Just Another Knight

By: Kyle R. Logan

Chapter One: Shadows Unseen

Darkness. For some people, it is a lack of light…something to fear…a cloak that hides monsters and demons within its folds. From a young age, human beings are taught to do anything possible to illuminate that which hides our worst nightmares…to push the darkness away so that which threatens us can be seen and dealt with.

For others…darkness is a safe haven…or a tool… For the creature sitting within its folds this night…it was a weapon. This being found comfort in the silent anonymity of the night…the absence of light. Tonight…it was but a shadow that stood vigil over a certain alley in Gotham.

"For the love of God, Jimmy, just open the fucking thing, alright?" The man who'd spoken gnawed the cigar that hung from his mouth, a small runlet of tobacco laced spittle running from the corner of his mouth.

"How do we know dey'll keep deir end of da bargain, Sal?" The sweaty, balding, fat man named Jimmy looked to his partner, the unspoken leader of their duo. Jimmy's jowls shook slightly as he quickly moved his gaze from Sal to the group of three men standing across from them in the alley.

"We don't. But if they like what we have ta offer, they'd do better to not double cross us so that they can get more when they need it later." Sal pulled out a book of matches and relit his cigar.

"Quite true…" One of the three men stepped forward, the light in the alley finally revealing a portion of his face. It was pale and expressionless, his lips nearly white from lack of blood. The man reminded Jimmy of a corpse…or one of the zombies portrayed in bad made for TV. monster movies. "You have nothing to fear from us…as long as your product is as you described."

"It's good stuff, alright. You got nothin' ta fear about that." Sal blew a mouthful of smoke to extinguish the match that was nearly burning his finger tips and tossed the smoldering stub to the damp pavement of the alley. It made an almost inaudible hiss and puffed a last plume of defiant smoke.

Jimmy thumped the briefcase he was carrying down onto the top of a nearby trash can. It made a soft gong on top of the full can and Jimmy popped the two latches holding the case closed. He flipped back the lid and took a step back.

The man who'd stepped forward reviewed the contents of the case and smiled. He sniffed lightly and stuck his forefinger into one of the plastic bags inside. The pale man withdrew his finger, long, bony, and skinny, with a small pile of white powder gathered onto his yellowed inch-long fingernail. With a quick glance to Jimmy and Sal, the man placed the finger into his mouth. After a moment of smacking his lips, the man smiled. His teeth were white and reflected even more light than his pale skin. They looked almost like dentures...and his smile stretched across nearly the entire length of his face. Jimmy shivered uncontrollably.

"It's as you say…good stuff." The man brushed his hands together lightly, and then gestured to one of the men behind him. The man came forward and opened another case. It was full of bundles of hundred dollar bills.

"One hundred and fifty thousand. Agreeable, yes?" The man smiled again. This time Jimmy was able to suppress his shudder.

"Poifect." Sal grinned behind his cigar and motioned to Jimmy.

Jimmy took hold of the briefcase full of money and, after a nod from the pale man, it was released.

The three men took their briefcase and walked out of their side of the alley.

"What do you think dey're gonna do wid all dat coke?" Jimmy mopped his brow and walked up to stand in front of Sal.

"Whadda I care? I just sell the stuff, Jim. For that matta, what do you care?"

"I jus' hope dey ain't sellin' it to no kids…you know?"

"I don't care if they're sellin' it to da Pope, if they come back for more, they're gonna get however much they want."

There was a sound near the end of the alley, as if a bottle had been kicked to skitter across the pavement. Sal put his hand inside his coat. "Who's there?" Sal grabbed his cigar and tossed it to the side. "I said 'Who's there?'"

"Sal…" Jimmy put the briefcase full of money to his chest and hugged it there. "Maybe we should get the hell out of here…"

"Shut up, Jimmy." Sal drew his pistol from under his coat and pointed it in the direction the sound had come from. "If someone hoiyd what we was talkin' about then they can make us." Sal crept towards the source of the sound, his gun out in front of him. The barrel shook as he came closer and finally stopped over the source of the sound. A bottle was sitting straight up in the middle of the alley. Sal kicked it in anger. "You better come out you rat bastard…I'm gonna blow you into next month!"

Jimmy was breathing hard and began backing away from Sal. Jimmy's armed partner was waving his gun wildly and frothing at the mouth. Sal finally put his back towards Jimmy and began spouting obscenities. Jimmy continued backing up slowly and suddenly bumped into something. It was hard and unyielding, yet covered in something soft…like rubber. Jimmy turned and found himself faced with a yellow oval with a black shape carved out of the middle…a shape like a bat. Jimmy raised his head to follow the chest adorned with the symbol up to a neck and finally a face covered in a cowl. Two long black ears rose out of the top of the cowl and came to surprisingly fine points. A pair of piercing blue eyes looked out from the holes in the cowl.

Batman smirked at the man before him. "Surprising weather for this time of year."

The voice was a deep whisper and it made Jimmy's knees weaken in fear. "Th..th…the Batman!" Jimmy whined the revelation and began backing up…slowly at first, then at a near run. He finally stumbled and turned around to sprint up to Sal.

"Sal! Saaaal!" Jimmy screamed.

"What? What the fuck are you doing, Jimmy? Can't you see that I'm tryin' ta save our asses here or what?"

"It's…it's…it's Batman!" Jimmy turned and pointed behind him, but there was no one there. The alley stood empty, steam rising from sewer openings, the breeze moving an occasional piece of trash.

"Not a thing there." Sal took a step towards where Jimmy had pointed and raised his pistol. "You're the one goin' batty, Jimmy." Sal laughed and turned.

Both Jimmy and the briefcase were gone.

Sal stood a moment…unable to comprehend what was happening. He looked around for a moment, then up into the night sky, then back down to the alley. "Jimmy…?" Sal took a couple of steps towards where Jimmy had been standing. "Come on, Jimmy…this ain't funny." The lone man spun around quickly a couple of times, then snarled. "God, damn it, Jimmy!" With a whimper, Sal looked back and forth and asked of the alley, "Is this about the pizza? Jimmy, I'll order just fucking cheese this time…I promise!" The alley still surrendered only the sounds of the night and Sal was left breathing hard.

Something tapped Sal on the back of his shoe. On impulse, Sal turned and blasted the pavement with five .38 rounds from his police special. A glass bottle rolled leisurely down the alley. "Great fucking work, Sal…you just whacked a bottle of pop."

"Soda." The voice was almost a rasp.

Sal froze. That voice was cold. It had something in it…like that of a madman or an insanity that was barely controlled. Sal turned…and found himself face to neck with the bane of all criminals in Gotham City; Batman.

"It's Soda. I really hate it when people call it 'pop'."

"Wh…what did you do with Jimmy you sick bastard?" Sal threw his gun at his caped adversary, but his throw went wide of his mark. Batman allowed the gun to soar past his head.

He didn't even flinch! Sal backed up…afraid of what may happen next. He had more bullets in his pocket…but unless he was going to put them in his ass one at a time and squeeze off some shots at the Batman, he wasn't going to be able to use them.

"So much for givin' ya two in the arm for flinchin', eh?" Sal laughed nervously. "I'm gonna warn ya, I was the heavyweight champion for two years in a row…I always wondered how I'd fare in a fight against ya." Sal put his hands in front of him and dropped into a boxer's stance. It had been awhile since he'd fought anyone face to face, but he was perfectly willing to give a beating to a man on his feet the same as a man tied to a chair. Sal hadn't been the heavy hitter for Tone-Deaf Tony for twelve years just to give up to the Batman without a fight.

Batman simply stood there with his cape folded around him. He smiled at Sal.

Son of a bitch, he's HUGE…gotta be at least six-four or six-five…maybe 250 pounds. Sal danced closer to Batman. He ducked his head a couple of times, feinted to the left, then right, and as he started to feint left again he threw a right hook. It connected solid with Batman's head.

The Batman's head moved a couple of inches or so, but his eyes never left Sal's. There was a popping noise and Sal felt a surge of pain blossom in his hand. He pulled his arm back and cradled it trying to close his hand into a fist or to open it all the way, but both caused fresh waves of pain to course up his arm. His two middle knuckles were broken. "Damn it…" Sal put his hand between his legs and squeezed, trying to get the pain to subside. "You son of a bitch…are you made of metal?"

"Wrong guy." Batman walked up to Sal and stopped. "The Man of Steel is in Metropolis. This is Gotham…my city." The caped crusader grabbed Sal's shirt in both of his hands and pulled the man up off the ground to bring him face to face at eye level. Sal's feet dangled several inches off the ground.

"Wh…what do you want, freak?" Sal's shirt had bunched up, causing his neck and chin press together and making his voice sound strained.

"You peddle poison onto the streets and make money off of other people's suffering…and I am the freak?" Batman tossed Sal through the air as if he weighed nothing. Sal landed at the side of the alley and crashed into a line of garbage cans.

Sal stumbled to his hands and knees, his injured hand screaming with pain in protest to having weight put upon it. He crawled to where his gun had skittered to a halt on the pavement and began reloading it. Sal closed the chamber and pointed the gun towards Batman…but he wasn't there. "What the fu-"

A gloved hand smashed into Sal's chin, dislocating his jaw and pushing two of his back teeth into the inside of his cheek. Another hand grabbed his hand that was holding the gun and wrenched it. With a snap, Sal's wrist broke and the gun dropped to the ground.

Sal gurgled a scream of pain, and tried to speak…to beg…but his jaw wouldn't move and he was forced to make clucking noises with his tongue. He tasted his own blood and smelled the copper of it in his nose. With a grunt, Sal rolled onto his back to face his attacker.

Batman looked down at him. With a couple of moves of his gloved hands, Batman disassembled Sal's firearm and squatted down.

The caped crusader loomed over Sal and finally knelt close enough to whisper in that gravelly voice. "Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?"

Sal nodded vigorously, ready to end his punishment. His eyes widened in fear as Batman's gloved hands reached towards his face. He tried to back away, but Batman's hands cupped his busted jaw gently. It relieved some of the pain, and Sal sighed his appreciation. He had just closed his eyes and relaxed in relief when he felt Batman's hands twist, and a sudden crunching noise announced that his jaw had been reset.

Sal passed out from pain before he was able to scream.