(Naturally, Batman is a product of DC Comics, Warner Bros and created by Bob Cane... you know, all the good disclaimer stuff. Catherine Wayne, Kir and Ben Obiken are rather original creations... or something like that. THANKS FOR READING!)
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CHAPTER SEVEN - Interruptions
Faster.
Batman vaulted off the edge of the skyscraper's roof. It looked almost reckless from a certain point of view, but the dark knight more than knew what he was doing. Seconds were being calucated in his complex mind... two, one... fire. The zip cord's line arced across the night sky, perfectly locking itself against the Wayne Foundation building. The cord pulled against Batman's right wrist and arm; it was no more of a strain than his body was well used to.
Faster.
He was aware of the wind that rushed by his ears, beneath the cowl, but his listening attention was focused on the police reports. That vain fool, Batman thought. Hagen had started a blaze in an abandoned warehouse, intending to not only torch himself but as much of the city as he could too. Not that that would kill him, Batman knew. Mud doesn't die by fire.
Faster.
He catapaulted his body up and over the elevated train that lanced toward him, releasing the zip cord wire and already firing a new cord. Batman could smell the acrid smoke before he could see the dancing, teasing orange and yellow flames that had engulfed the building.
The fire department had just arrived and had hastily set up their lines and hoses. The first blasts of city water were reaching the flames but that only sought to encourage their dance.
Some surprise, given that city water comes from the East River, Batman thought cynically. Wayne needs to do more to clean up the river.
He paused, halting one roof over for just a moment to assess the situation. Maniac or not, insanely vain or not, Hagen... no, Clayface, needed to be rescued. The fire department would figure out how to extinguish the flames somehow, even if it meant taking water from the exclusive neighborhoods that didn't rely on city water primarily.
Batman stalked around the side of the roof, noting entrances to the warehouse. It looked impenetrable given the fire. In his mind, he could hear Clayface's raucous laughter as the fire licked his mud body, gloried in the fact that he'd take the city with him if he could.
He tensed, noting an office window in the furthest corner of the building from him. Through the windows, there was no discernable fire. Yet. Batman pulled his breather from the compact compartment of his belt and placed it over his face. He ran, jumped and rolled to the concrete.
The door was unlocked.
Batman moved stealthily through the entrance. Time was counting down now. He had to find Clayface before there was nothing left of the building. The fool wouldn't realize until the city was burning that this wouldn't allow him to die at all.
Darkness.
He clicked the infrared lenses over his eyes automatically, the movement so practiced that it required no thought.
Darkness remained.
Smoke.
Batman trusted his senses, making his way through the office in a near-blind state, weaving his way toward the center of the warehouse. He knew that Clayface would be nowhere else but what he'd perceived to be "center stage." An actor 'til the end.
So focused on his quest for the deranged actor was Batman, he had no chance to sense the presence of his attacker from his right. Batman was flung backward as though he'd been struck full in the chest, his legs flying out from under him.
What the--?
Batman searched the gloom. There. A shadow among the shadows.
"Get out of here," he growled.
"This isn't your fight," came the reply.
He winced inwardly. How in the black blazes of hell had he gotten in here? Why?
"Ben Obiken," he said through the oxygen mask.
"None other."
"Get out," Batman warned.
"I'm a messenger, Batman. Do not interfere in this."
Batman stood and had intended to charge past Obiken in the semi-darkness. He could still hear Clayface's laughter. Real? Imagined? It didn't matter. Again, he didn't see the assault, but he was thrown backward.
"This is my city," he huffed, fuming. "GET OUT OF MY WAY."
"Listen to me," Ben said in an even voice. "Hagen will escape regardless of your involvement. He's already escaped--"
"No thanks to you."
"Regardless of my involvement," he stressed. "He was gone as soon as the blaze started. Shaping shifting is his new forte. All you'll do is get yourself killed if you proceed."
Frustrated, Batman snapped, "And how the hell would you--?"
"I know. Now. You have precisely 45 seconds to remove yourself from this place or you'll be killed regardless of my intervention here. Heed me. This is not your fight."
Go.
Stay.
Go.
Stay.
Batman's mind buzzed faster than he could nearly keep up. He felt confused. Was it smoke inhalation? Something Obiken was doing to him?
He felt an arm around his waist and he was being drug across the office.
"No!" Batman shouted, enraged. But somehow, he couldn't break free of Ben Obiken's lean but firm grip.
Ben shoved him behind a parked car and crouched down beside him. In a casual though overly-confident voice, he said, "And three, two, one..."
Batman could hear, though not see, the roof's collapse. He looked to Ben. "We need to talk."
.
.
.
.
.
.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Interruptions
Faster.
Batman vaulted off the edge of the skyscraper's roof. It looked almost reckless from a certain point of view, but the dark knight more than knew what he was doing. Seconds were being calucated in his complex mind... two, one... fire. The zip cord's line arced across the night sky, perfectly locking itself against the Wayne Foundation building. The cord pulled against Batman's right wrist and arm; it was no more of a strain than his body was well used to.
Faster.
He was aware of the wind that rushed by his ears, beneath the cowl, but his listening attention was focused on the police reports. That vain fool, Batman thought. Hagen had started a blaze in an abandoned warehouse, intending to not only torch himself but as much of the city as he could too. Not that that would kill him, Batman knew. Mud doesn't die by fire.
Faster.
He catapaulted his body up and over the elevated train that lanced toward him, releasing the zip cord wire and already firing a new cord. Batman could smell the acrid smoke before he could see the dancing, teasing orange and yellow flames that had engulfed the building.
The fire department had just arrived and had hastily set up their lines and hoses. The first blasts of city water were reaching the flames but that only sought to encourage their dance.
Some surprise, given that city water comes from the East River, Batman thought cynically. Wayne needs to do more to clean up the river.
He paused, halting one roof over for just a moment to assess the situation. Maniac or not, insanely vain or not, Hagen... no, Clayface, needed to be rescued. The fire department would figure out how to extinguish the flames somehow, even if it meant taking water from the exclusive neighborhoods that didn't rely on city water primarily.
Batman stalked around the side of the roof, noting entrances to the warehouse. It looked impenetrable given the fire. In his mind, he could hear Clayface's raucous laughter as the fire licked his mud body, gloried in the fact that he'd take the city with him if he could.
He tensed, noting an office window in the furthest corner of the building from him. Through the windows, there was no discernable fire. Yet. Batman pulled his breather from the compact compartment of his belt and placed it over his face. He ran, jumped and rolled to the concrete.
The door was unlocked.
Batman moved stealthily through the entrance. Time was counting down now. He had to find Clayface before there was nothing left of the building. The fool wouldn't realize until the city was burning that this wouldn't allow him to die at all.
Darkness.
He clicked the infrared lenses over his eyes automatically, the movement so practiced that it required no thought.
Darkness remained.
Smoke.
Batman trusted his senses, making his way through the office in a near-blind state, weaving his way toward the center of the warehouse. He knew that Clayface would be nowhere else but what he'd perceived to be "center stage." An actor 'til the end.
So focused on his quest for the deranged actor was Batman, he had no chance to sense the presence of his attacker from his right. Batman was flung backward as though he'd been struck full in the chest, his legs flying out from under him.
What the--?
Batman searched the gloom. There. A shadow among the shadows.
"Get out of here," he growled.
"This isn't your fight," came the reply.
He winced inwardly. How in the black blazes of hell had he gotten in here? Why?
"Ben Obiken," he said through the oxygen mask.
"None other."
"Get out," Batman warned.
"I'm a messenger, Batman. Do not interfere in this."
Batman stood and had intended to charge past Obiken in the semi-darkness. He could still hear Clayface's laughter. Real? Imagined? It didn't matter. Again, he didn't see the assault, but he was thrown backward.
"This is my city," he huffed, fuming. "GET OUT OF MY WAY."
"Listen to me," Ben said in an even voice. "Hagen will escape regardless of your involvement. He's already escaped--"
"No thanks to you."
"Regardless of my involvement," he stressed. "He was gone as soon as the blaze started. Shaping shifting is his new forte. All you'll do is get yourself killed if you proceed."
Frustrated, Batman snapped, "And how the hell would you--?"
"I know. Now. You have precisely 45 seconds to remove yourself from this place or you'll be killed regardless of my intervention here. Heed me. This is not your fight."
Go.
Stay.
Go.
Stay.
Batman's mind buzzed faster than he could nearly keep up. He felt confused. Was it smoke inhalation? Something Obiken was doing to him?
He felt an arm around his waist and he was being drug across the office.
"No!" Batman shouted, enraged. But somehow, he couldn't break free of Ben Obiken's lean but firm grip.
Ben shoved him behind a parked car and crouched down beside him. In a casual though overly-confident voice, he said, "And three, two, one..."
Batman could hear, though not see, the roof's collapse. He looked to Ben. "We need to talk."