BATMAN: GOTHAM CAMPAIGN OF CRIME
By Bruce Wayne
Batman created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.
CHAPTER 6
Candidate Dan Foster was flanked by a trio of attentive plainclothes policemen. He smiled broadly and waved to the throng of supporters who had come to see and hear him speak at the outdoor William Finger Center in the City Hall District of Gotham City. Hundreds of people from all around the city came for the opportunity to catch a glimpse of Gotham's premier broadcaster who was running for mayor. Their cheers and applause for the man filled the early evening air.
Scattered throughout the crowd, attempting to appear inconspicuous were alert security men from both city and private agencies, scanning the area for the slightest hint of danger.
From a perch high above the plaza, Batman eyed the crowd through a pair of Bat-binoculars. He could clearly see that security was very tight.
They took the phony Batman's threat seriously, I suppose.
Batman continued to look through the high-powered binoculars, searching through the sea of faces gathered for the rally.
Somebody's out to force Foster out of the race and discredit me in the process. Whoever was under that mask went through too much hassle and risk for a hoax, and I bet that he'll be back. Only this time, I'm waiting for him.
The candidate mounted the steps to the speaker's platform, his clenched fist thrust high over his head in a sign of victory to the people. He strode confidently across the platform, pausing only momentarily to shake hands with the local city politicians seated there before stepping up to the microphone.
The crowd continued its roar of approval for several minutes more before it was quiet enough for Foster to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Gotham City," Dan Foster began, his amplified voice booming across the plaza, "in just a few short weeks, you will be going to the polls to vote in this year's mayoral primary for the candidate of your choice. Now, I could make you a lot of promises here today" -- he smiled warmly into the television cameras -- "but I won't. I think you all know me and I think you all know that in my over twenty years as a broadcaster in this great city, it's problems and the problems of its people have been of the utmost concern to me. As your mayor, I can finally be in a position where I won't just tell you the news, but help make it, instead!"
Foster paused as the crowd voiced its approval.
From high above the plaza, Batman could hear the applause and cheers.
"YOU WERE WARNED, FOSTER!"
Dan Foster whirled suddenly on the platform, his smile changing quickly to an open-mouthed expression of horror as he faced the speaker of those words. The costumed figure was running toward the rear of the platform, the blank lenses of his eyes seemed to be flashing as they fixed on the candidate.
"BATMAN?!"
The gray-and-black-clad figure clubbed a surprise police officer out of his path, tossing the limp, unconscious man at a group of onrushing security men. They caught the thrown body, the impact sending several thudding against the ground as they tried to support the man's dead weight. Then, without breaking stride, the phony Batman leaped onto the speaker's platform before Foster, clutching at red, white, and blue bunting for support.
"That's right, old man!" the masked figure growled. "I told you I'd be back if you didn't drop out of this race!"
Foster took a step back, but the phony Batman's gloved hand streaked out, grasping the candidate by his tie and yanking the frightened man sharply toward him, nearly choking him in the process. "And this time, Foster," he hissed, "you're going to die!"
Several hundred feet beyond and above the now chaotic plaza, the real Batman watched the scene from his perch on the roof of the Gotham Times Building. He reached to his utility belt and pulled out his trusty grapnel and aimed it at the building behind Foster and his own evil twin.
Twip!
In seconds, the Caped Crusader was arcing through the air, high over the heads of the stunned, silent crowd. Nobody took any notice of him, though. They all thought Batman was already there!
Plainclothes officer Will Marten, his service weapon in his hand, edged his way cautiously around the platform, moving ever so slowly to the masked intruder's blind side. Then he raised his gun, sighting in on the black cape on the costumed man's back. If only he could get off one shot ...
The gun flew out of his hand even as the his finger tightened on the trigger. His hand began to hurt from where it sustained an expert kick from ...
"Another Batman?!"
The Dark Knight eyed the gun on the ground with disgust.
Damned fool could've killed Foster a lot faster with that thing than my fake friend could with his hands. How come the police in this town all think with their guns?
The Masked Manhunter moved silently behind his double, who still clutched the struggling Foster in his hands, slowly twisting the very life from his throat.
"Excuse me," the real Batman said. "I hate to cut in on your dance like this, but I just had to find out who makes that costume for you."
The other man turned, dropping Foster. "Who ...?"
"ME!"
Batman lunged forward, grasping a handful of spandex costume in his fist as he swung his double around, lifting the man off the floor. The crowd gasped and flashbulbs began bursting all around them, but Batman's attention was on the squirming man he held suspended in the air.
"Truth to tell, you phony," the Gotham Goliath said through clenched teeth, "you're not much of a Batman. But -- and I can't emphasize this too strongly -- if you don't say the right things to me when I start asking questions, you're going to be even less of one! Do you understand?"
"The boss told me I might be running into you, freak!" the other man answered. "I'm ready for you!"
"You really think so, punk?"
"Really!"
With that, the phony Batman brought his hand up and shoved it toward his captor's face. In his hand was a rubber device that resembled a skull and apparently had a small nozzle that sprayed a cloud of yellow, noxious-smelling gas into the Caped Crusader's face even as his captive kicked a booted foot into his stomach.
Batman doubled over, sucking in a deep breath.
Blast! Didn't have time to hold my breath ... not that it would've done much good after getting booted in the gut!
The other man wrenched free of Batman's grip, jumping back several yards to stay out of his reach. Batman straightened, glaring at the mirror-image standing before him.
Strange ... there must be a reason he gassed me, but damn if I can figure it out! That stuff may smell worse than the sewers on a hot day, but it doesn't seem to have affected me! Well, that's his problem! At least it will be when I get my hands on him again!
Once more, Batman lunged at his opponent, but this time the other sidestepped nimbly, avoiding the Dark Knight's grasp. Then he stepped in swiftly under Batman's fists and landed a blow on the real hero's chin. Batman's head snapped back and he staggered slightly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
Whew! Phony, here, is a lot faster and stronger than I thought.
A uniformed policeman raced with several others onto the speaker's platform, surrounding the still-dazed Dan Foster with a circle of blue uniforms. His partner stood beside him, watching the struggle between the two Batmen with a puzzled expression on his face. He gestured helplessly with his handgun. "Jeez, Sarge," he whispered to the man next to him, "shouldn't we do something?"
"What, O'Malley? We don't even know which one of those guys is which! Forget it, Patrolman. I don't care what some cops says about Batman! He's done a hell of a lot to help us over the years, and as far as I'm concerned, he's okay!"
But the Masked Manhunter was not okay at that moment. His criminal counterpart landed another blow to his face, sending him reeling backward and through the wooden railing at the front of the speaker's platform. Batman hit the ground with a sickening thud, but was on his feet again in mere seconds.
Something is not quite right!
Batman pulled himself back up onto the platform in time to see the other man leap to the ground on the opposite side. With a single, incredible leap calculated to carry him over the platform and onto the back of his fleeing foe, Batman sprang forward ...
... and tumbled awkwardly to the poured-concrete floor, far short of his goal!
What's the matter with me?! I'm performing like somebody with two left feet, not to mention two left hands.
He scrambled to his feet, trying to keep his eyes on the darkly garbed figure racing desperately through the crowd.
Can't use my Bat-a-rang on him ... too many people in the way!
Instead, he fired his grapnel at the building and launched himself up over the crowd. He swung around to a flight of stairs that led out of the plaza that his double had taken, landing in the on-rushing man's path.
"Remember me, you phony?"
The fake Batman did not even break stride as he hunched down, head lowered like a football player, and barreled into the costumed hero. Batman fell back, landing on his backside with a spine-jarring plop! His evil double kept on running past the fallen form, then headed up Schiff Street toward Fifth Avenue. Batman scrambled to his feet and reached to his utility belt once again. This time he pulled out a Bat-Bola. Twirling it quickly in his right hand, he threw the weapon at the fleeing man's legs, entangling them in the thick wire.
Crunch!
He went down, cracking his jaw on the pavement, and before he could even look over his shoulder, Batman was on him. The Caped Crusader yanked his double to his feet, pulling back his right fist menacingly.
"Game's over, punk," he said. "You lose."
"NO!"
The fake Batman threw himself backward tearing free once more from the other's grasp. A right cross sent the real Dark Knight tumbling in the opposite direction, dazed and more than a little startled.
Dammit!
He shook off the effects of the blow and swung his fist at his opponent, who easily ducked under it. Then the other man straightened suddenly, butting his head into the masked hero's chest.
"Wooof!" The breath exploded from Batman's lungs, and this time it took him several seconds before his vision had cleared sufficiently to resume the chase.
The phony Batman ran across the plaza, crossing in front of a car as it screeched to a stop, narrowly avoiding hitting the darkly clad felon. He glanced but once over his shoulder, making sure the Masked Manhunter was still following him up Schiff Street. The imposter smiled beneath his cowl.
But even as Batman ran, his lungs beginning to ache from the exertion, he knew he was in trouble!
That blasted gas ... that's got to be it! Some kind of nerve gas to slow up my reflexes, weaken me enough to even up the odds for that dastardly villain, there!
Batman pushed roughly past a hot-dog vendor's stand being rolled up the street, never taking his eyes from the figure ahead.
I can't afford to try and take him one on one ... not pumped full of his toxin!
He watched as the phony Batman ducked into the Saturn Building.
To be continued ...
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