A New Regime

Wayne Manor, Gotham City

1:49 p.m, November 25

It was begining to be a while too long before Bruce Wayne opened his eyebrows. When he suddenly felt the urge, conscienceness awoke him.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, a large blanket on top of his body, and a soft mattress on his back, which he presumed to be his bed without giving a moments thought. The ceiling on top was a familiar view. It was the first thing his eyes would catch every morning that he got up from bed. On the near left was a porch window staring straight into the sun. The glistening light forced him out. He felt dizzy and uncertain of himself. Before he rubbed his face, the world was a blur.

A man in a black tuxedo walked in with a tray of bread and omelet and placed the food on his bed.

"How long have I been out?" He asked the humble servant.

He smiled, satisfied to see him alive and well once more. "Too long sir."

Bruce smiled back in alleviation. 'It's good to see you too.' He ducked down to the tray of food, but noticed that something was missing.

It was always in custom for Bruce Wayne to spend the first part of his days catching up on the news, especially after having been at rest for such a seemingly long time. Even though it wasn't proper for a young man fit and stable as himself to be reading and eating on the bed, Alfred found ways of making exceptions.

"Alfred, where's the morning news?"

At that moment the butler's gracious smile had condensed into a guise of concern.

"Sir. I don't think that now is a proper time to inspect on current matters. After all you just woke up, you should give your head a re..."

"What is wrong?" Bruce cut off.

Alfred pointed his head down and let out a sigh. He left the room in silence only to return with the morning's paper just as requested.

Bruce held the paper in front of him, and as if a ghost had appeared, he watched in abhorrence. All it took to change his contented mood to a frenzy of infuriation were five words printed in bold on the front page. "Crest to reassign police force."

"Alfred. I'm going to need to call Luscious for a new suit."

"Sir. I've already done that for you."

Gotham Toy Factory, Gotham City

3:02 p.m

The factory had been abandonned for almost ten years now. There weren't enough charitable people in the high up places in the city to keep it running. To those that mattered it became an economic liability.

Initially it had started as a factory producing custom made toys and shipping them out on holidays to orphanages or homeless shelters in Gotham as charity. Unfortunately they costed the city an honest penny. And crooked politicians weren't ones to give honest pennies. Only a few months after the new election, Gotham Toy Factory had shut down. The kings grew larger pockets.

Now the factory served as a safe haven for the escaped Jack Napier.

Here he read the newspaper alone devising and planning out for yet another long awaited strike.

"Where o where shall the Joker make his next joke?" he asked to himself aloud.

The man's picture on the front page caught his eye.

"Aha! You. Damien Crest. That's your name," he fingured the picture. "Whatever it is I'm planning. You are on my list of invitations. You and that brimstone Batman. Oh I'll get you my friend. For what you've done to me. The bullet still stuck inside me, eating my soul. You thought that would kill me didn't you? Well you thought wrong. I'm alive strong and well. And remember this my friend. Whatever doesn't kill you can only make you stronger." He bursted out laughing to himself in agonizing misery. "Damien Crest," he repeated. "You will be mine."

Gotham City Police Department, Gotham City

7:35 p.m

"You've been gone for a few days," reminded Jim. Batman replied with a simple nod.

"Look. We have to change this. There has to be something we should do. This guy can't rule the entire damn police force. I can't believe any of this is happening. None of this should even be able to happen. Goddamn it, it isn't the way we should run things in Gotham."

"We can still make a diff..."

For the second time their meet was interrupted by the same man who singlehandedly destroyed Gotham's reputation. "What, a difference?" he cut in.

Jim turned and met the man face to face with steam passing through his ears. "You bastard. I'm going to make sure you pay for all this hell you've caused. I'm a police commisioner, believe me when I say that you have just made the wrong enemy."

Damien Crest was acompanied by three fellow police officers standing behind him. "Yes, I feared as much. You have been nothing less than insubordinate and uncooperative. It is therefore in my authorization to strip you of your position in the police force. Pack your things and move on with life. You're removal is effective immediately."

Upon hearing the news, Jim Gordon in the blink of an eye went through a wide variety of emotions. He wanted to punch Damien but knew that his conscience would never allow it. And there was a large gaping hole inside his mind, luxuriant with betrayal. Damien wasn't kidding, and even if he was it would have taken less than an hour for the mayor's office to make it a fact. Honesty had become close to a myth to Gotham City, at least in the eyes of Jim Gordon.

Abashed, he took sharp breaths trying to control himself under the current situation. Damien Crest looked at him with a tone of impatience, as if expecting the man to leave the building. Jim, unable to sustain himself, did.

"And as for you," said Damien Crest to a stiff standing Batman. "You so much as show your face anywhere else and your name will be on top of America's Most Wanted. I can make you the most hunted fugitive in all of America. Cops no longer need your help. Don't you ever come back."

Batman, with fiery eyes, grew tempted to knock him off the rooftop. The cops standing behind Damien had their hands placed on their holsters, ready to draw at any time. These were the same people Batman was trying to help, and now they seemed willing to shoot him down if he made a single opposing move.

"I won't stand by and let this happen," said Batman. Before Damien could respond, Batman threw himself up high into the air and in an instant dropped down like an atomic bomb stretching two legs out to the three guards before they could pull their guns into the air. They each fell on their back and struggled scabrously to get up. Damien hid a hand under his coat but was never able to pull it back out. Batman leaped towards him and his body weight dropped the man's chest brought him down in an instant. While Damien was on the floor, Batman grabbed him by his coat and rose his body close.

"You have just made the wrong enemy."

He dropped him down and threw himself off the roof. From that point on, he was nowhere to be found.

The cops who were only now up on their feet with guns drawn, surveyed for any trace of Batman.

"Leave it," said Damien, pointing a palm out to them and fixing his silk tie with a fee hand. "Let's just hope he tries that again. Now, take out that searchlight and make sure it stays gone."