Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Whether he was wearing his cape and cowl or no, the Batman always remained stoic in the face of either success or failure. He had devoted his life to remaining absolutely detached; it was the only way that he could function. He knew his attitude was dangerous; it had worked against him on more than one occasion, but nevertheless he maintained it.
The invasion of Gotham by the undead, while it had forced him to alter his strategies, hadn't been able to cause that to change. Even though his city was under siege from a threat that was as well organized as if by a general, even though their ranks seemed truly bottomless, and even though he had to collaborate with allies who were not much better than the evil he was fighting, he remained detached as ever. For this reason, Batman was now aware that something else was wrong-- something was wrong with him.
The Batman's limits of his tolerance for pain and exhaustion were very high, but he was-- unlike the enemy he faced-- only human. He was reaching his limit, and now, to make matters worse, he had been awake for more than forty-eight hours straight. He had not been this close to exhaustion since his initial struggle against Bane, and he remembered almost too vividly how that had turned out.
But exhaustion was only half the problem. Over the last two days he had noticed others. He had become even less flexible in his discussions with Faith and Spike. There was a metallic taste in his mouth and his stomach was disturbed. He had felt tense when speaking with Barbara and Tim. And even as he had used the Batplane to fill the air with the poison that was now incapacitating most of Nicholae's army, he could feel no sense of triumph or even any relief.
Under other circumstances, he might have written off what was happening to him as simple exhaustion combined with the intensified stress that he had been under for months, as well as the fact that Gotham City was no longer the same place it had been even two days earlier. But his intuition was telling him that something else going on-- something that might be more destructive to him, and by extension, to Gotham.
The symptoms had the earmarks of some kind of narcotic. The problem was he had no idea how he could have been exposed to one. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything that hadn't come from the Batcave, his skin was protected by his costume and with the exception of Jim Gordon, he hadn't touched anyone that he didn't trust.
Of course if he believed Faith and Spike's stories (and there was too much external evidence for him not to believe them), there were darker forces that could have been used to influence him. If Nicholae was as well versed in sorcery as Rā's al Ghūl was, then the vampire might have been able to use his magic to cause some significant damage to the Batman's psyche.
That almost concerned him more than anything else, because despite his repeated encounters with the Demon's Head and Talia, as well as other foes that dealt in that world, his understanding of magic was very limited. None of his direct companions (living or dead) had any real understanding of magic themselves. So it was that he could not be certain if anything had been done, and even if it had, he would not be able to find a way to counteract it. Playing with something (magic) he did not understand would only cause him harm.
So, what options did he have? Batman wasn't certain. The Batplane had been circling Gotham for two hours. Ostensibly, it was to make certain the city was covered with the anti-vampire toxin. Truthfully, however, it was more so he could have some time by himself where he could be certain no-one would disturb him. He needed to understand what was happening, and thereby to deal with it. His two hours of meditation, unfortunately, had given him nothing.
In the end, it was very simple. In his current condition, which would help the city more, and thereby hurt it less? His presence, or the lack thereof? He had been responsible for no injuries of any kind thus far, and he was maintaining his control… but would it become more of a problem as lack of sleep wore him down further and further?
The conclusion he came to was a simple one - it might be a problem, but not for now. The future was not important, right now - the present was, and maintaining Gotham. If he did enough harm to Nicholae over the next few days, he would hopefully reach a time where he would be able to ease up on himself. At that time, he would be able to examine himself and decide how best to deal with it, whether pharmacological, supernatural or a difficulty of another sort.
Moments later, as if an exclamation point had been launched in to the clouds, the light of the Batsignal pierced the night. Batman took it to be a good sign - it might mean that Jim had recovered enough to deal with what was going on. Or perhaps the Mayor had finally decided how best to deal with the situation. No matter which of them had lit the 'signal, it implied that perhaps the situation in Gotham was beginning to come under control.
He shifted the control stick, turning the Batplane in the direction of Gotham PD Headquarters.
The tickle at the back of his neck that said something was definitely wrong did not come until he was within a block's distance of the building. Ordinarily, no matter the hour, there was some kind of activity in the headquarters. Something was always happening inside.
But tonight, nothing. No uniformed officers outside, no radio cars or Cavaliers parked at the front of the building. Nothing was moving.
It was suspicious, and it concerned him. One possibility, the most extreme, was that every person inside the building had been killed. Another symbol of Nicholae's leadership… but there were no bodies. As cool a customer as Nicholae seemed, even the least egocentric and most violent of villains the Batman had encountered left some sign of a massacre behind them… but here, there was nothing.
As well, he knew some of the Gotham PD was still alive -- the squad that Dick and Barbara had been training (with Gordon's approval) was on patrol even as he watched the building, helping keep the streets as safe as they could. Barbara had reported on their activities as recently as an hour ago… so what was happening, here?
In a break from his usual modes of entry, he simply used the front door. After he stepped inside, the mystery only deepened further. There were no cops to be seen. It wasn't deserted, however. His highly trained instincts would have told him that even if the appearance of the space didn't make it clear.
People had been in the building recently. Coats and jackets hung on the chairs, half-eaten food was beginning to cause a slight smell, and an ashtray full of cigarette butts was on a ledge next to the window. A radio was next to it, surprisingly silent considering the unrest of the city outside. It felt as if there should still be people there - as if they had been, but had left only moments before he had come in the door.
Batman wasn't certain what to make of the Roanoke-like state the police headquarters had come in to. As for what had happened to the men who had been here, he could only hypothesize, but once again there were more important matters at hand. He had many questions, for which he only had pieces of the answers to.
Who had done this? Were the police still alive? Was this some kind of trap? The obvious answers were 'Nicholae', 'probably not' and 'yes'. Then there was the most disturbing question: if indeed the headquarters was empty, who had turned on the 'signal, earlier? He was certain it would not be Nicholae, but whoever was waiting for him would be nearly as dangerous.
But who (or what-)ever it was that waited for him, he was the one who needed to get the answers, one way or another.
He made his way to the elevator that he knew Jim had used for years to come to the roof. In all the time he had been coming there, Batman could not remember a single time he had ever even asked Jim how he had come up top, let alone used it. Gotham had changed, though, and it was necessary for its safety that he change as well.
After considering the situation once again, Batman stopped the elevator one floor below the roof. He would use another method to get to the 'signal. Whomever was waiting for him was obviously there to fight, and the Batman had no intention of making it an easy battle.
The entire building has been emptied and you're worried about making it easy for him? He thought briefly, and then pushed it away. There was no time to allow him to be sidetracked. Not now.
He stepped on to the roof and found it-- empty. Nothing was visible, save for the BatSignal, which was still glowing brightly.
For the briefest of moments, he considered the possibility that this was the last element of Nicholae's work-- the signal being left on as one last nose-thumbing. Then he shook his head. No… Someone was here. He felt it in his bones.
"I've come!" he said, his voice raised but still level in tone. "You've done your little magic trick. Now come out and face me!"
For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then he heard a soft voice say, "Since you asked," and a figure appeared in front of him. T here was no fade-in, no puff of smoke, no bolt of lightning. One second the space was empty, and the next it simply was not.
The immediate impression was that of some kind of fairy-tale ogre. Whoever it was, he was tall, wide and battle-scarred. His skin was so pale as to almost seem as if it were transparent. His eyes seemed to be burning red, although somehow Batman knew that they were not that color.
It was the face and appearance of one meant to strike fear into the hearts of all who surveyed it. If Batman had not spent his life fighting enemies who were as menacing and violent as those he had, if the last several months had not been spent killing similar creatures, he might have been afraid. Still, for a moment, the hulking monster (and its sudden appearance) had unsettled him.
It had taken him less than a second to will that disturbance away, and once again the situation was simple-- good versus evil, the Batman versus it. He took a breath, and spoke. "Where are the police?"
The figure put its hands together. They were huge, with claws for fingernails. " Fear not, Caped one. The brave souls that guarded this fair city- are still alive."
"Where are they?" Batman spoke as menacingly as he could. The creature in front of him seemed to find the entire situation amusing.
"Most are on the streets of Gotham trying to help the people they have sworn to protect." It gestured to the station below. "The ones who were in this building have been moved to another location." Noting the hostility on Batman's face, it added, "The location is not in this dimension."
"What kind of dimension?" Batman demanded.
"What you Americans would call a kind of safety zone. A place where they will not be harmed, at least not for the moment."
"Why didn't you kill them?"
A smile appeared upon the monster's face. "Their lives are of little consequence to us for the moment. Depending on the outcome of the next few minutes, they will serve as a kind of hazard for us."
The statement angered the Batman more than he realized had been possible, before. Before he took control of his rage, he considered grabbing the beast and letting himself go. The analytical part of his mind put out a restraining hand a moment later; no good would come from violence, right now. He needed to remain calm, and in character. His voice was even rougher as he spoke again. "What does Nicholae think he can gain from this?"
The smile grew wider and more predatory. "Right now, what his Excellency thinks is not your concern. More important is how I shall react."
Suddenly, Batman realized who stood before him. His voice was flat as he spoke, as if biting off the word. "Kotaski."
The Carpathian clicked his boot heels together. "Correct." His eyes glittered, almost seeming… "And since we have reached the point where names are important, may I call you Jean-Paul?"
The chaos of the last few days had been so completely consuming that Bruce had completely forgotten the story Dick had created (and he had agreed to the use of) in regard to his secret identity. After everything that had happened, he was uncertain why he had allowed Dick to perpetuate the falsehood that Jean-Paul Valley was now the man behind the mask. He supposed he should have been grateful (had they known his true identity, Wayne Manor would have been burned to the ground some time ago) but at the moment, he was more irritated than anything else.
He allowed the irritation to show as delayed anger, flowing in to the idea of being 'Jean-Paul'.
His voice took on the requisite tone of betrayal. "So he told you,"
"It's one of the things he told me," Kotaski said calmly. "Of course, since Mr. Grayson was perpetuating a masquerade, I see no reason why he should have told the truth, but for now I am giving him the benefit of the doubt."
"That's very generous of you."
Kotaski smiled. "The victorious can be magnanimous."
Bruce frowned, playing in to the game, allowing a touch of 'bitterness' to touch his voice. "What makes you so certain you've won?"
Kotaski's smile became pitying. "I don't know what kind of denial you are perpetuating," he said plainly "…but even a layman can see we have won."
Now Batman moved forward. "Your master's troops are being routed as we speak, the chain of command that you have gone to such pains to establish has been broken-- I would call that defeat."
Kotaski's smile faded somewhat. "I will not deny that we have taken some damaging blows recently. That poison you just sprayed over the city-- I don't know where you found it, but it was effective." His smile reappeared. "On some of them, anyway."
Now Batman was concerned. If this European behemoth had gotten a heavy dose of the toxin and was unaffected, Kotaski could be even more trouble than he could readily deal with. "What makes you think you can recover from it?" he asked, maintaining the strength of his voice despite his nagging uncertainty.
"Our roots in the city are far deeper than you would think," Kotaski began walking towards him. "The right message and we can rally our troops to victory."
The Batman came to a quick conclusion about Kotaski's last words, beyond their cliché. "And I'm going to be that message, then?" When Kotaski nodded, the Batman countered with, "I've protected this city for a long time, against threats as formidable as you. Do you honestly think that I'm just going to keel over with one punch?"
"I don't know..." Kotaski's eyes glittered.
The Batman's reaction time and agility were superior to almost every other person on the planet. Nevertheless, he barely dodged the first punch Kotaski threw, a right hook.
"…Now is my chance to find out." Kotaski finished his statement before delivering another hard right.
The Batman countered with an uppercut to Kotaski's lower jaw and connected straight on. It was a blow that would have knocked down most humans, and a lot of vampires.
Kotaski didn't even blink.
He spun around and kicked the Batman in the chest. Batman fell back, and then caught his balance, using his motion to put some more force behind the haymaker he threw. The punch managed to drive Kotaski back a step.
The Batman and Kotaski traded blows for a couple of minutes, landing real hard punches and kicks but neither doing enough damage to give either one an edge.
Yet even as the Batman fought the Carpathian, he knew that something was wrong. His technique was… faulty. The punches he threw were not up to the full capacity of his arms… He was not dodging at full speed… The fluidity of movement which years of training had brought him was missing… A moment later, he realized what was happening.
"What did Nicholae do to me?" Batman demanded as continued to 'dance' with Kotaski, continuing to move with the Carpathian, dodging strikes.
"What? You are not willing to consider that perhaps I am simply a better fighter than you, Batman?" Kotaski's arrogance was clear in his voice, and he smiled, taking a moment to 'exhale' an almost human 'snort' of air. Batman frowned, realizing his underestimation of Kotaski, under the circumstances...
He doesn't have to breathe.
"What kind of spell did he cast on me?" The Batman repeated, his tone still stubborn.
The smile of the predator reappeared on Kotaski's face. "My master would not soil his hands with you, Jean-Paul. Your old acquaintance Jonathan Crane provided us with the means."
Of course, the Batman thought to himself. I should have recognized the Scarecrow's work by now. "I've been exposed to his chemicals before. I'm long since immunized against his toxins."
Kotaski's smile widened further, if it were possible. "There is no such thing as complete resistance to anything, Batman, if you have the proper counteragents." Two quick rabbit punches to the Batman's stomach finished the sentence. The Batman was, as always, wearing body armor, so he did feel the impact. A little. Most would have had their hands broken when their fists connected with the armor, but it seemed to give Kotaski no real difficulty other than reducing his effectiveness.
The Batman made the response he was certain Kotaski was waiting for. "You gave him that counteragent, then?" A roundhouse accompanied the question, and Kotaski neatly shoved Batman's arm aside, nearly making him fall.
"It's astounding what a sample of blood from a vampire will do in the right mixture of chemicals," Kotaski threw an uppercut that grazed the Batman's cheek. "Especially after it soaks in the body of a man."
And suddenly Batman realized when they had done it. "The note Nicholae left for me in the Joker's mouth."
"You really are as brilliant as they say," Kotaski threw another punch at the Batman's face, this time connecting with enough force to draw blood
"And you think that would work? Foolish, aren't you?" Batman tossed a hard left into Kotaski's gut, and again, the Carpathian barely moved.
"We are naïve?" Now Kotaski laughed heartily. "He has succeeded beyond even his expectations!"
The Batman realized that Kotaski was right. In addition to dodging blows while landing more of his own, Kotaski had been slowly but steadily driving him backward. Furthermore, he knew that beating the Carpathian in a fair fight was next into impossible, so why hadn't he used any of the weapons in his utility belt? A good question… why haven't I?
There was still a way he could win the fight. He would need to act quickly, and not give Kotaski any idea… he leapt toward Kotaski, letting his arm drop back to his side.
Unfortunately, Kotaski knew it. "You stupid little man," he said arrogantly, "do you really think that there is any kind of fight in which you could beat me?"
The punch that followed almost reminded the Batman of Bane… he was thrown backward in to the Batsignal.
The beacon shattered as the full weight of Bruce Wayne smashed in to it. Most of the glass flew backward, but several pieces cut in to his cape and costume. It was too much... and a moment later, the Batman fell to the rooftop.
Only a few seconds later, the Carpathian had pulled him up to his knees and smashed a knee in to the Batman's face. For a few moments, the Batman's vision flashed, and he expected to lose consciousness, but Kotaski slapped his face hard enough to knock the wind from him.
"I wouldn't want you comatose before I kill you," he said before throwing the Batman back to the ground. As he watched his target fall, Kotaski picked up a piece of the metal frame of the Batsignal and drove it through Batman's cape. The cape was made of material meant to resist strikes from even Killer Croc, and Kotaski had managed to penetrate it with seeming little difficulty. He was pinned - the spike would not come free.
"Pinned like the insect you are," Kotaski said with a smile.
Batman did not allow his thoughts to show on his face. If I apply enough outward thrust… Batman knew that this was not the case. If he could apply enough force, he could get loose from the cape and keep fighting. Kotaski was standing over him, though, and the Carpathian certainly had more than enough weight to keep Batman pinned easily longer than it would take to kill him. I need to do something now…
Would he have the chance?
The Carpathian pulled an antique broadsword from a sheath strapped to his leg. Even considering where he was, the Batman could see the sword was an impressive weapon. Stainless silver blade, and gilt with jewels… I wonder where it came from…
A moment later, his amygdala told the part of his mind which was appreciating the antique to shut up.
"I took this sword from the Bastille the day it fell." Kotaski held the blade in his left hand while caressing it with his right. "Since then, I have only used it when I was about to vanquish an adversary worthy of me." He looked down at Batman. "Congratulations. You're on a very short list."
It was in that moment that the Batman realized exactly what he had to do to defeat Kotaski. It wouldn't be easy, and it was underhanded, but he knew he could do it.
"I'm honored, Kotaski," he said, "…but there's a flaw in your plan."
"Which is?" queried the Carpathian.
"I do not propose to be buried before I am dead."
And with that Batman clicked his heels together. The binary chemicals in the heels fused, and then exploded. The blast was not a powerful one, but it was enough to throw Kotaski back, and give a slight upward thrust.
The moment that the Batman felt his arm slip away from the rooftop, he reached for the grapnel on his belt, aiming it and pressing the button. The hook shot away, the cord reaching the elevator shaft. When the line went taut, he pushed the other button on the grip, retracting the cord. The force was more than enough to pull him loose from his cape and start him forward toward Kotaski.
It all happened in only four seconds. Kotaski turned around in the last of those to turn back toward the Batman (intending to finish him off), and instead discovered Caped Crusader racing toward him.
The two of them flew together, and began to struggle for control of the sword. The Batman's strength (and the acceleration of the retracting grapnel cord) was enough to shift the sword to rest just over Kotaski's neck just as he and the Batman reached the elevator shaft.
The last expression on Kotaski's face was one of genuine shock. It appeared that the Carpathian couldn't believe that he'd been beaten. A moment after that, the sword decapitated him. His head blew apart in to dust before flying too far, and the wind blew the dust away.
Other vampires that the Batman had killed had their clothes turn to dust with them. Kotaski appeared to be an aberration. His armor and clothing remained when the rest of his body dissolved away. By the time the Batman had reached his feet, the clothes had turned ragged, and the armor was rusted, as if not used in decades. The only item of Kotaski's that still appeared to be in good condition was the sword, which was immaculate, even of the Carpathian's dust.
For a minute the Batman held the sword in his hand, thinking that it could stand as one of his trophies in the Batcave. Then he remembered where he was and what was happening. The battle had been won—a lot of battles had been won tonight-- but as long as Nicholae remained whole, the war would continue.
For once, the fate of Gotham City was not entirely in Batman's hands, and he would not be present at the final battle. For the first time in a very long time, the Batman prayed. He wasn't sure to who or what, but he hoped that it would carry weight for the Slayer at her hour of need.
The fate of his city depended on it.