Chapter 2
When Batman finally regained enough of his senses to take stock of his surroundings, as well as those in his surroundings, he knew none of it had been the imaginings of a sleep-deprived crimefighter who'd taken a tumble several stories down onto a hard, dank alley. It was all, disturbingly, quite real.
"Well, Batman, I see you've decided not to nap after all," said the short, fat man with an eccentrically evil grin exposing sickeningly yellow teeth in which was held a black holder with still smoldering cigarette. "Pity. You're gonna need your 'beauty sleep' before we get through with you. Heh, heh, heh, heheheheheh!"
Like the dull-witted followers they were, the larger men, in relation to their rotund leader, laughed just as heartily, while slowly moving to form a line just behind…
"Penguin!" spat Batman, still struggling to shake the incessant throbbing in his head and the aching pang of knotted muscles.
"That's my name, Batty, don't wear it out," said Penguin even as he led his clutch of goons in cackling laughter that was a little too uproarious for such a worn-out quip.
Batman thought with a suppressed smirk, Let them laugh. Every second they waste gives me a chance to get my bearings. And, when I do…
"By the time you've regained enough strength to rush us, Batman, or use whatever little gadgets that belt of yours has…which we couldn't get off, is there some secret to it? At any rate, it'll still be too late," Penguin said aloofly, as he lifted an all too familiar prop that, unlike the cigarette holder and the manner of overdress, was anything but amusing.
Especially to the Dark Knight.
As the eyes behind the cowl widened, the business end of a seemingly innocuous black umbrella erupted with the din normally associated with firearms. And for very good reason.
Though not yet 100-percent recovered from his earlier fall, Batman's years of training and experience dealing with such super-criminals, especially the Penguin, allowed him to react rather than analyze.
No sooner had the Caped Crusader leapt and rolled away than a .45 caliber bullet, fired by Penguin's umbrella-gun a split-second earlier, impacted with the wall behind him. Impacted, then, explosively, exited. Leaving a gaping hole in the tenement building's interior and exterior wall large enough to accommodate a grown man.
Or…a Batman.
"I hate to leave so soon, Penguin, but…"
No sooner had Batman delivered such parting sarcasm, than his Bat-booted feet obeyed still-aching leg muscles to propel him straight through the hole Penguin's handheld "cannon" had just created.
Needless to say, Penguin wasn't amused.
"Stop him! He's getting away! Stop him!"
"But, Penguin, you still have that umbrella-gun in your hands!" said his most vocal henchman, the same who'd angered him earlier, as the others rushed to snatch up normal firearms relatively close at hand. "Can't you just…?"
"No, you idiot!" shouted Penguin in a rage befitting a madman, even as he was emptying the umbrella-gun's chamber of its single spent round in order to slip in another. "My weapon's only designed to hold one bullet at a time!"
No sooner had such been said, than Batman leapt straight through the hole, his athletically muscular frame barely clearing its jagged edges…
Bam! Bam! Bam! Brrrtt-rraaatta-brraaat!
…than the short hail of bullets sent after him narrowly missed his escaping bat-like silhouette. Not that it would've mattered if bullet-to-body contact had been made, since the nature of his blue-gray costume's design kept most projectiles from penetrating. So far.
For the span of, perhaps, two seconds, Penguin and his larcenous group stood staring in abject disbelief. Penguin, his umbrella-gun reloaded, and the others stood holding just-fired handguns and one sub-machinegun as wisps of gun smoke slowly rose into the dank stink of the room.
"Damn…he got away."
That single uttered non-statement, from the one thug who had so irritated Penguin this night, was enough to fill the diminutive man with murderous rage. More than enough to spark an inferno of hatred born of a life spent in ridicule regarding his freakishly small stature and hideous beak-nosed features. A volatile mix in any man.
"P-Penguin? W-why're you p-pointin' that thing at…?"
Bang!
"Guess we just lost our security deposit for the place, boys," said Penguin coldly, his umbrella-gun's muzzle smoking, his cigarette not, as he removed the holder from his odious teeth. "Let's get the hell outta here before Batty comes back. Move!"
END OF CHAPTER 2