FOUR

Surprise!

He clutched his side and staggered down the winding alleyways of Gotham City, blood seeping onto his rags. His breathing was rough and heavy, echoing across the walls as his body slumped against the ground. A mask fell from his face as the world began to spin with bright and dark colours all at once, reality fading into the distance.

He closed his eyes before running a hand through his brown hair. Sounds became muffled, but it was quite obvious that footsteps were advancing on him.

"Hm..."

"...I wonder."

Some time later, a new patient had arrived at Hugo Strange's hideout in the Narrows...

In the meantime, Bruce was staring out of the window in the back of Jim's car. The buildings were flashing past his eyes in a blur of grey and black. He sighed, due to the debris from the bridges, the trio had to take the long way around to get back to the GCPD building.

"You okay back there, Bruce?" Harvey called, looking into the mirror at the boy's pale face.

"Yeah, I guess so." Bruce continued to stare through the scratched window. "All that's happed... it's a little difficult to digest, to be honest. With the Valeska's out there, along with the rest, Gotham's gonna-"

The BMW screeched to a halt. Bruce rocked forward, his hands shooting out to grab at the driver's seat.

"What?" he asked. "What is it, Jim? Wait..." he narrowes his eyes at the figure that came limping toward the car.

Jim rolled the window down, knowing that he wasn't a threat. "Can I help you? Gotham was evacuated, why are you still here...?"

The man had a long grey beard with a patchwork jacket slung over his shoulders. What was left of his hair was singed and tipped with black. "You..." he wheezed, his breath smelling like cigarette smoke. "...You shouldn't be here, Commissioner Gordon. The Valeska fellow,"

Bruce's ears perked up.

"He's claimed the GCPD building..."

"What...?" Jim's heart sank.

Harvey shook his head. "How's that possible? Jerome can't, what's remaining of the force is still there."

"Come with us," Gordon gestured to the back seat. "We'll get you some place safe, Gotham isn't safe now."

The man shook his head and backed up quickly. "Oh, no no no no no... I must care for my family."

And with that he disappeared through the door of an abandond sweet shop.

"Alright then..." Harvey loaded his gun. "I guess we should evict this clown, hm?"

Jim pressed his foot down on the peddle, the car surging forward. The rubble from a few houses was up ahead, a clear landmark for the building ahead that bruised the skyline. But as they pulled up, the three men got a good look at what it had become...

"Jesus..." Harvey swore. "Makes you think that guys been in there for months."

The GCPD building was stood against the stark grey sky, skeletal trees grabbing at the brickwork. Bruce approached cautiously.

"Bruce," Jim handed him a Glock 19 9mm Compact Semi Automaticpistol from the glove compartment, it's weight cold in his hands. "You'll need this, you know what Valeska is like."

He nodded and continued, looking up.

The bricks were now rather messily painted green, pink and blue, the words 'Jerome was here!' splattered across the doors and windows. Silhouettes drifted past above him as Harvey and Jim appeared, Harvey pressing a button on his radio.

"This is Bullock, do you read?"

There was static from the other side.

"I repeat: this is Bullock, do you read?"

After a short pause, the radio crackled into life. "Copy that, loud and clear, Harvey. This is Officer Smith."

He looked up, the three taking cover to the side of the building, just in case any of Jerome's punks opened fire.

"Smith, where the heck are you?!" Harvey scowled. "Have you seen what's happened to the GCPD building?"

"Yes... There's not much we can do. Valeska closed in on us, taking several officers hostage. Myself and a hand full of others managed to escape to a safe distance..."

"Right... I want you and whoever is left back down here ASAP. We've got a psycho to catch."

With that final sentence, Harvey tucked his radio back into his pocket. "Now what?"

"Well," Bruce said, examining his weapon carefully. "We can't just wait around for the others to find us, we've gotta get in there, find Jerome and try to flush him out."

"It's too dangerous," Jim shook his head. "As soon as we step through that door we'll be shot at."

"Maybe we can go round the back?"

"No, he'll be expecting us. It's best just to wait for the others to get here."

"Even with the other officers we'll still be vulnerable." Bruce explained. "If the three of us go in and rid as many of Jerome's punks as we can, we can lead him out and let the GCPD get him."

He sighed, knowing he could not win this argument between the Wayne boy. "Alright, it's worth a shot. But how are we getting in? The punks will be waiting at the entrances."

"Not all of them..." Harvey said. "There's three entrances in the GCPD building: front, back and the one underneath."

"Underneath?"

"Every major building in Gotham has a door leading into the sewers."

Bruce held out a pale hand and shook his head. "Wait, wait, wait... the sewers...? Seriously?"

Harvey began to lead them away. "You want to get to Jerome, right? This is the only way in without getting killed... c'mon, the sooner we get there the better."

*

The creak of a door opening echoed throught the building. Waylon Jones' yellow eyes snapped open, his pointed teeth suddenly joining like prison bars. He lifted his scaled body out of the water, placing his feet onto the cold tiles one after the other. After the bridges were destroyed, he had taken up the rubbled remains of an indoor swimming pool. The roof had collapsed in, letting the new moonlight settle on the green water.

Waylon moved his head round, scanning the shadows for movement. He growled deeply as his pupils fell onto the vague outline of a man standing against the wall.

"Who are you...?" Waylon called out, his voice low and focused.

"My name is not important," he stepped forward from the darkness, revealing his dark suit. The man's face was not visable. "But I believe you are Waylon Jones, correct?"

"What's it to you?"

There was a dull laugh proceeding from the figure. "I have a feeling you and I could be great friends," he said, completely ignoring his comment. "Or great, enemies... either way, it all falls down to whether you'll cooperate." there was a pause while the man waited for the message to sink in. "Oh, and by the way... I have a nasty habit of disposing of my enemies."

"I'm listenin',"

A stream of moonlight fell from the gap in the roof, splashing out across the Strange's face. A smile became visable, twisting out his pale lips.

"Bruce Wayne," he said. "I need him; dead or alive, it doesn't strictly matter anymore. That boy is the only thing that stands between me and what I see of Gotham's bleak future." a gunshot layered out the silence. "So, what do you say, Waylon?"

Waylon shifted nervously, hiding his emotions behind his scaly face. "Hmm... so, all you want me to do is get the Wayne kid?"

The man nodded.

"...what do I get in return?"

"Dead: a pile of cash. Alive: two piles of cash..."

He growled. "Don't believe that. And what if I just kill you right here and now...?"

Half a douzen guns clicked above Waylon, causing him to flinch.

"I highly discourage you to do so..." his mouth flipped into a frown. "That would be a silly move."

Eyes scanning the roof sharply, Waylon grunted. "Deal."

"Excellent!" he clapped his hands together. "Spread the word, I need Bruce Wayne dealt with..."

As the man spun into the opposite direction, he caught sight of purple fabric. Footsteps exited the building, the sound of a door slamming shut echoing though the building. Waylon sighed in the darkness.