Chapter Five
"My shipment needs supervision."
The heavy-set man sitting across the desk rubbed his knuckles against his faded leather jacket and then rolled his eyes. Leaning forward, he shook his unkept, striny hair and smacked his lips together. "I don't do drugs,"
"These aren't drugs...they're pharmacutical," he snapped back with frustration, pulling a long draw on his cigar. "And besides, you will when you hear how much I'll pay you."
"How much are we talking?" he asked, interest sparking a greedy light in his eyes.
The man at the desk chuckled and nodded slowly. "Does four zeros mean anything to you, Flass?"
"It does now."
It felt good to have the entire effect of his persona out in the open; this was his debut, this was his "grand opening". Everything he had worked for, everything he had bled for, was leading up to this very moment; a moment of strength, power and...influence. It was time to make the predator's the prey; to level the playing fields. It was time to taste the sweet revenge he'd longed to taste for so many years.
The cape alone, even though the lightness of the memory cloth didn't add much weight overall, made the suit grow heavier with his new onset of weaponry. He'd picked up a few little things along the way-some tracing devices, more batarangs, and a wonderful new set of starlite goggles he'd built into the cowl.
The cowl; the last piece of the puzzle added to his persona. It was as menacing as he'd dreamt. The blackness added to its intensity; the mystery behind the mask completed the enigma of this "other life". He'd finally pieced it together; such a long jump from a ski-mask to a harsh, terrifying, defining one! He truly was-and felt the part-of his counterpart. The one that would strike terror into the souls of those he encountered: Batman.
He'd played around with the cowl and the cape for a little while before actually dawning the night-they worked wonderfully. He'd never tasted so much freedom to be daring, so much power to be everything he wanted but remain enclosed in the secret of his identity. It brough a rush of adrenaline to his blood which exploded ideas into his head. He truly could do anything he wanted now that he was concealed. He could leap of buildings without a second thought, baffle headlines with the nagging paparazzi at his front door. He, in essence, could be invisible.
But, that didn't mean much now. Hiding in the shadows and jumping huge boxes didn't make any difference in his egotistical mind. Actually, his pride was quite wounded here; having to be hidden so early in the game and wait patiently for the opportune moment. He had always hated the waiting part of the game; Ducard had even sensed that. Though Bruce had followed all the proper steps and passed the "test", it still didn't change his outlook: time was lost in waiting and stalking.
Finally he found a decent place overlooking the docks; high above the ground and overseeing the entire operation. He watched the men hurrying around the platforms, marking the containers by knifing long blades into the steel and making scratch lines. Others guarded the operation with 47's and Uzi's, carefully watching the street and sometimes looking over into the bowels of the darkness in case of any interruptions. But, what he'd noticed was the most puzzling part of this entire scenario was the classy, distinguished looking automobile overlooking the place. What on earth was an aristocrat doing down here in the slums of the docks, watching over a bunch of men moving and marking crates?
Very rarely were big names reported at the scene of their crimes; most liked to stay in their clubs and bars and fondle the women on the homeland. They prefered their work done by hired goons; desperado's that needed money to feed their families, pay their rent; stay alive. Usually they had one or two trusted right hand's to oversee the worker's for them-rarely had he even heard of a case that the hit-man was reported at the scene. Only once had he ever seen an underdog hot-shot arrested while undergoing an operation. That had been many years ago in his youth. He doubted it had even happened again in recent situations.
It didn't matter. That car held someone who was in charge of the entire scene. That person was of influence; importance to the justice system of this city. He had a voice the people would listen to, a voice that held an opinion, an outlook...a fear.
Hopefully he was afraid of bats.
With a crack, one of the containers opened and the men went to work. They began moving boxes and smaller crates of items he couldn't identify. He used his cowl's magnification setting to zoom in on one of the men. The box was marked fragile and held a classification title, but that was it. No name of industries, companies, manufacturers, nothing. Narrowing his eyes behind his cowl, suspicion overcame him. Something wasn't right.
He decided to change positions. Silently moving through the lighting structure and ramps of the docks, he managed to get closer to the important vehicle. The back passenger doors swung open and out stepped a familiar figure, which froze him where he stood.
Carmine Falcone.
Making his way to the edge of the shadow, he pressed his fingers into the ramp beneath him and leaned forward to hear the conversation already underway. Not surprisingly, Flass was the man to speak first, a brown teddy bear in his grips.
"...so the bears go straight to the dealers?"
Falcone answered with disgust. "And the rabbits go the our man in the narrows."
"...same drugs though, right?"
Carmine nodded and grabbed one of the rabbits and tore the head off, tossing it aside and then digging his fingers into white stuffing, he removed a small package of unlabeled contents. It sparked alarm all through his body, and he blinked, paying definitive attention to the package in Falcone's hand. "Ignorance is bliss, my friend."
Without any further conversation, a rattling a few containers over caught their attention. Flass immediately drew the M9 from his holster and pulled back the hammer. Tossing the bear inside Falcone's car, he looked to the guards already hustling to investigate. He then gave Falcone a warning look and gestured with his head to the car. "You'd better bail. If there's problems, I'll let ya know."
Carmine nodded and slipped back into the car, taking the rabbit and its contents with him. Flass closed the door with a thump and the hustled to investigate with the rest of the crew. He ordered the other guys to hurry up the project and haul tail to get out of there. A satisfying smirk came to his lips from in the shadows. These guys were scared silly, and they'd pay dearly for their lacking skills of security.
He came to realize he'd better go investigate himself. He really didn't have much time to play with the idea of cops jeopardizing the entire scenario; he'd scare them off and scare them good. Which was fine; he liked to work alone and without publicity. With a careful leap, he hit the ground and took off running throughout the mess of containers, careful to take his corners carefully.
He then jumped and grabbed the edge of the container and pulled himself up. He quietly made it way to the opposite edge and found to his pleasant surprise, two of the thugs both armed with Uzi's walking back to back and slowly making progress to the area of the intruding sound. Both of the men were younger, late twenties, early thirties at most. Shockingly both of them were trembling and very pale, even in the poor lighting. It almost made him want to laugh.
So this is what revenge tasted like. And it was sweet. So very sweet.
They were easy targets, one's so easy that he did not want the opportunity to escape him. He grabbed two of his freshly ground batarangs and whipped them across the expand, where they crashed into the light fixtures with skishes before falling to the ground with light tunks. Crouching from his position, he was about to strike one the first one, who'd bolted ahead, when out of nowhere the figure appeared on the scene; familiar as she was.
There she stood, unarmed, before swinging her body around and colliding her heel with the man's jaw. Before she had any further attacks, the other man whirled around and fired his Uzi at the intruder who danced behind the crate and drew her bow. He watched her silently as she drew back and anchored, wild brown curls dancing around her face in the breeze. She conquered her breath expertly and waited for the right moment before releasing the arrow.
It crashed into the ramp overhead and the man whirled back around, back to her. Without waiting another moment, he decided falling in on the little party would be a perfect entrance and tactic. So, he hurled himself off the building and positioned his feet to collide with the man's ribcage. In a flashing moment he was ready, and then in a burst of speed and anger he disappeared, the black jumpsuit and quiver of arrows the only thing he recognized before colliding with the earth.
Skid, correct, push off container. In a moment he was righted and taking in the scene before him. She pinned the man beneath her and said something quietly, then slammed her fist into his temple before rising off of him. Taking the Uzi in her hands, she quickly disassembled the weapon and tossed it from either side of her. Frowning, she turned on her heel and approached him, sweat dripping from her hairline and staining her creamy colored skin around her mask. Stopping within a few feet of him, she looked to the ground and knelt, picking up one of the golden imprints he'd so quickly disregarded. All he could do was scowl at her as she turned the object in her fingers.
"Thanks for the distraction," she mumbled and flicked the weapon at him. He caught in instantly and replaced it in his belt without taking his eyes off her. "but a distraction nonetheless. I thought I told you to be careful."
"Coming from the one who almost got herself shot." he snapped back at her darkly. She was not hindered and outstretched her hands to either side of her and tilted her head to the side, as if proving a point.
"Do you see bullet holes? I'm bullet-free, thank you very much." she scowled right back at him. "I think you've had your fun. Now leave."
He said nothing and just watched her. Her scowl turned into a glare and she spun on her heel and began walking away. Reaching behind her, she grabbed her bow and an arrow, then quickly drew back and fired it into the container across from the unconscious man. She looked over her shoulder at him and replaced the bow. "I work alone. If you don't leave, then I'll make you." she said hotly, "This operation isn't big enough for two. And I have other engagements elsewhere."
"Highly unlikely." he said back.
She spun to face him and then offered him a small smile. With a burst of speed, she reached down to her thigh and then whipped her wrist, and she disappeared into a cloud of purple dust, which swirled around the air with mystery and stealth. When it vanished he saw and empty spot, and sighed heavily. So, she was good with pellets, that was fine. But that wasn't what caught his attention.
It was the manish screaming that did.
Within and instant it was gone and he bolted towards the area, long since abandoned by the workers and guards. He stopped when he saw her ontop of the car, Carmine Falcone in her grips. She spotted him and gritted her teeth in a growl and released the shaking man, him tumbling down the back of the car and then smacking against the cement with a groan. She stared at him a moment and then grabbed another smaller arrow from her quiver and whipped it towards the man as if it were a javelin.
"I suppose I'll see you around," she growled.
Then, with no other word, she backflipped off the car and took off around the corner of a container. She left him with the credit, the publicity, and the opportunity. He approached Falcone and grabbed the man's collar, sneering at him and waiting for Falcone's reaction.
"Who are you people?" he moaned.
"I'm Batman." he hissed. Then he jammed his fist into the man's temple and he went limp.
This wasn't the game he wanted to play.
Finally a safe distance from the loading yard, she stopped running and fell against the brick wall of an alleyway. Panting heavily as sweat streaked down her face, she reached for the zipper to her jumpsuit and pulled it down, exposing her skin to the cooling weather of the chilling Gotham night. The coolness stung her blazing skin, causing relief to flood her veins with ecstasy. Resting her head against the rough brick, she swallowed hard and slowly put her hand inside of her jumpsuit. She pressed it against the affected area and and her other hand flew to her mouth to muffle her scream.
Pulling back her hand, she glanced down at the leather and saw the oozing substance in her fingers. Rubbing them together, the substance moved with slickness across her glove and the penetrating smell punctured her senses with burning reality. She groaned and looked at the purple vineage rolling up her gloves. They were discolored with scarlet warning and she winced, trying to cool her frazzling nerves.
In anger, she whirled around and slammed her fist into the brick wall.
