Gotham Archives

1. Gotham's Visitor

Robert Patrick Modell couldn't help but smile as he walked out of the train station and into the busy streets of Gotham. It was what many considered the most soiled of all cities. Modell could see it: the desperate look in people's eyes, their sorrow…their weakness. They were like mindless insects, following the same routine every day and never questioning this absurd system. Not a single person on the sidewalk even gave him more than a passing glance. At least he wouldn't stick out. Not that it mattered if he did. No one could stop him, not even this legendary 'Batman'. Of course, Batman was the reason Modell came in the first place. The first worthy opponent he had found in months of searching. Modell needed a challenge after all his last effortless games.

Games. That's all they were; little forms of entertainment to prove his complete control over anyone. But lately they had lacked the joy. No one argued, no one fought, no one even cared when he was finished. Sure, the money was all good and well, but Modell needed more than that. He needed the feeling of strength and power. The knowledge that others were defenseless to stop him. And that would come once he overthrew Gotham.

"Mr. Wayne will see you now," Maxine chirped in her overly happy voice. It was her only real flaw. She was always polite, very smart, and the best secretary Bruce Wayne had had in some time. But her voice was simply too cheery, especially considering Coleman Reese was already strongly contemplating jumping out the huge twentieth floor window in Mr. Wayne's office.

"All right," Coleman mumbled nervously, tugging at his jacket's cuffs. But he just continued sitting there until Maxine looked up again.

"Now, Mr. Reese," she clarified, her voice just a tad less happy.

Coleman sighed and got up. He entered Mr. Wayne's massive office. It was all white, black, and metallic gray, designed into geometric patterns that seemed to radiate power. Bruce stood with his back to Coleman, staring out at the city through his enormous window. His usually arrogant, but now rather scared, employee didn't know what to do so he simply stood there, waiting for the rich heir to say the first word.

Finally, Bruce turned around sat in his impressive black leather chair.

"Sit down, Mr. Reese," he said nonchalantly. Coleman didn't need telling twice. He quickly sat in the chair opposite Mr. Wayne's, on the other side of his desk. He sat up pencil straight and tried to look as professional as possible.

"So, Mr. Reese. You never did fully explain how you found out my secret."

"Um, well, it wasn't too easy, sir," Coleman stammered. Why is he stalling? Can't he just fire me and be done with it? "I really never would have guessed if it weren't for Mr. Fox having me look back over those financial records. But the numbers didn't add up. And I never leave numbers unaccounted for. So, naturally I reviewed older records. There were large amounts of money that were just disappearing. I tried looking it up in the main database, but there was virtually no explanation as to where that money was going. At first, I suspected embezzling. But that didn't make sense. Why would one of the richest men in the world need to steal money from his own company? I did consider for just a moment that you might be…you know. But I dismissed the idea. Yet, it stuck in my mind. After all, you would be one of the few people who could afford such a suit and car. Then I-"

He had taken to rambling by now. It was one of his obsessive habits to thoroughly explain his entire thought process. Coleman couldn't stand to not know something. That was part of the reason he had pursued that missing currency so fixatedly. But now he hesitated. He doubted Mr. Wayne would be very happy about what he had done next.

"And then what?" Bruce inquired, fixing his dark, solemn eyes on the short man in front of him. He knew what came next in the story, but he wondered if Mr. Reese would deny it. He's probably too afraid to, now that he knows who I am and what I've done. He must think I'm gonna snap his neck or something. Bruce almost laughed at the thought, but restrained himself.

"Then I…I snuck into- into Mr. Fox's office…after-hours. It- it was a terrible thing to do and I'm sorry, but I just… Anyway, that's where I found the blueprints for the bat-car-thingy."

"Batmobile."

"Oh… Is that really what you call it?"

"Yeah."

Coleman was quiet for several minutes. He was terrified. He didn't want to lose his job; he had never been fired in his life. Why had he been so stupid? He could have just let Bruce be Batman in peace and go on with his life. But no, he had to try the blackmail thing.

Oh crap, he thought. What if he wants to press charges? I just told him the whole freaking story! Now I'm gonna go to jail and rot in a prison cell with some cellmate named Butch. I'm gonna have to wear one of those hideous orange jumpsuits and pee in public. What if I have to be with one of those really crazy criminals, like Zsaz or…THE JOKER? Ever since having random people try to kill him, Coleman had been absolutely horrified of The Joker. Every once in a while, he would see someone wearing purple or too much lipstick and be sure that it was HIM. That HE had broken out and was going to finish what the citizens of Gotham couldn't.

"You're a very smart man, Mr. Reese."

"I am?"

"Yes. In fact, you're one of the very select few who know who I am. Now, that could make you a threat or an ally. Maybe you want to try to blackmail me again. Maybe you think I'm just a vigilante who causes more trouble than he's worth, in which case you might turn me in to the police. But those are just possibilities. You could have changed your views and want to help me. Maybe you've seen that I'm actually somewhat helpful, considering I saved your life. You could be a tremendous help to me."

"Yes! I want to help, Mr. Wayne. I won't tell anyone that you're- you know. I promise to-"

"Mr. Reese," Bruce cut him off. "If you do join my side, it won't be easy, especially since nearly everyone knows you know who Batman is. You've seen what can happen to those who try to save the city and stop crime…all those cops, Harvey Dent, innocent citizens…Rachel Dawes."

Bruce paused here and looked mournfully over at the wall. He thought of how his life had been like that wall. All anyone saw when they looked at him was this beautiful wallpaper, a perfectly designed life. No scratches or problems or stains of any kind. But underneath…underneath there was just this structure, trying to keep itself together. Trying not to cave in because, if it ever did, how many people would die? How many people would perish if Bruce ever gave up or fell down? He was not like other people who are flawed and allowed mistakes. He was a wall. An impenetrable and indestructible wall. And a wall cannot fall without consequences.

"Mr. Wayne!" Maxine's voice came loudly over the intercom. "There's some sort of emergency on the sixteenth floor, Mr. Rivet's office. The police have been called."

Bruce jumped out of his seat and headed for the door. Coleman did the same.

"You may return to what you were doing, Mr. Reese," Bruce said now that Maxine was within earshot. "Think about what I told you."

With that he ran to the elevator, startling several other employees in his rush.

"Martin Rivet, 47, married with one daughter. He's been an employee here at Wayne Enterprises for over twenty years. No previous suicide attempts," Bullock listed off what the police and CSI knew so far about their victim. Rivet lay beside his desk, his eyes open but unseeing. There was a single gunshot wound on the side of his head.

"I put time of death at around thirty minutes ago," stated one CSI who had just finished checking Rivet's temperature.

"Didn't anyone hear the shot?" a female officer asked. Renée Montoya had her dark, wavy hair pulled back and wasn't wearing any make-up at the moment. It was supposed to be her day off but, since she lived so close to the crime scene, Bullock had called her in. She figured it was payback for calling him a sexist jerk the week before.

"Yeah, several employees did," replied Gordon. "But no one seems to remember seeing anyone leave the office. It looks like a suicide, other than…the paint…I'm gonna go talk to Mr. Wayne, see what he knows."

He left the room and approached Mr. Wayne, who was standing solemnly in the hallway. He explained that they thought it was most likely a suicide.

"Most likely?" Bruce repeated. "You're not sure?"

"Well, there are a few irregularities."

"You know," Bruce said thoughtfully. "It doesn't make much sense to me. We have security at every entrance to this building. Everyone has to go through a metal detector when they come in, unless they have a special pass issued by Lucius Fox or myself. I know Mr. Rivet didn't have any such thing. How could he have gotten in here with a gun with no one noticing?"

"That's one of the irregularities. But we need you to take a look at another one."

Bruce followed Gordon back into Rivet's office. On the wall behind his desk were these words written in bright blue paint:

JUST A PREVIEW

Author's Note: I promise there's gonna be more action throughout the story including assassinations and suicides! So keep reading, okay? And reviews are appreciated! :)

Anyone who knows the X Files and Pusher knows why the paint is blue ;)