I do not own Batman
The car pulled down the narrow stretch of pavement between the bridge and the shipping containers, lights dimmed. There it pulled a left and stopped in front of a cluster of shipping containers. A larger built man stepped out of the car and slammed the door. He made his way over to a group of five men loading a moving truck. Of the two in the forefront of the set, the one on the right looked up and nudged his buddy, who also straightened as the man from the car reached into an open box by his feet and pulled out a headless stuffed animal. The neck exposed a baggie of drugs that he promptly tugged out and held up.
"What is this?" Flass asked, snorting in amusement. The two before him stayed silent and he threw the toy back into the box.
"Continue," he dismissed, waving his hand. Immediately the two workers grabbed another box each and lifted them onto the tailgate of the truck. Flass made his way over to a limo that was parked a stack away from the truck and got into the backseat, shutting the door behind him.
One of the workers handed his companion a box and walked over to a separate bunch of old containers. One in particular was open and the guy made his way towards it, unsure if it was part of the manifest he was working. He reached a hand out and grasped the side, preparing to have a look around when he suddenly disappeared inside the container with a surprised scream. The others turned at the noise and froze.
"Hey. Steiss," one of them called out, moving forward bravely. The rest of them hung back as the brave one and his partner inched closer to the mysterious shipping container. They paused right in front of the open door and tried to peer inside.
"Steiss?" asked the brave one again.
Suddenly, the overhead lights behind them shattered, sending a shower of sparks to the ground. The two flinched, crouching slightly to avoid the embers. Something small landed on the ground under the busted light and the brave one leaned down to pick it up. A small steel bat was clutched in his fingers and he flipped it around in his palm, observing it. He turned to ask his buddy what he thought it was when he noticed his attention was focused up.
"What?" he asked, looking up himself. All he saw was a black figure hanging from the crane above them before the thing descended on top of the pair.
The friend managed to detach himself and run away from his pal's screams. The group from the truck began to look around for the source of the danger, yet found nothing. One managed to break from the huddle and wave his machine gun around threateningly. A dark mass rushed passed him only a few feet away and he began unloading his magazine on the remaining object-a cargo container. Back at the limo, Flass exited the back seat as the brave one's partner drew his own weapon and fled. He turned the corner only to be swept off his feet by the same mysterious thing.
"There's a problem out here," Flass warned the passenger in the limo, "You'd better bail." He made his way back to his car and drove off quickly to avoid anyone being able to place him at the scene.
Machine gun guy slowly made his way down his aisle, wiping sweat from his forehead with every step. A banging from nearby sent another magazine through the containers. The dark mass appeared again and the bullets flew.
"WHERE ARE YOU!" the gunman screamed, becoming irritated.
"Here," whispered a voice from behind him, as the scream of fright was cut off by dark cloth swallowing him.
The pack of workers stayed in a tight circle, each eyeing the sky and ready to shoot whatever it was that obviously had come for them. Before they could adequately respond, the same dark figure dropped into the center of them and one by one, took them out. Carmine Falcone stepped out of his limo to investigate, hearing the frightened screams from his lackeys. Falcone spied the fight from his vantage point and fled quickly back to his limo, hankering on getting away from trouble that could bring cops in.
It was eerily silent as the figure stepped over the unconscious bodies of the thugs he'd just pummeled and made his way quickly to the limo where Falcone was stranded, his driver having already been incapacitated. The limo shook as Falcone loaded a revolver in preparation for whatever had attacked his men.
"What the hell are you?" he rasped. Suddenly, the glass sunroof in the car shattered and a gloved hand reached inside to pull Falcone out by the lapels. He was hoisted into the air and came face to face with the attacker.
It seemed to be a man in some sort of costume. His face was covered down to his mouth with a black cowl that attached to two pointed ears above his head. It was more armor than a costume, with a full black cape swirling in the February breeze. He looked like…
"I'm Batman," the man rasped dauntingly, head butting Falcone and knocking him out cold. The mob boss slumped over and Batman glanced over the lifeless form to see a homeless man leaning against the wall and eating something out of his hand. The bum, noticing the exchange for the first time, froze with his eyes widening in shock.
"Nice coat," Batman growled, shooting into the air with Falcone being tugged along.
As Batman secured the lifeless man to the spotlight overlooking the bay, I finally took my first words of the evening.
"Well… that was fun."
I sat at the computer bay in the cave under the manor, headphones plugged in and monitors displaying the feed from the pod cams and Bruce's own cowl cam. Bruce grunted over the audio, an agreement or a sarcastic response I wasn't sure of.
"Just to let you know, I followed that entire situation… right up until the butt kicking at the end, but I knew you had it handled. Besides, it's not like I could say anything Mr. Paranoid." I rolled my eyes.
Before he'd left for the docks, Bruce had made me swear to only speak when he was sure no one was listening—ergo, until the bad guys were satisfyingly knocked out and there was no chance of anyone connecting the dots and figuring us out. It had been a struggle for me, the usually chatty one when it came to action.
"And what up with the whole 'I'm Batman' thing?" I continued, grunting in my own imitation of his final words to Falcone. "Is that going to be a thing for you now? 'Cause in that case: you need a new tagline my friend. Or a theme song. Ooh yeah! A theme song would be awesome! It could be like…"
"Rachel." Bruce rumbled, reminding me about my other duty tonight: keep close tabs on Rachel in case Falcone sent someone out to kill her.
"Yeah yeah, hang on," I muttered, pulling up the coordinates of the GPS on her phone, "It looks like she's on the train heading uptown to her apartment…" I brought the security footage from her train up on the monitor to my right.
"Yep, there she is. She's the only… wait, no I lied. There's a guy who just boarded," I pulled up the facial recognition software that connected to GCPD's database and ran the stranger through it. He popped quickly.
"Jason Willis, convicted of first degree murder in '01. Confirmed ties to the Falcone Crime Family. Crap, get down there now!" I finished, my heart beginning to race. I heard the purring of the Tumbler's engine as Bruce flew towards the uptown station. I flipped the dock footage to the rest of the tram station, looking for security guards. There was only one, sitting in the office and taking a nice little snooze with his feet up on the desk.
"Oh, pour l'amour du Christ!" I swore, wondering what was wrong with humanity. I watched Rachel's figure on the monitor, hearing Bruce speeding through the back roads in my ears. While I watched Rachel carefully to keep Bruce posted on her whereabouts, I thought again about what Alfred and my mother had told me earlier that day and wondered about his parents: obviously if they were still there, he probably wouldn't have begun his whole quest to be this "Batman" character. But would we have still been as good of friends? Would he and Rachel already be married with children? And where would I be exactly?
It was weird to think that one moment could change everything about your entire life. With those two bullets Joe Chill fired twenty two years ago, he unknowingly set Bruce on a path that no one in a million years could have predicted. And, in a twist of fate, he changed my life too.
Suddenly, the train grounded to a halt and Rachel stood, ready to exit. Willis was talking on his cell phone, a cover I realized to scope out the train and keep Rachel in his sights.
"She's exiting the train now," I said urgently. As the doors began to open, I noticed Rachel eyeing Willis casually. I knew her well enough to know that she recognized something was up and she stepped through the doors and onto the platform. Willis bounded up from his seat and slid through the doors just as they were closing.
"He's following her! Are you close?" I asked, beginning to panic. If Bruce let something happen to Rachel, he'd never forgive himself.
Rachel made her way down the stairs to the second level where she shrugged her purse off her shoulder and into her hand. It was Self Defense 101: drop the purse and run like hell. All of a sudden, her face flashed alarm and she glanced sharply behind her before suddenly being corralled by a second man who had come up the stairs in front of her.
I swore. She was cornered.
"Where in the name of St. Francis are you?!" I hissed into the radio connected to Bruce's suit. I watched in helplessness as she swung her purse into Willis' face and turned again, holding a taser to the other man's nose. Just when I thought it would get ugly, Bruce swung in and aimed a nice right hook to Willis' face, dropping him like a rag doll.
"Thank God," I breathed. The second man took one look at the black shadow and ran like a dog with its tail between its legs. I snorted.
"That's right, you better run!" Rachel called after him. She turned to inspect Willis, only to jump back with a cry of surprise at the sight of "Batman." Reflexively, she deployed her taser right onto the chest plate of Bruce's armor, watching in fear as it simply sparked. Bruce grabbed the prongs protruding from his body and flicked them aside.
"Falcone sent them to kill you," he growled simply.
"Why?" Rachel asked curtly, still wary.
"You rattled his cage." He flipped the surveillance photos I'd been able to snatch on Judge Faden onto the ground, prostitute side up. Rachel eyed them suspiciously.
"What's this?"
"Leverage."
"For what?" I rolled my eyes. 'Did she always have to question everything?'
"To get things moving," Bruce prodded.
"Who are you?" she demanded. 'Valid question', I thought.
"Someone like you. Someone who'll rattle the cages." Rachel bent down to pick the photos up and when she looked again, Bruce was gone.
"Ma'am? Is everything okay?" asked the snoozing guard from earlier. My mouth dropped.
'Sure! Now you want to do your job, you bozo!' I thought. I flipped the monitor over to the docks again to see Sergeant Gordon discovering Bruce's little gift to him—one mob boss chained and delivered.
"Well," I radioed Bruce, "Gordon got your present, Rachel's dealing with Dozy the Ace Security Guard, the night is still young, and I think Alfred made snicker-doodles; you in?"
It was quiet for a moment. "I'll be there soon."
I switched off the communicator and leaned back in my seat, picturing the newest crime fighter of Gotham perched on Wayne Tower, overlooking the city and smiled.
"Na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na na-na BATMAN!" I whispered to myself, laughing.
It had promise.
A/N: Well, here's the Falcone scene. Hope it's okay for you guys.
Now, I have a problem. I've been receiving a lot of negative reviews and honestly, it's kinda pissing me off. To the readers who don't like this story, thanks for giving it a try but please refrain from continuing to read if you hate it that much. You're wasting yours and my time.
To my faithful readers who continue to read: I want you to know how much your love and loyalty mean to me. When haters hate and I feel like I don't want to keep writing, my first thought is how disappointed you guys will be.
That said, I really need some reviews. This story and Delaney are my babies but if the only review I get for the last chapter is someone criticizing Delaney and my "sporadic updates", it makes me wonder if the story is worth it. I'm discouraged and feel very stuck. Rant over. Thanks ~Brooke