224. A Hard Act to Follow part 9

Prelude to a revelation……

November 29, 2004.

Gotham City.

Industrial District.

11:24 pm

T-T-T-T-T-T-

The first thing I noticed about the flames was that they were blinding me. My shades were gone, and my black eyes were naked as they reopened to the flickering world.

I winced and tried sitting up. My body ached from the top down and stung especially in a few areas. I was surprised that no bones were broken. But then again, perhaps I would find out more things as the night wore on.

I was in an alleyway. A rock-hard, concrete ground lie beneath me. Brick walls and mortar flanked me. And everything was reflecting an amber red with splashes of ash dancing all around. It was hot, and through thinly squinted eyes of obsidian I noticed the crumpled building shards around me. The flames burning brightly, but softly…in that there wasn't a raging inferno about to consume my aching body.

But why am I still here?

I stood up on wobbly legs. I shifted Myrkblade in its hilt over my shoulders. It was still there. I breathed softly.

The chill.

It's gone.

Does Red Aviary think it killed me?

Or has it simply gone away to toy with me later?

I straightened my long black hair some and squinted across the fiery, claustrophobic landscape.

Me……what about me? I'm not the only one……

I gasped.

I looked around.

I dashed to and fro among the burning wreckage. Stabbed by each pulse of flickering red. Sweating…straining…searching….

I leapt over a smoldering pile of rooftop debris, teleported under a fallen crossbeam, and emerged where the alleyway was a little devoid of smoke.

And there I saw him. Lying on the ground, a perfect mirror to myself with his eyemask facing away. Long black hair a tangled, explosive mess. He too was in one piece, as much as I could assess. I wasn't about to ask him anything….and he being unconscious had a little something to do with it.

He must have……saved me.

I blinked.

When the carbonite went off, he must have tossed us off the rooftop.

CRKKKK!

I looked above.

A section of roofing to the half-exploded warehouse was starting to crack and collapse over us. Over him more than me.

I bit my lip.

Every good deed……

I knelt.

I gripped Nightwing's shoulders.

I strained, tensed, and slid his muscular body out from where he resided. It was a slow, molasses type of thing but I managed to drag him across the length of the alleyway. Clumps of burning embers and drops of ash littered a glowing trail after us. A few glowing sparks danced off of Nightwing's boots as I picked up the pace….struggling.

And naturally it was mere seconds between my clearing the way from the burning part of the alleyway and the actual wall collapsing where we once were.

CRUNNNCH!

Hot smoke and ash flew.

I wheezed, my black eyes tearing. I clenched them shut to solace myself for a few seconds. Comforted in darkness as the heat came and went and I gently dropped Nightwing's upper body down to the floor.

And somewhere in the cooling of the air, I felt it. The two dozen fresh bruises and welts across my body from the horrendous fight four stories up. I let out a mute yelp of pain and leaned back against the dry alleyway wall, panting. Wincing. Clutching an upper arm of flesh.

"………"

I shuddered after the first sensation of…senses washed through me.

Jesus……welcome to Gotham, Noir…

I limped blindly around Nightwing's body and stood in the halo of distant flame heat.

So……Batman's alive. Nightwing is a dick. Batgirl is………I dunno. And where does that leave me? Gordon seemed about ready to accept me with half-open arms after he had his talk with Maggie Sawyer from Metropolis. But obviously the Batman troupe is after me for what I've done during my roguish romp. Or then again, maybe it was just Nightwing?

I opened my eyes finally.

A stabbing thing…

Nightwing's body lingered in the shadows of the fire-kissed alleyway.

I took a deep breath.

I turned and forced myself to look at the rest of the building.

I winced and tensed my face in pain as my black eyes faced the flickering red tongues directly.

The Warehouse.

What chance is there that the computer station is still in there?

Undoubtedly, it belongs to Fox. It may have the exact thing I need to track him down. Although……I have to wonder.

What the Hell's the use anymore?

CRKKKKK!

I jolted.

I heard and felt the infrastructure of the building start to collapse in on itself. There was a groaning noise of steel bending into steel. Center beams and pylons buckling. The remainder of the roof crunching inward.

If I didn't move quickly enough, whatever computer could possibly be in tact within the structure would be…no more.

I groaned mutely and started the arduous process of surging murk through my limbs.

Never think, Noir.

Just do.

Do.

FWOOOOSH!

I blurred up the outer wall of the building, dashed over the flames, came to a window, leapt off, bounce against the opposite alleyway wall with my feet, and dove through the frame.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

SHATTER!

I flew in with a splash of glass shards.

I met the floor.

Rolled.

And came up on my knees.

As soon as I gave the place a frantic look, a billowing clump of burning debris fell before me.

CRASH!

I held a metal forearm before my face, wincing. Shielding myself against the splash of ash.

The interior of the warehouse was a hellish sea of collapsed debris, dancing flames, and crackling embers. A red-orange glow filled the place. My eyes felt like they would fall out from the blinding sensation. I clenched them shut…tearing. I took a deep breath and crept forward, holding a metal arm out as I crouch-walked across the burning compound. Feeling with spatial sense for….

A structure.

An item.

Furniture.

Electronics.

A shape.

A SHAPE!

I felt a wave of heat.

I gasped and dove forward.

CL-CLANK!

A mound of burning debris landed behind me. The ringing sensation of steel filled the room.

I winced, brushed myself off, and crept forward again.

The oxygen was growing thin.

Whatever smoke billowed about, I re-shifted so that a 'bubble' of clean air followed my body and cut me a clean path through the crackling madness. I knew I wouldn't last long with the limited, breathable air that was in there. But I wasn't planning on staying for very long anyways.

Fox?

Where the Hell do your put your STUFF?

TH-THWUMP!

I tripped over something.

"!"

THWAP!

I landed hard on my chest, my lower body draped over a 'tray' of sorts.

I opened my pained eyes thinly and glanced behind.

There was the computer station. A little smogged and sooted, but in one piece.

Heh……don't know my own strength of observation……

I flipped up to my feet…winced again…and finally stumbled over to the station. I typed madly at the keyboard and stared at the screen.

"………"

Blank.

"………"

I blinked.

I looked at the computer tower.

Shit. It's not on, dumbass.

I madly jabbed the on button.

Nothing happened.

I gritted my teeth.

I looked around.

No outlet?

No cords?

For crying out loud, the building is BURNING DOWN ALL AROUND YOU?

Do you think power would be on through that?

Then I paused.

Thinking…..

"…….."

How would Fox have this computer working in such an abandoned interior anyways?

The warehouse was practically falling apart on its own before Nightwing, Red Aviary, and I paid it a fiery visit.

"……," my black eyes widened.

A……generator?

I dashed around the backside of the computer.

Indeed, there was a small gas-powered charger.

Hell to the yes!

Petroleum? Erm……well, it's not like I'm going to be in here long anyway……

I frantically primed it and pulled on the starter cord.

The generator revved and shook. Sputtered. Died.

I gritted my teeth, re-gripped the cord, and pulled again. Yanking.

Repeatedly, the generator shook and throbbed and vibrated.

All the while, distant pylons and steel girders fell. Crashings and cracklings and thunderings filled the ruptured interior. My little 'pocket' of air grew smaller. The smoke began to envelop me more than my powers could hold them back. And I was concentrated enough as it was on the computer's generator.

Come on……Come on……

The end of Gotham City and my life as I possibly know it, and here I'm stuck with a Y2K bastard child!

A few more cranks, and the engine started running.

VRMMMMMMM!

I gasped.

Yes! Yes! I love the Y2K bastard child!

CRASH!

A burning pile of ceiling pieces fell uncomfortably close behind me. Under the shower of ashes, I flinched and madly typed away at the computer.

I brought the system through DOS mode, into a windows prompt, and finally to a screen that very cheerfully said:

'Please insert password'.

"……," I snarled mutely and kicked the computer desk. CL-CLUNK!

Dammit to the seventh layer of Hell!

The floor shook.

The metal steel pylon above me started to groan and cave downwards. Bits and pieces of red ash embers floated down to settle on me.

I gritted my teeth and typed madly at the computer.

I suppose I can bullshit.

williambfox

Beep-Beep!

'Password Incorrect.'

sonoflucius

Beep-Beep!

'Password Incorrect.'

snivelingshitstain

Beep-Beep!

'Password Incorrect.'

I shook and punched the monitor's plastic frame, seething.

Don't you smart-talk me, you Majel Barrett wannabe!

Snkkkkt!

The screen suddenly flipped back to DOS mode with a blinking green line.

"……….," I bit my lip.

Dear Allah, what did I do?

The steel girders above me groaned more.

Flames started to billow downward. The hairs on the back of my neck started to curl beneath my sweat-stained locks. Bulbs of moisture formed on my forehead as I stared up with quivering black eyes at the inevitable collapse.

Beeeeeep! Beep! Beep! DING!

"?" I glanced at the monitor again.

A string of text read in green:

'WILLIAM B. FOX, IS THAT YOU?'

"…….." My mouth dropped.

I typed: 'Oracle?'

After a while….the monitor 'replied'.

'NIGHTWING? IS THAT YOU?'

'Oracle! This is Noir! How in God's name did you find this computer?'

'REMOTE INTERNET HUB. WIRELESS. I NEARLY HACKED MY WAY IN WHEN FOX LAST DISCONNETED.'

"…..," I craned my neck and peered around the edge of the computer. I saw a blinking device attached to the back of the computer tower. Ah. I see. Neato.

'IS NIGHTWING ALL RIGHT? I AM SORRY ABOUT WHAT HE DID. WE TRIED TO STOP HIM.'

I blinked.

'Yeah, he's alright. Who the Hell is 'we' exactly?'

There was no response….

GROAN! The ceiling above cracked. More ashes. More metal shards snowing down.

I took a deep breath and typed with a flurry of metal and flesh hands:

'Look, I have no time. This building I'm in is going to collapse soon and take out both me and the computer.'

'FOR GODS SAKE, NOIR! GET OUT!'

'Not until you help me find where Fox went to!' I typed, face firm and concentrated as I glared nakedly at the screen. 'You're the expert hacker here. Stop wasting online time and track the son of a bitch!'

'NOIR, WHAT DO YOU EXPECT TO DO WHEN YOU FIND HIM?'

'Let that be my concern!'

'YOU CANT DO THIS ON YOUR OWN ANYMORE! ITS TOO RISKY! YOU AND NIGHTWING ALMOST DIED TOGETHER!'

I felt like tossing the monitor across the burning room.

'Just give me Fox's god damn coordinates and we'll worry about the Angel of Death later on! I'm about to be oven-roasted any second here!'

'HOLD ON. DOWNLOADING………'

I stood.

I fidgeted.

I flinched at every crumble and collapse of building fragments around me. I took a nervous breath. I bit my lip…

GROAAAAAN!

I looked above.

The ceiling started to break.

DING!

I looked down.

The monitor splashed: 'I DIDNT FIND FOX, BUT I FOUND THE PROFESSOR!'

I took a breath. Good enough……

'553 JUNCTION STREET. THE BELGRADE BUILDING. FIFTH FLOOR. LOFT APARTMENT, ROOM 433a!'

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

The debris came tumbling down.

I blurred my body and vaulted away from the computer.

SMASSSSH!

The desk and electronics imploded under the weight of the flaming wreckage.

I panted, spun about, and streaked my way through the rest of the building.

Pockets of fire plumed up on either side of me. Windows shattered, spraying me with glass and embers. I shielded myself with murk-laden hands as I outran the collapsing ceiling forming an upside down domino crunch-time behind me. Debris trailed my heels, exploded, and propelled me forward as I dove like a torpedo straight through a pair of rusted double doors with the flaming tongues of amber in m y peripheral optics.

FWOOOOOOSH!

T-T-T-T-T-T-

CRACK!

I dove through the doors, rolled across the parking lot, got on my knees, jumped up, and ran forward in a black bolt.

PHWOOOOMBB!

The collapsing warehouse vomited a wave of fire directly outward…eating at my backside.

And I ran….westward.

Out of the industrial complex.

Long before the emergency sirens could begin their wail.

And long before anything short of Red Aviary could catch sight of this half-blind, panting speeder making his way towards the downtown apartments.

It would be only a matter of hours before the sun rose and I would be no longer useful in the blinding light. Hopefully I could force the Ventriloquist to cough up some information before that happened.

Either that….or death could be the solace for me….

T-T-T-T-T-T-

553 Junction Street.

The Belgrade Building.

The loft apartment of the fourth floor was a spacious, luxurious thing. Sloped, glass panes formed the ceiling. A skylight that showed the red sky of the Gotham night in tinted illusion. Inside, the lush carpet was spotted with furniture here and there. Polished woodwork. Mahogany and cedar. It looked like a rich carpenter's retirement home.

At the moment, it was populated by half a dozen thugs…two of which were Mugsy and Rhino. The two common lackeys of the Ventriloquist stood anxiously in the electric-lit corners of the place, their hands in their pockets. Their lips being bit and toyed with by their own teeth and tongue in a sweating manner. They looked and acted and felt like a giant guillotine was going to fall down and slice the building in two. Something akin to silent aftershocks of the fallen, flaming zeppelin from earlier.

Rhino stood at a long stretch of window before a fire escape. A thin, brick-laid alleyway between the two apartment buildings stretched coldly down below. An urban abyss. Thin and grave-like.

"I don't like it…," Rhino grunted. He cracked his knuckles and nervously shifted where he stood. "…why did Two-Face send so many of his creeps here? Can't we protect the Professor and Scarface on our own? We've always done that…."

"You saw what happened at the Kane Building today, Rhino…," Mugsy whispered back. He lit a cigarette, took a puff, and blew out through the window above the fire escape. Scarface didn't like struck matches inside the apartment. "…that zeppelin may have been shot down by Trent and his boys, god rest their damn-dirty souls, but something else brought it to flames. Rather….someone else."

Rhino gulped. "The Parasite?"

"None other if you ask me."

Rhino stared at the four other thugs.

The four other thugs glared back. They looked like they wanted to be at any gig but there.

"Heh….you'd think we'd have cheerier soldiers on our side. If the Angel of Death was to jump on 'em, they'd shit and run….not necessarily in that order."

"Perhaps….," Mugsy puffed again. "But we wouldn't, right?"

"Right."

"When the Phantasm was in town, we never gave a thought towards hittin' the road," Mugsy said. "Or during the whole Batwoman fiasco. Batwoman……BatWOMEN."

"Heh. Yeah, that was rich."

"Look at the bright side, Rhino. We got Fox. We stopped the Terrible Troupe. And we even gave that punk-ass swords guy a good butt whooping to keep him at Bay!"

"Damn kids. Think they can turn the world upside down."

"I know…screwy, ain't it?"

A breath of wind.

Mugsy's cigarette smoke flickered.

Rhino turned, blinking out into the thin, tall alleyway. "What was that?"

Mugsy shrugged. "Hell should I know?" He finished his cigarette and flicked it out the window. A creaking sound from the distance, and Mugsy adjusted his coat and smacked Rhino's shoulder to point at the double bedroom doors across the way. "Hey….the Professor's comin' out."

"Finally…"

All six guards turned to see the gray-haired elder shuffle his way out of the bedroom. He slowly closed the doors behind him, gulped, and nervously uttered: "Sc-Scarface says to be on the lookout. This might be our most dangerous night working under Triangular yet."

"Heh….perfect….," murmured a thug.

"Any word from our boss?"

The Professor bit his lip. "M-Mr. Dent called t-to say that Fox was transported s-safely back to his apartment. Dagger's working on something to c-cover for Fox's 'supposed' kidnapping. We don't want all of Gotham to know that the Troupe had him. If Triangular was revealed, it would w-weaken our image."

"What about Scarface, Prof?" Rhino asked, his head nodding. "What's he wanting us to do?"

There was a muffled shouting. And it honestly….sounded like it was coming from the other side of the bedroom doors.

"Keep it down, yous mugs! Scarface is tryin' to sleep! Just keep your kewl and keep yous peepers open and maybe ya might not have anything ta worry 'bout! Now keep it down!"

The Professor simpered.

One of Two-Face's thugs ran a hand over his brow and groaned: "Ay gevalt….just my luck, spending the night guarding a split-headed puppeteer…"

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! WHAM!

Rhinos marched over and threw his fist into the thug's gut.

"Ohhhhh!" the thug wheezed and fell over.

The others gasped.

Rhino growled and pointed an angry finger: "You respect what Mr. Scarface says! You hear? He's smarter than the rest of us combined! And if it weren't for his intervention, we'd never would have gotten Fox out of that zeppelin your stupid teammates blew out of the sky!"

"Hey, man….," another thug helped the fallen one up and frowned. "…a lot of our buddies died today trying to take that zeppelin down. You can take your wooden puppet of a boss and shot if up your…."

BLAM!

The four Two-Facers winced.

"……," Mugsy held a gun aimed towards the ceiling. The barrel smoked as he glared at the others, frowning.

"Hey! Who's shootin' who out there, ya blockheads? I'm tryin' ta sleep!"

"No problem, boss!" Mugsy smirked and holstered his pistol. "Just a damned mosquito."

"……," the thugs glared.

"That's much better….," Rhino folded his arms. "Heh….thanks, Mugsy."

"No problem," the thin man looked over. "Prof. We got things covered out here. You take care of Scarface, got it?"

"Y-Y-Yes…..will do…," and the old man turned, opened the doors, and shuffled his nervous self in.

Another gust of wind.

"'Eesus….," Rhino shivered. "You think that—by this time—it'd start snowing!"

"I could care less about the weather right now…."

T-T-T-T-T-T-

The bedroom was just as lush as the apartment's living room. Only, there were less windows and more space occupied by a queen-sized bed within which was situated a familiar, ugly puppet clad quite goofily in a pajama top and bottom.

The Professor walked through the room to a wardrobe, where he gathered bedsheets to add to the queen-sized bed. A small, canvass cot lay in the far corner of the room for him to sleep in.

"Slack…slack……slack! That's all yous good for these days, ya blockhead!"

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Scarface. I will attempt to be quicker."

"You better be! This is the greatest job you're ever gonna get! Do ya know how lucky ya are ta work for me? One boot to ya fanny ta kick you outta dis house and you'd be swimmin' in shark fodder, pal! Street sharks! They'd eat yous alive and nobody would give an old fogie like you a job with dis economy we're livin' with! It's a cryin' shame, so that's why I gots ta cry my bleedin' heart all over for yous! You better be grateful ta me!"

"I-I am, grateful, M-Mr. Scarface. Honestly I am. I-I want to take care of y-you in anyway I can!"

"Then throw on one of thems blankets! I'm freezin' ma keister off 'ere! Can't get a good, decent night's sleep anymores! You think Two-Face is gonna let us have any rest now thats the Parasite has made anudda move? Nosiree, we'll be makin' gravel out of the streets searchin' for the rest of Triangular's opposition befores that red wraith arrives again!"

The Professor smiled some. "You said it, Mr. Scarface. We sure are hard-working folks. W-We'll show this City a thing or two…"

FWOOSH!

A body solidified behind the old man.

The Professor turned around.

GRIP!

A titanium hand clutched around his neck.

He gasped---

THWOOSH! I tossed him across the bedroom.

He landed smack-dab against a dresser. TH-THWUMP! "Oof!"

"Hey blockhead? What's going on?"

The Professor looked at me and gasped. He trembled all over and scrunched up against the dresser.

"……," I marched towards him. Naked black eyes glaring. Trailing smoke out the edges…

"It's….I-I-It's the T-Titan!" the Professor stammered. "The one w-with the sword!"

"What?"

I leered over the Professor.

He took a deep breath, inhaling heavily. Before he could scream…

CLUTCH!

My metal hand clamps over his mouth.

CHIIIII-IIIII-IIIIING! I slide Myrkblade out of its sheathe and press the tilt up against the Ventriloquist's talented throat.

"Mmmf! Mmmmmfff!" he sweats and stares at me with wide eyes behind his glasses.

"……," I glare right in his face. I lip-sync in a way that only a ventriloquist can read: 'Tell me where Fox is…'

"MmmmMMMMMmmmfff!" he shook all over.

"Don't yous tell him anything, you hear!"

"……," I blinked. I turned and looked at the bed.

Scarface stood perfectly still. And yet the voice sounded like it came naturally from him.

"Not a word, Professor! He's not wanted in my hideout! Guards! Guards!"

I gritted my teeth and slammed the ventriloquist's head back up against the dresser.

WHUMP!

"Ooof!" he cried.

'No more games!'

"M-Mr. Scarface! H-Help!"

"Show some balls, ya blockhead! Hey you! Smokeshit! You ain't gonna get nothin' out of him, ya hear? Or it it's out on the street with him! YOU HEAR THAT, BLOCKHEAD! OUT ON DA MOTHER FLUFFIN' STREET! HA!"

"Ohhh….don'thurtmedon'thurtmedon'thurtmedon'thurtme!"

"…….," I looked at the dummy on the bed. Then at the man quivering in my grasp. Then at the bed again.

You've got to be frickin' kidding me……

TH-THWUMP!

I tossed the Ventriloquist aside. Whap! I marched towards the queen-sized bed.

The dummy in tiny pajamas lay there.

"Hey! What are you doing!"

I grabbed a handful of bedsheets and yanked him mercilessly towards the floor.

FWOOMP!

Scarface effectively tumbled off and rolled across the floor.

"Ooof! Ow! Why I oughta……!"

STAB!

I stuck Myrkblade down into the floor, caught the dummy between its wooden body and its pajama coverings, and hoisted him up like the end of a marshmallow stick.

"Whoo-ooah!"

I snarled and swung him against a bedpost.

THWACK!

"OW!"

I let out another mute shout and slapped the puppet up against the wall.

WHAM!

"OOF!"

I then walked over, stood beneath a ceiling fan, and lifted the beat-up dummy via Myrkblade up into the path of the blades.

THAP!-THAP!-THAP!-THAP!-THAP!-THAP!

"AUGH!AUGH!AUGH!AUGH!AUGH!AUGH!"

"St-Stop!" the Professor nervously shook and reached out from beyond the bed. "Y-You are hurting him!"

I gritted my teeth and flung him towards the floor. THWOOOSH! WHAM!

The dummy bounced once or twice from the impact. Its pajamas were torn and its googly eyes rolled back.

"Why ya rotten, good for nothin'—"

WHUD! My boot clamped down over the spot between the doll's legs.

"AAAIGNNNGKKKKTT!"

I bent over and frowned. Lip-syncing 'to the dummy'.

'Tell me what I want to know.'

"Not in a million years, ya hockey puck! Not now, not ever!"

"……," I looked at the Professor.

The man trembled, shaking all over.

"…….," I looked at the doll.

Dammit to Hell.

If I could get some information out of Superman of all people……

I sure as heck aren't about to let a wooden piece of crap talk me down.

STAB!

"Aaaaugh!" Scarface 'screamed' as I ripped Myrkblade through one of his tiny ankles. I dragged him over to a desk. I slid open a couple of drawers, pulled out a switch blade.

FL-FLICKTTT!

I flipped it open.

THAP!

I slammed Scarface down onto the table top and gripped the knife with the blade aimed down at his face in a metal hand.

"You wouldn't freakin' dare……"

CLAMP!

"AAAAUGH!" the voice warbled as I jabbed the tip of the knife blade down into the forehead of the dummy. In agonizing slowness, I carved letter after letter. Starting with a ripping, shredding 'W'…then onto a chip-peeling 'H'….and then taking my slow time with a twisting, jagged 'E'.

"AAAAUGH! JEEBUS! HAVE YOU NO HUMANITY YA BUCKET HUMPER?"

"N-No! Stop it!" the Professor ran over. "You're hurting him—"

WHUMP! I raised a foot, kicking the Professor back.

He landed against the side of the bed. "Ooof!"

I carved and carved and carved. Forming a phrase all across the dummy's skull and face. The screaming noises continued, although the dummy was perfectly…absolutely still.

"NNNGH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DUMMY? DON'T JUST SIT THERE! COME AND HELP ME!"

"I-I can't, sir! He's too strong!"

"AAARGH! JEEBUS ALMIGHTY!"

I finished carving.

I gripped the back of Scarface's skull, hoisted him around, and shoved him in the Professor's face.

The Professor shivered, wincing. His thin…twitching eyes got a close-up view of the words carved into the puppet's 'skin'.

'WHERE IS FOX?'

"Well, ya blockhead? What's the torturer got branded on me?"

"H-H-He wants t-to know where William Fox is, sir…."

"Well we ain't gonna tell hi—"

Before 'Scarface' could finish his sentence, I twirled him around and mercilessly stabbed the knife into one of his plastic eyes.

CHTUNK!

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGHHHH!"

"M-MISTER SCARFACE!"

"ALL RIGHT! I'LL TELL! I'LL TELL!"

"……," I smirked ever so slightly.

I didn't have the angel of death after me and half the world thinking I'm a bad guy, this might actually be 'fun'……

"He's at his apartment. HIS apartment! As in the one belongin' to da Fox Family! Lucius and Son and whatever girls hang around that nasty-ass place!"

I dug the knife deeper.

"NNNGH! Off of M-Main Street and Twenty-Fifth Avenue! Near the Venetian Theatre, ya know? Arrgh! Top floor! Top five floors, to be exact! R-Richest apartment in Gotham City! I swear! I swear that's where he is! Back with his dear old dad!"

"………."

"P-Please….let him g-go…."

"That all you wanted, p-punk?"

I had frozen.

For in the middle of my being relayed the news, it had hit me. The shivers.

And it was a hell of a lot stronger than ever it had been before.

Red Aviary.

Red Aviary has found me……

I shook. I moved….

And as soon as my limbs moved, I felt as if ice was crackling deep inside of me.

My breath came out in a vapor…even inside the apartment bedroom.

Red Aviary is here.

Oh god……h-he could even be in the damn building!

"Wh-What are you standing around for? I told you want I wanted……"

THWOOSH! I tossed Scarface into the Professor, knife and all.

"Ooof!" the man haphazardly caught the scarred puppet, trembling.

I panted and dashed numbly towards the door.

From the other side, the pitter-pattering of thugs' feet sounded.

"Hey!"

"Hey Boss!"

"Something's wrong!"

"What's going on in there?"

I panted.

I looked left.

I looked right.

Window!

I felt iciness creeping up on me. My black eyes could have sworn they saw red vapors in the corner of the room. The door burst in. Six thugs gasped and reached for their guns. The Professor or the Ventroloquist or 'Scarface' was laughing, or maybe both. I ran. I ran towards the window. Bullets sounded off. They formed vapor trails as they soared after me. I turned my body into a smoking bullet and dove out the window.

T-T-T-T-T-T-

SMASSSSSH!

I flew out in a stream of glass and bullets.

THWIIIIISH!

THWISSH!

THWIIIIIIIISH!

I took a deep breath, pulsed murk, and vaulted off the alleyway wall across the window through which I shattered.

Plant!

I bounced off the wall, twirled, flipped upwards, and came into contact with the apartment building. I concentrated, clung to the structure with murk, and ran straight up to the glass panels above the loft living room. I gathered in my peripheral vision the image of half a dozen scrambling thugs darting about underneath and trying to keep up with me. I ignored them and reached the rooftop, and for a moment the red sky of Gotham City stretched before me.

Red.

Bleeding red.

And there was a stabbing coldness about it.

Like the sweeping flash of a lighthouse beam.

Waters lapping up against infinite bluffs beyond the horizon.

I shuddered, my breath leaving trails.

I wanted to collapse there.

Collapse…die….whatever.

As long as I woke up when it was till dark.

My black eyes twitched naked.

For it still struck me as wyrd.

Such a cold, November holocaust.

And no snow.

I have to get out of here.

I know where to go.

Fox's very own home of all places.

Unless the 'dummy' was lying to me……

But at this point, I don't freakin' care.

Red Aviary is here.

Red Aviary is here……

But as soon as I made a move to dash over the rooftops.

"NnnnnnnNNNGHRAAAAAAH!"

Stomp!-Stomp!-Stomp!-Stomp!-Stomp!

"?" I looked to my right.

On the adjacent building top, t.v. antennae and huge a/c units were being smacked, smashed, and batted away by an impregnable force. I soon saw why…

A venom-induced Bane was charging in my direction. Or at least….in the apartment's direction. I just happened to be in the way.

And as the cold fingers of Red Aviary crept up my esophagus…

I fell to my knees atop the glass panes and all but dropped Myrkblade.

Oh……fantastic……

"RAAAAAAUGH!" Bane jumped, soared across the alleyway, and slammed down into the glass panes along with me.

SHATTTTTTERRRRR!

And together, we made a second entrance into the apartment.

Prelude to a revelation...