The Penguin's perspective:
The Penguin and two men he hired the previous night were holding up the 3rd National Bank of Gotham. "I believe you dirty paupers know how this works," said the highborn once known as Ozwald Cobblepot. "Money from the bank is what we desire. Hand it over nice and quietly or it may be more than security that gets fired." Nobody in the room seemed to appreciate The Penguin's poetry, but then again, they were in no position to criticize.
Suddenly, The Penguin heard a hissing sound behind him. "Run, good colleagues," shouted Penguin as he ran as fast as his deformed body could take him. He avoided the Batgas but his men hadn't gotten the message and passed out. "Incompetent losers," Penguin complained as he looked around to spot The Batman and Robin in gas masks.
The Penguin pointed his umbrella gun at Batman's face only for Penguin to drop his Umbrella Gun as a Batarang struck his right wrist. It was Batgirl. "So it's to be three on one, is it?" asked Penguin. "You not the noble kind of heroes, are you?"
"Not exactly," corrected Batman. "You had men so it was technically even."
"Not our fault that you can't train people," taunted Robin.
"Being outnumbered is great until you're one who's outnumbered," Batgirl reminded Penguin of the broken-up Malevolent Seven that he had been a part of.
Penguin heard sirens in the distance. This wasn't a fight he could win. He used the Umbrella Copter that was still in his left hand to fly forward and push through Robin towards a window. Penguin used his right hand to shield his face and long nose from being cut as he broke through the window.
Once outside, Penguin Umbrella Coptered straight up. He saw Batman and Robin entering the Batmobile and Batgirl getting on the Batcycle. Oh, no, old "friends." I'm not underestimating your ability to keep up like I did last year. The Penguin flew away with the trio of costumed crimefighters following below until one building much taller than any nearby entered The Penguin's sight. He landed on it.
That's right, Batman. Climb on up. Unfortunately for you, you have to use your grappling hook to get up, and that'll make a sound. Then I'll fly into you, causing you fall off, lose your grip on the rope, and make a mess down there!
Suddenly, a pair of large arms encircled The Penguin's elbows and midsection. He was being painfully driven into the midsection of his assailant. "Hog?" wheezed Penguin. Becky "The Hog" Traylor used this move and called it The Hug. Was she taking revenge on The Penguin for shooting her?
"That's Becky 'The Hog' to you," a familiar Southern, feminine voice confirmed. The Penguin tried to take the air again, but immediately after reactivating his Umbrella Copter, The Hog kneed it out of Penguin's grip and it flew away by itself.
"Uh-uh-uh," chastised The Hog. "It ain't nice to take advantage of a lady like that. Or so Southern boys are taught, anyway." Seconds later, The Penguin screamed as one of his ribs broke at the rear.
"The breakin' of the Bird has begun," proclaimed The Hog. Sure enough, she managed to crush some fat and meat up front with her finger-locked hands up front, which were pulling back against The Penguin's large gut.
The Penguin had finally managed to get his hands free and reached back, but he had grown too weak to pull hard enough on The Hog's hair to matter. Finally, his spine snapped. He wanted to roar in pain but no longer had the strength. He was dropped on the ground.
"Broken," gloated The Hog. "That'll teach you to never screw with the Traylors." The Penguin thought he heard The Hog running towards the doorway leading to stairs down the building. But an inoperable and agonized lower body only allowed him to check and not follow. The Hog was gone.
As The Penguin finally heard a grappling hook hitting the top of the building, he passed out.
Batman's perspective:
Over the strong objections of Batgirl and Robin, Batman fired his Batgrapple to the top of the building first. He was prepared to have to move fast to avoid whatever attack The Penguin had planned. Batman was not prepared to see Penguin face-down and motionless. What the Hell? Who the Hell?
"Come up," called Batman. Up came his youthful cohorts.
"Oh my God," said Robin. "Somebody beat us to him."
"Is he you-know-what?" Asked Batgirl.
Batman checked the pulse. "No," he said. "But he needs medical attention. I need to call home." He drew out a cell phone with machinery and coding designed to shake off any trace and called Alfred.
"Yes, Master Bruce," said Alfred.
"Use the Batcomputer to find us and fly the Batplane over here right now," commanded Batman. "A life is at stake."
"Yes, Sir. Alfred out."
"Batplane?" asked Robin.
"Been working on it for months," explained Batman. "I was going to surprise you."
"As long as we're waiting," said Batgirl, "Who did this?"
"I have an idea of who," Batman pondered. "But I need a little more to go on."
Commissioner Gordon's perspective:
The Penguin was in the infirmary. Now the question was who assaulted him.
"The Penguin's gonna make it," said a police doctor. "That's nice," Gordon said half-heartedly. "You're dismissed." The doctor left.
Gordon turned to the other high-ranking officers in the room: Lieutenant Marc Freeman, Detective Harvey Bullock, and Sargeant Renee Montoya.
"Any leads?" asked Gordon.
"No," said Freeman. "Whoever it was planned this perfectly and left no evidence."
"When evidence fails, good instinct prevails," suggested Bullock. "I can tell ya who done it. It's the Traylor bitch."
"I thought we agreed that this was only a hunch," Montoya cautioned Bullock.
"We got all we need," insisted Bullock. "First of all, big nose is a really strong guy. Slow and clumsy, but witnesses to his battles with the Bat-Freak say he's the stronger one."
"That narrows it down a bit," realized Freeman. "Good deductive reasoning, Bullock."
"If you're already impressed, I should be the one givin' you orders," grinned Bullock. Montoya and Gordon chuckled. Freeman did not. "Montoya an' I looked deep inta this. There ain't a hundred folks who got a chance in Hell o' rippin' The Penguin apart with their bare hands. The Hog's one of 'em."
"That still leaves plenty of suspects," pointed out Freeman.
Gordon sensed that Freeman had taken Bullock's joke about gunning for Freeman's job seriously, probably not without reason. "Focus on business, not the next chain of command," Gordon tried to set everyone straight.
"It just so happens that The Hog is injured, thanks to Penguin," added Montoya. "Shot 'er in the leg when her alleged alliance with The Malevolent Seven went awry."
"Killer Croc is another suspect," admitted Bullock. "The Penguin lost money to him and hated payin' up. But he's in the clink. Couldn't have been him."
"Then we have both evidence and motive against her," realized Freeman.
"Mm-hmm," said Bullock with glee. "An' I plan to show the sorry fat bitch that she can't throw off a fat bastard like me fer long!"
"Montoya, Bullock," ordered Gordon with glee, "Bring her in for questioning. If she can't give us an equally convincing suspect, book her!"
"Pleasure'll be all mine," said Bullock.
The Hog's perspective:
Becky "The Hog" Traylor was doing paperwork in her office at the family-owned restaurant, Country Buffet, when her accountant and lawyer, Yuji Takahan, barged in. "Mrs. Traylor," said an anxious Yuji, "It's the cops. Looks like you're under arrest."
"Is that all?" asked a bored Hog. This had happened no less than four times in the past year. "Ah don't know why you give a shit, Yuji. They won't break me at the station and Ah'll be out by sunrise. Ah always am."
"But they seem so sure."
"Whatever. They ain't really sure of nothin' but burgers and donuts."
The Hog walked down the stairs, helping her bad leg with a cane that she had upgraded to from a crutch four days before. "My dear friends," she said sarcastically. "Fat boy and the easily dominated bitch of the Dominican Republic."
"Insult us all you want," grinned Bullock. "We're winnin' what matters."
"If you ain't got a warrant," said The Hog in a threatening tone, "You better order a meal this time. You're in lawsuit country as it is."
"What we have," said Montoya proudly, "Is a crippling of The Penguin with bare hands and you being the only one with motive and the ability to do it."
The Hog laughed. "That's it, huh? Look at me. Ah got a bad leg and you say Ah crippled one of the most dangerous men in town?"
"You don't need your legs to pull this off," said Bullock. "We're goin' downtown."
"C'mon, Yuji," said The Hog. "We gotta stop this madness again." But this time, it would prove to not be that easy. The Hog was not cleared the following morning in court. She was indicted at the preliminary hearing. She did, however, succeed in getting bail.
"Half a million for bail?" asked The Hog's Brother, Al, on the ride back to Country Buffet. "That'll set 'cha back."
"Not after Ah sue the bitches and their sons," said The Hog. "Ah ain't takin' no shit from 'em anymore."
"First things first," said Yuji. "We need a dismissal, acquittal, or hung jury with no hope of anything different on retrial. I don't see any sticking evidence yet, but I'll be in touch with Bullock and Montoya's investigation. You're sure you didn't attack him?"
"Does everybody have to ask me that stupid question?" sighed The Hog.
"Sorry."
"Al," said The Hog. "Ah ain't allowed to do business till my innocence has been proven. You're in charge."
"Ah won't disappoint you, sis."
"See that you don't."
Bruce's perspective:
Before Bruce Wayne, Barbara Gordon, and Dick Grayson were ready to suit up that night. First, Bruce said, "Before we go out, I want to talk about The Penguin and Hog."
"All's well that ends well," pounded Dick. "What we couldn't do, her short-sighted temper did for us."
"That's just it," said Bruce. "She may not the most educated lady in the world, but Becky "The Hog" Traylor, is extremely intuitive. Yet everything points to her. She isn't that stupid."
"Speaking of education," said Barbara, "I think you're overthinking this. It's not stupidity. It's arrogance. She's been slipping through our fingers for so long that she probably thinks she's untouchable. That's why she went after The Penguin herself with a motive. It wouldn't be the first time a criminal mastermind thought it couldn't happen to them until it finally did. I'm the daughter of the Police Commissioner. I know what I'm talking about."
"That doesn't sound like The Hog I know," disagreed a skeptical Bruce. "But there's not much we can do about it from here. This is in the court's hands."
The Hog's perspective:
The Hog was staying at her home since she wasn't allowed to do business anymore. Yuji had visited her as they mapped out their strategy.
"They're working on The Penguin," said Yuji. "Let's hope he can testify so I can squeeze out the truth on cross. You don't seem entirely sad about what happened to him."
"Uh-uh," smirked The Hog. "If Ah weren't the #1 suspect, Ah'd break out the beer!"
Yuji chuckled upon hearing that. "Without his testimony, the evidence is purely circumstantial and statistical. I like our chances. Just to be sure, let's see if we can't move this thing back home. If we do, you need to put on the best wounded Southerner act you can. I want them to see a woman the North blames for all of its problems."
"Oh after fightin' Yankees for years, Ah can do that," promised The Hog.
The next morning, Judge Robert Patkinson was hearing the request for a change of venue. "This is chutzpah," he said.
"Not at all," said Yuji. "Look at statistics. Demographic differences between the jury and defendant have strong bearing on the verdict."
"Does the defense have any evidence that Mrs. Traylor is being treated unfairly because of where she's from?" demanded Patricia Franklyn.
"Yes," Yuji said immediately. "For decades, the suspected mob unions remained unknown. Then came a reasonably successful Southern family business. In an 'amazing' coincidence, this family is suspected of being one of the unions. Still can't find anyone else. My client in on trial for the fifth time. She was recently linked by the police to a breakout of no less than seven archcriminals. All this is just too perfect."
"I think we know where this is going," said Franklyn. "It's obvious that the only goal of this proposed change of venue is jurist prejudice."
"It's come to my attention," said Yuji, "That with crime rates always high in Gotham City, judges don't win re-election as easily as in other cities. If Southern heritage groups had motivation to invest in challengers so the incumbents' fundraising advantage would be null, all bets..."
"Objection," Franklyn exercised her rights as a prosecuting attorney. "Politics have no place here."
"That wasn't a threat," said Yuji, though The Hog knew that it was a lie. "Just a random tangent."
"If politics aren't allowed here," asked a suspicious Franklyn, "Why would tangents be?"
"Objection sustained," Patkinson quickly said. "I'll allow the change if Mr. Takahan agrees with my ruling that the next judge must call in at least three jurors born states due north of the Mason-Dixon line for jury selection."
"Done," said Yuji. The Hog liked this arrangement. It was one that had her sitting pretty, but that many people would find to be a reasonable compromise.
"Please, your honor," tried Franklyn. "Don't do this. Don't open the door to jury nullification because justice is sometimes controver..."
"If I hear one more word about this," snapped Patkinson, "Someone's going to spend the weekend behind bars." Franklyn shut up.
"The change of venue is made." Patkinson banged his gavel.
"Nice try, Takahan," said Franklyn after she, Yuji, and The Hog left the Patkinson's chambers, "But all clues still point to your client. "Make it easy on her and take aggravated assault. All I want in return is her cooperation in the war on crime."
"Ah ain't betrayin' my family," said The Hog. "Wouldn't matter if you got me for murder one."
"Then do call when I'm a retiree in Florida," said Franklyn.
"Your bluffs don't scare us," grinned Yuji. "You call all the good ol' boys in South Carolina. See if they think you'd bring down a Southerner in your midst. One out of eleven. That's all we need."
"You're not supposed to handle trials outside of this city anyway," The Hog reminded Franklyn. Franklyn knew she couldn't challenge that and left. "C'mon, Yuji," said The Hog. "First, a get-together with the family. Then we fly home to a jury of my peers. That's how you put it, ain't it?"
Bruce's perspective:
Eight days later, Bruce Wayne was streaming the trial on his phone at work. Since his public image was that of a playboy, watching what most viewed as tabloid fluff would be good for his cover. But Batman had a vested interest in the fate of The Hog. If she was convicted, her family was finished. GCPD intelligence indicated that rival organizations were financially attacking the assets of the Traylors and Al seemed powerless to stop it so far. The family business was set to lose seven hundred grand through the next financial quarter. Now I see why the late patriarch, no advocate of women's rights to put it lightly, didn't follow the tradition of leaving everything to the son or brother.
So why was Bruce uneasy about this? One of the most dangerous people in Gotham was about to be wiped out. Why was Bruce looking a gift horse in the mouth?
The Penguin was wheeled into the courtroom by a bailiff. Whether Penguin could testify through numerous internal injuries had been a question until 5:43 that morning. He still couldn't walk. He had to be carried onto the witness stand, although he did look well enough to talk.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you, God?" asked Martin LePage, the Judge.
When The Hog's trial was moved to South Carolina, bringing her to justice became the responsibility of its State Attorney's Office. One of its prosecutors, Ralph Parker, had been assigned to the case. He had a professional but Southern working class feel about him. "What is your name?" he asked.
"Ozwald Chesterfield Cobblepot," answered The Penguin. "Most call me The Penguin."
"Why do they call you The Penguin?" asked Ralph.
"Objection," said Yuji. "This is irrelevant to the case." Bruce saw what was going on. Parker was putting together the framework to go through the question of an archcriminal's credibility his way. Yuji wanted to grandstand about it without the issue of it being old news. That meant prevented Parker from asking certain questions.
"Sustained," said LePage.
"Did you shoot the defendant weeks before your injury?" asked Ralph.
"Objection," Yuji again tried to keep the knife from turning into a poker.
"Overruled." Bruce could read lips well enough to catch Yuji whispering, "I tried" to The Hog.
"Is there anyone in the greater Gotham area other than the defendant who could've crippled you?" asked Parker. Risky question. But then again, Parker doesn't fit the profile of a lawyer incompetent enough to not interview his witnesses.
"Only one," said The Penguin. "Killer Croc."
"For the record," Ralph now spoke to the entire court, "Mr. Waylon Jones, or Killer Croc as Mr. Cobblepot put it, was in Arkham Asylum through all this." Parker returned to his bench and picked up some pieces of paper. "This Arkham records from the day of the attempted murder prove it. Ah would like them entered into evidence, eliminating Mr. Jones as a suspect."
"They'll have to go through the usual procedure," said Judge LePage, "But I'll see what I can do." Which Bruce figured would be plenty.
"Did Mrs Traylor try to kill you?"
"Yes."
"How did you know it was her?"
"She had that stupid accent of this part of the country. N-not that you Southerners are anything but a decent, hardworking people."
"Of course we are," Ralph was clearly holding back anger. If even he was offended, The Hog might have a shot at a nullified jury.
In time, Ralph concluded the direct examination. "Your witness," he smiled at Yuji, knowing that The Penguin's testimony fingered The Hog as the attacker.
"Mr. Cobblepot," said Yuji. "Is it not true that you are a murderer?"
"Objection, approach," Ralph stopped Penguin from answering. Both lawyers moved towards Judge LePage's stand to speak quietly. Bruce continued lip-reading so he still detect what was being said.
"Your honor," whispered Ralph, "Mr. Takahan is trying to impeach the witness' credibility with murders committed last year that he was exonerated of. The jury can't hear..."
"It was a hung jury," Yuji reminded Parker and LePage.
"And the Gotham DA's office dropped the case," said Ralph. Bruce couldn't help but notice that Parker hadn't mentioned that the hung jury had been controversial and rightfully so. "Don't split hairs," continued Ralph. "If Ah lose because of crimes for which Mr. Cobblepot is innocent under the law, his honor hasn't heard the last on this from my office."
"Objection sustained," whispered LePage. "We'll hear no more about this or I'll declare a mistrial and fine the defense twelve hundred dollars."
Deprived of his best weapon against The Penguin, Yuji had little to say.
Batman's perspective:
After The Terrific Trio had foiled three crimes - a rape, knife assault, and armed robbery, Batgirl finally hit Batman with it: "What's eatin' you?"
"He's been watching The Hog's trial," explained Robin.
"Not exactly," corrected Batman. "I've been watching The Hog. Her expressions reveal a woman who doesn't fully realize what's going on. And believe me, I'm not so easily fooled."
"She's got motive, one of the only people capable of doing this, and the victim's pointed her out," reasoned Batgirl. "What more do you need?"
"To get rid of this sinking feeling," answered Batman.
"He's stubborn," explained Robin.
"Most brilliant men are," said Batgirl.
"Wait a minute," said Robin. "Are you saying something about me that I'm not stubborn?"
"Well, no..." began Batgirl. "Maybe sort of... but the thing is... I'm not saying you're dumb or a bad crimefighter. It's just..."
Suddenly an alarm went off. Batgirl had been saved by the bell.
The Hog's perspective:
"Ah'm new at this," pleaded Al over the phone. "Ah've had to learn concepts that Ah didn't know existed."
"Ah am sick and tired of your excuses, not-so-big brother," said The Hog. "Papa would be pissed at you right now! 'You ain't too big to be sent to bed without supper.'"
"He'd say that, but do you gotta rub it in?"
"Hate hearin' this? Good! Maybe now you got the motivation to get it right. 'Sides, forgiveness is a luxury Ah can't afford right now. Relations with almost every other mob union is hostile. This is the worst time to be losin' money. Find out who's hittin' our assets and be quick about it!"
"Ah'm workin' on it."
"Don't work on it. Do it. Do you understand?"
"Yeah."
"Don't you 'yeah' me, big brother. Ah love you more than anybody but my children, but if Ah get off and find that you ain't made no progress Ah'm gonna kill you!" The Hog ended the call. That chances that she would kill Al were low at best, but he needed tough love.
"The kids better grow up fast," said The Hog to Yuji. "Al ain't up to this. How bad is our situation?"
"Not as bad as it looks," said Yuji. "I know how to read a jury. It was offended when The Penguin insulted the people of this state. I think I can get a holdout or two."
"Fight for acquittal," demanded The Hog. "Ah want to be back in Gotham as soon as possible. How the Hell is it that he can keep that huntin' rifle of his in perfect condition and can recall every South Carolina football highlight in school history but apparently can't even grasp supply and demand?"
"Got me," confessed Yuji.
Yuji's perspective:
Two mornings later, Yuji, having heard Ralph Parker's closing arguments, made his own. Parker had dramatically repeated the facts and testimony marking The Hog as an attempted murderess. Time for a little game of jury nullification.
"Some people want to point the finger at those they were raised to hate and undermine," said Yuji. "The War Between the States, as many of us who call the South home refer to the American Civil War, was the bloodiest war for this country in its history! It left scars that still haven't been healed. After so many years of being economically punished for losing a war, the South has risen again. We have financial powerhouses and many a Northerner has decided that these powerhouses are where they want to live. Those who stay up there through thick and thin are embittered that anybody wouldn't want to live in the North. Well, that's just too bad!
"Now we have a situation where a Northeastern metropolis, Gotham City, can't find its biggest mobs. Predictably, they point the finger at the restaurant owners who forgot that they're not 'supposed' to come to the North and still act Southern. They can't find a speck of evidence against their own people but they found a mountain of evidence against one of ours. How curious!
"I know there are people on the jury who don't see eye-to-eye with people like my client, culturally speaking. As a Japanese-American, I don't either. But don't think for one second that you're not being targeted. After all who play banjos and eat grits have been dealt with, the repo man is coming to your door. We're in the way of the dominance that the North once enjoyed.
"I implore you. Let it be known that you can't push the South around. Not anymore."
Yuji was pleased. Nine out of twelve jurors were moved. Deliberation would take care of the the last three. "Congratulations," he said to The Hog.
Ralph Parker's perspective:
Ralph was facing the jury to give his rebuttal. Since the prosecution has the burden of proof, he was allowed an additional argument. The jury seemed convinced of what Takahan had said, but Ralph wasn't sunk yet. Not when he knew exactly how to talk to Southerners.
"Justice is a universal term," said Ralph. "But to people like me, it's more universal than to others."
"Mr. Takahan said, 'Some people want to point the finger.' But there's nowhere else to point. Ah put on a bulletproof case. There was hardly anybody else in Gotham physically capable of doing this deed; nobody else with any motive to do it; and the victim recognized the voice of this defendant." Ralph pointed at The Hog.
"A bulletproof case. Yet Ah watched local TV last night and discovered that most of their so-called 'experts' who think they know simple, hardworking, God-fearing people of the country, say the odds are that Ah'll lose." Ralph chuckled to make the point.
"Ah don't think so. Regardless of what eggheads say, you won't let prejudice influence you. The '60's ended a long time ago. You know what the facts are. Nothing he said about differences can change things. Not to you.
"Mr. Takahan is right about one thing, though. We can let something be known like he said. Not that the South can't be pushed around. As he said, we're becoming more economically strong. We could push others around if that was how we treat people South of the Mason-Dixon. But it's not.
"There is one of two things we can let be known. One is that we have no problem with heinous crimes as long as they are committed against folks who aren't from around here. But Ah know that you will let the other thing be known. We are Southerners. We are patriotic and loyal. And as the pledge we have made to this country says, we aspire to liberty and justice for all. For all. And you know what that means.
"No matter what Mr. Takahan said to scare you, he couldn't alter the fact that his client crippled and tried to kill Mr. Cobblepot. Ah repeat: she tried to kill Mr. Cobblepot. 'He's weird' didn't work for me when I was a boy and it certainly won't work for a grown woman doing far worse than pulling a prank.
"Ah don't ask you to accept Mr. Cobblepot's unflattering opinion of us. Ah ask you to acknowledge that attempted murder is a serious crime for which there must be punishment. The mafia infested the North because some there decided that some crimes are OK. Ah plead with you to not let that happen here. You've been a wonderful jury. Ah know you'll do the right thing. Ah leave you to your deliberations."
Ralph thought he'd made a great speech. He hoped it was enough.
Bruce's perspective:
Bruce was watching the trial for the last time. He wasn't alone. An employee told him that this was poised to break many records for viewership in Gotham City.
"We find the defendant, Rebecca Traylor..." began the jury foreman. "...Guilty as charged." Bruce was surprised. He thought for sure that Yuji's closing arguments had manipulated the jury. Apparently, Ralph really knew how to talk to Southerners.
"Mrs. Traylor," said Judge LePage, "You stand convicted of attempted murder. You are hereby sentenced to fifteen years of confinement. Court is adjourned."
Bruce almost smiled. One of the greatest threats to Gotham City was gone. Her brother was running their mob into the ground. And the jury deserved credit. It hadn't been misled.
There was just one problem: Bruce didn't think The Hog did it.
The Hog's perspective:
The Hog was speaking to Yuji for one last time before going to prison. "You said we'd won," said The Hog.
"I was wrong," said Yuji. "I'm sorry, Becky. I guess Parker's self-righteous speech turned that jury around." The Hog saw that Yuji felt awful about losing this case.
"You did you best, family friend," The Hog consoled Yuji. "But now you better forget about me. Looks like Ah'm gonna be locked up for a long time. Help my brother run the family business. That's what's important. Ah'll be back for it in fifteen years if Al hasn't lost it by then."
Batman's perspective:
"Can you patrol by yourself?" asked Batman to Batgirl.
"Yeah," said Batgirl.
"Why does she has to do this?" asked Robin. "Are we leaving town?"
"He really doesn't think The Hog did it. He told me this on the way out of work."
"She didn't," said Batman.
"You know," said Robin, "I always thought that despite her unattractive appearance, you were kind of sweet on her."
"I am not sweet on her," insisted Batman. "I just want to be sure. Batgirl, we'll go to your father's office to see if he can help with this. We'll catch up later."
After a drive into Gotham City, Batman and Robin entered Gordon's office through his window. "What can I do for you uninvited guests?" asked Gordon. "I mean that affectionately."
"The Hog didn't do it. She had nothing to do with the assault on The Penguin."
"I'm surprised to hear you saw this," said Gordon. "Haven't you seen the evidence?"
"Don't look at me," Robin tried to wipe his hands of this. "I'm just the sidekick."
"This was too easy," explained Batman. "She wouldn't have taken the chance that we're to believe lead to her downfall. And I can read people. She doesn't seem to remember doing it."
"Don't get me wrong," said Gordon. "If you think she didn't, I've at least got second thoughts. But she's deserved it a hundred times before. This is a once-in-a-lifetime exception that I for one am willing to make."
"That's not justice," said Batman. "You know it's not. Furthermore, there's an attempted murderer out there. The real one. I have no intention on letting him get away with it."
"You're right at usual," said Gordon. "I'll have this looked into tomorrow."
Batman could tell from the tone that it this wasn't going to be much of an investigation. "Thank you," he said to be polite. It was time to patrol, then do what Gordon was refusing to do.
The Hog's perspective:
On her first day at Charleston Penitentiary For Women, The Hog was eating lunch when she heard pounding on the table and looked around. She was surrounded by five other inmates. Three were in front of the table, two next to her. The Hog stood up.
"Hi," said the one directly in front of her. "Ah'm Lindy."
"Sherry," said the one to the left of Lindy.
"Tammy," said the one to the right of Lindy.
"Medisia" said the one to The Hog's right.
"Stacey," said the one to The Hog's left.
"What do you want with me?" asked The Hog. These women didn't seem remotely friendly.
"You may not remember since you went to one o' those big cities up north and probably think you're good for the likes of us," said Lindy. "But you used to sell guns illegally here. That's what we're here about. My husband killed himself with the gun you sold him because he was on meth."
"My brother was shot by a mugger who bought his gun from you," said Sherry.
"My brother died because he missed the beer bottle he was shootin' at and hit a lady," said Tammy.
"My son got killed in a school shooting," said Medisia. "Thanks to your guns."
"My husband got drunk and started a bar fight with a gun," said Stacey. "He was shot by a security guard."
"Why are you here?" asked The Hog.
"We were driven by what happened to our men to go postal," explained Lindy. "We've dreamed of a member of your evil family comin' in here with us, and now the big day has come!"
"Sounds like your men were irresponsible," said The Hog.
"Only because you enabled them to buy guns irresponsibly," said Stacey.
The Hog got a sense that reason wasn't making these women back down. "Believe that if you wish," said The Hog. "Here's the bottom line. My fat ass may not look like it, but Ah'm an action girl out of the movies your men watched before their stupidity did away with 'em. You're fixin' to get hurt real badly."
"I don't think you can take all five of us, overweight bitch," challenged Mudisia.
"No," said The Hog. "Ah could take thirty of you."
Medisia and Stacey each punched the opposite cheek of The Hog. All five attackers froze upon seeing that the punches barely even made The Hog flinch. She seized Medisia and Stacey by the hair and slammed their heads together; they fell, moaning in pain.
The Hog picked up her chair and swung it, knocking down her three remaining attackers. Looking around, The Hog saw that these ladies, lying in agony, looked even more hurt emotionally than physically.
"Kill us," pleaded an ashamed Lindy. "We got nothin' to live for anymore."
"Ah'd rather be a free woman in fifteen years," said The Hog. "Sorry."
"Break it up," demanded three security guards. The Hog allowed them to escort them to her cell.
"Don't worry," The Hog called on her way back. "Ah'm sure wherever your men are, they forgive you for failin' them so miserably!"
The Hog was returned to her cell. It was no ordinary cell. It had a couch, comfortable bed, TV, and cable.
"You there," The Hog pointed to one remarkably young guard. "Ah want a word with you. The others can go."
This guard seemed surprised when the other two guards left without objection. He don't know how things work. Time to educate the boy.
"You look good with your hands," said The Hog, taking off her shoes and getting in bed. "What's your name?"
"Lance."
"Well, Lance. Let's see just how good you are with those hands. Relax, Ah ain't that bad a girl. Just massage my feet. That's it."
"That ain't what Ah expected, but it still ain't appropriate."
"You're younger than you look. Look at this cell. Do you think Ah got this by chance? You ain't never climbin' the ladder if you don't learn more about the world than this."
Lance sighed and started working on The Hog's feet.
"Ah..." The Hog approved of Lance's work. "Good choice. If I gotta future, so do you, boy."
Batman's perspective:
A commercial flight from Gotham to South Carolina took a couple hours. The Batplane did it in forty-nine minutes. As it flew over the state, Batman told Robin, "You're usually talking my ear off, but today you haven't said three words."
"Why are we trying to spring The Godmother?" asked Robin.
"Let's get one thing straight," Batman clarified. "We're not springing The Hog. We're trying to find The Penguin's true attacker. The Hog's release will be a bonus. And even then, it's not us. It's the authorities of South Carolina."
"Why should we go to such lengths for her?" asked Robin.
"Because justice demands it," said Batman. He landed the Batplane a distance away. "Stand guard," he said.
Batman had looked up and memorized where The Hog's cell was. He Batgrappled up to the bar-sealed window of the cell and was face-to-face with The Hog.
"Come to gloat, Little Bat?" asked The Hog. "Or come to my rescue?"
"Neither as of yet," said Batman. "Do you have an idea who attacked The Penguin?"
"No," said The Hog. "Now answer my question, Little Bat. The last time we met, you practically said Ah was The Devil's wife. Now you don't seem to think Ah tried to kill The Penguin even though they got a lot on me. This wouldn't be personal, would it?" The Hog smiled.
"Your delusion aside," explained Batman, "The woman who kept a step ahead of me for so long wouldn't be caught that easily. Since you wouldn't have made these careless mistakes, it must have been someone else. Who?"
"You're great at hidin' your true feelins, Little Bat. No wonder Ah still don't know who you are... yet. It was probably another business that framed me. And, no, Ah ain't leakin' 'em. Ah ain't no stool pigeon."
"This is about your freedom."
"Riko Dimiquen. Yeah, he'd be the one who's the happiest about me bein' gone. He was probably involved. Find him and you might find your answer."
Batman went back to the Batplane. He finally had a name. He had Alfred research Dimiquen on the flight back to the manor. Upon landing in the Batcave, Batman and Robin turned to Alfred. "I have found exactly one Riko Dimiquen," said Alfred. "His home is on 358 Broadroad Street."
Batman then saw Barbara Gordon with a large bandage on her cheek. "What happened?" asked Batman.
"The Catwoman happened to me," said Barbara.
"Sure you're alright to continue?"
"Don't give her a 'You can't continue' speech," said Robin.
"Figured you'd take her side," said Batman. "Fine. A cut isn't that serious. But I'll need to look at any further injuries. Both of your nights are over. Mine has one more thing left."
Batman drove to 358 Broadroad Street. It was past one in the morning. Riko and his wife were asleep in bed. Batman shook Riko and he awakened in horror to discover Batman looking over him. "I want information," whispered Batman, not wanting to have to deal with more than one person if he didn't have to.
"I got plenty of answers," said the Russian gangster. Suddenly, Batman felt under his chin the barrel of a gun that Riko had drawn on him. Whether it was from the side table or Riko's person, Batman couldn't tell. ".45 caliber answers in fact," grinned Riko.
A jolt of Batman's right arm pulled Riko's hand away from his chin and the gunshot hit a wall. A twist with of the gun had Riko dropping the gun and his wife waking up and gasping.
"I think you'd better tell me what I want to know, Riko," said Batman, looking hard at Riko's wife.
"You wouldn't," insisted Riko.
Maybe not, but he doesn't have to know that. Batman smirked deathly.
Riko sighed. "I can't tell you anything that would incriminate my family."
"There's usually a middle ground," said Batman reluctantly.
"Bane."
"Who the Hell is Bane?"
"A really big guy from Santa Prisca. Wears a Mexican wrestling mask. Really big guy. I hired... he decided to frame Becky "The Hog" Traylor." Riko was clearly playing word games to avoid incriminating himself.
"Why?"
"Because The Hog is weak. She's had chances to kill you but wants you under her fat belly instead."
"So where is Bane?"
"Last I heard, he was whackin' the Mayor of Montreal."
"Pleasant dreams," said Batman, running and jumping out the window. He got in the Batmobile and drove away.
Finally, everything makes sense! Mutual loathing between gangsters lead to a frame-up.
Al Traylor's perspective:
"We lost how much?" asked Al.
"Over a million now," confirmed Yuji.
"Ah just ain't good at business," Al had to admit. "Ah just hope either Ah can fix this or get killed within the next fifteen years. Or sis'll be the one who does me. After one Hell of a lecture."
Batman's perspective:
Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson had called in sick at Bruce's company and Dick's private school. They were suited up and flying to Montreal to catch Bane.
Before they left, Batgirl had included in her goodbye this statement: "You're still fighting for justice. That's worth something no matter what." Batman had been glad to hear that. Everyone else had been telling him that he was wrong to pursue an investigation that could very well put a deadly gangster back on the street.
In Montreal, Batman and Robin spent the rest of the day watching Mayor David Ford and took shifts watching him during the night while the other Caped Crusader slept. Sooner or later, Bane would try to kill him. Through the entirety of the next day, Bane still hadn't made his move.
"Still think Dimiquen wasn't lying his butt off?" asked Robin.
"Not yet, I don't," said Batman. "Hitmen are very patient and careful. He could just be biding his time." Sure enough, on the second night, with Batman and Robin waiting in the dark bedroom, a large man who looked to be 6'7 or 6'8 in height, over three hundred pounds in weight, used a glass cutter to extract some glass so as to open the locked window with the glass and enter the room. It's got to be Bane!
Suddenly, Bane stopped. No, he can't see us in the dark. That's an ordinary Mexican wrestling mask he's wearing. Bane fleeing and jumping out the window proved Batman wrong. Batman and Robin were in the dark on opposite sides of Ford's bed, so they couldn't immediately hurry. Too many things to possibly bump into. By the time they got out of the place, a car was speeding away.
"I've got this," said Batman, drawing his new Mini-Batjet. This required time to set up the built-in homing signal of the Batjet the size of a toy plane but more accurate and powerful than a Batarang. Finally, Batman launched it to give the escaping car a flat tire.
But when Batman and Robin entered the car, they saw nothing but a cinder block on the accelerator. "That hitman's as smart as he is big," admired Robin.
"Maybe not smart enough," hoped Batman as he ran to a manhole with Robin close behind. "I knew I checked this lid for a reason. It's been rotated since I last saw it. This is how Bane disappeared. Turn on your nightvision lenses. We're going in."
Batman and Robin descended into the sewer. Batman turned at the footsteps he was hearing. "It's over, Bane. We know you were the one who assaulted The Penguin."
"Excellent detective work, Batman," complimented Bane. "But as you Westerners say, ignorance is bliss." He pushed puttons on pads strapped to his forearms and liquid flowed through the tubes stretching from one arm to his back to the other arm. Soon enough, his arm and upper body muscles began bulging. "Leave or be broken."
"Break this," said Robin, charging.
"Robin, no!" but Batman's warnings fell on deaf ears. Robin's flying kick din't even budge Bane. He lifted Robin by the shoulders and headbutted him out.
"Your turn," said Bane, cracking his knuckles. It sounded like a hammer hitting a nail. Batman delivered a side kick to the midsection and backed away, avoiding a punch. As he expected, the kick hadn't hurt Bane. No matter; slowly whittling Bane down was his strategy.
As Batman moved in for another quick attack, Bane's long right arm knocked him over. Batman was lifted above Bane's head, spun around a few times, and thrown into a wall. Batman had to shake his head to get the cobwebs out. So much for that strategy.
This may have been Batman's most dangerous opponent yet. Bane had the strength of Killer Croc, the craftiness of The Joker, and the fighting skills of The Catwoman. Batman was in trouble. He dived out of the way of a bull charge and Bane hit the wall. At least he's not agile as well.
Seizing on the opportunity, Batman hopped onto Bane's shoulders, raining punches onto his head. Bane seemed to be about to fall when he grabbed Batman's legs and slammed him face-first into the ground three times before Batman got a leg loose and kicked Bane's face to force him to let go.
Batman was slow to get up. He blocked a punch that made his left foreman feel a little sore. Then another punch. An angry Bane kept punching more and more. Even blocking these punches hurt, but Batman had to keep it up. Stick and move hadn't hurt him; neither had a quick onslaught. Maybe, just maybe, letting Bane over-punch would work. There was a chance that all that extra muscle could tire Bane out faster.
After Batman had blocked his twenty-second punch in a row, his arms were about to give out when he noticed Bane slowing down. To test that, Batman side kicked Bane's midsection. This time, he backed up a few steps. A high snap kick to the face knocked Bane over. Even better, he was slow to get up. It worked. He's exhausted.
"You were in too much of a rush for power," lectured Batman. "In the end, it's not how hard you hit. It's about how much you yourself can withstand."
"Break you," promised Bane, charging, slower than ever. Batman beat him to the punch with a roundhouse kick that knocked him down again. As Bane got up to a knee, Batman delivered a flying kick that ended the battle. Once again, The Dark Knight had prevailed.
Batman shook Robin to wake him up. "He's beat," said Batman.
Robin hesitated to smile. "Guess they're gonna have to let The Hog go," he said.
"First things first," said Batman. "We need to sedate him at the Batplane. One dance with him was enough."
Commissoner Gordon's perspective:
Upon Batman and Robin bringing a large hitman known as Bane to the roof of GCPD HQ, Gordon had his best officers join him. "You gonna come clean?" asked Detective Harvey Bullock.
"I know the difference between your prisons and those of my homeland," said Bane. "I assaulted that stereotypically overweight American that you name after flightless birds."
"Take him away, Montoya," said Bullock. Sergeant Renee Montoya did so.
"I'll help with the plea bargaining," promised Lieutenant Marc Freeman.
"Why'd you do it?" asked Bullock. "You shoulda let sleepin' dogs lie."
"You know we couldn't do that," said Batman.
"Bullock, don't," Gordon tried to stop his Detective.
"No, Commish," shouted Bullock. "He needs to hear this." He now faced Batman again. "You realize what's gonna happen now, right? The Southerners are gonna hear Bane confess. That means they gotta let The Hog go and she returns to power."
"You're on your own," said Gordon to Batman.
"Same here," seconded Robin.
"The kid gets it," said Bullock. "Why can't you."
"Am I the only one who gives a damn about justice?" asked Batman. "Detective, injustice is what allows people like The Hog to thrive. I don't want to decide which injustices happen and which don't. I want to stop them all from happening."
"She's gonna start a gang war," said Bullock. "An' you're gonna be responsible fer every death that war causes."
Batman didn't answer. He and Robin left. Batman truly hoped that he had done the right thing. It felt right, at least.
The Hog's perspective:
The following afternoon, The Hog got off her plane to find her people waiting for her. "Home again, home again, jiggity-jig," The Hog held out her arms for a group hug. "That's to show Ah missed you all." She slapped Al across the face. "That's for nearly puttin' us outta business."
"Ah deserve that," admitted Al.
Fortunately, it took only hours to smooth out the rough spots that Al had allowed to appear in the family business. The Hog hadn't been able to prove that the Dimiquens were responsible, but they were going to regret it.
"Welcome home," said a harsh voice. The Hog turned to where the voice was coming from and smiled at Batman.
"Ah don't know how quite to thank you, Little Bat," said The Hog. "If you hadn't found Bane..."
"Don't play the grateful, rescued princess," said Batman. "It wasn't for you."
"Why do Ah doubt that? Could it be that you had to leave town? Or the arguments you've been getting into with the kids and cops."
"How do you know about that?"
"If you want an answer, Ah hope you're ready to bust a cow herd's worth of cops." She moved in close to Batman, still smiling. "Ah rather doubt you'd go to all this trouble for nothin'." she leaned in.
A gloved index finger stopped The Hog's lips inches from Batman's. "Don't let it go to your head," he said.