Changes
St. Elverich Hospital, Gotham City
2:32 p.m November 14
The emergency room was always stacked to the rim with more than several patients suffering gunshot wounds, stabbings, and multiple assaults. Every half an hour it seemed the emergency crew managed to fish out yet another victim of tragedy. Today was no different, except that instead of harmless pedestrians and petty street thugs mugged in the dead of night, it was policemen and a millionaire's aid being rolled in through the white doors of reconciliation. Not everybody made it out alive. In fact, everyone else was dead with the exception of one Gotham City police commisioner who took a shot from a bullet that barely made pass the kevlar plating underneath his shirt.
Jim Gordon was still at the hospital, only now he was getting dressed to walk out. The doctor insisted that he stay for a while longer, but Gordon realizing that the hospital at the moment needed all the empty space it could get turned down the offer. So he walked out of his room with a prescribed canister of pain killers and slipped a few pills into his mouth. Barbara would lose her head over this.
Reporters had already stormed the reception office with microphones and cameras ready, so the doctor suggested taking the back door. He would have left a lot sooner, if only he hadn't caught glimpse of a familliar face through one of the treating room windows. He pulled the knob and let himself in.
"Damien?"
He sat himself on a blue foldable chair provided by the nurse a few hours ago, keeping his sight on a friend who appeared to be sleeping on the hospital bed. However, the moniter standing beside her had a straight line drawn across the screen indicating her lack of pulse. Damien was drenched in tears, but stopped crying minutes ago. He turned to the man who had just made his allowed himself in.
"They got her beat a few hours ago," was all he could bear to say.
Gordon hadn't heared the news, but didn't bother to ask about it. The moment was well too traumatizing, now was not the time to talk. He shared his remorse, and motioned to leave the room. But he froze.
"It's never going to end these savages is it?"
Gordon didn't say a word. He left the hospital even more hurt than when he came in.
And the millionare Damien Crest was alone again. Nothing around but emptiness itself. Rapists, it won't end. Rage flowing in his veins had a demand for drastic action. A war has been waged. They will all have to suffer the pains they inflict onto others. They will all die, without benignancy and petty tolerance. Evil has gone on for long enough. Their blood will be shed in the name of those they have murdered.
He looked into Dina one more time, and made a secret wish that she stay the way she is. He wouldn't want her to see all the things he was about to do next.
Wayne Manor, Gotham City
4:32 p.m
Batman had failed. Last night, he lost every war he was trained to fight. He didn't protect anyone. He didn't stop anything. The front page was solid evidence of that fact. Dina was dead, a life he could have saved. It was all his fault and nobody else's. The holy warrior was slowly losing his crusade. His adversaries were once again in arms reach of Gotham. He sat silently on his father's study chair, too ashamed to even move. He should have paid the price, it was his inadequacy. He should have felt the pain. All he suffered were bruises spread across his body, not near what he should have endured.
In front of him was the study desk with today's newspaper placed on the center. The front page read, "Evil still strong."
"This was all my fault," he whispered silently to himself. He opened one of the drawers on the desk looking for nothing in particular, a tiny sharp letter opener came into view. He held the handle with one hand and examined the sharp edge with his eyes. "This was all my fault". He stretched out his right arm, and held the letter opener tight on his left. Slowly but surely, he let the tip sink into his arm deep enough to puncture a wound. He didn't stop. He deserved the pain. Blood dripped steadily from his arm down to the wooden floor marking a red stain. The pain and suffering numbed his stress, and it didn't feel half bad. He closed his eyes and rejoiced at the torment, it started to feel good. He lifted his head up in pain and accepted it. But suddenly he caught his father staring down at him through the family portrait. His eyes seemed to look down at him with dissapointment.
"No!" screamed Bruce, and almost as if a reflex, he propelled the blade causing a clacking noise after it landed on the ground.
Jim Gordon's residence, Gotham City
5:12 p.m
BarbaraGordon was not at home at the moment. There was a note on the dining room counter marked on a post it note that explained where she was and why she wasn't at home. It was a good thing that she wasn't around right now, there would have been all sorts of hell. And Jim was in no shape of mind to face any confrontations about last night. His fellow workers and friends were murdered in cold blood, as if they were a grain of sand. Like they didn't even matter, families heartbroken. And their killers were still outside roaming free in the world, enjoying every ounce of liberty they took from innocent blood.
'No, dammit Gordon. Don't talk that way. Justice always prevails. It's only a matter of time until we get them, keep reminding yourself. Never ever ever go there!'
Normally Jim Gordon wasn't a stupid man, but switching the television on in hopes of drowning his flashbacks weren't in support of that fact. The only thing news reporters had to talk about now included the words "Evil" and "Prevails." But he didn't bother shutting the box. It's voice gave him company during his time of desperate loneliness and doubt. The news reporters kept blabering about tragedy and lost hope, death and descent. All words he grew fammilair with working in the Gotham City Police Department. Then, the reporter mentioned the name Damien Crest, and for some odd reason, he was immediately glued to the set.
"What do you have for us Diana?" A brown haired middleage male asked via live camera to the reporter standing only a few feet away from an empty podium set right outside the Gotham City Hall.
"Well Bob, our station has just recieved word that the Salas CEO Damien Crest is having a discussion with governor Ellis, and has agreed to make a live statement to us just moments from now."
"Diana, what do you think will be discussed to the public from Damien Crest who has just experienced a major tragedy here in Gotham City?"
The female reporter cleared her throat and spoke bluntly to a black microphone held towards her red lips. "Bob, I believe that Damien is here to talk about what kind of future Salas has with Gotham City, and most probably about what he and governor Ellis have been talking about under closed curtains. Bob I can only say that I hope everything goes for the best...Oh, here he is right now."
Every vicinal camera around had their lens faced on a man in a black suit exiting his limosine. And to nobody's surprise, that man was Damien Crest. He walked in confident steps toward the podium that was set up just for him, cleared his throat, and spoke.
"I hope today has been a good day to you all. Life is so damn short, we should all just sit back and watch the show." A few of the audiences grew skeptical of his rather harsh use of language. "I'm not going to lie to you people. Not anymore. This hellhole is the worst place to live in. You're all pathetic. You just sit by and let all this shit happen and all you do about it is blame the guy next door!" he exclaimed, displaying an uncontrollable rage towards his audience. This was not the Damien Crest that they had grown to admire. This was not the Salas CEO who helped save the lives of thousands worldwide. The man they saw on screen, was someone else entirely.
"You are all pathetic! You are all weak!" Nearly half the crowd watching opened their mouths wide in discontempt. Mothers watching from the sets immediately closed their children's ears and some even cursed at the television.
"And you know what. You people, as worthless as you are. The only ally I have ever found in my life is this." He reached into his coat side pocket and out pulled his golden Colt raised high above the air so everyone can see. Crowds watching nearby ducked instantly after catching sight of the weapon. Damien presented a smile across his face. "Look at you all. Afraid for your own skins." He fired two shots into the skies without hesitation of any kind. The crowds screamed at the top of their lungs, and some even started running away.
"Don't worry. I won't harm you. Well, not yet anyway." He slipped the gun back from whence it came, and continued his speech as if nothing at all had just happened. "People. I have talked to the governor, and we had a very interesting chat about all the things that will change in the future of Gotham City. I have decided to offer investments and openings right here in Gotham City, so you can all reap the benefits that you so greatly think you deserve. And I have also brainstormed with the governor and mayor," he said, emphasizing "And". "We have come to terms on how to run an even more effective police force and all the finances that we would need to run it." And a few sentences afterwards, he spilled it out. Damien would be more than willing to support the police financially to ensure a more effective and budgeted force. In turn, they belonged to him.
Jim Gordon was speechless. There were no words for what he was feeling at the moment. All of a sudden, Damien Crest had bought the police so easily, and without the commisioner's consent. He honestly didn't know if this would mean bad or good things for the future of Gotham City. Would this bring about the end of a criminal era, or their next golden age?
Governor Ellis residence, Gotham City
6:32 p.m
A series of random pounds assailed the entance door of governor Ellis' home.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," he hailed, only then retrieving himselfup from his couch. He looked through the keyhole and puffed. 'Gordon.'He took the locks off and opened the door.
Gordon spoke before the governor could explain himself. "What the hell are you doing Ellis!"
"Jim. Now is not the time to be talking about this okay? Look, come see me in my office tomm..."
"No! We talk now! I want to know why you sold the police to some millionaire!"
"Calm down Jim!" he roared past the frustration and hidden depression."You know we lack budget. We need that money to continue our jobsbetter than last time okay. Last night was disaster on Gotham City you know that. I had to make some choices Jim, please understand. We need a change and you know that."
And no matter how much he denied it, he knew deep inside that that was the only answer he would ever find from the governor. Yet regardless, he still denied. "No. No. This is wrong. You can't do this. The law does not belong to one man."
"Jesus Gordon your'e acting crazy."
"You're the one out of your goddamn mind. You just sold the law and everything we've fought for."
Ellis had nothing else to say to Jim. The police commisioner walked away grieving in dissapointment. Gotham was headed for yet another disaster.
Wayne Manor, Gotham City
7:12 p.m
The word spread all across the city like wildfire. Damien Crest had bought the police. Bruce shrieked past his father's walls. "I've failed. I'm so sorry I failed." He gazed once more at his father's eyes. "I will not dissapoint you again."