I don't own any of these characters DC does. I hope everyone enjoys the story. All reviews or comments welcome I'm trying to improve my writing!
Batman – Murderer? – Chapter Two
Commissioner Gordon struck a match on the fire escape door and lit his cigarette. The cigarette end glowed in the darkness. He was on the top of Gotham Police building. He dreaded to think how many times he had done what he was about to do. He pressed a button and a light beamed upwards into the sky the bat symbol at its centre.
"What if he doesn't turn up commish?" Asked Burke. He was a big man who was busy getting bigger by eating a donut.
"Then at least we'll know won't we?" Said Gordon.
"He got careless with some of his toys," said Burke. "Big deal, no one is going to miss those two crum bums."
"I still don't think it was Batman who killed those two."
"Wake up and smell Gotham commish," said Burke. "The only reason he hasn't killed before is most of the people he beats senseless are too stupid to die."
"We've got no proof it was him. Anyone can put on a costume."
"How many other people are stupid enough to go out dressed like a flying mouse looking for a fight?" Said Burke, wiping crumbs from his chin onto his stained coat. "The broad he rescued was pretty insistent it was him."
At the edge of the building a man dressed in black with ears like devils horns appeared. A yellow bat symbol was emblazoned in the middle of his chest.
For once Bruce Wayne was at a loss for words.
"Married?" He said. "You want me to get married? Well it is something I've been looking to plan out possibly for the future. Maybe even this year."
She was glaring at him. Not even the Joker had a stare as icy cold as Aunt Celia.
"You're not getting any younger," said Aunt Celia. "You can't always go around attacking bad guys with your friends." She pointed her stick at Tim, whose eyebrows rose so high they nearly left his head.
Bruce gulped. How much did she know? How did she know? Who else knew? "What do you mean attacking bad guys?" he said in a falsetto voice.
"These computer games of yours!" said Aunt Celia. "I know what you youngsters get up to, I've read the papers. We need to find you a women."
Bruce clung to a possible life raft. "Well there aren't any suitable women in Gotham, I mean I've dated a lot of them."
Aunt Celia poked him with her stick. "I read the society pages young man. How do you know they are not suitable, you only date them once and then you cast them off like an old sock? We are going out tonight to find you a nice young lady."
Bruce was shocked to see his one and only life raft sink in front of him. He had one chance and he took it before the he sank along with his raft. "Well this black eye of mine won't heal up straight away. It might take several months for me to look datable." He sighed and tried to look as if it wasn't for the wretched fates he would be out there tonight cutting a dash with the females of Gotham.
"Nonsense," said Aunt Celia looking up at him. She rummaged around in her bag. What was she getting? It was makeup!
Bruce realised that his life raft had not just sunk, but blown up, burnt, frozen and possibly eaten on the way down. His eyes wide with fear he looked across at Tim. Faithful Robin, he had saved him more times then he could remember. If anyone could save him it was he. Tim was trying to hold a serious expression whilst simultaneously trying not to laugh. He looked like he was chewing a pepper. Alfred! Trusty, dependable, devoted, staunch, loyal Alfred! He had been his constant companion for most of his life. He'd think of something to say!
"I think if you try a little mascara on the bruising round his eye and some rouge on the bruise to his chin it will hide the effects nicely," said Alfred.
Gordon threw down his cigarette and stubbed it out with his shoe. He coughed, a horrible racking cough. One day he would have to quit. He glowered across at the shadowy figure.
"You mind telling me what happened to those two kids?"
Batman hissed. "What men?"
"Two perps end up dead with your boomerangs sticking out of them," Gordon turned to face him, he had a gun in his hand, "and if your Batman I'm Mickey Mouse."
Despite the shadows he could see "Batman" grin. "I'd love to kill a cute cartoon." His hands flickered and a silvery shape flew towards him. With a speed Gordon didn't know he had he threw himself to one side whilst simultaneously shooting at the shadowy figure. "Batman" threw himself off the building. Burke had got a shotgun and he was waving it where "Batman" had been. Gordon looked behind him at the fire exit door. A sharp silvery batarang was impaled in it. He touched the edge and it brought a speck of blood to his finger. Jeez, it was lethal.
"Looks like Bats has gone bats," grinned Burke.
"That was not Batman."
"Yeah I know, he was a regular blabbermouth compared with guano boy."
"Put out an all points," said Gordon. "I want that psycho arrested. Warn the boys he's handy with blades so gun him down if he so much as twitches."
"But what about the real Bats…"
"He'll have to take care of himself," he lit another cigarette, shielding the flame with his hand. He dragged the smoke into his lungs. God he loved this city sometimes! His wife was always talking about him getting a nice comfortable job in a little town but where else but Gotham could you gun down a mime and say you thought he was the Joker?
"Batman" was clinging to the side of the building. He looked down to the streets below. Several police cars sirens wailing were leaving below. The poor misguided fools. He got a grappling gun from his belt and aimed it at the nearest building. With a clanking sound it connected with a fire escape. Well here goes. Batman always made this seem so simple he thought. He leapt into the air and swung through the dark streets towards a police car. With a remarkable acrobatic skill he let go of the rope and landed on top of a police car. He grabbed hold of the sirens and leaned to the left just before some shots tore through the roof. He grabbed a fragmentation grenade from his belt and threw it in the window and then leapt onto the roof of a passing lorry. Behind him with a horrible wet sounding explosion the police car blew up. Damn the lorry roof was wet. He had trouble keeping his balance and crouched down to present less wind resistance. Good. If that won't get the police attention nothing will.
He had wanted Gordon dead. Who would have thought that cancer-ridden old man could move so fast? He leapt into the air and grabbed a passing lamppost. Balancing carefully on the light he aimed his last grappling hook at the nearest building. He attached the rope to a small motor on his belt and was winched up to the top of the nearest building. How many dead was that? He wished he had looked in the car before he had escaped? Two. At least two. Possibly three? No he would call it two. He pulled down his sleeve and looked at his scarred arm. He pulled out a small knife from his belt and cut two fresh lines. He was shaking. He brought the knife to his mouth and tenderly licked it clean, still shaking in ecstasy.
Whilst applying makeup to a glowering Bruce Wayne who was muttering that Clark Kent never had to put up with this, Alfred whispered to Bruce.
"Sorry about this Master Bruce," he glanced over his shoulder. That harridan was still looking at him. He whispered to him very quietly whilst hardly moving his lips. "There was a message from Mr Gordon in your Gotham office. I listened into the police band and apparently Batman has killed four people including two officers."
"And I'm here entertaining my relatives!?" Bruce hissed at him. "Alfred you've got to get me out of this!"
Alfred turned to Aunt Celia. "I'm afraid work have called for Mr Wayne, madam he has to go now. I know you've had a long trip. I'll show you to your suite. We serve lunch at 8 o'clock madam. Tonight the cook is doing pot roast lamb followed by summer fruit gateau."
Aunt Celia turned to Bruce. "You've got to go out to work tonight?"
"Sadly," said Bruce, shaking his head and trying to look like the weight of the entire financial world was on his shoulders.
"You own the company, you don't go running about for them, they run about for you!"
"I could always give you a light snack madam?" Said Alfred, grimly trying to change the conversation. "Salmon with ginger? Cheese-stuffed chicken? Beef in black bean sauce? Pot noodles?"
"Bring the car out front Albert!" Said Aunt Celia, waving her stick at all of them. "We're hitting the town!"