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 7
Fahtwhoooosh!
A small ball of fire and black smoke exploded mere inches from Batman's eyes as he came charging through the revolving doors that led into the Saturn Building. His double stood in the middle of the rapidly clearing lobby, preparing to throw another small, square object at the Caped Crusader. Batman pulled out his grapnel and fired a line over his head at the ornate ceiling, pushed the button and he rose straight up, over the second exploding object.
He swung himself through the air on the wire, propelling himself to the other side of the lobby. But the fake Batman no longer seemed interested in his opponent as he sprinted for the bank of elevators which led to the uppermost floors of the building. Batman threw a Bat-a-rang at the fleeing figure, but the lightweight, collapsible hinged model just hit harmlessly against the closing elevator doors.
Batman cursed softly under his breath as he ran toward the elevators. He felt his sense of balance being impaired by the mysterious gas that had invaded his nervous system.
Each bank of elevators in the Saturn Building were watched over by a security guard whose job it was to make sure visitors did indeed have appointments on the floors above and that those who did not never made it past the lobby. Tourists and the curious were easy for them to handle. Costumed heroes were not! Thus, the awe-struck guard at this bank of elevators stood open-mouthed and staring as Batman pulled out a "fireman's key" that allowed him to open the elevator doors manually. When the doors opened, he was staring into the dark, empty shaft.
He looked up to watch the elevator car carrying his costumed imitator rising at a high rate of speed. It continued nonstop toward the top of the building.
Again, reaching for his grapnel, Batman fired a wire at the underside of the ascending elevator car.
The security guard gasped as the caped figure began to rise in the elevator shaft.
It was quite a ride, even for the Dark Knight of Gotham City. Not only was the elevator, itself, moving up, but his grapnel was also winding to pull him toward the car.
Once I reach the bottom of the car, I'm still not sure what I'm going to do.
Moments later, the elevator car did stop near the top of the building. The only thing Batman could do was to slip between the wall of the shaft beside the door on the next floor below. With a small pry bar from his utility belt, he was able to get his fingers between the two doors in an effort to pull them open wide enough so he could exit onto the floor.
The nerve gas must have a progressive effect based on the amount of exertion I expend.
Inch-by-inch, the doors began to give way under Batman's efforts.
C'mon, dammit! I can do it!
Finally, the twin doors opened and Batman tumbled out of the shaft onto a plushly carpeted floor. A woman screamed.
Batman rose groggily to his feet.
Whew! That took a lot out of me ... maybe too much. Still, the gas doesn't seem to be lethal, just damned annoying.
For the first time, the Masked Manhunter looked at his new surroundings. He was standing by a wooden podium next to the bank of elevators. Behind the podium stood a startled man in a tuxedo. A cloakroom was off to one side, and the woman who had screamed at his appearance stood there, letting her mink jacket trail on the floor. Through an entrance opposite the elevators, Batman could hear the clink of silverware against china and the subdued murmur of many people.
"H-have you a ... reservation, sir?" That from the tuxedoed man.
"A what?"
The man in the tuxedo was taken aback. "A-a r-reservation, sir," he stammered. "Diners must have a ..."
Batman looked first to the second elevator door and then back at the man. He growled back, "Do I look like a diner to you?"
"Well, sir, it is not my place to comment on the dress of the Rainbow Grill's clientele, although a tie is generally ..."
"Trust me. All my ties clash with this outfit."
The light beside the elevator blinked on with a low pinging sound as the doors slid smoothly open. Batman braced himself, ready to envelop his phony opponent should he step from the elevator.
The car was empty.
Batman stepped cautiously into the vacant elevator, his eyes narrowed behind the blank lenses in his mask.
He could be anywhere in this building by now.
The Masked Avenger's thoughts were suddenly interrupted. From the restaurant beyond the bank of elevator's, he heard the loud sound of clucking in a laugh of a voice he knew all too well from his past. The disappearance of the imposter forgotten, Batman ran from the elevator car, pushing past the tuxedoed maitre d', who thought he should at least investigate the unseemly appearance of this strange man in his restaurant.
The Rainbow Grill atop the Saturn Building was one of Gotham City's finest and more well-known eating establishments. Overlooking downtown Gotham, this rather exclusive restaurant offered diners a superb view of the city through the circular room. It was from a corner of the dining room, against the windows, that the clucking laughter originated.
The clucking laughter of the Penguin.
Opposite him sat -- Selina?! She was radiant in a light purple jumpsuit, her face as bright as the summer sun. She laughed easily with the barrel-bodied man.
Batman stood at the entrance to the restaurant, staring in wonder at the two of them across the room. His eyes didn't take in the mountain of a man sitting at the next table.
The other diners in the room stopped talking suddenly at the sight of the dark gray-and-black-clad man, but he took no notice of them, just as the Penguin and Selina Kyle seemed oblivious to his presence. The Caped Crusader would soon change that.
"Well," he called out, "Look what the cat dragged in."
Penguin turned from his salmon steak, the smile on his face slowly fading as he caught sight of the costumed figure across the room. Selina paled.
The master criminal's bodyguard/henchman rose, facing the foe.
Selina reached over and touched the Penguin's arm. "Now, Oswald, remember where you are."
"Quack, Squawk! We have no reason to engage in battle, my dear," he said to her. He then turned to face his longtime foe. "What do you want of me, Batman?"
The other diners turned as one toward Batman, breathlessly waiting for him to reply. Many people had already recognized the short, stout man, the word was passed in hushed, tense whispers to the others. They knew what must come next.
"Just your hide, you Black Bird of Prey," the Dark Knight answered.
Penguin spread his hands before him in a gesture of noncomprehension. "Why? What law have I broken to arouse your ire this time?"
"How about impersonating a human being, for starters?"
With those words Batman charged across the room past panicking men and women who realized they were quite suddenly in the middle of what was to become a raging battleground. Penguin made no other move than to pull Selina from her seat. "Go!" he hissed.
Next, he grabbed his umbrella that was standing against the edge of the table. "Quack, squawk! Mister Shark! Take care of the Caped Creep!"
He looked back toward Selina. "Please, Milady, I think it would be best if you were not here to witness this." One of his eyes glinted at Batman through his monocle. "It shall be most unpleasant."
Selina left the table as quickly as she could. She knew the police would be arriving soon.
Batman leaped through the air, over tables and chairs. His gloved hands went for the Penguin's throat but they never made it.
Shark grunted as he wedged himself between his boss and the Masked Manhunter and pushed mightily.
Still weakened from the gas, Batman staggered backwards, giving Shark the opportunity to smash a sledgehammer-like fist into his chest. The Gotham Avenger rolled with the blow as best he could, pirouetting away from Shark on the balls of his feet.
The Penguin stood with feet spread, his umbrella at the ready for any attack. "Quack, squawk! Then this is how it is to be, Batman?"
"Quit playing stupid with me, you dastardly villain," Batman said. "I don't particularly care why you're trying to set me up for a fall with your own, personal Batman flunky doing the dirty work, but ..."
"Talk sense, man!" Penguin said, his face registering genuine confusion at Batman's words.
"C'mon, Penguin, we both know you're behind the attacks on Dan Foster! Your second-rate hero led me right into your pudgy lap."
"Quack, squawk! My ...?"
"You should've been an actor, you filthy criminal. That way you would've been up for an Academy Award for this performance instead of a long jail sentence up the river."
Batman rushed forward his arms outstretched but before he could grab the Penguin's lapels, Shark interposed himself between the two again. The big man, his reflexes unclouded by any substance, was faster than Batman. He grasped the Caped Crusader by the wrists and began to squeeze. Batman grunted in pain involuntarily.
This guy is super-powerful!
Batman gritted his teeth, trying to pull free of the bone-crushing hold. But the henchman was too powerful for the drugged hero. Instead, Batman threw his own 210 pounds back, momentarily upsetting the Shark's balance. He toppled backward, falling into a smooth, practice somersault. And before the Shark could release his grasp, he fell with Batman, who propelled the big man over his head with his feet. The floor of the restaurant fairly shuddered as almost a quarter of a ton of flesh and bone slammed into the ground.
With the speed and agility that amazed the Dark Knight of Gotham, Shark sprang immediately to his feet. His cruel features were set in an expression of hate.
Got to keep him angry so he doesn't get a chance to plan any strategy. In my condition, I doubt if I could take Scarface, let alone this walking skyscraper!
Batman was correct. The Penguin's bodyguard/henchman was far too angered by being thrown around by a smaller man to bother forming any battle plans. But for a man who possessed the strength of a runaway locomotive, skill and finesse were not always necessary in a fight -- not when he could simply lumber forward, grasp his opponent by neck and crotch before the other could react, lift him like a rag doll over his head, and heave him through a plate-glass window, hundreds of feet above the concrete of Gotham City.
Batman sailed through the Rainbow Brill's glass wall almost as if it were not there. His hand shot out, feeling desperately for the side of the building, just inches out of his reach. He fell with a shower of glass slivers raining around him, his body twisting awkwardly through the air.
He plunged headlong toward the street below, faster and faster with each second, the ground rushing up to meet him. Batman twisted his body in the air, maneuvering himself now. There was no panic left in him, no thought, as instincts honed to a fine edge through years of battling for survival took over. Below him, slightly off to his right, a flagpole jutted from the fifth floor of the building, and it was that which he aimed for. Like a parachutist in free fall, he used his cape to control his direction, bending his body in an effort to slow his speed.
The flagpole rushed up to meet him, and at the last possible second he straightened, his left hand reaching out to grasp the pole as he streaked by. His fingers closed around it and, with a spine-wrenching jerk, he stopped his headlong plummet to death. But this respite was only temporary, as Batman felt his left arm yank loose from its socket with the sudden force. Before he could bring his right hand up to reinforce his hold, his numbed fingers gave way.
His left arm dangling uselessly at his side, he dropped again. But this time, less than thirty feet below him, was the overhang of the Saturn Building's front entrance. He landed on his feet on the canopy's edge, his legs flexing at the last moment to absorb the impact of landing. He tottered at the edge for several seconds, unable to use his dislocated left arm to regain his balance. He fell the final dozen feet to the sidewalk, but before he landed in a crumpled heap, unconscious, the crimefighter called Batman managed to press a concealed button on his utility belt.
^^V^^ ^^V^^ ^^V^^
Not far from the Saturn Building was another well-known landmark that was called the Clocktower. Inside was Barbara Gordon. Paralyzed from the waist down, Barbara was once known as the high-flying Batgirl. A gunshot from the Joker crippled the red-headed woman and ended her career as the domino daredoll. She refused to let her confinement to a wheelchair end her battle against crime and evil. After a time, Barbara adopted a new guise as a computer expert and became the all-knowing and all-seeing Oracle!
Oracle's workstation in the Clocktower was comprised of six Yale super-computers that were slaved to her voice patterns.
At the moment, an alarm was sounding and Barbara's primary computer screen was flashing red. One of the Bat-clan had pressed their emergency panic alarm. Someone needed help!
Oracle pressed some keys on her computer keyboard and immediately was able to ascertain who required assistance and where they were approximately. She pressed another key to open a special encrypted radio link.
"Batman ...?" she called out into the attached microphone that hung from the headset at the side of her head.
She tried again, "Batman! I'm not getting -- can you hear me?"
Though trained not to panic, one could hear the edge in her voice. "Answer me, dammit! Are you alright?"
Not liking the silence she was receiving, she tried again, "... can you hear me?"
Barbara clicked some more keys and opened all the Bat radios. "Okay, people, we've got a problem. The Blackbird is down. I repeat, the Blackbird is down. He's in the City Hall District."
Punching some additional computer keys that allowed her to get a Global Positioning System fix on the emergency radio signal that was emanating from the Caped Crusader's communications equipment, Barbara instructed, "He's at or around the Saturn Building. Anybody in the area?"
^^V^^ ^^V^^ ^^V^^
The blackness before Batman's eyes began to disintegrate. First tiny pinpoints of light pierced the dark veil, expanding slowly into muddy gray and white patches. Then, rich pastel colors swirled into his vision, settling finally into a hazy view of the scene around him. He was back in the cave in a small, partitioned-off section of the infirmary, lying on his back on the examination table. He brought his hand quickly to his face, feeling that the mask and cowl had been removed.
"Sir? Can you hear me?" came a voice off to the side.
Batman tried to raise himself on his elbows to face Alfred and he winced in pain as he put his weight on his left arm. "Here now, Master Bruce," the butler/medic said quickly, "you'd better watch that arm of yours. Let me help you." He felt strong hands brace his back, lowering him to the table.
Alfred stepped around into Batman's line of vision. He was out of his customary suit jacket. His suspenders had been taken off his shoulders and were hanging from his waist. He had taken off his tie, opened his shirt collar and had rolled up his sleeves. It was not the usually impeccably dressed Alfred.
He smiled pleasantly at Batman.
"How're you feeling, sir?"
"H-how did I get here?"
"Now, now. We'll answer my questions first and then yours, all right?"
Despite his weariness Batman looked up at him. "You're in charge now."
"That's true. Now, how do you feel?"
"Fine."
Considering I just fell a couple of a dozen stories from the top of the Saturn Building.
"Double vision? Headache? Any problems at all?"
"Just my arm. Did I break it?"
Alfred shook his head. "No, sir, but you have dislocated it. I took X-rays and it should be as good as new in about a week, provided, of course, you take it easy." He laughed. "I know you don't do much of that, do you?"
"No, I can't" the Caped Crusader admitted. "You're getting pretty good at patching me up."
Alfred waved the observation aside, smiling. "Sir, I've been in your service ever since you began putting on the cowl and tights. I've become quite adept at fixing your cuts and scrapes."
Batman sat up, careful to keep his weight off his bad arm. It didn't hurt as long as it was not jarred. In fact, his shoulder was pretty much numb to all sensation. Novocain, he guessed.
I'm in for some real, honest-to-goodness hurting when that wears off.
"Not to change the subject, Alfred, but would you mind telling me how I got back here?"
"Miss Selina."
"Selina?"
Alfred nodded. "She is such a beautiful woman," he said wistfully.
"Why thank you, Alfred," came a familiar feminine voice from behind.
Alfred laughed and began to step back from the examination table. He pulled aside a curtain and left Batman alone with Selina Kyle in the small infirmary. Bruce took the opportunity to slide off the table, gingerly testing to see if his legs would hold his weight. They did.
Selina watched him with a mixture of anger and humor on her face. She was beautiful, as always.
Bruce found his voice. "I think I owe you thanks for getting me back here."
"No," she said in a low voice. "I love you and that's what I'm supposed to do. You were hurt, nearly killed," and her voice rose, "you jackass! I saw you lying on the sidewalk, I couldn't leave you there to die ... Tim came in his little red car and picked you up and brought you back here."
"Where is he?"
"Upstairs. Eating. Isn't that what teenagers do most of the time? That and sleep?"
Bruce nodded.
"What were you trying to do?" she asked him. "You knew I was working on something against the Penguin. Why'd you come and almost ruin it?"
"I didn't know you were there."
"Well, can't you just back off from him for while until I do what I have to?"
Like what, Selina?"
"I can't tell you now."
"But he's breaking the law! I can't let him get away with it."
"Why not? Has God appointed you the final arbitrator in such matters?"
Batman shrugged. "It's what I do."
"Then, you're saying I can't change your mind to give me a little time?" She turned to leave. She stopped and turned to face Batman again. "You are more like the rogues than you think, Bruce. Could that be why you hate them so?"
"I don't hate them," he said softly. "Well, maybe the Joker -- but it's the game we've all chosen to play. None of us can change the rules. That's the way it is."
Selina's eyes narrowed. "I've always changed the rules to fit me. I'm with you now, aren't I?"
"Yes."
She swept aside the curtain and was gone.
She's a hell of a woman and I'm lucky to have her at my side ... sometimes.
To be continued ...
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