Chapter 6: Questions and Answers
The Story Thus Far: Det. Allen is assaulted by a near indestructible creature he calls a 'Shaftie'. Batgirl intervenes but is unable to save Allen from mortal injury as the creature escapes. Bullock and Gordon rush Allen towards a nearby explosion caused by Two-Face and the Penguin, knowing emergency personnel will be there and to try to lure the assassin away from Allen's apartment building. Gordon looks into Allen's secret file on the firebombing of his home and learns Allen's been working for Two-Face all along; Assassins strike at Bruce, Ivy and Harley in the desert sands, seriously wounding Ivy. Bruce discovers an entryway to the assassin's lair and the trio are met by a very large and very prepared horde of black garbed killers, along with their leader, Batman's old foe Ra's al Ghul, "I bid you welcome to my humble abode, and hope that each of you has come prepared to die…"
…
"No!"
Bruce Wayne yells out before Ra's could complete his sentence, hoping to buy some time, "None of us are going to die, none of us! Not until you tell me why, Ra's, why did you call for me?"
"Call for you?" Ra's answers in sheer puzzlement, "My dear fellow, I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about. You are a bane to my existence, a vile curmudgeon that I would smite were it not for your uncanny skills and the love my daughter has for you. I would not call upon you, detective, even if my life were dependent on it, especially now, on the eve of my greatest triumph!"
"But what about the traces of the Lazarus Pit I found within Harley's bloodstream? Why, but to set me on this path…?"
Harley's dumbfounded, "My blood? Why'd you peek at my blood?"
"Yes detective, why? The Lazarus Pit is my most prized possession, the secret to life everlasting. I do not share it with fools, and any such suggestion is an insult upon my very being! This trap was laid out when I had learned of your presence upon my island. Every inch of this land is monitored, detective, every facet constructed by my engineers, you could not get this far had I not wanted you to do so!"
"But Harley died, Ra's! She died and you brought her back! The Lazarus Pit brought her back!"
"I…died?" Harley whispers, her lower lip quivering as she takes a puzzled look at Ra's, Bruce, and finally Ivy. Only Ivy looks back, giving a very faint nod in the process.
"You are beginning to anger me, detective!" Ra's screams as he rises up from his throne. His horde unsheathes their swords in response but they do not advance. "I did not share my precious secret to life immortal with this…this female! Gotham as a whole has as little interest to me as the rest of the world. It is just one more pillar of man's blight upon the earth…a festering pit that needs to be removed in order for Mother Nature to reclaim what is rightfully hers! No, you are mistaken detective…"
Bruce cuts Ra's off, "Words, Ra's. All you're giving me are words, and the words of a deceiver mean nothing to me! Where's your evidence, Ra's, where's the proof? I have mine, where's yours?"
"You invade MY home," Ra's spews back, the horde eerily writhing with each syllable; "You accuse ME of lies and dare to sully MY very name!" His eyes flash fire as he speaks and his right hand clasps about his blade, "You seek truth?" Ra's unsheathes his blade, "Here, take it!" and he hurls it down, but not at Bruce Wayne. Instead the handle of the glimmering sword falls into the nimble fingers of Harley Quinn. Bruce doesn't move as she turns towards him with a vapid look on her face.
"Bruce?" Ivy whispers in a concerned fashion. He motions for her to stay put as he meets Harley's eyes.
"My penultimate moment is upon you, detective," Ra's calls down, "And your final humiliation is at hand. My dear," he calls to Harley, "You hold your master's blade in your hand."
Harley repeats the words in a trance-like manner, "My…master's…blade…"
Despite his cool outer demeanour Ra's is dumbfounded by her response, its significance weighing heavily upon him. He did not expect this. However, the Demon's Head is also a superb tactician, so he presses the advantage, "Before you is my most repugnant enemy," Ra's continues, "And he is therefore your enemy as well."
"My…enemy…"
"Yes, your enemy. He's slain the man you've loved; he's led you and your companion into innumerable death traps. He seeks your destruction…"
"My…destruction…"
Bruce couldn't help smiling under his latex mask as he thinks of the words Ra's spoke earlier, 'So you've no interest in Gotham, Ra's?'
Ra's continues, "Slay him with your master's blade, my dear. Slay him and your master shall show you favour the likes you've never known to exist! Slay him, so that you may live!"
Harley raises the blade up high and pauses, "Ivy?"
Ra's raises an eyebrow, "Your ally? She will be permitted to take leave of this place once your task is complete if you so desire, but you must act quickly! Strike now!" Ra's begins to scream, "Kill him!"
And the blade flashes through the air…
…
"He's dead."
Det. Bullock remarks casually as the battered and bruised prone form of Det. Allen is loaded onto the ambulance. Next to him is Merkel, a veteran of Gotham's police force and the Commissioner's first choice for damage control duties.
"That's pretty obvious Bull," Merkel remarks as he taps an officer's shoulder, volunteering said officer to accompany the body. Merkel then turns to Bullock, his tone less than cordial as he asks, "What killed him and what was he doing in your car?"
Bullock takes a long puff on his cigar and looks Merkel square in the eye, "The Commish and I were headed over to his place to…discuss the arson case on the Commish's home. When we got there Allen took a swan dive off the fourth floor fire escape. He was still kicking when the explosion hit so we thought our best bet to get him here to a waitin' ambulance."
"Who…?"
"We don't know," Bullock snarls, wanting to change the subject, "So we can't get an APB out, and the perp's probably long gone by now. Still, you'd better send a squad over to Allen's place, maybe they'd turn something up." Bullock then turns around and stares into the raging inferno behind him, and he recalls another night, not too long ago, when flames were licking the sky, "What the hell happened here, Merk?"
"Damnedest thing Bull, damnedest thing," Merkel responds as he glances at Bullock's car and the Commissioner still seated within it. He shakes his head and turns away, "Thieves busted into the jewellery exchange, I think they wanted to steal the duplicate Faberge egg inside since it's the most valuable bauble in the joint, but for some reason or another they didn't manage to pull it off. Some firefighters noticed the safe was unopened. We did find the staff and guards safe and sound a block away, asleep. I ask you, who busts into a place like that and just walks away? There's cash, rough stones and other little trinkets that would set you up for life on the other floors, and they only blast the egg to hell! Damnedest thing I've ever heard of…"
"Wait a second," Bullock mutters as he holds a hand up, "They only blew up one floor?"
"Yeah," Merkel answers, "That's how we know nothing else was touched, Bull. They just broke in and firebombed one floor using the cutest little firetraps you'd ever laid eyes on. They also laid about plenty of noisemakers that busted glass but not much else, making the blast look worse than it really was. You see now what kind of a nut-job we're dealing with here?"
"Firebomb," Bullock grins from ear to ear as he heads towards his car, "Duplicate egg. The Commish is just gonna love this."
Within the ancient, blood soaked sedan Commissioner Gordon pours over the contents of a crimson covered file folder. A street lamp overhead and the nearby flickering flames provide his only illumination, but he presses onwards. About him is absolute chaos as men scramble every which way to their designated tasks. He ignores it all and continues to read. The driver's side door opens and Det. Bullock flops into his seat.
"Good reading, Commish?"
Gordon ignores the comment and continues his investigation.
"Two-Face and Penguin blew the place up, you know. A twin Faberge egg was inside that place, see the connection? I read up on it, just out of curiosity. There's a big controversy over the damned thing, no one's sure if it's the real deal or not, you see, and it was sent to Gotham for examination. Thing is, I don't think they stole it. Safe wasn't open and with the firecrackers they used it just becomes a very noisy arson case. It's like they're almost confessin' to burning your place down. That's weird thing number one. Weird thing number two is that no one was killed. I mean, come on, offing people is like going to the can for these psychos, so why take the trouble to save them? Makes no sense…"
Gordon's been ignoring Bullock's words for the most part, and takes the moment of silence to mention, "Confession is good for the soul."
Bullock shrugs at the suggestion, unsure what Gordon's getting at, "Come again?"
"Allen," Gordon continues as he taps on the blood soaked file folder, "We were his back-up tonight. He led you on, Bullock. He knew you'd pick things up and eventually trail him. He couldn't ask for help since Two-Face was involved. If he told us the truth we'd just bust him and his entire investigation would go to pot, so he got you riled up enough to tail him. It's all in here," Gordon gestures towards the blood spattered folder, folding it triumphantly.
Bullock whistles slightly, "When is a man dead on, but not what he appears to be?"
"When he's pretending to be something he isn't. When he's acting," the Commissioner answers without thinking. He pauses, "Where'd you hear that?"
"Riddler; Allen was with me at the time at Arkham," Bullock blinks, "Son of a gun. Maybe we'd better see what else Eddie's got…"
"Maybe," Gordon nods, "but not yet. There's an address in the folder and I think we'd better have a look."
Bullock grins as he guns the engine, "Back-up?"
"Taken care of," the Commissioner replies in a deadpan manner.
Bullock gently taps the revolver in his coat pocket as he begins to pull away from the police barricade, "Did Allen mention why he started working for Two-Face, Commish?"
Gordon can only sigh as he checks his gun, "Yes, he gave a very good reason. And I pray to God that he's wrong..."
…
Most places in the world recognize the fact that walking down a deserted alley in the middle of the night is pent amount to suicide, and yet many continue to do so. These individuals choose to try and save a few minutes by cutting across such deathtraps, rather than trying to save their lives by avoiding them altogether and taking the long way home. If we were inclined to do so, to stop and stare down one of these pits of despair, we may even bear witness to such a hapless soul being ravaged by the dregs of society, and we'd clutch at our hearts for the horror we've seen.
Screams of help go unheeded and aid is not coming as the brazen youth is being beaten senseless within such a dank hole along one of Gotham's poorer districts. Male or female, gender is unimportant to these attackers, nor is pigmentation, nor dress, nor demeanour or appearance. They only understand one thing; they only wish to satiate one need. However, sometimes when you plead long enough, and hard enough, your prayers may be answered.
Each attacker turns at the sight of the creature. It does not speak and appears all the more inhuman for it. Their salivating jaws have known no fear until tonight, when they meet a creature of the night even more at home in the alleys and slums than they are. Three foolish ones attempt to strike out at this intruder, and each is met with brutal and swift violence. All three fall and groan, unable to rise. The rest know better and scatter, leaving their potential victim alone with their newfound nemesis.
Taking the moment the victim manages to rise up and with panic stricken eyes makes a mad dash out of their world and into one of a brightly lit metropolis. The creature doesn't even make a gesture as the victim runs by and looks down at those three she had stopped. Tonight she was able to save a life, but earlier in the selfsame evening her efforts fell short and a police detective plummeted to his doom. She can recall another time long ago when she had failed another. He, like the police detective, fell from such a height that it ultimately killed him. She cared for this man, cared for him deeply, more so than life itself, and she did bear witness to his mangled corpse upon the ground. It's a vision she cannot escape no matter how hard she tries. She's given up long ago…
A small light begins to blink on her belt and she returns to the darkness from whence she came. The homing beacon on Bullock's car is in motion once more; it's time for Batgirl to rejoin the fray…
TO BE CONTINUED…
The Story Thus Far: Det. Allen is assaulted by a near indestructible creature he calls a 'Shaftie'. Batgirl intervenes but is unable to save Allen from mortal injury as the creature escapes. Bullock and Gordon rush Allen towards a nearby explosion caused by Two-Face and the Penguin, knowing emergency personnel will be there and to try to lure the assassin away from Allen's apartment building. Gordon looks into Allen's secret file on the firebombing of his home and learns Allen's been working for Two-Face all along; Assassins strike at Bruce, Ivy and Harley in the desert sands, seriously wounding Ivy. Bruce discovers an entryway to the assassin's lair and the trio are met by a very large and very prepared horde of black garbed killers, along with their leader, Batman's old foe Ra's al Ghul, "I bid you welcome to my humble abode, and hope that each of you has come prepared to die…"
…
"No!"
Bruce Wayne yells out before Ra's could complete his sentence, hoping to buy some time, "None of us are going to die, none of us! Not until you tell me why, Ra's, why did you call for me?"
"Call for you?" Ra's answers in sheer puzzlement, "My dear fellow, I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about. You are a bane to my existence, a vile curmudgeon that I would smite were it not for your uncanny skills and the love my daughter has for you. I would not call upon you, detective, even if my life were dependent on it, especially now, on the eve of my greatest triumph!"
"But what about the traces of the Lazarus Pit I found within Harley's bloodstream? Why, but to set me on this path…?"
Harley's dumbfounded, "My blood? Why'd you peek at my blood?"
"Yes detective, why? The Lazarus Pit is my most prized possession, the secret to life everlasting. I do not share it with fools, and any such suggestion is an insult upon my very being! This trap was laid out when I had learned of your presence upon my island. Every inch of this land is monitored, detective, every facet constructed by my engineers, you could not get this far had I not wanted you to do so!"
"But Harley died, Ra's! She died and you brought her back! The Lazarus Pit brought her back!"
"I…died?" Harley whispers, her lower lip quivering as she takes a puzzled look at Ra's, Bruce, and finally Ivy. Only Ivy looks back, giving a very faint nod in the process.
"You are beginning to anger me, detective!" Ra's screams as he rises up from his throne. His horde unsheathes their swords in response but they do not advance. "I did not share my precious secret to life immortal with this…this female! Gotham as a whole has as little interest to me as the rest of the world. It is just one more pillar of man's blight upon the earth…a festering pit that needs to be removed in order for Mother Nature to reclaim what is rightfully hers! No, you are mistaken detective…"
Bruce cuts Ra's off, "Words, Ra's. All you're giving me are words, and the words of a deceiver mean nothing to me! Where's your evidence, Ra's, where's the proof? I have mine, where's yours?"
"You invade MY home," Ra's spews back, the horde eerily writhing with each syllable; "You accuse ME of lies and dare to sully MY very name!" His eyes flash fire as he speaks and his right hand clasps about his blade, "You seek truth?" Ra's unsheathes his blade, "Here, take it!" and he hurls it down, but not at Bruce Wayne. Instead the handle of the glimmering sword falls into the nimble fingers of Harley Quinn. Bruce doesn't move as she turns towards him with a vapid look on her face.
"Bruce?" Ivy whispers in a concerned fashion. He motions for her to stay put as he meets Harley's eyes.
"My penultimate moment is upon you, detective," Ra's calls down, "And your final humiliation is at hand. My dear," he calls to Harley, "You hold your master's blade in your hand."
Harley repeats the words in a trance-like manner, "My…master's…blade…"
Despite his cool outer demeanour Ra's is dumbfounded by her response, its significance weighing heavily upon him. He did not expect this. However, the Demon's Head is also a superb tactician, so he presses the advantage, "Before you is my most repugnant enemy," Ra's continues, "And he is therefore your enemy as well."
"My…enemy…"
"Yes, your enemy. He's slain the man you've loved; he's led you and your companion into innumerable death traps. He seeks your destruction…"
"My…destruction…"
Bruce couldn't help smiling under his latex mask as he thinks of the words Ra's spoke earlier, 'So you've no interest in Gotham, Ra's?'
Ra's continues, "Slay him with your master's blade, my dear. Slay him and your master shall show you favour the likes you've never known to exist! Slay him, so that you may live!"
Harley raises the blade up high and pauses, "Ivy?"
Ra's raises an eyebrow, "Your ally? She will be permitted to take leave of this place once your task is complete if you so desire, but you must act quickly! Strike now!" Ra's begins to scream, "Kill him!"
And the blade flashes through the air…
…
"He's dead."
Det. Bullock remarks casually as the battered and bruised prone form of Det. Allen is loaded onto the ambulance. Next to him is Merkel, a veteran of Gotham's police force and the Commissioner's first choice for damage control duties.
"That's pretty obvious Bull," Merkel remarks as he taps an officer's shoulder, volunteering said officer to accompany the body. Merkel then turns to Bullock, his tone less than cordial as he asks, "What killed him and what was he doing in your car?"
Bullock takes a long puff on his cigar and looks Merkel square in the eye, "The Commish and I were headed over to his place to…discuss the arson case on the Commish's home. When we got there Allen took a swan dive off the fourth floor fire escape. He was still kicking when the explosion hit so we thought our best bet to get him here to a waitin' ambulance."
"Who…?"
"We don't know," Bullock snarls, wanting to change the subject, "So we can't get an APB out, and the perp's probably long gone by now. Still, you'd better send a squad over to Allen's place, maybe they'd turn something up." Bullock then turns around and stares into the raging inferno behind him, and he recalls another night, not too long ago, when flames were licking the sky, "What the hell happened here, Merk?"
"Damnedest thing Bull, damnedest thing," Merkel responds as he glances at Bullock's car and the Commissioner still seated within it. He shakes his head and turns away, "Thieves busted into the jewellery exchange, I think they wanted to steal the duplicate Faberge egg inside since it's the most valuable bauble in the joint, but for some reason or another they didn't manage to pull it off. Some firefighters noticed the safe was unopened. We did find the staff and guards safe and sound a block away, asleep. I ask you, who busts into a place like that and just walks away? There's cash, rough stones and other little trinkets that would set you up for life on the other floors, and they only blast the egg to hell! Damnedest thing I've ever heard of…"
"Wait a second," Bullock mutters as he holds a hand up, "They only blew up one floor?"
"Yeah," Merkel answers, "That's how we know nothing else was touched, Bull. They just broke in and firebombed one floor using the cutest little firetraps you'd ever laid eyes on. They also laid about plenty of noisemakers that busted glass but not much else, making the blast look worse than it really was. You see now what kind of a nut-job we're dealing with here?"
"Firebomb," Bullock grins from ear to ear as he heads towards his car, "Duplicate egg. The Commish is just gonna love this."
Within the ancient, blood soaked sedan Commissioner Gordon pours over the contents of a crimson covered file folder. A street lamp overhead and the nearby flickering flames provide his only illumination, but he presses onwards. About him is absolute chaos as men scramble every which way to their designated tasks. He ignores it all and continues to read. The driver's side door opens and Det. Bullock flops into his seat.
"Good reading, Commish?"
Gordon ignores the comment and continues his investigation.
"Two-Face and Penguin blew the place up, you know. A twin Faberge egg was inside that place, see the connection? I read up on it, just out of curiosity. There's a big controversy over the damned thing, no one's sure if it's the real deal or not, you see, and it was sent to Gotham for examination. Thing is, I don't think they stole it. Safe wasn't open and with the firecrackers they used it just becomes a very noisy arson case. It's like they're almost confessin' to burning your place down. That's weird thing number one. Weird thing number two is that no one was killed. I mean, come on, offing people is like going to the can for these psychos, so why take the trouble to save them? Makes no sense…"
Gordon's been ignoring Bullock's words for the most part, and takes the moment of silence to mention, "Confession is good for the soul."
Bullock shrugs at the suggestion, unsure what Gordon's getting at, "Come again?"
"Allen," Gordon continues as he taps on the blood soaked file folder, "We were his back-up tonight. He led you on, Bullock. He knew you'd pick things up and eventually trail him. He couldn't ask for help since Two-Face was involved. If he told us the truth we'd just bust him and his entire investigation would go to pot, so he got you riled up enough to tail him. It's all in here," Gordon gestures towards the blood spattered folder, folding it triumphantly.
Bullock whistles slightly, "When is a man dead on, but not what he appears to be?"
"When he's pretending to be something he isn't. When he's acting," the Commissioner answers without thinking. He pauses, "Where'd you hear that?"
"Riddler; Allen was with me at the time at Arkham," Bullock blinks, "Son of a gun. Maybe we'd better see what else Eddie's got…"
"Maybe," Gordon nods, "but not yet. There's an address in the folder and I think we'd better have a look."
Bullock grins as he guns the engine, "Back-up?"
"Taken care of," the Commissioner replies in a deadpan manner.
Bullock gently taps the revolver in his coat pocket as he begins to pull away from the police barricade, "Did Allen mention why he started working for Two-Face, Commish?"
Gordon can only sigh as he checks his gun, "Yes, he gave a very good reason. And I pray to God that he's wrong..."
…
Most places in the world recognize the fact that walking down a deserted alley in the middle of the night is pent amount to suicide, and yet many continue to do so. These individuals choose to try and save a few minutes by cutting across such deathtraps, rather than trying to save their lives by avoiding them altogether and taking the long way home. If we were inclined to do so, to stop and stare down one of these pits of despair, we may even bear witness to such a hapless soul being ravaged by the dregs of society, and we'd clutch at our hearts for the horror we've seen.
Screams of help go unheeded and aid is not coming as the brazen youth is being beaten senseless within such a dank hole along one of Gotham's poorer districts. Male or female, gender is unimportant to these attackers, nor is pigmentation, nor dress, nor demeanour or appearance. They only understand one thing; they only wish to satiate one need. However, sometimes when you plead long enough, and hard enough, your prayers may be answered.
Each attacker turns at the sight of the creature. It does not speak and appears all the more inhuman for it. Their salivating jaws have known no fear until tonight, when they meet a creature of the night even more at home in the alleys and slums than they are. Three foolish ones attempt to strike out at this intruder, and each is met with brutal and swift violence. All three fall and groan, unable to rise. The rest know better and scatter, leaving their potential victim alone with their newfound nemesis.
Taking the moment the victim manages to rise up and with panic stricken eyes makes a mad dash out of their world and into one of a brightly lit metropolis. The creature doesn't even make a gesture as the victim runs by and looks down at those three she had stopped. Tonight she was able to save a life, but earlier in the selfsame evening her efforts fell short and a police detective plummeted to his doom. She can recall another time long ago when she had failed another. He, like the police detective, fell from such a height that it ultimately killed him. She cared for this man, cared for him deeply, more so than life itself, and she did bear witness to his mangled corpse upon the ground. It's a vision she cannot escape no matter how hard she tries. She's given up long ago…
A small light begins to blink on her belt and she returns to the darkness from whence she came. The homing beacon on Bullock's car is in motion once more; it's time for Batgirl to rejoin the fray…
TO BE CONTINUED…