmur of voices outside. There was the
sound of skittering once more and Clarice clearly heard one of the
people outside inhale sharply followed by a clicking noise.

"Yah! RATS!!!" said a fear filled voice.

"Larry, NO!!!" said another.

The sudden report of a gun cut off any other comments from beyond
the door. Jim was on his feet and halfway to the door before
Clarice could react. The following shots drowned out the weak
squeals of the rodents who were trying to scramble to safety if
the pattering beyond the door were any indication. When the
shooting stopped, Jim, with Clarice protected behind him, yanked
open the door and found himself pointing his gun at the assembled
members of the Gotham City Detective Squad.

"Hold your fire boys," said James Gordon with an upraised hand,
"it's Corrigan!"

Clarice looked over the room and the scene that greeted her eyes
was one that nearly brought a scream to her throat. There were
the blood spattered remains of several ugly gray and brown rats,
their bodies ripped open by bullets from the still smoking gun in
Larry Lance's hand. There was a black rat, the largest of them
all that was seriously wounded but still alive, Jim Gordon was
standing near it, but either didn't notice the dying rodent or
just didn't care because of his relief at finding the couple in
fairly good shape.

In the shattered doorway stood Jim Corrigan's colleagues: Arthur
O'Hara, once Gordon's right hand man on the squad, the rotund and
balding older detective was recently appointed to the position of
Chief of Police by the Mayor after his heroic capture of a group
of kidnappers who had terrified the entire Robinson District with
their crimes. The tough as nails Irish cop, who spoke with a
thick Brogue, was still adjusting to his life as a high profile
public figure. He was a quiet man who preferred actions over
words and when Corrigan's call came into the station, he tagged
along as if he had never left the squad.

On O'Hara's heels was Harvey Bullock, a disheveled looking fat man
in a rumpled suit. There were still remnants of a slice of pie
and coffee on his shirt from breakfast and his unshaven chin
actually looked more like a thick sheath of grime than stubble.
Bullock was sloppy as far as his personal habits went, but as far
as his professional life was concerned, he wasn't on the streets
to win a beauty contest; he was there to do his job as a cop.

Bullock was rough and rude. He was Gordon's ideal point man when
he needed to intimidate some felon with a strong armed bruiser.
Truth be told, Bullock owed his career to Gordon, who had reformed
him from a cop who used a rubber hose to beat confessions out of
crooks as opposed to the letter of the law. Gordon took Bullock
into the squad after a controversial case which involved the
unexplained death of a city councilman's son who was accused of
brutally raping a twelve year old girl. The young man was in
Bullock's custody when he died and people familiar with Bullock's
methods were quick to set him up as the scapegoat. While Bullock
was eventually cleared of any wrongdoing, no department on the
force wanted to touch him until Gordon offered the man a slot on
the squad. Bullock's gratitude showed in his fierce loyalty to
Gordon, he was always ready and willing to do whatever was asked
of him, but wasn't afraid to voice his opinions and objections.

Frank Merkel shoved his way past the two stocky officers and
surveyed the scene. "Jesus, Lance! Did you at least read them
their rights?!", roared the runty detective. Some of the men on
the squad chuckled softly at Merkel's comment and Lance sheepishly
holstered his gun. Clarice found it hard to believe that someone
would find the present situation funny, but Jim had told her about
Merkel's somewhat odd sense of gallows humor some time ago, it was
his safety valve against some of the horrors that Gotham kept
hidden in the shadows of her streets.

Merkel was followed by a uniformed officer, Donald Daniel
Richards, known by his middle name Dan. Dan Richards was a
strawberry blond with an athletic build that showed even through
his police uniform. He was a good officer who tried to give his
best all the time. Despite finishing at the bottom of his class
at the academy, Dan had persevered and risen through the ranks of
the force with distinction. O'Hara had taken a liking to the man
and made him his assistant when he was made Chief.

Eager to please and driven to prove himself, Richards took on his
new duties with no small measure of enthusiasm. When he entered
the room, Clarice was amazed how much he resembled Jim, they could
almost pass for brothers. She wondered if this is what Jim looked
like when he was younger and walked a beat. Richards tipped his
hat politely when she and Jim came into his line of vision and
smiled. "Glad to see you two are okay."

"I told you kid, Jimmy Corrigan's the hardest man in the world to
kill." In through the doorway strode Inspector Harvey Harris, one
of the Gotham PD's living legends. Harris was considered one of
the best of the best by his brother officers, a man who had made a
name for himself long before most of the men he currently served
with on the squad were old enough to shave. He was as tall as his
one of his reputation would be expected to be and stood nearly a
head taller than the other men in the room. Harris had a
formidably full head of steel gray hair, and though his face was
weathered with wrinkles, he looked at least twenty years younger
than the sixty two years he constantly boasted to be.

Harris was a no nonsense kind of cop, he wore no hat or top coat
like most of the men he accompanied, he was always of the opinion
that if it wasn't raining or snowing, all the extra clothing was
just dead weight that you'd have to get rid of when you're chasing
down some hop head or gunner. His navy blue suit jacket was
unbuttoned, allowing the detective quick access to his gun in his
shoulder holster or the belt holster tucked into the small of his
back. Harris believed in being prepared and even in the calm
aftermath of Jim and Clarice's safe return, Harris kept a
practiced eye on the closet doors and windows just in case someone
was laying low for an ambush.

Gordon walked over to Jim Corrigan and placed a hand on his
shoulder. "Corrigan, where's Gat Benson and why the hell didn't
you report in when you got away from him the first time?"

Clarice noticed an odd expression pass over Jim's face for a
moment and it ended with an even odder smile. "I didn't want to
take any chance that Benson would hurt Clarice, Lieutenant. He
thought he had killed me out at the waterfront, so I let him
believe that while I tracked him down. If I told you too soon he
might've gotten wise to the whole thing and tried to pull a fast
one." Jim looked at the dying rats on the floor and added, "As
for where Benson and his boys are now, I'm sure they're nearby and
will turn up soon."

Harvey Harris heartily slapped Jim on the back. "Hah! That's
probably why those mugs ain't here! They probably saw Jimmy
coming into the building and thought his ghost was comin' back to
get them!"

"It probably was something like that!" echoed Bullock. "Those
rats saw ol' Jimmy here and ran off to hide in another hole
somewhere!" Bullock smiled widely at the couple, "Ol' 'Spooky'
Corrigan, Ghost Detective can bring 'em down without firin' a shot
now!"

Gordon looked the room over, perplexed. "It doesn't add up
though. Benson's a tough customer and he was on the lam, I don't
understand why he didn't take Miss Winston when he left. She'd
have been more valuable to him as a hostage or if he left her
behind, he'd have no reason to leave her alive if she could tie
him to your attempted murder Corrigan."

Bullock looked the large black rat dying on the filthy floor with
disgust, "Does it matter, Lieutenant? Gat left behind his
relatives here didn't he? Maybe he decided to throw in the towel
and leave town." Bullock raised his huge shoe off the ground and
stomped on the dying rodent, crushing it and ending its misery.
To Clarice, the rat's death cry sounded almost human, familiar
somehow, though she couldn't figure out why.

"Besides", Bullock continued, "with all the mugs out looking for
Gat to collect on that bounty, when we do find him, he'll probably
be as dead as my new friend that I'm wiping off my shoe here."

"You know Bullock", Corrigan said quietly, "I wouldn't be at all
surprised if that rat got what was coming to him already."
Clarice felt Jim pull her a little closer, "Come on sweetheart,
let's get you home."

As the detectives escorted the pair out of the building and into
the dawn of a new day Clarice began to forget about her ordeal.
Jim was with her again, and everything was right with the world.

And upstairs, in the building itself, the rays of the sun revealed
something that would not be discovered for another few days, the
terribly mutilated corpses of Gat Benson and his gang. The boys
at the morgue would be at a loss to explain what exactly had
managed to cave in almost half of Gat's body with one clean
stroke...

*****************************************************

TEN: "HE FLOATS THROUGH THE AIR..."

HALY'S CIRCUS OF THRILLS, GOTHAM FAIRGROUNDS, DECEMBER 20, 1938...

"Pop" Haly crumpled under another vicious blow and felt his knees
give way underneath him. He didn't gain any relief or refuge by
falling to the floor though, Cowboy, an enforcer for Fat Tony
Zucco, kept the plump, aging circus owner on his feet by holding
onto to Haly's collar with his powerful left hand. Cowboy's right
hand seemed more than capable of administering a wealth of
punishment on its own. The Cowboy took a great delight in his
work, and if he could stretch out the "lesson" he was ordered to
give to Haly, so much the better, after all he needed to stay in
practice.

"You should've listened to Mister Zucco, Haly.", Cowboy grunted as
he sent another crushing blow to Haly's midsection. The older
man's legs collapsed from under him once again, but once more,
Cowboy's strength asserted itself, keeping Haly from falling. "He
wants the protection money and--" Another solid blow lifted Haly
off of the floor and slammed him into the unyielding wall of his
trailer. His glasses flew from the bridge of his nose and skipped
merrily across the floor until they were stopped by an overturned
chair. "--maybe he wants this flea bitten show of yours too."

Cowboy was enjoying himself too much to notice the young man who
stood outside Haly's trailer, drawn in by the commotion. Taking a
deep breath, Dick Grayson walked up to the door of the trailer and
knocked loudly. The noises that attracted Dick came to an end
with a sudden thump. Dick knocked again, this time yelling at the
unopened door, hoping that Pop Haly was okay. "Pop? Hey Pop it's
Dick! Is anything wr--"

Before Dick could complete the question, the door opened slowly
and Haly's slightly hunched form filled the doorway. The door was
open wide enough for Dick to see a hard faced man in a cowboy's
hat standing behind Haly. The cowboy had massive shoulders,
though not as big as Freddy Atlas the circus strongman. The
cowboy stood dangerously close to Haly and from the look on Pop
Haly's face, an odd mixture of fear and relief, Dick knew
something wasn't right.

Haly ruffled the boy's hair, "Dicky! Aren't you supposed to be
getting back to your trailer? We've got a big show later on, son
and you need to get some rest before tonight."

"I was on my way there, Pop," Dick answered, "but I heard some
funny noises coming from over here and I wanted to be sure nothing
was wrong."

Haly attempted a reassuring smile, but the pain of his recent
beating made the end result look more like a grimace. "No Dick,
everything's fine. My friend Cowboy and I were having a little
discussion, that's all. You run along now." Haly's performance
might have been a little more convincing if Dick hadn't noticed a
fresh trickle of blood starting to form at the edge of Haly's lip.
Still Dick decided to back off as he noticed Cowboy's growing
agitation at his presence.

"Well okay, Pop, if you're sure."

"Sure I'm sure, Dicky! Now leave us grown ups to our business."
The trickle began to run off Haly's lips and he started to pull
the door closed.

"Well okay, Pop, see you around." Dick Grayson's steps pounded
down the trailer stairs and faded into the night.

As soon as the door closed, Cowboy stepped up close to Haly and
stabbed a powerful finger into Haly's still heaving chest. "Like
I was sayin', I got a feelin' that if you don't get in touch with
Mister Zucco soon to clear up your account, something bad may
happen to help you change your mind." Cowboy smiled showing his
yellowed teeth, "If you don't want anything to happen, get in
touch with Zucco over at Oxey's pronto."

Cowboy headed for the door of the trailer, roughly shoving Haly
out of the way. "Just don't make him wait too long, Pop. In
fact, if I was you, I'd git on over there 'fore tonight's show.
You'll save yourself a lot of grief and probably keep your
performers from havin' any accidents, if you catch my drift."

Cowboy stalked out of the trailer, leaving Haly to consider his
warning. As soon as Haly could no longer hear the bruiser's boots
crunching along the gravel, he sank to the floor and sobbed.
There was no way he could get that kind of money together in time,
The circus had been steadily losing money for some time because of
the fall season and the upcoming winter months, they'd gotten
lucky that Gotham was experiencing mild weather so far making this
show possible, but they were far from being in the black
financially.

Haly had to find a way to stall Zucco, a way to make him see that
there was no way they could afford to pay this time. Still Haly
knew that even that would be a fruitless decision, Zucco was known
for making an example out of those who couldn't pay for
protection. The realization made Haly cry even harder as the aches
and pains he experienced now would be nothing compared to what
Zucco was going to do later.

And neither Cowboy nor Haly noticed the silent, crouching form of
Dick Grayson who had heard everything in the last few minutes from
his hiding place underneath the trailer. Dick left his place of
concealment with the sound of Haly's mournful tears accompanying
him all the way back to the trailer he shared with his parents.

****************

"TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!", the voice hissed harshly into his
ear, "Where is Tony Zucco?!"

Lefty Blake had never been in a situation like this one before.
At some point in the early dawn, he was roughly dragged out of
bed. Mabel began to scream, but a sharp crack, like glass
breaking, was heard from inside the shadows of their bedroom and
she stopped as suddenly as she started. Another crack removed
Lefty from his sudden waking into a world of blackness as he was
returned to a deep sleep. When Lefty awoke, he realized that he
couldn't see, his eyes were covered by a blindfold. Lefty tried
to move his hands, but found them secured tightly behind his back.
Lefty's feet were similarly bound and he found that he couldn't
rise from the sitting position he knew he was in. Besides the
voice in his ears, Lefty was aware of the roar of the wind, a
sensation which left the little felon a bit unnerved for some
reason.

"I told you," Lefty said to the disembodied voice, "I don't know
where Zucco is! Even if I did know something, I sure in the hell
ain't telling some mug who has me blindfolded and trussed up like
a turkey!"

"You might want to reconsider.", the voice said coldly, "I know
that you're one of Zucco's money men and that you're still moving
cash into Gotham for him. It would be to your advantage to tell
me what I want to know."

"No way!" Lefty shouted back, "Zucco might kill me!"

"You're right," the voice replied, "Zucco might kill you if you do
talk--" Lefty felt his blindfold loosening slightly, soon he'd
know what the hell was going on and who was responsible for this.
As soon as he was loose, he was going to make this guy pay for it
too. "--but if you don't talk, I'll definitely kill you."

The blindfold was torn away and Lefty found himself staring into
the cold gaze of a masked man who had become all too familiar to
Gotham's criminal class of late. Even in the light of the rising
sun, the man was still a fearsome sight. The man was like a piece
of living shadow, he stood upon the vast emptiness of a rooftop
almost looming over Lefty. His cape whipped in the wind, flowing
behind him like great leathery wings, powerful arms held Lefty in
an iron grip, and the bat emblem on his chest left little doubt in
Lefty's mind as to who he was facing.

"Y-y-you're the Batman!", Lefty gulped, to his credit, the little
crook didn't lose bladder control or start whimpering
uncontrollably. He did however abandon the notion of getting even
with the masked man.

"Zucco.", the Batman spat, "Where IS he?!"

"I'm telling you," Lefty whined, "I don't know where he is!"

"Fine. Have it your way." With that the Dark Knight snatched the
little man up and pitched him off of the roof and into space.
Lefty screamed like a girl as he began to fall but the wind
whistled loudly enough to drown it all out. Lefty knew he was
doomed, he knew he was going to die and he knew if he had the
chance to do this over, he would've told the Batman what little he
knew gladly. That was when the little man's fall came to an
abrupt halt with a slight jerk. Lefty's eyes, which were clamped
shut the second he went over the ledge, opened slowly and the
sight that greeted him would've been breathtaking under different
circumstances. All of Gotham lay before Lefty, spread out like
some intricately patterned carpet. He could see the spires of
towers and the rooftops of hundreds of buildings from downtown all
the way out to the waterfront. For a few seconds, Lefty was
awestruck by the largeness of the city below, he couldn't believe
how high up he was. Realizing that his fall had stopped for some
reason, Lefty craned his neck to look upwards at the roof to see
what was keeping him in the air. The sight that greeted Lefty,
however drove a new concern to the forefront of the little man's
mind.

The Batman seemed to float down from the rooftop above, his great
cape seeming to blot out everything except the halo of sunlight
that dared to peek over his shoulders. This eerie glow of red
gold light only added to the menace of the masked madman who just
tried to kill Lefty. Slowly, the masked man drifted down and came
to a soft halt a few inches above. In the Batman's hand was a
large knife which caught the rays of the morning sun on its edge.
"I can promise you," the Batman said, "that if I don't hear
something that leads me to Zucco, the next thing that will stop
your fall will be the concrete."

For the next few minutes, Lefty told the Batman all about Zucco's
new plan to get protection money out of the vendors and shows
setting up for the Winter Carnival. Zucco was having trouble
collecting from one show in particular and the crimeboss had sent
in one of his enforcers to either get the cash or make an example
out of the show for others who may decide not to pay.

"Which show?" Batman asked.

"Haly's Circus!" screamed Lefty, "I swear, that's all I know! Now
let me down from here!"

"If you insist." the Batman said, brandishing the knife and
bringing it closer to the rope. At that point Lefty fainted,
saving the Batman any further dramatics before he would've gassed
the man and pulled him up anyway. As the Batman began to haul the
man up to a nearby open window, he silently patted himself on the
back for planting miniature wire recorders at Murray's the other
night. The conversations that were on that tape prior to his
arrival led him to Lefty and hopefully, would now lead to the
capture of Tony Zucco.

****************

Julie Madison was starting to become bored as she sat outside of
Bruce's private office. She woke this morning to find both Bruce
and Alfred gone, with a note saying Bruce had to go into the
office to tie up some business and that he would meet her for
breakfast at his office around eight. Bruce's secretary, was not
at the desk when she arrived and after waiting a full half hour,
Julie tried the door only to find it locked. She was considering
possibly knocking at the door when Alfred walked into the waiting
area.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Miss Madison, Master Bruce is
engaged in a rather urgent conference and you would probably
disturb him at a critical moment."

"Alfred!" Julie said, whirling around to face Wayne's butler, "Why
on earth did Bruce leave so early this morning?"

"Master Bruce tends to keep very odd hours, Miss Madison." Alfred
answered. "The person he needed to speak with was only available
for a conference with Mister Wayne at this hour."


"Well what kind of conference could one possibly have at dawn?"
Julie's tone was one of minor annoyance, she had grown used to
sleeping in after a long night of rehearsals when she was in New
York, being around a man who rarely slept was a little
disorienting.

"A profitable one, my dear." answered Bruce Wayne as he stepped
out of his office. "Julie darling, you look absolutely radiant
this morning!" Before Julie could reply, Bruce swept her into his
arms and kissed her passionately, Alfred maintained the proper air
of neutral disinterest. Eventually the couple broke their embrace
and Bruce smoothed the lapels of his gray flannel suit jacket.

"I trust all went well with your conference, Bruce." Julie was a
little breathless from Bruce's enthusiastic greeting. Alfred
noted, with mild amusement, that Julie's annoyance seemed to have
been momentarily forgotten.

"I got exactly what I needed from my contact, Julie." Bruce
answered beaming, "Beastly thing, business, it keeps a man from
enjoying a regular schedule or taking in proper nutrition. In
fact, the whole thing's left me rather starved!" Looking over at
Julie, Bruce seemed to arrive at a sudden decision. "Julie, we'll
breakfast over at Kirby Terrace, the place is a classic when it
comes to the fare and the views of the city. It's a little early,
but I'm sure Jack can accommodate us without too much trouble."

"Shall I bring the car around for you and Miss Madison, Master
Bruce?" Alfred asked quietly.

"No Alfred, I think Miss Madison and I will walk, it's just across
the park." Bruce turned with his bright smile still in place,
"It's a beautiful morning for it! Shall we, sweetheart?"

Julie was all smiles as she took Bruce's arm, "That sounds like a
wonderful idea Bruce." She looked over at Alfred, "Will you be
joining us Alfred?"

Before the butler could answer, Bruce cut in, "Oh Julie, I'm
afraid I promised my business associate that Alfred would give him
a ride back to his home." Bruce and Alfred exchanged a knowing
look, "you don't mind do you Alfred, Mister Blake will be out in a
few minutes, he's just gathering up some papers."

"Of course sir." Alfred responded politely.

"Ah Alfred, I knew I could count on you. Well come along, Julie
we should be off." before Julie could comment any further, Bruce
hustled her off to the elevator.

As soon as the couple left, Alfred stepped into Wayne's office to
find Lefty Blake tied up and blindfolded. Two white envelopes were
sitting on the little man's chest, one clearly marked
"instructions", the other bore a seal that resembled a bat.
Alfred walked over to the massive bookcase that was behind Wayne's
desk and depressed a hidden switch. The bookcase opened forward
slightly and behind it was a hidden service elevator. With some
effort, Alfred managed to drag the little crook into the elevator
car. Closing the gate, Alfred pressed the down button and the car
began to go move. As it dropped towards the floors below, the
bookcase slid back into place with a nearly inaudible click.
Wayne's office showed no evidence that it had been entered at all,
much less that the room had been used by Wayne to abandon his
guise as the Batman.

****************

Fifteen minutes later, Gotham Police Precinct House Number Four
was the site of an unusual delivery. A black coupe shattered the
still morning with squealing tires as it rounded the corner. The
officers and citizens on the steps were surprised that some maniac
would pull this so close to the station house, but they were even
more surprised when the car slowed down long enough to eject a
body from the passenger's side of the car. As the still form hit
the street, the coupe shot off again before anyone could react.
Still everyone who saw it happen was certain of one thing, the
shadowy occupant of the car was none other than the Batman.

Two officers rushed over to the body and examined it. "He's not
dead! Somebody call a doctor!"

"Hey what's this?" One of the policemen removed an envelope
pinned to the man's chest and opened it. The paper inside held a
brief typewritten message:

"TONY ZUCCO IS NEXT."

The scrawl underneath was a crude drawing in the shape of a bat.

Inside the coupe, the masked man removed his cowl. The face
underneath was not the rugged, handsome features of Bruce Wayne
but those of Alfred Pennyworth. The older man rubbed his shoulder
as he continued to drive, "I've probably given myself a bloody
hernia.", Alfred said aloud to himself. For a moment he allowed
himself to give into pain of the strained muscle a slight wince,
before steeling himself for the return trip to the Wayne
Foundation.

*****************************************************

INTERLUDE

GOTHAM GENERAL HOSPITAL, DECEMBER 20, 1938

Terrance Temple woke with a start. In the hazy grayness of his
room he could see sunlight weakly streaming into the room between
the slats of the blinds. His throat felt dry and scratchy, but he
was relieved to find that he was in bed, the victim of an obvious
nightmare. He tried to move, but found he could not. Something
outside of his field of vision prevented him from moving.
Terrance tried to shout for one of the staff, but could only
mumble, his jaw was immobile as if...

Terrance lay in his bed, stunned. This could not be happening,
this did not happen. His thoughts desperately raced over the last
moments he remembered, he tried to stop the theft of his house
only to find that the thief was someone he thought long destroyed,
his former wife Selina Kyle. She attacked him, screaming and
shouting, pounding him with a ferocity she never showed in their
many fights while they were married. Terrance remembered her
whispered threats and every blow she inflicted upon him. Though
he knew he was unable to move, Temple struggled desperately to
rise, to prove that what had happened was nothing more than
bourbon induced nightmares from hearing the house settle or that
damned cat who ran around the house still searching for the woman
he threw out like so much trash. Yet the iron grip of his
restraints told him otherwise, they held onto him as if he were a
butterfly pinned to a card for display.

"Ah," said a voice somewhere in the room, "I see you're finally
back among the living."

Terrance started at the sound of the voice, but calmed himself, it
was a man's voice, not Selina's. he tried to raise his head, see
if he could find out where the phantom voice was coming from, but
the gloom prevented Terrance from seeing anything beyond a vague
outline that sat just beyond the window.

"Now, now Mister Temple," the voice cautioned liked a doting
father, "you mustn't overtax yourself. Your condition is still
pretty serious, if you're not careful, something dreadful might
happen to you."

Terrance was now slightly confused. His eyes had adjusted to the
light enough to discern that he wasn't in his bedroom, not even in
his home if the sparse furnishings were any indication. Where was
he? Who was this stranger in the room with him? What happened to
Selina?

Terrance's agitation must have been obvious to the man in the room
with him, because the man made a shushing noise and began to
speak. "Mister Temple I know this is all very confusing, but let
me see if I can clear the matter up a little. You were found by
your guards after a rather successful little robbery. They
assumed that you ran afoul of the burglar and paid for it dearly.
They knew that you would not want such a thing to be made public,
so they called Doctor Ravanaugh, your personal physician, who
promptly had you moved to a private sanitarium where he could tend
you without undue publicity."

The voice stopped for a moment, a whisper of movement was followed
by a gulping noise, the man had stopped to take a drink. The
faint thump of the glass being set down verified Terrance's guess.
"Well when you were brought in, you were raving. It had been
assumed that you had gone quite mad, hence your restraints. You
were sedated and left to sleep while your jaw was wired shut and
your injuries were attended to. It was touch and go for a while
there, old boy, you were listed in serious but stable condition."

Another drink interrupted the man's narrative. Terrance couldn't
believe that Selina had done this to him. She had nearly killed
him! Something within him became a cold, hard stone in the pit of
his stomach, Selina was going to pay for this and he was going to
have the pleasure of administering the killing stroke personally.

"Mister Temple", the voice said, "I'm curious, just what happened
to you? Can you identify who did this to you?"

Terrance managed to nod a painful yes to the man's question. His
mind was set on revenge, this man in the gloom would serve as the
first stone in the avalanche of misery Terrance would bring to
Selina's life. Once this man knew what happened, the police would
be notified and Selina would be hunted down like a dog. Mentally
Terrance was already celebrating his victory and imagining
Selina's destruction.

"Well if I loosen the restraints on your wrists, could you write
it out?"

A written statement! Terrance had picked his tool well without
even trying, his written statement would carry far more weight
with the law than just a vague idea of what happened the other
night. The man loosened the wrist restraints and provided
Terrance with a pad and paper. Terrance still couldn't get a
clear look at the man, the gloom obstructed his features, but he
did notice that the man had dark hair.

"I'll open the blinds so you can have a little more light. When
you're done, just tap on the pad, I'll be over in the corner
reading the paper."

For Terrance, the room brightened a little bit and he was able to
clearly see the pad he held. As he began to write down his
account of the night, Terrance tried to get a better look at the
man who he supposed was a room attendant for the hospital's more
prominent patients, but was foiled by the newspaper which the man
held high. Even without the paper, Terrance would still have been
hard pressed because of the way the light came into the room. His
mysterious benefactor's face would have simply been hidden in a
shadowy silhouette.

After thirty minutes or so, Terrance had finished. Terrance's
muscles had gone unused while he was sedated and his effort at
writing had left him more than a little exhausted. Weakly, he
tapped the pad, indicating he had completed his task. The man
stirred from behind the newspaper.

"Are we all finished?" The man asked politely, "Well let's see
what we've got here." The man read for a few moments as if he
were grading Terrance's account for correct spelling. The man
shook his head at some parts and uttered an "Oh my" or two when
the mood struck him and after a while, he set the pages down.

"All of this is true?" asked the shadowy stranger.

Terrance nodded yes, but paid for it with a wave of nausea. He
was more fatigued than he thought and as he settled into the
pillows, Terrance felt as if he could sleep for the rest of his
life. It had to be the drugs on top of the lack of exercise,
Terrance reasoned to himself. He still felt woozy.

"So now what?" Terrance heard the man ask. "I mean what do you
want me to do with it?"

Irritation began to cut into Terrance's mood towards this man. He
snatched the pad away, found a clean sheet of paper and wrote
furiously. When he was done, Terrance handed back the pad back to
his attendant so he could read the new message.

The man read the second note carefully. "I can understand calling
the police, Mister Temple, but who is Harry Lime and why should he
want to take care of your wife for you?"

Terrance felt more than a little outraged at the man, he was used
to people blindly following the instructions they were given
without question. The attendant seemed reluctant to move on this
information, which should have been reason enough to summon the
police. Still, Terrance calmed himself and took the pad from the
man once more and added that Lime was an agent in his employ and
would be the best person to find Miss Kyle. Terrance handed the
pad back to the man and waited for this new note's information to
be digested.

"You've had a rather rough time, Mister Temple," the man said
quietly, "and I'd really like to help you find Mister Lime but
there's just one problem." Terrance was confused now, he knew
something was wrong, something about this man had changed. His
voice had taken on a richer, familiar quality, Terrnace tried to
cut through the dull cloud that hindered his senses to identify
who was in the room with him. The man was casually padding
through his pockets, looking for something. The padding stopped
followed by a rustle that sounded like a package being opened.

"Cigarette, old boy?" The voice asked amiably. "Oh wait that
could be rather difficult with your mouth all wired up like that."
The thought was followed by a soft chuckle, "I suppose the old
adage is true in your case, old boy. 'Hell hath no fury' and all
that. Anyway, as I was saying, I'd love to help you out except
for one thing--", a match was struck and Terrance's eyes followed
the glowing ember as it migrated from the matchbox to the end of
the cigarette that was held between the man's lips. For the
briefest of moments, the man's face was revealed and Terrance
didn't know whether to be happy or deathly afraid. "-- I no longer
work for you."

Harry Lime smiled down at Terrance Temple as he shook the match
out. Terrance tried to raise his arms but they were like lead, he
was too tired to do anything in the way of defending himself.
Terrance lay in his bed and waited. He waited for Harry to finish
playing whatever angle he was going to play.

"See Terrance, the papers you had on me are now safely in my
possession. Selina is really quite good at burglary and when she
stole the papers she needed to invalidate your control over her
fortune, she also brought back all the other important papers you
kept hidden away. I mean really, old boy, you should trust a
safety deposit box in a bank. That's much harder to crack than a
private residence with subpar security."

Harry took a drag from his cigarette and continued to talk.
"Selina's running into you was just a stroke of bad luck. She had
arranged the job at a time when she thought you'd be away, but her
enthusiastic reunion with you solved the problem pretty well. As
far as the public at large is concerned, you took a fall and hit
your head, resulting in a coma that you may not survive. Selina's
already of the opinion that she has accidentally killed you."

Harry stopped long enough to take another drag. "You should have
seen the poor girl, she was out of sorts for at least a day or
two. The police came by to interview her, just to be sure there
wasn't any foul play involved, but she's not a suspect since I
provided her with an iron clad alibi. See Terrance, when you
asked me to insure your wife's downfall, I thought she was like
those other vapid cows you had associated yourself with. In fact
if it wasn't for her coincidental meeting with my old friend Holly
Martins, I might have completed your request without ever knowing
the woman. Meeting her gave me a different perspective on her, a
certain respect for her and coupled with my utter dislike for you,
it made it easy to decide what I would do next."

Harry moved closer to Terrance's horrified face. "You held my
past indiscretions over my head, so it seemed only fair to get
even by using one of yours as my tool. Selina was ideal and she
hated you, quite possibly even more than I. A couple of months of
training and she was more than ready to crack any safe this side
of Gotham. Her biggest fear was, besides possibly killing you,
what would happen if you did recover. Would you tell or wouldn't
you?" Harry regarded the pad he held for a moment, "Seems like
you would. You look a little uncomfortable Terrance, let me fix
that pillow for you." Harry picked up a spare pillow that rested
on a nearby shelf and began to fluff it.

"The thing is Terrance, that you've made a lot of enemies, you've
blackmailed people to do your bidding like me, with the proof you
had of a minor infraction I committed in sending some possibly
diluted penicillin overseas for sale on the black market, or poor
Doctor Ravanaugh, who I personally think has more than paid for
doing you the favor of 'accidentally' prescribing the wrong pills
to your dearly departed father. In fact," another long drag
interrupted Harry's thought, "he was the one who was kind enough
to let me stay here and monitor your progress."

Terrance's eyes searched the room wildly for a call button or a
phone something he could use to summon help, but there was nothing
visible that offered salvation. "Even Selina," Harry continued,
"the last in a long line of women you influenced and abused with
your wealth and power was prepared to kill you if she had to in
order to be free of you." Harry reached over Terrance and picked
up the glass of water, he took a quick sip from the glass and
returned it to the table. "Luckily, old boy, she doesn't have to
concern herself over such things now that you've pulled through.
Still I'm sure she feel a lot better knowing that you'll forgive
her and let this whole matter drop." Harry leaned in closer, "You
DO forgive Selina for her part in all this, don't you Terrance?"

Terrance nodded slowly, at a loss to do anything else but agree
with Harry as he leaned over him.

"Oh that's wonderful, old boy." Harry actually smiled at Terrance
as he raised the pillow and brought it down on Terrance's face.
"I'll be sure to tell her that when I bring her the tragic news of
your passing." Terrance tried to struggle, but it was no use.
The combination of his exertions and drugged state left Terrance
too limp to resist Harry's assault. After the space of seven or
eight minutes, Harry rose up and settled the pillow gently under
the corpse once known as Terrance Temple. Harry regarded the dead
man for a moment, his face was almost apologetic.

"I hope, old boy, that I am never betrayed as you have been."
Harry stabbed out his cigarette, "I may have enemies, but I doubt
that I shall ever be without a friend at my side when my time
comes. Then again, I intend to die a very old man rich off the
fruits of my labors Terrance, something I suppose you'll never
know about. Still, old boy, I salute you. If a man's worth could
be measured by his enemies, you were priceless." Harry started
for the door.

"I suppose Doctor Ravanaugh can chalk this one up to 'natural
causes'. Yes that will do nicely."

And with that, Harry Lime left the cooling body of Terrance Temple
in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

*****************************************************

ELEVEN: "WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE..."

WAYNE MANOR, GOTHAM CITY, DECEMBER 20, 1938, DUSK...

"The Winter Carnival?! Tonight?!", Julie Madison said
flabbergasted. She was dressed in a stunning midnight blue silk
evening gown with matching arm's length gloves. "Why did you make
plans to go to the Carnival tonight of all nights, Bruce? I
thought we had planned to go to Sandra Knight's party!"

Bruce stood sheepishly in front of his enraged fiancŽe, trying his
best to pacify Julie with a calm tone, "Now Julie, I had simply
forgotten about my commitment to the Carnival until I called into
the office this afternoon." Bruce shrugged his shoulders
apologetically, "I really can't get out of it, honey."

"But Bruce," Julie said irritably, "everyone who's anyone will be
at this party tonight. Can't you show up to the circus later on
in the evening?"

"Well I can try, dear," Bruce said earnestly, "but I have to at
least make the rounds and show up to a few events and exhibits.
There's even supposed to be a circus there. I--"

"A CIRCUS?!!", Julie nearly roared, "We could be dancing the night
away with Gotham's high society and you want to go to a circus?!"

Bruce sighed, "I am sorry dear, but I have a responsibility to the
Carnival."

"Bruce," Julie answered coldly, "I'm getting tired of your
'responsibilities' already." She snatched up her coat and purse
and stormed for the door. "If you want to go to the circus Bruce,
find someone else to go with you. I'm going to Sandra's party."
Before Bruce could say anything else, Julie slammed the door and
headed for the garage. Moments later, Bruce could hear one of his
roadsters swerving onto the driveway, heading for the gate.

"Well sir," Alfred said entering the room from the opposite door,
"it would appear that you've managed to free up your evening for
more reckless pursuits. Shall I break out your evening wear with
matching bandages, or would you prefer to bleed all over the
carpet?"

Bruce was not amused and it showed as he moved past Alfred to the
desk. "I'll need the car to be ready with a uniform near the
Carnival's service entrance. There's a garage for vehicles in
need of repair that I've managed to rent for the evening, I'll
leave it there. Now to arrange for the proper escort." Bruce
lifted the receiver of the phone and began to dial a number.

"Escort?" Alfred queried with an upraised eyebrow. "I didn't
realize that your tastes ran toward the tawdry, Master Bruce."

"Don't be crude Alfred." Bruce answered sharply, "The woman is an
associate of Batman's."

"'An associate'?" Alfred had an expression of genuine surprise on
his face. "The Batman has a girlfriend?" Alfred shook his head
sadly, "Really sir that IS more than a little tawdry, don't you
think? Does she know who the Batman is as well, or do you keep
your masks on the whole time?"

Alfred's sarcasm was not missed by Bruce but he was too busy
covering the mouthpiece of the phone with his handkerchief to
engage in further bantering with his butler. On the other end of
the line, the phone began to ring...

****************

Dinah Drake was in the process of dressing when the phone rang.
She had planned to go out for the evening, but anyone who saw the
outfit that Dinah had chosen may have thought that she was headed
to a costume party, or into something far more interesting than
drinks at the Penguin Club. The fishnet stockings and blue
leotard would probably be more at home in the lights of a chorus
girl line, but the outfit was one Dinah had pulled together as
part of a disguise to shield her from the underworld. She had
only been out only once dressed in this costume, but she had
already begun to leave a mark on the underworld of Gotham and
formed an alliance with a fellow vigilante, the Batman.

Gotham's masked manstalker was still a big mystery to Dinah.
Though she didn't know who the Batman really was but she was
convinced that the masked man had somehow managed to figure out
who she was. That fact had made her fearful of the effectiveness
of her disguise on one hand but it also had Dinah a little curious
about who the Batman really was.

The phone refused to stop ringing. Dinah walked over to the small
night stand and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?", Dinah hoped this wasn't one of her father's old friends
planning to stop by to see how she was bearing up after her
father's death.

"Good evening, Miss Drake.", the voice said softly on the other
end of the connection. "Are you busy this evening?"

"Who is this?", Dinah asked warily.

"I'm hurt Miss Drake," the voice replied, "we've met on three
separate occasions already. I figure a man dressed up like a
large bat would leave a more lasting impression."

Dinah froze for a few moments before replying, "So let me get this
straight, you're claiming that you're the Batman." Dinah then
played her bluff, "Even if you are the Batman, your math is wrong.
I've only met the Batman twice, not three times."

A sigh softly preceded the voice's next statement. "I see, then
you don't count our meeting at Murray's. I suppose that's because
you were a blonde in a mask that time. Before you begin to
protest Miss Drake, I don't have time to play games with you, I
need the Black Canary's help tonight."

"I'm listening.", Dinah answered flatly.

"Good," the voice said, "here's what I want you to do..."

****************

The sweet smell of cotton candy permeated the air, it mingled with
the earthy aroma of sawdust and kissed gently by buttery scent of
popcorn. Haly's Circus of Thrills had been packed since sundown
with pleasure seekers, the curious, children and those who were
children at heart. Clowns capered, danced and did tricks to the
delight of kids and their parents. Lions and tigers drew fearful,
excited gasps and the elephants for all of their bulk, seemed to
be as affectionate as puppies as they playfully pounded around the
big top. Lights flashed and flared, explosions from fireworks and
flash powder turned the night into day and banished away the
approaching gloom of the night. There was, without a doubt, a
sense of wonder at the marvels Pop Haly had put on display.

Dinah Drake hadn't been to the circus for years, not since her
mother passed away, but she always remembered being amazed at the
sounds, the colors, the lights, the smells all of the random
sensations that seemed to assault the senses. Dinah never knew a
place could be so alive, so vibrant, so joyful.

Unfortunately, having a good time wasn't on Dinah's schedule as
she was escorted to her seat by her "date". The man who sat with
her looked, sounded and even acted like Bruce Wayne. If it wasn't
for the nearly invisible line of flesh colored putty that began
just behind his jawbone before traveling over the bridge of his
nose, the unusually low hairline that indicated a possible wig and
the hint of pancake makeup on his collar, the man Dinah knew as
the Batman could've easily passed himself off as Bruce. Given her
attraction to the real Bruce Wayne, Dinah found it hard not to
treat this "date" the pair was on as a lark. She found herself
enjoying the show and the company. "Bruce" however managed to
stay focused as they sat down in the grandstand.

"Popcorn, my dear?", "Bruce" said in a rather vapid voice offering
Dinah the bucket of fluffy, butter drenched popcorn, still warm
from the popper. "And might I compliment you on your outfit, you
wear it well." Dinah knew that the compliment was more towards
her disguise which was to wear the upper part of her Black Canary
costume, a blue silk Spanish hat with a veil to cover some of her
face, her blonde wig was brushed to cover the left side of her
face and resembled a look Veronica Lake wore once. A dark blue
silk skirt and a moderate sized black leather bag completed the
outfit. Dinah looked like the kind of woman a Bruce Wayne would
be seen with, cool and elegant, even for the circus.

"I wish I could say the same for you, friend." Dinah snapped
back. "You seem a little disheveled. If you need to learn how to
apply makeup, I can help. By the way, does Bruce Wayne know
you're borrowing his face this evening?"

"Wayne is irrelevant unless he shows up here and I have it on good
authority he won't. Besides, I'll stand up to a cursory
inspection which will suffice for our purposes." Dinah's companion
replied confidently. "Now keep your eyes open for anything out of
the ordinary."

"We're at a circus," Dinah huffed in a quiet whisper,
"EVERYTHING'S out of the ordinary!"

"Then it shouldn't be hard to notice if some roustabout is out of
place." Batman whispered back. "Zucco's protection racket
thrives off of high profile 'accidents', so it could be anything
from a berserk animal to a faulty tent spike. We have to be ready
for anything."

"Well I hope we can figure it out before someone gets hurt."
Dinah responded gravely.

"If we don't Canary, I promise that whomever does get hurt will be
the last of Zucco's victims."

****************

He couldn't believe his luck! Bruce Wayne was in his sights and
with one little squeeze, he'd finally get him. He didn't know who
the blonde was, but it really didn't matter as long as she didn't
get in the way of his shot.

As he took careful aim, he relished the moment and had to time his
shot with the ebb and flow of the crowd as they crossed into his
field of vision. He still got the same thrill he would always get
during a shoot, being able to catch someone unaware and to do his
job quietly without attracting a lot of attention until later.
His skill for stealth had gotten him out of a lot of tight spots
before, but this was going to be a clean job.

There! The perfect moment! He applied the slightest pressure
with his finger and...

...Paul Patton, ace freelance photographer, managed to get the
perfect shot of Bruce Wayne and his new mystery girlfriend as they
whispered to one another in the grandstand. He was pretty sure
the Gotham Gazette would pay handsomely for the snapshot for the
society page at the very least. Paul removed his hat and ran his
fingers through his thick blonde hair, as he broke out a new roll
of film, he realized he was long overdue for a decent haircut.

Placing his hat back on his head, Paul wandered out of the back
entrance of the tent and walked towards the exhibit hall to
continue taking photos of the Carnival. The Gazette was already
paying him to capture opening day, but he was glad he stuck his
head into the tent when he recognized Wayne with the stunning
blonde. Now if he could just get one of Gotham's resident
mysterymen on film...

****************

The bar felt wrong.

That was Dick Grayson's first thought as he watched his parents
begin their routine. The rope didn't snap cleanly, it felt loose.
Dick chalked it up to being uneasy about Pop Haly, he knew his
father personally checked the rig before each show just to be on
the safe side. Dick stood on the platform, with his best trouper
smile and hoped that his mother and father would be ready to
listen to him after the show was over. Dick had tried to say
something earlier, but was always interrupted by one of the other
performers or the hands. When the show was over, Dick's father
was usually less frantic, and more willing to let Dick have his
time and attention.

The first scream snapped Dick's mind from its wandering and back
into the tent. What greeted the young man's eyes was an
unbelievable sight and for a moment, Dick thought he was dreaming.
His mother and father seemed to hang in space long enough for Dick
to put the facts together in his mind. He watched his father's
line come apart, it didn't really snap or break loose, it simply
disintegrated at a point just outside of his father's reach,
sending John Grayson into space just as his momentum gave way to
the pull of gravity. Mary Grayson tried to adjust her swing to
catch her husband but realized too late that her trapeze bar was
floating free as well, torn away from the rope by her sudden
tugging and twisting. Dick watched them both sail past one
another awkwardly, like a pair of amateurs, both looking back in
horror at their son. Dick could see his father's lips moving, but
the screams of the crowd below drowned out his words, Mary's eyes
were filled with tears as she realized there was no way anyone
could save them from what was about to happen. Dick hadn't
realized until his feet touched the sawdust of the ground that he
had followed them down, by sliding down the ladder. Still as he
was pulled away from the scene by Billy Popeet, one of the circus
roustabouts, Dick held onto the faint hope that his parents were
going to get up and walk away from the fall.

"Don't look Dicky. Don't look."

Billy's words came too late, Dick had already seen too much. He
saw the Cowboy just barely concealed in the shadows of the tent
entrance, lighting a cigarette with a faint hint of a grin on his
face. The expression Cowboy wore was one of a man who just got
away with murder and knew he wouldn't be caught.

Dick suddenly slipped free from Billy and ran out of the tent
before anyone could stop him.

"Dicky!" Billy shouted, "Dicky, come back here!" It was already
too late, Dick though an incredible display of acrobatic skill and
youthful agility managed to evade the few roustabouts who tried to
grab him as he exited the Big Top.

Dick tried to find Cowboy, but somehow the man had managed to slip
away. Dick knew that he would find the killer and he silently
swore that he would make Cowboy pay for murdering his parents, or
die trying.

*****************************************************

INTERLUDE

GOTHAM GRAND HOTEL, GOTHAM CITY, DECEMBER 20, 1938

The music was lively, champagne flowed freely, conversation and
laughter filled the crowded penthouse suite rented by Sandra
Knight like the gurgling of a brook. Gotham City's elite were at
play here, people moved cautiously, never knowing where their next
opportunity to climb a rung in the social ladder might come from.
Everyone who was anyone seemed to be there, including Broadway's
brightest rising star, Julie Madison, who would probably be
considered the belle of the ball for the amount of attention she
was getting.

She was having a miserable time and had gone out onto the balcony
to get some air.

Julie thought that her storming off to the party would have Bruce
hot on her heels, but he had yet to show up. She still couldn't
believe that he would stand her up for an evening at the circus.
Maybe she should have gone with him, but it was a matter of
principle now, Bruce knew how much she was looking forward to
spending time with him and Julie couldn't understand why he was so
aloof. In college he had been passionate, he pursued her quietly,
in a way that was flattering and incredibly romantic. Bruce never
let her in too much even in school, his past was a closed subject
and Julie respected that after her research turned up the tragedy
of his parents' murder. Julie thought she had finally broken
through when Bruce proposed, but since their time apart, something
had changed. Bruce wasn't the man she thought she'd grown to know
and love anymore, he was more like a stranger who wore Bruce's
face and had Bruce's voice.

"I hate these things too."

Julie turned to see a woman with a glass in her hand dressed in an
elegant red evening gown. She smiled at Julie as though they were
old friends and joined her.

"My husband and I are old friends of Sandra's father and if he
weren't here, I think we'd both be at home curled up with a good
book."

"I'm sorry?" Julie answered in abrupt confusion.

"Oh dear, there I go babbling again." The woman said
apologetically. "I didn't mean to intrude, but you are Julie
Madison, the actress aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am." Julie responded with a hint of uncertainty in
her voice. "I don't believe I caught your name."

"That's probably because I didn't throw it dear." The woman
answered with a slight chuckle. Noticing that Julie either didn't
get the joke or didn't think it was funny, she moved on, "My name
is Nora," She extended a hand in Julie's direction, "pleased to
meet you Miss Madison."

Julie shook Nora's hand politely, "Likewise. If I get to call you
Nora, please call me Julie, I'd feel more comfortable with that."

Nora smiled a bright smile at Julie, she had noticed that Julie
was being socially polite and that her mind was elsewhere. Still
Nora was willing to make small talk for a decent amount of time
before withdrawing discreetly.

"My husband and I saw you in New York last summer. You did
Shakespeare in the park with Orson Welles. We thought that you
were wonderful in the role of Hippolyta."

"Why thank you." Julie managed with an embarrassed smile. "You're
very kind to say that, Nora."

"Not at all, my dear." Nora answered. "My husband and I both
agreed that we hadn't seen anyone play the part with as much
confidence as you did. You have a gift for the stage, a definite
gift."

Julie smiled humbly, but Nora's praise was erased by Nora's next
question, "So did you bring anyone with you tonight?"

"No," Julie answered with a downcast expression, "I'm afraid I'm
quite alone."

Nora was about to comment when a new voice broke into their
conversation.

"Nora, darling! We've been looking all over for you."

The slender man who strolled out onto the balcony was clearly
Nora's husband. His manner was as elegant as his wife's, his
tuxedo was impeccably tailored and his hair and thin mustache were
well groomed. He smiled broadly and with genuine warmth. Though
Nora's husband acknowledged Julie's presence with a tip of his
head, he seemed to only have eyes for Nora.

Not that Julie was offended, his companion held her attention as
he followed behind Nora's husband with powerful strides. He was
at least a good foot taller than Nora's husband and in a lot of
ways he reminded Julie of Bruce in his graceful casualness. He
was also incredibly handsome with well tanned rugged features, and
stirring brown eyes that she and other women usually referred to
as "bedroom eyes". Julie blushed slightly at her own mental
reference. The man wore a gray suit which looked a little out of
place against the backdrop of tuxedos and evening gowns, but his
quiet confidence gave him an almost regal air didn't seem to
require dressing up to impress people.

Nora's voice cut its way past Julie's scrutiny of the auburn
haired man who accompanied Nora's husband.

"Julie, I'd like to introduce my husband, Nick Charles. Nicky,
this is Julie Madison, the actress."

Nick Charles smiled politely as he took her hand. "Miss Madison,
a pleasure! We saw you last summer."

Julie managed to shift her gaze, reluctantly, to Nick as she
smiled and responded, "So Nora told me, and please call me Julie.
I'm pleased to meet you Mister Charles. Wait a second, you aren't
THE Nick and Nora Charles, the detectives?"

Nick smiled casually, "Well we don't think of ourselves as
detectives exactly, but we are those idle rich busybodies, at your
service."

Nora snuggled up to Nick, taking his arm. "Oh, Nicky's too modest
sometimes, Julie. We just muddle through, but it's nice to know
we've done some good with all of our snooping. In fact, I think
this is the first party we've been to in a while where a dead body
hasn't turned up in the punch bowl or something equally dramatic."

"The lack of one seems to take an awful lot of excitement away
from one of these affairs though." Nick said. "I've had to
content myself with listening to harrowing tales of big game
hunting in the veldt--" Nick paused realizing that his companion
still stood quietly behind him, "--but where are my manners, Miss
Julie Madison may I introduce--"

Before Nick could finish, his companion had moved in front and
took Julie's hand raising it slightly as he bent to kiss it. "--
I'm Paul Kirk, Miss Madison, and the pleasure's all mine."

Paul's eyes met Julie's and the two seemed to make some kind of
unspoken connection in that moment. "I'm... I'm pleased to meet
you Mister Kirk."

Paul smiled, still holding Julie's hand and staring intently into
her eyes, "Please call me Paul, that is, if I may call you Julie."

Julie seemed to be in a daze as she said, "You can call me
whatever you want, as long you call me." Julie flushed, a little
embarrassed at her bluntness and a little guilty at her acting
like an unattached woman. Still it wasn't like Bruce was here and
a little flirting never hurt anyone.

Paul only laughed as a response, it was a warm, gentle sound that
seemed to fend off the chill of the night like an invisible
blanket. Paul still held her hands as they stood there grinning
at one another as if they shared some wonderful secret.

Nick and Nora Charles, sensing that they were no longer necessary,
made a discreet exit leaving the pair alone on the balcony beneath
the gathering clouds of the night sky.

*****************************************************

TWELVE: "...THE DARING YOUNG MAN..."

HALY'S CIRCUS OF THRILLS, GOTHAM FAIRGROUNDS, DECEMBER 21, 1938,
MIDNIGHT...

"YOU'RE A MURDERER!"

Cowboy and his two cronies spun around in the direction of their
accuser. They were on their way to Pop Haly's trailer to see if
the evening's tragedy had made the proper impression on the circus
owner. If it hadn't they were prepared to make the remainder of
Haly's life as painful as possible before they killed him. Zucco
had put the word out on Haly, if he couldn't pay, he'd have to be
made an example for others who might begin to think they could
ignore Zucco's threats. Zucco had even ordered Cowboy to set up a
few "accidents" at tonight's show to let Haly know he meant
business.

Besides the Graysons, there were several close calls throughout
the night. Among them were a fire started in a garbage can,
dangerously close to the helium tanks used to fill balloons; loose
latches on a few animal cages that were discovered before the
animals that occupied them could escape. There were many more
smaller incidents that happened throughout the night, all of it
was pressure applied by Zucco to Haly's show. It was a gradual
build up that led to the tragedy with the Graysons and now seemed
to take an odd turn as Cowboy found himself confronted by a boy
who shouted his accusation in the thick, oppressive silence of the
now darkened midway.

"You're the Grayson brat." Cowboy sneered. "What the hell do you
want?"

Dick Grayson was standing several feet away from the three men, he
had changed from his costume of bright red and green into jeans
and a T-shirt. Dick looked haggard and worn as he stood there,
but he had waited for the killer to return, and Dick knew Cowboy
would have return tonight while Haly was still shaken by the
night's . In his right hand, Dick held what looked like an
extremely long broomstick and the fury in the young man's eyes
left little doubt that he intended to use it.

"I heard everything when you were at Pop's trailer, I know you
killed my parents." Dick mustered up all of the courage he could
as he assumed a defensive posture and added, "You're not going to
get away with it."

Cowboy seemed less than impressed. "I should've burned you the
other night, kid." Cowboy stalked towards Dick with cold malice
in his eyes, "I won't make the same mistake twice." Cowboy's hand
reached inside his vest and produced something hard looking
encased in silver and black. A flick of the thug's thumb made a
four inch blade sprout from the casing. "It's just a few days
before Christmas, kid, but I'm gonna carve you up like a turkey
anyway."

"I don't think so."

Before anyone could react, two darkly clad figures smashed into
Cowboy's companions. One was a blonde woman who wore a mask and
seemed to be much more trouble than her cocktail outfit and
fishnet stockings conveyed. She issued a kick that looked like it
could've crippled Bull Montrose, as he dropped to the ground. The
woman's companion was by far more fearsome. He moved as
gracefully as she did, but with no wasted actions. His gloved
fists delivered four hammering blows which turned Lefty Monohan
into a bloody, moaning mess sprawled in the mud. The Batman rose
like a like blight from the thug and stepped towards Cowboy. The
Batman stared at the leader of the bruisers through unblinking
orbs of white fire, and with a voice as cold as Death itself he
said, "Put the knife down and step away from the boy."

Cowboy stopped cold, uncertain about what he should do next, when
a sudden inspiration hit him. He spun, intending to grab Dick
Grayson and use him as a shield, but he hadn't reckoned on the
boy's ability to keep a cool head in a tense situation. Dick
realized the danger as Cowboy began to turn and acted swiftly, the
stick he held connected with the killer's chin with a sharp crack,
spinning the thug back around like thread on a spool. Before he
could regain his senses, Cowboy felt another blow take his legs
out from under him as Dick swept the stick low on his return arc.
Cowboy crashed soundly into the sawdust and mud.

Dick raised his stick in a high angry arc, tears started to flow
freely as the pain of his loss caught up to the fury in his heart.
The stick flew as Dick's instrument of vengeance and as he swung,
a cry tore loose from his very soul at this monster who had stolen
his parents from him. Cowboy screamed when the stick began to
fall, Dick yelled along with the doomed thug, his voice teetering
between hysterical laughter and utter madness as everything he had
bottled up inside his heart the past few hours threatened to spill
over into the boy's tortured mind.

He closed his eyes and tried to stop the tears, only to be
overwhelmed by the flood of memory. It all came back, Dick's
father taking him up onto the high wire for the first time and his
mother a mixture of worry, confidence and pride as he swung out
into space for the first time and understood what the hawks feel
in flight, how free angels must feel to be above everything like
he was at that moment in time. Dick remembered the day he saved
his father's life during a bad throw. Dick's heroics brought him
into the spotlight of celebrity and earned a special praise from
his mother who christened him her "little robin". Now this
monster had taken away the quiet laughter of his mother, the ever
present smile of his father, the warmth and closeness they shared
away from the big top was suddenly at his mercy and he was going
to pay--

--with a jerk, the stick shuddered to a stop. Dick knew what he
would find when he opened his eyes--

--a shattered broomstick, which rested less than an inch from the
head of the frightened felon.

"My dad taught me that killing's for cowards." Dick said with a
grim look in his eyes, "but I want you to remember how close you
came to dying tonight, because next time I might be the one who
forgets."

The Batman gently took what was left of the stick from Dick's
still shaking hand. "You did the right thing, son. The police
will handle him."

"Sure they will." Dick said not taking his gaze from the killer
still dazed at his feet, "Just like they'll handle his boss.
Which will be not at all"

"'Boss'? Do you mean Zucco?" Batman asked with a quiet growl in
his voice. "Did this man say he worked for Zucco?"

"Yes, he did." Dick answered solemnly, "He said it when he was
shaking down Pop Haly."

"The kid's crazy Batman, he wasn't there, Haly and I had personal
business that's all." He smiled evilly at the boy. "This kid's
just all broken up over his parents and imagining things."

Black Canary stepped away from the two thugs she had tied up
during the conversation between the Batman and the killer, she
stooped down and began to tie up Cowboy. She smiled sweetly as he
looked over his shoulder at her, Cowboy seemed to have a plan for
escape already forming in his mind. "If you so much as twitch
before I'm done, the next few seconds of pain will last you a
lifetime." Canary's smile remained in place as she uttered the
threat, unnerving Cowboy as she finished her task. "By the way,
if the boy's crazy, so's Haly who we've already sent off to the
police with a promise that we'd bring you and Zucco in. If I were
you, Tex, I'd get ready to walk the last mile for those killings."

"Dick's corroboration of Pop's allegations should insure a trip to
the chair, unless you want to give up Tony Zucco's whereabouts.",
the Batman added.

"You're kidding right?" Cowboy answered incredulously, "Fat Tony
would burn me if I--"

"Oxey's." Dick said flatly, "Zucco's at some place called Oxey's.
He told Pop that he should bring the money to Zucco tonight at
Oxey's"

"It appears we won't need you after all, tough guy." Canary said
glibly.

"Well at least I didn't crack!", Cowboy protested proudly.

"Zucco won't know that.", Batman replied. "All he'll know is he
winds up in jail right after we turn you over to the police. For
all he knows, you set him up, hoping to cut a deal with the law."
Batman shook his head sadly, "Too bad you're not cooperating, the
police might feel inclined to protect you as a material witness or
something. Still, I suppose you're right, it's better not to rat
on your pals no matter what happens." The masked man turned on
his heel, "Come on Canary, let's get Dick to the cops and let them
know where to pick up these men."

"Wait!", Cowboy yelled, "You can't do this to us, we've got
rights!"

"So did the Graysons.", Batman answered coldly, "And they still
have the right, Dick here has the right, to see justice done and I
intend to make sure that happens. Now whether that's you or Zucco
in the chair when they pull the switch makes no difference to me,
but someone's responsible for the deaths of this boy's parents,
and someone will pay for it."

The three began to walk away and the Cowboy cast his eyes around
panicked at the scenario Batman had laid out before him. Zucco
held power everywhere and though he wasn't as big as the Maroni
Mob in Gotham, there were many men on both sides of the
penitentiary's gray walls who owed Tony Zucco a favor or two.
Cowboy knew that if Zucco thought he was betrayed, the likelihood
that cowboy would wind up dead in his cell was a strong one.

"Wait!" Cowboy yelled at the trio's backs, "I'll do it! I'll give
up Zucco!"

"Are you crazy?!" Lefty yelled over his shoulder, "Zucco will kill
us if you squawk!"

"We're good as dead if we don't, you mug, so shaddup!" Cowboy
strained his neck even further as if he could make it stretch
towards the three people who were standing in front of him. "I'll
give you Zucco, tie him to the Graysons and the hits on those two
cops in Gordon's Squad."

"We know Zucco ordered those hits, if you're willing to give us
some proof--", the Canary prompted, trying to keep the excitement
out of her voice. Unlike Dick Grayson, the woman behind the mask
hadn't found quick justice to resolve her father's death. Her
short partnership with the Batman had gained her far more ground
than she would've gotten alone, but there was still the capture of
Zucco that had yet to happen. It frustrated her to be so close,
but still not actually have her hands on the man responsible for
killing her father. Even if she and the Batman got to Oxey's,
there was no guarantee that Zucco would still be there. A man
with a price on his head couldn't afford to be in one place too
long.

"Yes, you'll need to do better than simply implicating Zucco. Can
you prove he ordered the hit? Can you tell us who actually
carried out the order?" Batman asked, sensing the Canary's
agitation. "We'll need names and facts before we can even begin
to help you."

"How was Zucco able to get to Gordon's men?" The Black Canary
blurted out. "Who put the finger on them?!" Before anyone
realized what was happening, the Canary had pulled Cowboy to his
feet in one smooth motion, "Tell us what we want to know before--"

A familiar gloved hand gently took her shoulder. "Not here
Canary," the Batman's whispered command made Dinah reign in her
emotions. "This is not the time or place for anger. Save it for
Zucco." the Black Canary calmly put the bruiser back down and
stepped back until she stood near Dick, but the Batman kept alert
just in case she let her feelings get the better of her again.

The Canary's actions were enough however to commit Cowboy. If the
Canary was this angry at him, her rage at the actual participants
could lead to Zucco's untimely death. "Well", Cowboy began, "it's
like this, Zucco and Gat came up with the plan to off the two cops
but they had a man on the inside, a guy in Gordon's department,
who was willing to give up Corrigan and Drake."

The Canary was shaken but held any expression of that inside. "We
need this inside man's name." the Canary said in a stony voice.
"If you're on the level, then finding and proving this man's
involved will cinch it and get you off the hook."

Cowboy opened his mouth to speak, but his words were drowned out
by the sudden hail of bullets from a pair of Tommy guns. Cowboy
and his two associates were riddled into hamburger in a few
seconds. Stepping from behind a trailer were two broad
shouldered, muscular men, who were too well dressed and well armed
to be mistaken for roustabouts; were ready to make use of their
weapons once again, this time on the pair of vigilantes and their
young charge. Stepping out behind from behind the trailer, but
still safely in back of the two giants, came an overweight man in
an ill-fitting suit. The scowl on his face and the rage in his
eyes left no doubt that this was the man who had brought so much
horror and pain into the lives of so many people in recent weeks.
With an evil grin, Anthony Zucco, known to the underworld as "Fat
Tony Zucco" regarded the masked heroes and Dick Grayson.

"Well he ain't gonna squeal on anybody too soon! Good riddance
anyway, Cowboy must be gettin' soft when he get his ass handed to
him by a kid, a dame and some Nancy boy in a mask!" Zucco turned
in the direction of Haly's trailer, "Boys, I've got some
unfinished business to conduct. Burn these mugs quick and then
catch up to me."

The Batman leaned in close to the Canary, "I want you to get Dick
out of here. I'll cover you." The Canary nodded slightly in
acknowledgment and put her hands on Dick's shoulders. Dick was
ready to move as well. The Batman's hand had already moved behind
his cloak and he seemed prepared to for the impending shower of
lead. The gunsels grinned as they raised their weapons and
started to pull the triggers.

"NOW CANARY!!!" the Batman hollered as he drove for cover with his
own nickel plated .45 blazing out of thin air. The bullets sent
the gunmen scrambling away, but not before Batman managed to wing
one of them. The Black Canary moved as quickly from the moment
Batman started his dive. She snatched up Dick Grayson, who had
already broken into a run without much prompting, and made a
spectacular leap towards crates which held feed for the animals.
Once she was concealed, the Canary turned the boy loose and
proceeded to double back on her course.

"I want you to hide until this is all over, Dick." With that, the
blonde beauty took off at a hard sprint. Dick Grayson ran off in
the other direction, yelling to wake the dead. Lights came on all
over the performers' trailers and tents as they all responded to
one of the oldest cries for help in their business. Dick Grayson
ran until he found a perfect place to hide and wait for the Batman
and the Black Canary to come for him. He dove in and closed the
door just enough for it to be secure but unlocked in case he had
to leave quickly.

Fatigue, grief, and shock finally took their toll on the young
acrobat and he started to drift off to sleep. The last thing his
young ears heard were echoes of his earlier cry for help and the
rallying of those who knew what it meant. The night rang with the
humble cry, "HEY RUBE!" Dick Grayson drifted off to sleep secure
in the knowledge that Zucco's time had come at last.

****************

The shots from the Tommy guns were badly aimed. The Batman had
the advantage, his line of sight was better and his bullets had a
less obstructed path to travel than those of his attackers. He
fired constantly, staying aware of his shrinking protection as his
attackers' bullets wore down the sides of the crates he had chosen
for cover. Batman had seen the Canary flash overhead for a few
moments and continued to draw the fire of the two choppers, he
knew she was going after Zucco, and he hoped that she wouldn't let
her emotions cloud her judgment.

The Batman knew that he'd have to make some kind of move soon.
The Batman's gloved hand moved towards a pouch on his belt and he
scooped up several pellets. With an almost casual motion, Batman
tossed the pellets over the crates and was rewarded with a
satisfying pop that led to a thick cloud of gray-white smoke.
Shots flared erratically as the thugs lost sight of everything,
the Batman left his hiding place and moved with swift smoothness,
his approach a wide circular one would take him behind the two
killers before they realized he was gone.

The plan would have worked out better if strong hands hadn't
seized the Caped Crimebuster from behind and tried to crush the
air out of him. The bear hug eased off long enough for the Batman
to be spun around roughly and then the pressure resumed. The
Batman had taken that brief moment to fill his lungs and get his
bearings. The man who held him wore a leopard patterned vest and
sash with khaki pants; huge leather wristbands drove their steel
buckles into the Batman's back.

"I've got one!", yelled Atlas the Strongman as he tightened his
grip around the Batman. His face held a strained smile of
triumph, "I'm gonna break you in half, masked man!"

Effort showed on the Dark Knight's face as he strained to get some
advantage, one arm managed to slip free and the surprised
strongman was startled long enough for Batman's other arm to slip
free. The Batman didn't waste time, he hammered at Atlas with
devastating punches. The man refused to fall, he simply smiled
through bloodied lips and exerted even more pressure. Blackness
started to creep into the edges of Batman's vision, he had to end
this quickly and decisively. The hero suddenly went limp in the
strongman's arms, thinking he had won, Atlas started to relax his
grip which allowed Batman his chance. The Dark Knight snapped off
a powerful kick to Atlas' groin, while slamming both of his hands
soundly across the strongman's ears. Atlas fell to the ground
wincing as pain assaulted him on several fronts.

"Sorry." The Batman said apologetically before he rushed off
after his quarry once more.

****************

The Black Canary was amazed at the speed of Tony Zucco. The crime
boss had managed to reach Haly's trailer before she managed to
catch up to him. It was obvious to Black Canary that Zucco missed
the fact that Haly was now under police protection because she
could hear the man swearing and cursing as he came rushing out of
the door, gun in hand.

"I'll kill that bastard! Hide from me will he? No one messes
with Tony Zucco, I'll rip his damn heart out through his throat!
I'll--"

"--Get ready to come along quietly." Black Canary finished
angrily. "You're done Zucco."

Zucco stopped short, took in the young woman who stood before him
and then raised his gun to shoot. The Canary's gloved hand turned
loose a hard throw at the crime boss, a slight hum of metal racing
through air was heard for a second before Tony Zucco's own yelp of
pain smothered it. Imbedded in the fleshy top of Zucco's hand,
just a few hairs from the joint of his thumb was a black, bird
shaped throwing razor, a new tool added to her already formidable
skills by the Batman. Unfortunately, all that the razor did was
throw Zucco's aim off, he still managed to fire off several
bullets which forced the Canary to seek shelter. The heavyset
thug then lurched off in the opposite direction, hoping he could
make good his escape.

A quick glance over his shoulder told Zucco that his pretty
pursuer, was determined to bring him down. In panic, Zucco fired
several more shots until the hollow clicking of the gun's empty
chamber ended his hope of stopping the Canary with a bullet.
Behind her, in the distance a shadow broke loose from the tents
where his boys were supposed to have killed the masked heroes and
their young charge. The shadow was closing the distance, quickly
catching up to the Canary, the shape was unnatural, almost
supernatural; and it belonged to a man Zucco began to think was
impossible to kill, it belonged to the Batman.

Zucco's eyes widened in fear, he ignored the sudden painful throb
in his chest and returned his attention to finding a way to
escape. He passed by the lion cage and, seizing a moment of
inspiration, smashed the pin that kept the door locked and the
giant cat, already excited by all of the activity exploding around
him, burst from his cage and barreled towards the young woman.

Before the Canary could begin to react, a net flew across the back
of the lion. The first thought that came to the Canary was that
the Batman had somehow managed to catch up to her and that it was
he who trying to divert the huge cat's fury, but she as she looked
over her shoulder to warn him off, she saw a man dressed
completely in green and red and armed with a bow and a quiver of
arrows. He wore a rougish smile on his lips but the Canary noted
that he also wore a mask over his eyes which was barely visible
from beneath the brim of his cap. In a way, the Canary thought he
sort of looked like Robin Hood in a mask.

The masked archer notched another arrow, which had a thick cord of
rope attached. The cord had been twisted into a study loop. With
a smooth motion, the masked archer loosed his shaft flew along its
path and wrapped itself around the netted lion's muzzle. A strong
tug tightened the loop around the lion's mouth effectively
snapping it shut. But the beast had also managed to tear through
the netting at the same time.

"Damn!" The archer swore as he leapt onto the lion and straddled
the gigantic beast's back as it bucked wildly across the parade
grounds. He showed no hesitation or fear as he moved and the
whole scene almost looked like a jungle styled rodeo. The
archer's powerful muscles were corded, his face was intense with
the strain of maintaining his control over the animal as he aimed
it back to its' cage.

"Get going!" The archer yelled, "I'll handle Leo, you bring in
the bad guy!"

"Are you nuts?!" The Canary shouted back, "You'll be killed!"

"I'VE GOT IT! GO!!!", bellowed the masked man as he fought to
stay on top of the lion's back.

The Canary resumed her sprint after Zucco. As she ran past the
masked man she yelled over her shoulder, "You're crazy!"

"No, sister, I'm the Green Arrow! You're the crazy one for
chasing a bunch of crooks in fishnets!" the Green Arrow replied
with a hint of laughter in his voice. The Canary could see that
the lion was already being guided back to the cage, so she pressed
on, hoping she hadn't lost the man who ordered the death of her
father.

A few moments later, the Batman had finally made it to the lion's
cage, he shot past the beast, who was still struggling to get a
loop from around its muzzle. The Batman didn't stop to
investigate the odd sight, he moved on as well, trying to catch
the Canary, before she caught up to Zucco. He wanted to be there
to make sure the gangster made it into the hands of the law, he
wanted to be there when Zucco finally met justice. While those
thoughts ran through the crimefighter called Batman's mind; Bruce
Wayne, the man beneath the mask, only found himself concerned for
Dinah Drake's safety. Both sides of Wayne's persona were in
agreement about one thing, Zucco wasn't going to hurt another
innocent if he could help it. One way or another, his reign of
terror ended tonight.

Batman never noticed the Green Arrow slumped in the shadows of a
nearby tent, trying to regain the feeling in his arms.

Rounding the last trailer, the Batman saw that he was too late.
Zucco lay on his side, his hands clutching at his shirt and his
tie was partially loosened, spit had frothed up on his lips and
his face wore a mask of desperation and pain. The Black Canary
knelt over Zucco, checking his pulse by touching the man's wrist.

"He's dead," she said over her shoulder quietly, "I think it was a
heart attack. I rounded the corner and he was lying here gasping
for air."

The Batman knelt down next to his partner, he was immediately
aware of how close she was to him, the hint of perfume that
managed to survive all of activity of the night and for a brief
moment, he was distracted. Batman managed to shake the feeling
off and get back to the job at hand, his medical training
confirmed the Canary's deduction. "You're right." the Batman said
standing quickly, "How do you feel?"

"That's an odd question", the Canary said in response.

"The man who ordered your father's murder is dead and you don't
feel anything?"

"I didn't want him to die." The Canary answered thoughtfully, "I
wanted him to live long enough for the law to take care of him."

The Batman managed to suppress a smile. Dinah had made her peace
with herself, tonight made that clear to him and more importantly
to her. Batman thought back to Cowboy's words and said absently,
"This isn't finished yet."

The Canary looked up at the masked man and started to stand. "We
still have to find the plant in Gordon's squad don't we?"

"Not tonight, Dinah," Batman replied, "our work here is done for
now, we need to go."

"Where's Grayson?"

"Probably still in hiding. I'm sure he'll turn up later, but to
be safe I'll have someone check up on him tomorrow."

Sirens began to cut through the silence of the night. Without
another word the Dark Knight and his companion took off for their
respective vehicles concealed in the service entrance garage
outside the fairgrounds.

*****************************************************

INTERLUDE

GOTHAM GRAND HOTEL, GOTHAM CITY, DECEMBER 21, 1938, 1:45 A.M.

Julie woke from her sleep with a start. She sat up in bed a felt
a breeze from the somewhere in the room. She pulled the sheet
around her and slid from the bed, looking for her watch. She
realized the time and muttered a quiet curse to herself, Bruce
would be furious, but for some strange reason she didn't seem to
care. Julie dug a cigarette from her purse and sighed quietly to
herself. She thought about how quickly things can change between
two people; she and Bruce had changed, they had grown apart and
she was beginning to realize that there may be no way to bring the
past back. Julie realized that she may not be in love with Bruce
after all.

This evening clinched it in ways that she didn't think possible.
Meeting Paul Kirk in casual conversation led to dancing the night
away, which led to a nightcap in his room which led to--

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, hugging
her close. She leaned into the broad chest and felt the sweet
trail of kisses play out on her skin; starting from behind her
ear, they ran down her neck, flew feather light across her
shoulders and raced back up to her cheek before she found her body
turning slowly so that her lips could meet his. The embrace was a
passionate one, the kisses exchanged were hungry and Julie felt
her head swim as hands touched her in the places and ways she
wanted to be touched. Though it felt impossible, Julie broke the
embrace, "We have to stop," she said through ragged gasps, "talk,
for just a minute."

"You aren't feeling guilty about this, are you, Julie?" Paul Kirk
still managed to look casually elegant, even a little dangerous as
he cradled her in his arms. "I don't normally do things like this
on the first date."

"We weren't on a date," Julie said, half smiling, "so this doesn't
really count."

"That's a relief!" Paul said in mock gratitude, "I still have a
chance to make good impression."

"Don't worry, Paul. I'd say you made a great impression already."
This time Julie's smile was a wide one, which she tried to hide
unsuccessfully with an embarrassed turn of her head. She shook it
off and looked back up at him, "Seriously, I'm not sorry about
what we did, I just don't like sneaking around on Bruce like this.
I owe him more than that."

Paul's expression changed to one of disdain, "From what you've
told me about the man, he's an idiot."

"Paul!"

"Well he is! He wanders off to play at some sideshow when he
could spend the evening with a knockout like you, he doesn't
deserve you, Julie!"

"Well it doesn't matter what you think he deserves, Paul, what
matters to me is what happened tonight. I've felt like a wall has
come up between Bruce and I, it's been there since I came to the
house the other day and it's stayed up, keeping us apart." Julie
took another drag from her cigarette and then offered it to Paul
who took it from between her fingers with his lips. "I know what
I have to do now, I know what I have to say to him when I return
to the Manor."

"And what will you say to Mister Wayne when you see him?" Paul
asked glibly.

"The exact same thing I'm going to say to you in the morning Paul-
- good-bye."

"Well I like that," Paul said indignantly, "a roll in the hay and
you leave me high and dry with nothing but a memory."

"I just need some time to myself, Paul. I need to know what I
want from myself and whether or not I want any man in my life
right now." With an affectionate, playful kiss, Julie pulled Paul
close to her. They broke the embrace and held each other for a
moment, looking out at the city. The first snow of winter started
falling outside and they watched it together for a time.

Paul finished the cigarette and smashed it out in the ashtray on
the nightstand. "Looks like it's going to be a cold morning."

Julie pulled Paul away from the window and back towards the bed.
"There's still a few hours 'til dawn, we have some time to make a
couple more of those memories to keep us both warm."

As Paul lay back on the bed, he smiled up at her, "You're sure
about this?"

Julie smiled sweetly at him and let the sheet fall away from her
body.

"It would appear that you are." Paul said as he pulled her down to
the bed.

*****************************************************

INTERLUDE: POLICE HEADQUARTERS, DECEMBER 20, 1938...

James Gordon was frustrated. Tony Zucco was found dead of a heart
attack at the Fairgrounds, he had the owner of a broken down carny
in his interview room talking about Zucco's shakedown play and
tying at least half a dozen creeps suspected of shady dealings to
Zucco's mob. Warrants had gone out, his boys hit Oxey's, the
docks and arrested a few crooked county deputies who had been paid
an awful lot to look the other way. Gordon had interview everyone
who was at the Fairgrounds when Zucco rubbed out his boys, he hit
up every snitch, every contact and every stoolie he could find in
the underworld and to a person they all spoke of one common
thread...

The Batman.

Gordon heard stories that just weren't possible. The man had to
be a master of disguise, an incredible athlete and a definite
genius to pull off even half the things he was reported to have
done. There were varying reports of his working with a blonde who
was as dangerous as he appeared to be. Gordon saw the fear in
some of the criminals he talked to, the Batman was real to them,
as far as they were concerned, and they were afraid of Batman to
the very core of their beings.

Sure some of the reports were far fetched. Men who claimed the
Batman couldn't be killed, others who said he drank blood, and
still others who said he could fly like his namesake. "Too much
Bela Lugosi" Gordon said out loud as he studied the reports and
drank his cold coffee.

"What was that?" across the desk sat newly elected District
Attorney, Harvey Dent. Dent was a handsome man who was as welcome
in the social circles of the city's elite as he was in the
courtrooms where he plied his trade. He had also grown to be an
uneasy ally of the detective squad's leader. Gordon liked the man
well enough, but he had classified Dent as an intense individual
some time ago. He was willing to do anything to see justice done,
but so far had managed to adhere to the letter of the law.

"Sorry, Harvey, just thinking out loud." Gordon yawned and
stretched before handing Dent the report he was reading. "Reading
some of this stuff makes me think that some of these guys are
snorting back too much booze."

Dent read the report and shook his head sadly, "I see your point.
I find the plausible stuff just a little hard to believe myself.
I'm still thinking that Maroni and his boys have started this
little fantasy to keep the boys in line."

A breeze suddenly hit the pair sitting at the desk. "Doubtful,
gentlemen. Maroni's not that imaginative"

Both men whirled in the direction of the voice and on the sill
crouched a dark figure in a long cloak, the pointed "ears" of his
mask fairly touched the top of the window as he let himself into
the office. "Lieutenant Gordon, Counselor Dent, it's an honor to
meet you both."

Gordon began to go for his gun, a powerful grip pushed him back
into his chair.

"I'm here to talk Lieutenant. I have some information for you
that you might find beneficial. It concerns your department."

Gordon relaxed and sat still, "What are you talking about?"

"You have a leak, Lieutenant. A leak that has already lead to the
death of one of your men. Someone on your squad sold out to
Zucco."

"Impossible!" Gordon roared, "None of my boys are crooked, none
of them are on the take!"

"I'm afraid one of them is and you need to find him before he
betrays you again."

"How did you come across this information?" Dent asked quietly.

"A thug named Cowboy was about to spill everything when he was
gunned by Zucco's gorillas." The Batman answered turning his
attention to Dent for the first time since he arrived.
"Unfortunately, he was killed before we could find out who it
was."

Dent's expression changed as if the last piece of some puzzle had
fallen into place. "It would explain a lot Jim, the bad tips
we've gotten lately, suspects lamming out just before we arrive,
crooks hiding right under our noses; Jim if this man's info is on
the level, it covers a lot of the small stuff that's slipped by us
lately."

Gordon considered Dent's words as well as the Batman's. He didn't
like this feeling, suspecting one of his own, not knowing as much
as some masked man did, he hated the sudden loss of confidence he
felt. The possibility was there though, the Batman could be
right, but he could also be like the Green Hornet, a crook out to
erase the competition. "I don't like vigilantes, Batman, I like
mysterymen even less. I have no reason to trust them or you, for
all I know, you're just another thug looking to make a name for
himself in my city." Gordon stood and looked up at the taller
man, jabbing a finger in the center of Batman's huge bat emblem on
his chest. "If I find out you're some crook playing me for a
sucker, I won't rest until you're under lock and key."

"Whoa Jim!" Dent said standing, "Let's not be too hasty, maybe
Batman's willing to prove he's on the level. You could tell us
who you are under that mask." The Batman gave Dent a stare that
would've frozen Hell itself. "It was worth a try." Dent added
sheepishly.

"How about a way to contact you then?" Gordon said with a hint of
bitterness still in his voice, "We can trade information, seeing
you have methods that are effective in their own way."

A piece of white paper dropped out of the shadows of Batman's
cloak and floated onto the desk.

"What's this?" Gordon asked confused.

"My number." Batman answered. "If you need to reach me, someone
will be there. It's unlisted," Batman shot a glance towards Dent,
"and untraceable. Myself, or one of my associates will respond as
quickly as we can to your call."

"There's more of you?" Dent asked flabbergasted, "You've got
something like a League of Batmen working for you?" The Batman's
glare at Dent was even colder than the first one.

"This meeting is to remain a secret between us gentlemen, with the
leak in your squad, I can't chance having this information going
beyond this room." Batman looked back at Gordon, "I work for
justice Lieutenant, not against it, I hope that you'll see that
soon enough." The Batman edged back to the window.

"If you'll excuse me." Before either man could move, the Dark
Knight was gone. They raced to the sill and looked out into the
snowy night. There was no trace of the masked man, he vanished as
swiftly as he appeared.

Gordon closed the window and he sat back down at his desk staring
at the phone number that was the only evidence of his visit. He
looked up at Dent and then to the reports they still had laying on
the desk.

"Let me see that one about his being able to fly again." Gordon
said quietly.

*****************************************************

EPILOGUE: THE BATCAVE, DECEMBER 21, 1938, DAWN...

The Batman was tired as he pulled into the Batcave and turned off
the engine of his black coupe. He was satisfied with the night's
events, Zucco was obviously judged by a higher authority, a more
universal justice than the one he and Dinah would've turned the
man over to. Dick Grayson's parents had been avenged, though
Batman wished he could do more for the boy, help him through his
pain, he knew that Grayson would probably move on with the circus
or become a ward of the court. As he pulled off his mask, Bruce
Wayne felt sympathy for the young man and what he would still have
to face, but until the boy turned up, the best Bruce could do was
make sure that he visited the boy and made sure he was okay.

His Bruce Wayne "disguise" lay sprawled across the backseat of the
car. Usually, Batman would've taken the time to hide his clothes
under the gray flannel blanket that covered some of the Batman's
other equipment, but he knew Gordon's office would be his last
stop of the night, so he threw caution to the wind just this once,
though he figured that Alfred would be annoyed with the wrinkled
state of one of Bruce's better suits.

Alfred met Bruce at the foot of the stairs, he held a tray with
coffee, orange juice and the morning paper. Alfred had yet to
change from his pajamas to his usual uniform. "Good Morning,
Master Bruce, I trust your date went well?"

"We managed to have an interesting evening, Alfred. Where's
Julie?"

"She decided to stay in the city last night, sir. She said she'd
ring later to let us know when she would return."

"Knowing Sandra's soirees, that could be another day or so. At
least she's in good hands. What's on Bruce Wayne's calendar this
morning?"

"You have a noon meeting with the-- GOOD LORD!!!" The tray
clattered to the floor, spilling everything and waking a few of
the bats who lurked in the upper part of the cave.

Bruce turned slowly, following Alfred's gaze. Out of the backseat
of the car stepped a young boy. Bruce recognized him immediately
as Dick Grayson.

Dick looked to be in shock over the realization of where he woke
up and who he was facing. "You're really him aren't you? I've
heard of you, thought you were some soft rich guy living high off
the hog, but you're really him! Wow, Bruce Wayne is Batman!"

Alfred had done his best to compose himself. He had already
managed to clean the mess up as best he could before saying to his
friend and employer, "I assume there will be two for breakfast,
sir?"

Bruce looked at Dick, returned his gaze to Alfred's shocked face
and the looked at Dick's awed expression one last time before
saying, "Yes, Alfred, you assume correctly."

With that, Bruce took Dick's hand and started up the stairs.

"C'mon, Dick, let's get cleaned up for breakfast."

-- The End --