Chapter 9
Back Alley, Gotham City
The Corinthan was sure that the costumed pair would be long gone by the time he was outside. That would be no problem to him as they were easy to find when you looked the right way.
As it turned out, he was wrong in one regard. A gang fight was taking place a street or two over and the "Dynamic Duo" has decided to intervene. This should be worth watching for all sorts of reasons.
The Corinthian faded himself out a little. As a Major Arcana of the Dreaming he had certain... abilities, granted to him by his creator and never revoked, which he usually did not manifest on Earth. This was a special occasion however. When he faded he was able to see without being seen, hear without making a sound, closer to being a dream again than an actual person. He allowed himself to move somewhat faster than a human as well, he wanted to see what was going on. He found the perfect vantage point on top of a parked truck and watched the scene unfold.
Batman had swung down between the two gangs. Both groups were populated with about twenty or so typical looking street thugs, and wore gang colours which presumably meant something to them. Each side was also laden with a variety of hand weapons; chains, knives, and a couple of the, presumably, higher-ranking members had handguns.
The voice that came from the alleyway than ran off the main street seemed to broadcast itself from every direction. The tone was flat and final; "You don't want to do this."
Batman stepped out of the shadows, and again the Corinthian was impressed by the man's ability to make an entrance. The shadows seemed to part to allow him through.
Robin's voice, coming from where he was now very visibly lounging on the second storey of a nearby fire escape was more conciliatory "He's serious guys, you really don't. That way lies a trip to the Emergency Room; needles, stitches, swabs, medical insurance claims, all sorts of really bad stuff."
Neither side looked ready to listen to either the bad cop or the good cop. To their credit, the odd member did suddenly look as though they wished they were several miles away, but none backed out.
"Robin..." The Corinthian saw Batman make a small gesture behind his back, three fingers raised and splayed out.
Whatever the signal was the boy clearly understood it, as within an instant three batarangs appeared in his hand and he was poised to throw.
Both gangs decided to rush at the same moment, but found that their primary target was not where he had been a moment ago.
Three batarangs curved through the air, striking at the three gang-members who had firearms at the ready. There were three shrieks as the razor points of the weapons, seemingly harmless toys in McSurleys bar a few moment ago, impacted on the hands holding the guns. One went off, firing wildly into the air, but the other two fell from suddenly agonised hands.
Grabbing his jumpline, Robin then dived down from his vantage point and entered the melee. By withdrawing into the alleyway the gangs might have assumed Batman and Robin would be hemmed in, but had not realised that it simply meant they themselves were trying to cram themselves into a smaller space, presenting a larger, less mobile target for the two heroes. By the time they HAD realised this, it was too late to do anything about it.
It was like a ballet in carefully modulated violence. For someone with such a long-standing, and well-cultivated, interest in brutality as the Corinthian, the contrast in styles was fascinating.
The gang members themselves were hardly worth mentioning. No real style, no real skill, just muscle, and little in the way of brain. A couple had had some sort of rudimentary street fighting skill, but had never bothered to develop it much, and there were no martial arts to speak of.
The Corinthian was a little surprised at this, most gangs had at least one self styled van Damme.... Ah, _there_ he was, as if on cue, jumping around and kicking his feet out in a way that was supposed to be intimidating, but was, to anyone with any real training, almost laughable. The boy took him out with a knee to the stomach and a backhand to the face, not even needing to turn and face him properly.
Batman was pure power allied to exceptional dexterity. He knew how hard and where to hit to cause maximum (but not permanent) damage and used that force accurately, not an erg was wasted. When he hit you, you stayed down, first time, every time. He hardly seemed to move but was able to face each opponent at precisely the required angle.
The boy had a different approach, his gift was in his speed and acrobatic skill. He dodged, he dived, he leapt over his attackers, never where anyone assumed him to be and he used that momentary confusion to strike out wherever they happened to be weakest. Though there were aspects of at least three martial arts that the Corinthian recognised, at times he appeared to be improvising his moves as he went along, but was good enough to get away with it. He leapfrogged over one gang member who was collapsing unconscious, and vaulted up, kicking out at the chins of two others from a position that was almost the splits.
Watching, the Corinthian felt the hunger again, and controlled himself with an effort. It was important to observe his prey, and besides, stalking was a lot of fun. It was even moreso if your prey knew you were out there, but this was not the time for revelations of that order.
Even as he mused, the fight came to and end. Amidst the pile of semi-conscious bodies there were now only two standing figures, and both were wearing capes.
Batman's voice was cold, clear and certain; "This was a warning. You want a turf war, next time settle it another way. Something without weapons or injury."
"Bowling is good... no that involves each side having access to heavy blunt objects, too tempting. How about canasta?" offered Robin helpfully. That earned him a glower from his mentor, but he just shrugged.
Before they left, and after radioing in the location of the gangs, the Batman looked all around the area and, though it was against every law of nature and supernature, the Corinthian could have sworn he was looking right at him. He felt himself catch his breath and chided himself, in this state there was no mortal alive who would be able to see or hear him. Despite the numerous urban legends he'd heard, he had no sensation of any magical ability from either of these two, so it couldn't be that, could it be the Batman was just that observant?
A second later both figures were gone again.
Momentarily stunned the Corinthian stood there. Then he replayed those last few seconds in his head. He had seen the Batman looking at him, or rather "through" him, and in so doing he had seen the Batman's eyes. The protective lenses were no protection against the Corinthians perceptions, and what he saw there made him want to laugh out loud, he got the joke. The joke that even Batman probably wasn't aware of, but which he would be happy to share with him soon enough.
He looked around for a suitable message to leave, but none of the unconscious bodies around him suited his needs; too old, too ugly, too damn dirty. There was nothing that would make it worth his while to kill any of them. He had nothing against mindless slaughter, but there was a time and a place for everything and this wasn't it.
A short time later he found himself at Razors Edge again.
The figure of the Batman was striding down in the middle of the street, his cloak swirling around him impressively. His body language was utterly no-nonsense and every single person on the Edge, every john, prostitute and pimp was looking at him. The fact he was dragging a man behind him without it even slowing him down probably helped get their attention.
The boy was nowhere to be seen. This was not a time for him, this was a time for the Bat.
His voice must be being amplified somehow because it filled the whole street. "Attention to anyone who can hear me. I am hereby closing down all illegal business on the Razors Edge. Spread this message around. A young boy named Brad was killed last night after picking up a client here."
There was a minor commotion amongst a number of the underdressed boys clustered in one group. Their eyes were like saucers as they turned from simply staring at the Bat to talking amongst themselves.
Batman continued talking as if nothing had happened. "I will find the man who did that, and he will face justice. In the meantime, bear in mind that apart from the legal penalties that such acts entail, anyone who solicits minors for sexual purposes will be subject to my close, _personal_ attention. Marcus here will attest to that, he's going to be helping me with my enquiries very shortly. Anyone who cares to doubt me on this is welcome to do so, but would be very foolish to do so. I have already noted all car license plates that have driven down this street tonight and I have means of finding every single one of those drivers. You will leave now, and not return to this place."
With that there was a flash and a cloud of smoke billowing from Batman's feet, and when it had cleared he was gone, and so was the figure he had been carrying.
The Corinthian had of course, seen the manhole cover inches from where Batman had stopped to make his announcement, and seen him climb swiftly down into it, but it was still an impressive sight. Anyone limited to normal vision would make the assumption that Batman had vanished into thin air. Dramatic entrance, deathly serious delivery, implied threats that left the listener to fill in the blanks and one hell of an exit. The whole performance had been masterly. There'd be rumours circulating for years about this little episode alone.
He finally noticed the boy up on a rooftop, switching films in a miniature videocamera that was pointed at the street. Batman hadn't been lying about that then.
The Corinthian felt strangely relieved by that. He hated dishonesty, be open about who you are and what you do, and you have nothing to fear. He himself was utterly honest about his mission and his action's, it's just that no one who ever asked him lived long enough to do anything about it. Honesty also made whoever he was facing more predictable, and that could be very handy indeed.
He set out on the trail again, and after another fifteen minutes or so, during which time he found two bound muggers (Or so the notes signed with a small bat symbol attached to them said) and a singularly unsuccessful petty thief (Had she been a boy she might have almost been worthy of the Corinthians time, but such was not his luck), the Corinthian realised that he knew where they were heading, he'd seen parts of this area through Brad's eyes the previous night. And it was a far more likely possibility for some fun.
God, he hadn't been there three days yet and already this urban cancer of a city was all but welcoming him like a long lost lover. If he played this right then it would be better than he could have ever imagined.
And so the Corinthian found himself heading towards the area of Gotham known as the Chocolate Box.
Back Alley, Gotham City
The Corinthan was sure that the costumed pair would be long gone by the time he was outside. That would be no problem to him as they were easy to find when you looked the right way.
As it turned out, he was wrong in one regard. A gang fight was taking place a street or two over and the "Dynamic Duo" has decided to intervene. This should be worth watching for all sorts of reasons.
The Corinthian faded himself out a little. As a Major Arcana of the Dreaming he had certain... abilities, granted to him by his creator and never revoked, which he usually did not manifest on Earth. This was a special occasion however. When he faded he was able to see without being seen, hear without making a sound, closer to being a dream again than an actual person. He allowed himself to move somewhat faster than a human as well, he wanted to see what was going on. He found the perfect vantage point on top of a parked truck and watched the scene unfold.
Batman had swung down between the two gangs. Both groups were populated with about twenty or so typical looking street thugs, and wore gang colours which presumably meant something to them. Each side was also laden with a variety of hand weapons; chains, knives, and a couple of the, presumably, higher-ranking members had handguns.
The voice that came from the alleyway than ran off the main street seemed to broadcast itself from every direction. The tone was flat and final; "You don't want to do this."
Batman stepped out of the shadows, and again the Corinthian was impressed by the man's ability to make an entrance. The shadows seemed to part to allow him through.
Robin's voice, coming from where he was now very visibly lounging on the second storey of a nearby fire escape was more conciliatory "He's serious guys, you really don't. That way lies a trip to the Emergency Room; needles, stitches, swabs, medical insurance claims, all sorts of really bad stuff."
Neither side looked ready to listen to either the bad cop or the good cop. To their credit, the odd member did suddenly look as though they wished they were several miles away, but none backed out.
"Robin..." The Corinthian saw Batman make a small gesture behind his back, three fingers raised and splayed out.
Whatever the signal was the boy clearly understood it, as within an instant three batarangs appeared in his hand and he was poised to throw.
Both gangs decided to rush at the same moment, but found that their primary target was not where he had been a moment ago.
Three batarangs curved through the air, striking at the three gang-members who had firearms at the ready. There were three shrieks as the razor points of the weapons, seemingly harmless toys in McSurleys bar a few moment ago, impacted on the hands holding the guns. One went off, firing wildly into the air, but the other two fell from suddenly agonised hands.
Grabbing his jumpline, Robin then dived down from his vantage point and entered the melee. By withdrawing into the alleyway the gangs might have assumed Batman and Robin would be hemmed in, but had not realised that it simply meant they themselves were trying to cram themselves into a smaller space, presenting a larger, less mobile target for the two heroes. By the time they HAD realised this, it was too late to do anything about it.
It was like a ballet in carefully modulated violence. For someone with such a long-standing, and well-cultivated, interest in brutality as the Corinthian, the contrast in styles was fascinating.
The gang members themselves were hardly worth mentioning. No real style, no real skill, just muscle, and little in the way of brain. A couple had had some sort of rudimentary street fighting skill, but had never bothered to develop it much, and there were no martial arts to speak of.
The Corinthian was a little surprised at this, most gangs had at least one self styled van Damme.... Ah, _there_ he was, as if on cue, jumping around and kicking his feet out in a way that was supposed to be intimidating, but was, to anyone with any real training, almost laughable. The boy took him out with a knee to the stomach and a backhand to the face, not even needing to turn and face him properly.
Batman was pure power allied to exceptional dexterity. He knew how hard and where to hit to cause maximum (but not permanent) damage and used that force accurately, not an erg was wasted. When he hit you, you stayed down, first time, every time. He hardly seemed to move but was able to face each opponent at precisely the required angle.
The boy had a different approach, his gift was in his speed and acrobatic skill. He dodged, he dived, he leapt over his attackers, never where anyone assumed him to be and he used that momentary confusion to strike out wherever they happened to be weakest. Though there were aspects of at least three martial arts that the Corinthian recognised, at times he appeared to be improvising his moves as he went along, but was good enough to get away with it. He leapfrogged over one gang member who was collapsing unconscious, and vaulted up, kicking out at the chins of two others from a position that was almost the splits.
Watching, the Corinthian felt the hunger again, and controlled himself with an effort. It was important to observe his prey, and besides, stalking was a lot of fun. It was even moreso if your prey knew you were out there, but this was not the time for revelations of that order.
Even as he mused, the fight came to and end. Amidst the pile of semi-conscious bodies there were now only two standing figures, and both were wearing capes.
Batman's voice was cold, clear and certain; "This was a warning. You want a turf war, next time settle it another way. Something without weapons or injury."
"Bowling is good... no that involves each side having access to heavy blunt objects, too tempting. How about canasta?" offered Robin helpfully. That earned him a glower from his mentor, but he just shrugged.
Before they left, and after radioing in the location of the gangs, the Batman looked all around the area and, though it was against every law of nature and supernature, the Corinthian could have sworn he was looking right at him. He felt himself catch his breath and chided himself, in this state there was no mortal alive who would be able to see or hear him. Despite the numerous urban legends he'd heard, he had no sensation of any magical ability from either of these two, so it couldn't be that, could it be the Batman was just that observant?
A second later both figures were gone again.
Momentarily stunned the Corinthian stood there. Then he replayed those last few seconds in his head. He had seen the Batman looking at him, or rather "through" him, and in so doing he had seen the Batman's eyes. The protective lenses were no protection against the Corinthians perceptions, and what he saw there made him want to laugh out loud, he got the joke. The joke that even Batman probably wasn't aware of, but which he would be happy to share with him soon enough.
He looked around for a suitable message to leave, but none of the unconscious bodies around him suited his needs; too old, too ugly, too damn dirty. There was nothing that would make it worth his while to kill any of them. He had nothing against mindless slaughter, but there was a time and a place for everything and this wasn't it.
A short time later he found himself at Razors Edge again.
The figure of the Batman was striding down in the middle of the street, his cloak swirling around him impressively. His body language was utterly no-nonsense and every single person on the Edge, every john, prostitute and pimp was looking at him. The fact he was dragging a man behind him without it even slowing him down probably helped get their attention.
The boy was nowhere to be seen. This was not a time for him, this was a time for the Bat.
His voice must be being amplified somehow because it filled the whole street. "Attention to anyone who can hear me. I am hereby closing down all illegal business on the Razors Edge. Spread this message around. A young boy named Brad was killed last night after picking up a client here."
There was a minor commotion amongst a number of the underdressed boys clustered in one group. Their eyes were like saucers as they turned from simply staring at the Bat to talking amongst themselves.
Batman continued talking as if nothing had happened. "I will find the man who did that, and he will face justice. In the meantime, bear in mind that apart from the legal penalties that such acts entail, anyone who solicits minors for sexual purposes will be subject to my close, _personal_ attention. Marcus here will attest to that, he's going to be helping me with my enquiries very shortly. Anyone who cares to doubt me on this is welcome to do so, but would be very foolish to do so. I have already noted all car license plates that have driven down this street tonight and I have means of finding every single one of those drivers. You will leave now, and not return to this place."
With that there was a flash and a cloud of smoke billowing from Batman's feet, and when it had cleared he was gone, and so was the figure he had been carrying.
The Corinthian had of course, seen the manhole cover inches from where Batman had stopped to make his announcement, and seen him climb swiftly down into it, but it was still an impressive sight. Anyone limited to normal vision would make the assumption that Batman had vanished into thin air. Dramatic entrance, deathly serious delivery, implied threats that left the listener to fill in the blanks and one hell of an exit. The whole performance had been masterly. There'd be rumours circulating for years about this little episode alone.
He finally noticed the boy up on a rooftop, switching films in a miniature videocamera that was pointed at the street. Batman hadn't been lying about that then.
The Corinthian felt strangely relieved by that. He hated dishonesty, be open about who you are and what you do, and you have nothing to fear. He himself was utterly honest about his mission and his action's, it's just that no one who ever asked him lived long enough to do anything about it. Honesty also made whoever he was facing more predictable, and that could be very handy indeed.
He set out on the trail again, and after another fifteen minutes or so, during which time he found two bound muggers (Or so the notes signed with a small bat symbol attached to them said) and a singularly unsuccessful petty thief (Had she been a boy she might have almost been worthy of the Corinthians time, but such was not his luck), the Corinthian realised that he knew where they were heading, he'd seen parts of this area through Brad's eyes the previous night. And it was a far more likely possibility for some fun.
God, he hadn't been there three days yet and already this urban cancer of a city was all but welcoming him like a long lost lover. If he played this right then it would be better than he could have ever imagined.
And so the Corinthian found himself heading towards the area of Gotham known as the Chocolate Box.