:::Two years prior to the events of SHADOW OF THE BAT: Best Served Cold:::

10:13 PM Batman

I watched my prey from the darkness, only the humidity of breath visible in the shadows. My prey entered the parking garage riding in two rusted sedans and dusty, blue mini-van all occupied by six parasites who drained the life-blood of Gotham little-by-little. I had been watching these six on the same night every week for several weeks.

The largest of them was a Cambodian arms dealer from the Twin Cities named Nhean Chey. The other five—white males, locals with little notoriety—were his hired help. I doubted that he paid them very much, he wasn't very wealthy himself. But, money wasn't easy to come by in Gotham so any money they could score was worth their struggle.

I had been watching their operation for some time and their predictability had made them complacent. They returned here weekly to make their deals. Initially, they were sheepish and uneasy, jumping at every sound or movement. They would shine headlights or flashlights into every corner and point their guns in all directions, fearing that I was stalking them—which I was but I wouldn't leave my hiding places. If I jumped at every little opportunity to crush small time conmen and minimum-wage drug dealers, I would never be able to gather intel on the bigger fish. Big fish tended to go to ground when things got hot. So I watched for weeks until I decided the time was right. That time came when I found out they were going to meet with two representatives from Harvey "Two-Face" Dent's camp—his militia that he called The Executioners.

Apparently my prey believed that they were safe, that this parking garage protected them, and that I was paying no notice to their movements or dealings. They had become complacent. With each meeting, they became less and less skittish. The prey began to believe that there was no natural predator to keep their numbers in check. That was going to change tonight, though. Tonight I intended to cull the herd. I intended to divide them, bring them low, and send a message back to Two-Face and his militia.

My prey exited their vehicles and gathered in a huddle around Nhean who explained the intricacies of the deal while they awaited the arrival of Two-Face's people. Several minutes later, I could hear a car ascending the ramp of the garage.

The car came to a stop behind Nhean's caravan, shining its lights onto the group. Two black males exited the vehicle and approached Nhean and his entourage, one of them gesturing back toward the car. "We got the money, if you got the merchandise," he said.

Nhean beamed. "I always deliver when the money's right. The Penguin wouldn't have recommended me if it weren't true."

"Dark enough in here isn't?" the other of Two-Face's goons noted.

"Would you prefer the whole world to see what we're doing?"

"You sure this is a secure location?"

"The cops aren't gonna come looking for us if that's what you mean. I know a guy who knows guy, if you're picking up what I'm putting down."

"I was referring to the Bat."

"We've been dealing here for weeks and the Bat hasn't showed up. My operation is too small for him. He prefers the big fish."

Irony.

I pulled a shuriken from my belt and, from the darkness, threw it across the garage at an aluminum can I had positioned on the roof of an indistinct car. The noise wasn't loud but it drew the attention of Two-Face's boys. Nhean and his crew appeared unaffected; their complacency was deeply rooted.

I had planted several traps before they arrived. While I could take on all eight of them in a head-to-head fight, I wanted to dismantle them psychologically. Doing so ensured that I was in control. It made me a monster in their eyes. And, they'd go back and tell their buddies that I'm like the monsters in the horror tales they read or watched as children. Theatrics were my greatest weapon.

"Chill, that happens all the time. Probably the pipes," said Nhean. "You boys sure are jumpy."

He was right, it did happen all the time. I did it every time they were here with the sole purpose of desensitizing them to it.

"The Bat tends to haunt places like this. And, Two-Face is pretty particular about the Bat's interference."

"I don't believe in ghosts."

"Well, Two-Face believes in him and not believing in what Two-Face believes in, when he's paying you, generally has painful results."

"You militia boys are special."

"You trying to offend us?"

"No no no…"

I tugged at a wire that I had attached to a trashcan in the far corner, toppling it with a clang! The militiamen jumped, Nhean's people didn't so much as twitch. I had two more effects to deploy before I made a move.

"Two-Face has got y'all wound too tight," Nhean laughed. "Come on, I'll show you what I got." He waved them toward his car.

They formed a half moon around the trunk as one of Nhean's men opened it. The militiamen whistled in delight.

"What I tell you? I deliver don't I?" the Cambodian said smugly.

One of the militiamen rested his head in his hand. "Yes you do."

"You like?"

"I do."

"Will Two-Face like?"

"He definitely will."

"Let's talk prices then."

"How much?"

"How much you got?"

I left my hiding spot and slithered to a position behind a waist-level cement wall that separated two parking aisles. The weeks' psy-ops had reached their end…

They were still negotiating as I settled into the shadows and readied my ambush. I pulled my mobile device from my utility belt and keyed an application resembling a vehicle. Immediately adjacent to my hiding spot, but on the other side of the wall with trunk pointing in my direction, was a venerable sedan whose engine suddenly turned-over and coughed until it finally started. The engine rumbled agitatedly and the headlights shined directly on the congregation. I watched their video feed—from a camera had placed elsewhere in the garage—on my mobile, covering the light with my cape.

They all turned sharply. "The hell is that?" one of them said aloud, pulling a gun.

Nhean, his men, and Two-Face's militiamen were silent for almost a minute as they stared into the sedan's headlights.

"Marco," Nhean said getting one of his goon's attention. Marco didn't answer, he just looked at Nhean spooked. "Go check that out." Marco nodded reluctantly and approached the vehicle cautiously from their huddle on the other side of the parking aisle.

Blinded by the headlights, he angled away to flank the sedan as he suspiciously walked up to it. He surveyed the driver's seat, taking note that it appeared unoccupied. He looked over his shoulder at Nhean and the others who had since gone back to negotiating.

I double-tapped the application and the trunk creaked open with a hollow click, a dull yellow shined out beckoning him to have look. His suspicion increased visibly and he pushed in between the sedan and the car next to it, looking into the cab of the rumbling car, confirming its emptiness; his face twisted and he continued to the trunk. Marco looked over his shoulder one more time before committing to the inspection; Nhean wasn't paying attention. Marco bent slightly at the waist and looked into the trunk; his back was to me. That's when I struck.

I shot over the wall and snatched him, dragging him across it without anyone noticing. He tried to yell but I muffled it as I pulled him over the partition and out of sight. I jammed my finger behind the trigger of his gun so he wouldn't fire it in a panic and wrenched it from his hand. He struggled to get free, so I pacified him by drilling him twice in the cheekbone with the handle of the gun. Then I pressed my fingers into his jugular; he thought he was being strangled. He stared at me with strained, reddening eyes as he slipped into unconsciousness.

One last effect to deploy. I left that hiding spot for another behind a nearby stanchion. "Two-Face may think I'm a small-timer but that doesn't mean he can punk me," Nhean said rubbing his forearm with his opposite hand. "I won't take anything less than what I offered you."

"I'm telling you, Nhean, we're not trying to scam you out of money. We just know how much Two-Face is willing to pay and he won't budge."

"Hold that thought." Nhean held a finger up and swung his head around. "Where the hell did Marco go?"

One of his men pointed towards the old, running sedan. "He was right over there."

I tapped the application again. Suddenly, the alarms of a dozen cars situated in no distinct ordered around the group began to scream, flashing their lights and sounding their horns. The men spun befuddled circles with their guns raised.

I zipped out from behind the stanchion and moved to another fifteen feet away. Two of the men saw me out of the corners of their eyes. "What the hell was that?" they yelled.

"What?" Nhean said above the alarms.

"There's something over there," one the militiamen practically shrieked. "I shouldn't have met you guys in here."

"There's something weird going on in here. Let's just pack up and go."

"You think it's the Bat, Nhean?" one of the goons.

"Man, I hope not," he replied, backing up cautiously towards his vehicle. "Let's go."

"What about Marco?" another asked.

"Marco's a grown man, he can handle himself. Get in the cars."

The militiamen were the first to their vehicle. Nhean and his crew hesitated, just as curious as they were uneasy. The constant strobe of lights and alarms played havoc on their senses and the looked this way and that.

I emerged from behind my stanchion into plain view—a massive cone of solid black and arctic anger—and one of Nhean's crew saw me finally. "Holy shit! Look!"

They all turned and raised their weapons. By the time they opened fire, I was gone. The sound of gunfire polluted the sound of car alarms and the smell of burnt rubber accompanied the squealing of tires as Two-Face's militiamen sped out of the garage as quickly as they could.

I crouched behind a car about twenty feet from Nhean's crew's flank as they hammered the cars and concrete in the direction where they last saw me. I drew a high-explosive grenade from my utility belt, pulled its pin, and rolled it under a nearby car. There was enough standoff to prevent any casualties, but still cause enough damage and confusion.

I turned the gain down in my earcuffs…

KA-BOOM!

The concussion shattered the windows on the car and tore two of its doors off. The blast rocked Nhean and his crew and they took cover where ever cover was available.

Staying out of sight, I moved swiftly from cover until I was behind one of the goons. He didn't see me until I was on top of him choking the air from his lungs. He had some fight in him and struggled beneath my grip. I gritted my teeth trying to keep him under control but couldn't stop his gun from going off. The bullet ricocheted off the door of the car he was hiding behind. My right cheek instantly burned but I didn't pay it any attention. I squeezed harder and the goon went limp.

The rest of Nhean's crew were yelling to their comrade over the cacophony when they heard his gun report. I had to keep the upper-hand, and at that point I could only maintain it with direct action. I pulled a capsule from my belt and, with a hiss, it puffed white mist into a thick five-foot radius sphere. I was immediately on my feet and leaping onto the roof of a car.

Nhean's and his crew's eyes sprang wide-open and they screamed incoherently when they saw me emerge from the cloud and bound from the car onto the nearest goon. His gun when off, too, has I landed on him bodily.

Pain exploded in my side. It was then that I also noticed blood running down the side of my face. I was hit.

I rolled off of my target and dove behind a vehicle as they began shooting again. I pressed my back into it and inspected my trunk. The armor was compromised and I could see blood beneath the plates' flexion-overlap. The pain was terrible. I needed to retreat.

The stairwell was a straight shot from my location about twenty-five feet; I could make it. I coiled into a three-point stance, trying to stay beneath the window of the rusted pick-up truck, and launched myself towards the stairs. I would be a vertical target for them to shoot at since the pain wouldn't allow me to zigzag but the billowing of my cape and the objects between me and them would make aim challenging.

Bullets struck objects all around me as I escaped into the stairwell and raced down the stairs dripping blood. As I was nearing the bottom floor, I could hear them coming into the stairwell after me, howling like wolves harrying their prey. I had to keep the speed up if I was going to survive this. I just needed to make it somewhere I could hide; things were getting blurry.

I burst through the stairwell door into an alley. There was nothing in the alley except two dumpsters, a few air conditioning units, and two huge piles of trash; they would check those. I beelined for the fire escape and tried bounding up the a/c unit right beneath it but couldn't quite make the distance, the pain was too great. I couldn't lift my arms above my head. I tried pulling out my grapnel gun but couldn't twist to reach it.

I could hear them coming down the last flight.

Dammit.

My options were running low. Think, Batman, think.

I looked left—nothing.

I looked right—nothing.

Wait.

The monorail station! I had a safehouse about a half-mile down one of the tubes. I just needed to make it. Hang in there.

11:22PM Batman