Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin, Zsasz, Tony Bressi or Gordon. DC does. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read and/or review the story so far. I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter. If there are any bits you like or don't like please let me know! Cheers Rob
Batman – Murderer – Chapter Five
The roof was deeply shadowed. Batman and Robin took to the shadows as soon as they landed. There was something wrong. Batman changed to star light lenses and suddenly saw them. A police swat team was hiding in the shadows all around them.
"Stay down," hissed Batman to Robin. "There is a police Swat team all around us." He looked up. Damn, another caped man touched down on the roof the other side. Zsasz. He also disappeared from view.
"The police aren't going to shoot us down are they?" Said Robin. There was no reply. "Are they?"
"Zsasz is here as well. Zsasz and I obviously go to the same tailor. The police will be unlikely to ask before shooting."
"They wouldn't shoot Batman would they?"
"A choice of that or going home in a body bag? I would shoot first."
"What should I do?"
"Stay down." Robin hid behind a ventilation shaft. "Stay there until I call you."
A scream pierced the night sky to end in a horrible gurgling sound. Zsasz. He was loose and killing. Not one more death. Not one more. Batman stood up and a shot cracked against the ventilation shaft next to him. Damn. He ducked down again. This was going to be difficult. He started to creep towards the sound of where the scream had been. His cloak hid his shape and he could see with the star light lenses. He had to be quiet. Every two yards he stopped and listened and watched.
He breathed deeply. Unbidden he saw all the other victims of Zsasz in his mind. Throats cut, bellies sliced, hearts ripped out. Don't think. Concentrate on the job in hand. Zsasz's psychologist in Arkham said he was an addict. Addicted to killing. Went into cold turkey if he couldn't kill. Sweat, shakes the lot. He couldn't control himself.
No-more victims to Zsasz's knife. All his victims thought they would live forever. They had planned out their next meal; there next holiday, what were they doing at the weekend. What about Batman though? Was he so different? Sure he wore a cloak. He had a superhero motif. He stood up to be counted. But he was human. He could bleed. He could die.
He moved onto the next shadow. He couldn't die. He had been in worse than this and survived. But was he living on luck? No, he was living on training. Years of training with some of the worlds best. Yes, but Zsasz was good as well. In fact Zsasz was the best at what he did. Creeping around in the dark and killing, forever killing. He couldn't stop himself he was addicted to butchery. He killed in a vain attempt to silence the demons inside himself.
Batman didn't like where his thoughts were taking him. He hunted criminals in the futile attempt to calm the demons inside him, but his demons were also insatiable. Was he so different?
The gravel crunched under his leather gloves. The smell of stagnant rainwater was in his nose. Shadows moved around him. The breeze blew up against his face. He crouched to his feet, a batarang in one hand, and his other hand protecting his throat. Nothing. He was shaking? Batman was shaking! He ruled the night! He did! Not this psychopathic killer. Yes. But that was just words. Zsasz didn't use words. He used numbers. Every kill sliced into his skin. A permanent reminder to him. Well Zsasz would not mark himself with a knife bloodied with Batman's blood. He started creeping forward again.
He stopped creeping forward and listened. He heard the sound of breathing. He could smell sweat. He could smell the fear. There was a rustling sound. Police Kevlar against a standard issue police jumper. He had heard it enough times to know. Was he being watched now? Was a policeman about to end his life? Not killed by a criminal but by an officer of the law? No, he could not sense anything. He looked up. The unmistakeable outline of an armed officer was against the skyline. Like an ancient demon a shadow loomed over the officer and there was a glint of metal and suddenly Batman was spattered in blood.
No! Batman leapt to his feet. He was too slow to save the officer in front of him but he lunged at Zsasz. He grabbed at Zsasz's knife hand and with one foot kicked at Zsasz's chest to try and dislocate his arm. The blood on his arm meant that it slipped from Batman's grasp and Zsasz wriggled free. A shot fired behind him took Batman in the small of the back and another sliced into the top of his arm. Pain ripped into his brain and white dots invaded his vision. No don't pass out, don't pass out! The last thing he remembered seeing was Zsasz running to the edge of the building where Robin was hiding…
Aunt Celia was enjoying herself. She hadn't had so much fun in years. The bar staff here were fairly amateurish but under her careful tutelage they were actually making some half decent cocktails.
"Excuse me dear," she said. "I think this one needs a bit more gin? Just a smidgeon?" She waved her glass under the bar stewards nose. With a sigh he added a little bit more into her drink.
A thought wormed its way into her mind. Where were the boys? She hadn't seen them in at least half an hour.
She glared at the young man next to her. "Look after my seat young man; I'm just popping out for a moment."
She waddled over to the exit. The doorman said. "Stamp your hand for re-entry madam?"
"You are not putting ink on my hand, young man."
"You'll have to pay again to come back in if you don't…"
"I have paid once, young man, and if you can't remember what a beautiful woman like me looks like?" She waved her hands over her ample frame. Admittedly it once had been a beautiful body but like plate tectonics on a primordial planet, things weren't where they first started. "Then I would suggest you have your eyes tested."
The doorman looked at her. Anything for a quiet life. "Okay madam, you enjoy your evening." He stepped to one side.
She waddled up the alleyway. Where were Bruce and that boy? Tim wasn't it? She got her mobile out of her capacious handbag and dialled up Alfred. Bruce had made her program in his number before they had left.
"Albert! Alfred, sorry!" For some reason she had Albert on the brain? "Where is Bruce? Where is Tim? Where are you?" She looked up as she walked into the main street.
"If you wait outside the club madam, I will be with you shortly," Alfred's reassuring voice said on the phone.
The van stopped outside the building. All around them were people leaving clubs. Queuing to go into casinos. Kissing in shop doorways, throwing up in shop doorways, shooting up in shop doorways. Gotham by night. Bressi stepped out of the van and looked around. Not a single police officer sullied his view. His phone started beeping. It was time.
He banged on the side of the van. "Come on boys, I want this operation completed in ten minutes."
His men stormed out of the van, as they were doing in several other locations around the city. Already he could hear alarms sounding around Gotham. If the police weren't stretched dealing with Zsasz they would shortly be running around dealing with all these alarms.
Bressi grinned. The shocked clubbers started to gather around in a wide circle but no one was doing anything. His men ran up to the doorway slammed some semtex on it and ran back to hide behind the van.
Boom! The door burst open and showered a gentle rain of dust over the whole street.
Bressi pulled a mask over his head. "Come on people, let's get it together." He looked around at his men. They were all dressed as Batman. Cloaks flying behind them they ran into the building. The clubbers behind him were staring in shock. Not only had Gotham's protector somehow multiplied but also he was robbing the city museum?
Aunt Celia was looking at the crowd surrounding a van in front of her. There was a big explosion and dust settled over everything. Including her nice hat. She took it off in shock. It was covered in dust. She had got that in Oxford Street! Her husband. God rest his soul. Had nearly had a heart attack when he saw the price. It was the last thing he had ever given her, before that car had jumped the pavement and taken him from her life forever. Right someone is going to pay for this!
She walked into the street. A crowd of spectators were ogling the scene. She used her stick to force her way to the front.
"Let me through! I'm a tourist! I'm British! Move out the way? Where are your manners? Politeness costs nothing!" Someone turned around and gave her a very rude gesture. She poked him with the stick in the place her old husband never talked about in front of the servants. He went down like a sack of potatoes. "That will teach you to show respect to a lady!"
Are she was at the front. It was the museum! She meant to visit it while she was here. It had that display of Egyptian burial goods, including Tutankhamen's burial goods. Ever since she had read "Tutankhamen and After" by William Ellery Leonard she had wanted to see it. Oh well, she could kill two birds with one stone so to speak. She would see the Egyptian wing of the museum and hopefully find who had ruined her hat. She had seen a very nice new one in Bunce's in town. That would help her recover from the emotional trauma of a dusty hat.
She waddled through the ruined entrance of the museum to see what was going on…
"Batman? Batman?" Said the disembodied voice.
"You shot Batman you stupid grunt!" Said another voice. That voice was familiar. Whose voice was that? He felt he should know but somehow his mind felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool. Morphine. It felt like morphine. He tried to open his eyes but they were gummed shut. He reached up with one hand and wiped his face. His face felt strange? Leathery. He still had his mask on. He felt another small prick on his arm. He pulled his arm back. A medic was trying to jam another needle in. Jeez, he didn't need drugs. He tried to get up but couldn't.
"Stay down, Batman, you need to get some rest," a female voice said.
"Are you alright Batman?" It was that voice again? Gordon, that was who it was.
He breathed deeply. Oxygen filling his lungs. He needed to fight the drugs. He needed to fight the pain. Once years ago, he had trained with a Reikei level six healer and she had taught him to fight drugs and pain by connecting to the bodies energy field.
He got to his feet. He was staggering slightly. He looked at his arm. His sleeve had been cut off and some stitches had been expertly placed. His back felt tender, but his body armour had protected him from the worst of the blow. His arm still felt numb. He clenched his fist. No tendons broken. He moved his arm around in a circle from his shoulder. He winced as a small bit of blood oozed out from the stitches. It still works but his reaction time will be down.
"Commissioner," said Batman at last. "What happened?"
"Zsasz killed two more of my men and got away. Unfortunately they shot at you in the furore."
"Where's Robin, have you seen him?"
Gordon looked around at his men. Some of them were still nervously making a cordon around them, in case Zsasz came back. There was some shaking of heads. Floodlights had been brought up to the roof. He could see the two huge blood patches on the roof where the officers had been killed. Next to him on the ground were two body bags, waiting to be shipped out. They had treated him where he fell. Where had Zsasz been running? Over there. He recognised the skyline.
He pressed his communicator button. "Robin? Robin?" He heard a crackling sound. He pressed the button on his communicator again. Again he heard the sound. He walked over to the edge of the building. There in a small patch of blood was Robin's communicator.