Outside Gotham Central Hospital, a crowd stood. They seemed unbothered by the truly ferocious cold, and the biting wind troubled them not at all. They were listening to a man talk on the steps of the building. He was a plain man, with sandy hair parted to the side, and a set of horn-rimmed glasses. They'd been listening to him for some time now, and showed no sign of losing interest.
"…truly like unto the Whore of Babylon!" yelled the man at the front "But now, NOW my brothers and sisters, NOW we see the unrighteous reaping the FRUIT of their sin! The LORD has seen fit to send a new plague, like that which He sent into Egypt, to cleanse our fair city of the sinners who defile it! By His Will the corrupt are destroyed while the innocent are spared!" At just that moment, a police van pulled up, and wheeled out a gurney that carried a body draped in a white cloth. The man at the front gestured wildly to the dead person "SEE, my children! Another befouled soul, struck down by its own WICKEDNESS and SIN! See the deadly WAGES of self-pollution!"
The crowd went wild, shouting out things like "Preach it Pastor James!" and "Death to the Sinners!".
High atop the hospital building, Batgirl watched the proceedings through a set of high-powered binoculars, while Azrael gazed out at the city. Both were listening to the so-called 'holy man' through a listening device they'd planted on the hospital stairs. Occasionally, Azrael would snort in disgust and spit onto the rooftop, as though trying to cleanse his mouth of some foul taste. Abruptly, Batgirl looked up to see Nightwing gliding down towards them.
"Okay, who wants to tell me why there's an angry mob outside the hospital?" Nightwing said, in a tone that was only half-serious. Batgirl quickly summarized the tone of the rally so far, and a look of revulsion passed over the young hero's face. "God, people dying left and right and this sicko thinks it's a miracle from God."
He glanced at the still silent 'angel of vengeance' and coughed. "Um…Az? Please don't take this the wrong way, but I kinda expected you to be right down there with them. I mean, you ARE kinda big on the whole fire and brimstone, 'Repent, Ye Sinners' thing."
Azrael snorted again and turned to face Nightwing. "Do not presume to know my mind, mortal. While it is true that those who imbibe narcotics pollute the human form, this is less of a sin than it is a weakness of will. They are to be pitied, aided, and only if necessary to be chastised." The armor-clad vigilante pointed one of his wrist-blades down towards the crowd "That rabble, however, presume to know God's will, to judge who should live and who should die, and assume themselves to be among the righteous. That, Nightwing, is a clear manifestation of Pride- a DEADLY sin. You have only to say the word, mortal, and I shall take great pleasure in dispersing this disgusting and blasphemous assembly."
Nightwing actually stopped to consider it. Seeing the self-righteous Pastor James lectured on sin by the fiery vigilante did have a certain appeal… But in the end it was all rendered moot, as Harvey Bullock emerged from his police car and shoved his way to the front of the crowd. He reached the pastor and grabbed the smaller man by the front of his sweater, actually lifting the preacher off the ground.
"All right folks" the surly cop said to the crowd "Sunday School is officially over. Go home an' read ya Bible or something. G'wan, MOVE!"
The small preacher shoved his face into Bullock's and spat "We have the right to peaceful assembly, and the right to celebrate the triumph of the Lord over the WICKED! This is not only given to us by our Founding Fathers but by Almighty GOD! Stand aside, thou agent of SATAN!"
Bullock's eyes bulged in his head, but he kept himself (reasonably) calm. Instead of throttling the little man, he pulled out a toothpick and put it in his mouth. Eventually, he said "You got a permit, Padre? A protest permit, or an assembly permit? No? Then you AIN'T got the right ta hold ya little get-together on public property. So get yer butt back to church and do ya celebratin' there. Or, hey, if you want I can arrange a nice cozy place for you an' all ya little friends to hold ya meetin'. Real cozy- like six by five! O'course, checking OUT might be hard. Now MOVE IT!" He tossed the preacher to the ground, where the small man landed in a heap. The crowd, seeing other police arriving began to disperse, and deprived of his supporters the good reverend lost much of his holy fire.
Up on the roof, all were silent. Finally, Nightwing said "I always knew there was something about Bullock I really liked"
The Dynamic Duo scoured the streets of Crime Alley, searching vainly for some sign of what was going on in Gotham. The streets were empty, partly due to the bitter cold but also due to the tension that gripped the streets. Batman knew his city better than anyone- he knew its streets and alleys, its habits and its fears, he knew what it felt and why- but he hadn't been aware of this tension until he started looking for it. The city felt as if it were on the verge of…something, but he couldn't tell what.
Frustrated, the Dark Knight swung away from his current course, followed by his sidekick. He glanced down towards the ground just in time to see two men dart into an alley. One was tall and well-dressed, with expensive shoes and a long coat. The other was shabby, dirty and had a hungry look in his eyes. It didn't take a lifetime's experience as a detective to guess that he was seeing the beginnings of a drug purchase. Signaling Robin to stay on the roof as lookout, the Batman swung down to ground level.
Paul Krystoveraktes was not a bad young man- he'd always worked hard at his trucking firm, cared for his family and not made trouble. He went to church every Sunday, and always tried to give something to charity. Really, most of his problems could be traced to one bad decision he'd made in college. It had been the start of his finals, and the pressure was on to excel. His large family kept telling him how vital it was that he succeed in these tests, so he could get a good job, meet a nice Greek girl, and so forth. But no matter how hard he worked, he could never seem to get all his work done. Then one of his friends had offered him some coke- praising it as the ultimate energy booster. That's when Paul made his Bad Decision- he decided he could handle the drug. He passed his finals, but wound up with a major habit.
Luckily, he managed to land a job as the night manager of a radio station. It was a good position for him- enough pay to support his habit, and no one really cared if he didn't always look his best when he came to work. All in all life was, if not good, then at least bearable.
Then the drug supply of Gotham started killing people. Demand had stayed fairly steady, but suppliers vanished in the wake of police crack-downs or left for other cities. Paul hadn't been able to score in almost a week, and he was hurting. But Paul hadn't completely lost himself to addiction- he'd sat down with a weeks worth of newspapers and tried to figure where he might buy drugs in relative safety. Paul had always been a fair hand with research, and he soon discovered that Crime Alley received the least attention from the police. Vigilantes, of course were the wild card, but honestly what were the odds he'd run into Batman?
As it turned out, 1 chance in 1.
He thought his heart would stop beating when the dealer- a well dressed Italian- suddenly ran away. He thought it would explode when the massive, bat-shaped shadow swooped down from the night sky and landed in front of him.
"What are you doing?!" Batman growled, and his voice sounded to Paul like the very wrath of God Almighty "Do you have any idea how stupid this is?"
Perhaps it was the thwarted need of his addiction. Perhaps it was the chill of the night. Perhaps it was a lifetime of compromises, disappointments, of broken dreams and dashed expectations. Or perhaps, Paul Krystoveraktes was tired, and hungry and in no mood for a sermon from a masked maniac. Taking a deep breath, the young addict began to yell at the Dark Knight.
Robin watched from a ledge across the street as the junkie started to yell at his partner. He bet he could just guess what the guy was saying. That it was his choice to take drugs or not, that the laws against it made no sense, that he wasn't really hurting anyone but himself… Robin snorted.
'Right. You give the money to the nice dealer, he uses it to buy guns to protect his business, resulting in more murders. Or he buys more drugs to hook more people, so he can buy even more guns later on. And either way the money filters back to South American drug lords who use it to buy more weapons to murder their rivals and oppress the honest citizens of their countries. But , that's not your worry, after all you're not hurting anyone.'
The Boy Wonder expected Batman to ignore this tirade and pursue the dealer, or to silence the punk with one blow. But instead, the Dark Knight's jaw dropped open for a second- which caused Robin to miss whatever happened next due to his own shock. When he finally recovered his wits, Batman was swinging up towards him.
No sooner had the Dark Knight landed on the ledge than he fired off another line. "Come on, Robin. I finally know what's going on."
A/N
2 chapters away from the end, folks.
This is not my view on narcotics- I'm a Libertarian, and believe in the maximum amount of liberty that is consistent with the liberty of others. In other words do as you please but don't bother other people with it. But it's how Robin would probably see things.
I like Harvey Bullock. In all of DCAU he's one of the very few who absolutely refuse to be impressed by Batman. Plus, he's got that old-school cop thing going, which makes him entertaining without being a buffoon.
