Gotham Archives

3. One And The Same

"Alfred, it was as if I'd been put under a trance."

Bruce was sitting in front his large computer in the Bat Cave with Alfred standing dutifully beside him.

"There is, of course, verbal hypnotism," he continued. "But this was like nothing I've ever seen. It was like everything he said made perfect sense and I didn't even think of contradicting it…what do you think?"

"Well, Master Bruce, I'm not an expert on hypnosis, but I have heard that the subject usually has to contribute in some way…prepare oneself. But this sounds as though you literally had no control."

Bruce sighed. "Either way, I need to go over these security tapes."

He slipped in the tape and a large foursquare appeared on the screen. The two top squares showed different angles of the hallway outside Rivet's office. The bottom left showed inside of his office and the last one showed the lobby.

"This is about an hour before Rivet was murdered. We need to watch the lobby for anyone the least bit suspicious."

He put the video on fast forward, watching the entrance doors carefully. Finally, he hit a button and quickly rewound to pause on a man entering.

"That man…" he said quietly. His dark eyes lit up in recognition. "That's the bank robber!"

"The one who calls himself Pusher? The hypnotist?"

"Yes, that's definitely him."

He hit play and watched as Pusher approached the guard at the metal detector, said something inaudible, and pointed to something white pinned on his shirt. The guard nodded and let him around. Bruce rewound and zoomed in on the white slip. He and Alfred both gaped. It was nothing more than a bit of notebook paper taped to Pusher's shirt. It said in large, scrawled handwriting 'PASS'.

Both men looked bewilderedly at each other, but continued the tape nonetheless, now focusing on the hallway. Pusher left the elevator, saying something to a woman passing. He reached Rivet's door and knocked politely. Martin Rivet, whom Bruce knew to be very kind and trusting, let him in. Bruce knew what was coming, but stared determinedly at the square showing the office anyway.

Alfred took a step back; he had great distaste for murder. Bruce expected Pusher to blow Rivet's brains out at any second but…

But instead he began speaking. Bruce silently cursed himself for not also getting the audio for the tapes. Rivet looked surprised at first, but slowly his eyes glazed over and he began nodding. Bruce realized this was what he must have looked like the night before. Then Pusher handed the gun to Rivet, who looked at it for only a moment before putting it to his head and pulling the trigger. Alfred looked away.

Bruce clenched his fists as he watched Pusher leave the office calmly and address the few people in the hallway before leaving Wayne Enterprises. What was going on?

"What the devil is going on?" Alfred inquired, reading his companion's thoughts.

"I don't know, old friend. But I intend to get to the bottom of it."

Barbara Gordon frowned at her chemistry homework. Frowning never did seem to help, but she was too tired to care.

I finally get to come home for break to see Dad and I have to do homework? This has got to count as child labor or something.

True, a college student was no longer really a child, but that didn't help her mood. Her father was gone all yesterday investigating an apparent suicide. This kind of case never made much for dinner conversation and he'd been very quiet since she'd gotten home. Barbara was sure he was still feeling guilty about how the Harvey Dent situation turned out. She couldn't see how he blamed himself, though. Dent went insane, killed people, and claimed he was serving justice the entire time. Her father didn't make him do that.

"Barbara? You here?" Jim Gordon's voice rang through the house. Barbara hadn't even heard him come inside.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm in the kitchen. I made pasta for dinner."

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," he insisted, entering the kitchen. He walked over to the TV set on the counter and turned it on. It was already on the news station; Gordon didn't watch much else. But Barbara frowned disapprovingly.

"Isn't there anything more cheerful on?"

"We have to know what's going on in the city. You never know when an important situation will arise."

"The Joker's still in Arkham, right?"

"Yes, but he's escaped before. And besides, Killer Croc is still on the streets…or in the sewers."

"Killer what?"

"Oh…I'd forgotten to tell you about Waylon Jones…Barbara, do you remember going to the circus when you were little and seeing the alligator-man?"

"Yeah."

"Jones is like him, except bigger, more dangerous, and with a much more severe case of Epidermolytic Hyperkeratosis."

"Huh?"

"The disease that makes him look like a crocodile. As I said, his is a rare case. The doctors at Gotham General and Arkham all said they've never seen such a severe and progressive case of it."

"Yikes. I'd hate to run into him. What does he do? I mean we all know The Joker's crimes are random…and Two Face leaves his up to chance. What does Killer Croc do?"

"Well, he's not the brightest criminal. When he came a couple months ago, he tried starting a gang, but few criminals would follow him after seeing what a temper he has. He's rather…sensitive about his condition."

"Why do all the psychos come to Gotham?"

Gordon chuckled grimly. "I don't know, Barbara. But we're all-"

"Dad, look," Barbara interjected, pointing at the television. Summer Gleeson was in front of a desolate intersection, staring at the camera with glazed eyes. The camera was tilted oddly so that Summer appeared diagonally across the screen. Her light strawberry blonde hair was messy and her blazer was buttoned incorrectly, as though she'd gotten ready in a rush. Soon she began to speak.

"This is Summer Gleeson with a special news bulletin. A new criminal mastermind has come to Gotham."

In a nearby house, Montoya stared at the TV in wonder. Summer certainly didn't have her normal, energetic reporter voice. Instead, she sounded monotone and dreamy. Montoya turned the volume up.

"Who is this fearsome genius? His name is Pusher and our city is lucky enough to have his undivided attention. For you daring souls who think you can perhaps defeat him, please stay home twiddling your thumbs…for your sake."

Bullock didn't even bother glancing down when his toothpick fell to the floor. He was watching Summer's announcement with rapt attention. Who's Pusher? What kind of name is that? Maybe he's a drug lord…

"For the time being, most of you miscreants are safe. Pusher has focused his concentration on the two most powerful men in Gotham…Batman and Bruce Wayne. He is going to make sure that if they manage to live through the week, they'll wish they were dead. He also plans-"

Suddenly, she was cut off by two uniformed cops. They each grabbed an arm and began pulling the dazed reporter to a nearby patrol car. She didn't put up a fight.

Gordon jumped from the table, grabbed his coat, and left for the station. Barbara got up to call any friends who hadn't heard the newscast.

Renée Montoya stared at the screen, wondering what was becoming of the city. Seriously, who broadcasts their plans on live television?

Bullock threw his sandwich at the TV. It splattered bologna, tomato, and mustard all over the screen, but Bullock was too busy yelling about criminal scum to care.

The inmates at Arkham Asylum were debating on whether or not this Pusher character would be able to kill the Batman. The discussion was so heated that fists were flying within seconds. The Joker only stared at the now-black television, laughing hysterically.

And up on a hill inside a gothic mansion, a white-haired butler said to his friend and master in a poor attempt at humor, "I wonder how Pusher would react if he knew his two targets were really one and the same.

Author's Note: Please review! I really appreciate it and I really don't feel like continuing to update if I'm not getting any feedback. It means a lot, people. BTW who likes Pusher as a villain? I know he doesn't appear much; that's only because he gets others to do his dirty work. XD