"I´m Daniel waiting in the Lion´s Den" - Bruce Springsteen
3: A Heap Of Broken Images
Who are you?
I mean.
Who are you, REALLY?
* * *
"Here you are. It´s this way." Gordon said.
Batman followed him along the dark corridor until they arrived
to the door at the end of it. The place was full of that funny
antiseptic smell.
He was at Gotham General Hospital. Batman knew that place very well.
Bruce used to play in that place many years ago. When he was a kid.
When his father lived.
He read the inscription writen with big black letters on the office´s door:
"Caleb Goldstein - Psychiatrist."
"He was working until late today, like every tuesday.
The cleaning lady found him. She´s hysterical.
But take a look for yourself."
When Gordon opened the door Batman stepped into the room first.
He had seen many deaths, many corpses but he still was not used to it.
He would probably never be.
Dr. Caleb Goldstein, 69 years old, was naked sitting on his chair
in front of his desk. His face had a painful expression.
He had died hurting. Hurting a lot.
There was dry saliva and blood coming out of his mouth and his
left arm had been cut right above the elbow.
The floor was red with some blood. But the wound was cauterized.
Even though he was wearing no clothes, Goldstein was still wearing a tie.
Batman had not seen it yet but it didn´t took him long.
He felt something, like cold fingers touching the back of his neck
and he turned his head slowly to the right.
There it was. All over the wall.
A big note written with blood that went from the ceiling to the floor.
Batman moved towards it.
"BATMAN"
And written below that: "FIND ME"
"He´s been dead for at least four hours.
Whoever did this knows you´re after him. And cut Goldstein´s arm
just to write... that." Gordon said.
"Whoever did this took his time, Gordon..."
Batman looked at the messagge and came closer.
The blood was all over some pictures that were still hanging.
He saw the Doctor´s license carefully and every picture on that bloody wall.
All the pictures´ crystals were broken. Smashed.
He had a strange hunch, not something we could understand in him.
He was a man of logic not of hunchs. But the message on the wall,
the pictures full of blood... there was something more in there.
"Here." Batman said and that made Gordon come closer too.
"What? What is it?"
"This man. This man in this picture..."
Batman took a picture from the wall and showed it to Gordon.
In that photo you could see Dr. Goldstein forty years ago
sitting on what seemed the entrance of Gotham University.
There were other five persons sitting with him.
They were all smiling.
"That´s Goldstein." Gordon said.
"Yes. But The other man near him."
Gordon opened his eyes in disbelief.
He had seen that other man.
Dead. Just some days ago.
"That´s Professor Akiro Narayama!"
Batman did not move his face but his tone of voice was suddenly different.
Like he was trying not to show he was boiling with rage.
"The man Shukiro Matzada killed two weeks ago."
* * *
Batman stood in the top of Gotham tower and looked at his city.
He was still thinking about that picture even though he examined
the whole office very carefully. He was a detective, after all.
Akiro Narayama.
Batman had seen that particular photo before.
It was on his own house. On his father´s study.
Thomas Wayne was standing at Akiro´s side.
Bruce remembered Akiro as a nice, kind man.
He was a professor interested in physics and genetic.
He was a good friend of Thomas even though their interests
were different.
Of course Matzada said during the interrogation that he did
what some Japanese mafia hired him to do.
The he stayed silent. He accepted all charges for murder.
Matzada had beheaded Akiro without any effort.
Then Dr. Goldstein was dead. And, just like Scheider, it seemed
he was killed with some kind of poison.
Except for the arm wound.
But Matzada had nothing to do with neither Goldstein or Scheider.
And that note in the wall. Someone was adressing to Batman.
And Batman was waiting in the den.
Waiting for that hunter to come and get him.
He was not afraid.
Not at all.
What then?
Batman hurled his line and himself into the night.
He would exchange some words with Matzada.
He did not care about his silence.
Matzada would talk to him.
He would.
* * *
Before a bullet went right into her spine she was Batgirl.
Now she is called Oracle.
A know it all (unknow for some) character that helps
the Dark Knight (and others) to fight crime.
But we look at her and see she´s so beautiful, so sweet,
we don´t like neither of her names.
We prefer to call her Barbara.
If she could heard us calling her that she would smile to us.
That would be enough for me.
How about you?
Yes, that´s what I thought.
"...and that´s all I have. There´s not enough information about him."
"He´s a ninja. I´m not surprised."
"You never are. Listen: I´ll send Nightwing to help you."
"It´s not necessary."
"If someone is sending you messages, then it´s possible that someone
is planning to attack you. And if you´re alone..."
"Not necessary."
"Ok... You´re the boss.."
"But send Nightwing to Arkham. I need someone to inform me about something
strange happening there..."
"Something. Something like what?"
"Anything."
* * *
Huntress had heard almost all the conversation. Her device was connected
when Barbara and Batman were talking and she was quite pleased to discover
Oracle was not using an independent line.
A killer. A ninja.
Time to prove to the damned Bat that The huntress was worthy
of his respect. She jumped from the roof where she was standing
and landed quietly, effortessly on her bike.
It roared and Huntress was, in seconds, lost in the dark night.
* * *
The Police Headquarters.
The guard that leads Batman to Matzada´s cell smells
like coffee and cigarettes. The cell where Matzada spends his days,
waiting his transfer to Blackgate, is dark and wet.
Shukiro is lying on his bed with the sheets covering him completely.
Not a nice place to be.
"Déja vú" Batman thinks.
They step behind the bars and the guard calls the man in the bed.
"Get up, Matzada."
No answer. Not a single movement.
"Open the door. Now!" Batman suddenly orders.
"What? No, I can´t open the d..."
"Look at his feet. Does he always sleep with the same kind of
boots that you are wearing now?
The guard opens his mouth, making an incredible stupid expression.
Then he realizes the truth.
"My God..." he says as he opens the door quite fast.
Batman gets into the cell and moves the sheets discovering the body.
A guard. Dead. Wearing Matzada´s clothes.
Batman touches the man´s pulse. Nothing.
No more than ten minutes dead he concludes.
"Is he...?"
"Yes. Set the alarm. Matzada must still be around.
And maybe he´s still wearing this poor man´s clothes"
* * *
3: A Heap Of Broken Images
Who are you?
I mean.
Who are you, REALLY?
* * *
"Here you are. It´s this way." Gordon said.
Batman followed him along the dark corridor until they arrived
to the door at the end of it. The place was full of that funny
antiseptic smell.
He was at Gotham General Hospital. Batman knew that place very well.
Bruce used to play in that place many years ago. When he was a kid.
When his father lived.
He read the inscription writen with big black letters on the office´s door:
"Caleb Goldstein - Psychiatrist."
"He was working until late today, like every tuesday.
The cleaning lady found him. She´s hysterical.
But take a look for yourself."
When Gordon opened the door Batman stepped into the room first.
He had seen many deaths, many corpses but he still was not used to it.
He would probably never be.
Dr. Caleb Goldstein, 69 years old, was naked sitting on his chair
in front of his desk. His face had a painful expression.
He had died hurting. Hurting a lot.
There was dry saliva and blood coming out of his mouth and his
left arm had been cut right above the elbow.
The floor was red with some blood. But the wound was cauterized.
Even though he was wearing no clothes, Goldstein was still wearing a tie.
Batman had not seen it yet but it didn´t took him long.
He felt something, like cold fingers touching the back of his neck
and he turned his head slowly to the right.
There it was. All over the wall.
A big note written with blood that went from the ceiling to the floor.
Batman moved towards it.
"BATMAN"
And written below that: "FIND ME"
"He´s been dead for at least four hours.
Whoever did this knows you´re after him. And cut Goldstein´s arm
just to write... that." Gordon said.
"Whoever did this took his time, Gordon..."
Batman looked at the messagge and came closer.
The blood was all over some pictures that were still hanging.
He saw the Doctor´s license carefully and every picture on that bloody wall.
All the pictures´ crystals were broken. Smashed.
He had a strange hunch, not something we could understand in him.
He was a man of logic not of hunchs. But the message on the wall,
the pictures full of blood... there was something more in there.
"Here." Batman said and that made Gordon come closer too.
"What? What is it?"
"This man. This man in this picture..."
Batman took a picture from the wall and showed it to Gordon.
In that photo you could see Dr. Goldstein forty years ago
sitting on what seemed the entrance of Gotham University.
There were other five persons sitting with him.
They were all smiling.
"That´s Goldstein." Gordon said.
"Yes. But The other man near him."
Gordon opened his eyes in disbelief.
He had seen that other man.
Dead. Just some days ago.
"That´s Professor Akiro Narayama!"
Batman did not move his face but his tone of voice was suddenly different.
Like he was trying not to show he was boiling with rage.
"The man Shukiro Matzada killed two weeks ago."
* * *
Batman stood in the top of Gotham tower and looked at his city.
He was still thinking about that picture even though he examined
the whole office very carefully. He was a detective, after all.
Akiro Narayama.
Batman had seen that particular photo before.
It was on his own house. On his father´s study.
Thomas Wayne was standing at Akiro´s side.
Bruce remembered Akiro as a nice, kind man.
He was a professor interested in physics and genetic.
He was a good friend of Thomas even though their interests
were different.
Of course Matzada said during the interrogation that he did
what some Japanese mafia hired him to do.
The he stayed silent. He accepted all charges for murder.
Matzada had beheaded Akiro without any effort.
Then Dr. Goldstein was dead. And, just like Scheider, it seemed
he was killed with some kind of poison.
Except for the arm wound.
But Matzada had nothing to do with neither Goldstein or Scheider.
And that note in the wall. Someone was adressing to Batman.
And Batman was waiting in the den.
Waiting for that hunter to come and get him.
He was not afraid.
Not at all.
What then?
Batman hurled his line and himself into the night.
He would exchange some words with Matzada.
He did not care about his silence.
Matzada would talk to him.
He would.
* * *
Before a bullet went right into her spine she was Batgirl.
Now she is called Oracle.
A know it all (unknow for some) character that helps
the Dark Knight (and others) to fight crime.
But we look at her and see she´s so beautiful, so sweet,
we don´t like neither of her names.
We prefer to call her Barbara.
If she could heard us calling her that she would smile to us.
That would be enough for me.
How about you?
Yes, that´s what I thought.
"...and that´s all I have. There´s not enough information about him."
"He´s a ninja. I´m not surprised."
"You never are. Listen: I´ll send Nightwing to help you."
"It´s not necessary."
"If someone is sending you messages, then it´s possible that someone
is planning to attack you. And if you´re alone..."
"Not necessary."
"Ok... You´re the boss.."
"But send Nightwing to Arkham. I need someone to inform me about something
strange happening there..."
"Something. Something like what?"
"Anything."
* * *
Huntress had heard almost all the conversation. Her device was connected
when Barbara and Batman were talking and she was quite pleased to discover
Oracle was not using an independent line.
A killer. A ninja.
Time to prove to the damned Bat that The huntress was worthy
of his respect. She jumped from the roof where she was standing
and landed quietly, effortessly on her bike.
It roared and Huntress was, in seconds, lost in the dark night.
* * *
The Police Headquarters.
The guard that leads Batman to Matzada´s cell smells
like coffee and cigarettes. The cell where Matzada spends his days,
waiting his transfer to Blackgate, is dark and wet.
Shukiro is lying on his bed with the sheets covering him completely.
Not a nice place to be.
"Déja vú" Batman thinks.
They step behind the bars and the guard calls the man in the bed.
"Get up, Matzada."
No answer. Not a single movement.
"Open the door. Now!" Batman suddenly orders.
"What? No, I can´t open the d..."
"Look at his feet. Does he always sleep with the same kind of
boots that you are wearing now?
The guard opens his mouth, making an incredible stupid expression.
Then he realizes the truth.
"My God..." he says as he opens the door quite fast.
Batman gets into the cell and moves the sheets discovering the body.
A guard. Dead. Wearing Matzada´s clothes.
Batman touches the man´s pulse. Nothing.
No more than ten minutes dead he concludes.
"Is he...?"
"Yes. Set the alarm. Matzada must still be around.
And maybe he´s still wearing this poor man´s clothes"
* * *