Chapter 2
As the night progressed at the Axis Chemical Plant, many of the plant's workers grew restless. It was almost time for third shift; hence many employees were neglecting their duties. Even with some of the workers leaving early, while others stayed late for more man-hours, the commotion inside was still evident.
Loud, larger than life fans echoed as the swirling vertex evaporated fumes out of various toxic chemicals. The motors that ran the fans and other equipment in the three story building could be heard by the loud chugging sound of toxic waste disposal through monstrous vats and out into the harbor.
In the offices of the plant, the daily gossip was being spread among the higher-ranking officials during an untimely meeting.
Suddenly on the third level in a boardroom, a piercing scream boomed above the monstrous noise of high-tech labor. The sound of shattering glass deafened anyone that was near.
In an instant, the place was overtaken with gunfire. Screams escalated while the shots of M-16s and submachine guns were perceived from various locations in the plant.
As the thunderous roar of the machines continued in the background, a tall, broad shouldered figure appeared in the heart of the facility. It was Harvey Dent, the former district attorney of Gotham, otherwise known as the unscrupulous criminal Two-Face.
Once deemed a handsome playboy like his old chum Bruce Wayne, Harvey had everything going for him. A beautiful fiancé, one of the highest electoral positions of the city – his life was perfect… until that fateful night. Once a handsome fellow, one half of his body was turned grotesque and scarred, while the other side was just as normal and handsome. He became a virtual Jekyll and Hyde.
Dressed in a half leopard print and half black suit, he pulled out his favorite weapon of choice, a Tommy gun, and fired erratically at innocent bystanders. As he shot a man in the head, a harsh bellow echoed over the plant's P.A. system like rolling thunder.
"Now here this," a low, raspy voice announced slowly, "This is Caesar Vanelli, the leader of the Vanelli gang. Sorry to interrupt your night ladies and gentlemen," he remarked harshly, "but we have business here and unfortunately you're in the way. We're taking hostages and if we find you, you belong to us. That is all," he finished, shutting off the microphone with a switch.
After the announcement, gunfire was all anyone heard as people fled for their lives. Some were screaming, some hiding and some getting gunned down in a gory fashion from sheer lack of cooperation.
Two-Face took the elevator with two of his best guards to the second floor. Entering the largest boardroom in the plant, he found the one called Vanelli relaxing in a black executive chair dressed in classic gangster garb, a dark red suit and fedora, with cigar in mouth.
The room was dark but at each side of Vanelli stood two of his own goons, equally as strapped. He set at the head of the oblong table with files spread out across it.
Looking him up and down, from his leather shoes to the brim of his hat; Two-Face crossed his arms, ready to get the night moving. "Well Vanelli," he started his tone level and demanding, "What do we do now? My boys are still rounding up the last of the hostages and your goons are shutting down all of the equipment," the half-man, half-monster exclaimed.
"Good Harvey, good; once my boys get all the loud crap shut down, we'll be able to start loading barrels out the back; making us both a healthy profit," he grinned widely, as they began chuckling to each other.
His grin widened as a plump, red-in-the-face man walked in unannounced. Two-Face's hand instinctively reached for his revolver but as the stout man spoke, he relaxed his grip, sighing.
"Hey Boss," the stout man began, "the boys are done with the hostages – a pathetic lot. They're all in the mixing room, 3-B," he informed, out of breath.
"Harvey, this is my right-hand man; my go-to guy you could say. Meet Simon Oniell. He's my…" Vanelli's speech trailed off as a loud commotion rang from above. As the three men looked up, something barreled through the skylight, shattering glass all around them.
"Holy shit! It's the Batman!" Vanelli exclaimed, racing from his chair, protecting his beady eyes from shards of glass. "Do something!" he continued to Simon and his guards.
The dark stature stood in an impressive stance as his cape covered him like a black veil. "Give it up gentleman," the figure ordered in a gruff, demanding tone.
Just then, Simon Oniell began to load his 9-millimeter pistol with a new clip. The Dark Knight, as he had come to be known, darted toward the man and kicked him through the window onto a platform outside the office. Two-Face grasped a small side arm but before he could fire it, a batarang tore it out of his unsteady hand.
As quick as lightning, the Dark Knight jumped through the shattered office window onto the platform outside the office. He was met with some resistance however, as a henchman swung at him. Batman ducked, but as the goon fell into him, the two men lost balance and went toppling over the railing. As Batman grabbed onto the other side of the railing with one hand, the other hand reached for the goon, but it was too late. He lost grip and plunged into the huge vat of waste. As Batman flew over the railing to safety, more armed goons met him. As he lunged out into midair, toward a vat of toxins, he fired his grapple gun, zipping up to the third floor, the top level of the plant.
Immediate gunfire from Vanelli's men followed the Dark Knight towards the third floor while Two-Face gathered his goons to conduct a quick conference.
"Johnny, you take Vic and Vince and start loading up all the stuff you can into our van out back. Shifty, Bones," he singled out another pair of guys, "you two come with me," he ordered, racing from the room.
"Sure boss," they responded obediently, chasing after him.
Two-Face lead his men to the third floor in pursuit of Batman. As they saw him fending off a gang of Vanelli's thugs, Two-Face concocted an idea. He quickly instructed his men down to the lower levels of the plant. He thought of an escape route in the form of Batman's distraction:
If I can get the gang out of here with enough chemicals, I'll avoid Batman and Vanelli altogether, he reasoned greedily. As they reached the lower level, Two-Face's gang was whole again. They continued to load up several big yellow barrels in the stolen armored van.
Out of nowhere, Batman descended from his line to topple one of Two-Face's goons hard on the solid ground. Firing commenced, forcing Batman to deck as many goons as possible. After he kicked one in the face and gave another a swift right hook, he leapt onto an overhead railing to miss a stray bullet. Swinging from the railing, his right foot crashed into the masked face of the gunman. Now on the ground, a couple more thugs came at him, as he swung one over his shoulder and head butted the other, nearly breaking his nose.
He stood tall, noticing Two-Face had used his men as a diversion to escape to the other side of the plant. Shooting a line up to the third level for a better view of the situation, he heard loud yet muffled screams from within.
They're coming from the mixing rooms, he realized, guessing hostages were taken. He jumped through a window and raced to where the sounds echoed the loudest. He jerked free a tiny explosive from his utility belt and fastened it to the door as he cautioned a quick "Stand Back." He shielded himself with his insulated cape, out of harms way.
In a matter of seconds the large silver door was blown off of its reinforced steel hinges. Removing the door and tossing it aside, he told the hostages to take the door to the right of him, for it would lead to the roof, and to wait for the police.
As they started to the roof, Batman rushed to a window, noticing members of the Vanelli gang racing out of the parking lot below. With use of his grapple, he quickly swooped down on top of the van and threw half a dozen small spikes from his utility belt on the road in front of the van. As the van coasted over them, the tires were slashed.
Within seconds, the van toppled over like a set of hard struck bowling pins. The Dark Knight heard police sirens coming towards them and carefully opened the back doors to expose the chemicals. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a Gotham patrol car chasing Two-Face's van out of the plant's back parking lot.
Shooting his grapple gun to the roof of the plant, he descended from the top into a dark alley where the Batmobile stood directly before of him.
It was thirteen feet from tip to end. Black as night, the machine was a site to behold. A monstrous roar raged from the engine as the Dark Knight activated it via remote control. He hurried into the cockpit and as the door swiveled over his head to a close, he was off.
The car shot out of the back alley and picked up speed. Batman was quite upset that Two-Face and Vanelli had gotten away, and with toxic chemicals at that.
Harvey Two-Face was not known for working well with others, Batman knew and that somewhere along the way, Two-Face would double-cross or be double-crossed. Either way, things could get ugly.
The question was, how ugly? The case puzzled the Dark Knight. What's his angle? Batman wondered, as the sleek car raced up an on-ramp. He switched to autopilot and headed for home. He breathed a sigh of relief, as he knew the police would take over for the night.