The doors were kicked opened, Trogg, Zombie and Bird rushing in to secure the room. There was the sound of gunfire, all shots aimed at the roof. The intent was to get attention, not execute. With their automatic rifles, they easily subdued the men in the room with only the sight of the weapons. The men said weapons were pointed at could only stare with a mixture of surprise and shock, completely taken off guard by the sudden invasion.
Then Bane entered the room.
"Who...who the hell are you freaks?" the leader of this group of suited men demanded, an odd, metal prosthetic sitting prominently where his nose was. This could be no other than Novak, "No Nose" as he was otherwise known.
Bane ignored the question, instead stating, "You know who I am."
Novak stared at him, still on edge, but showing no sign of further hostility. It took the man a moment before he finally said, "Yeah… Yeah. You're the guy. You're the guy who took down the Bat."
"Then I'm no freak," Bane stated.
Before any replies could be made, Bird spoke up. "Hey Jimmy. Long time no see."
Novak's eyes widened as soon as the spotted the blond-haired man. "Colossimo? Is that you? I thought you was dead!"
Bird smirked darkly. "Nice try, Jimmy. We both know what a piece of bull that is."
"What do you want?" Novak turned back to Bane, obvious tremors wracking his body.
"Everything you own. Your turf. Your men. All operations."
"Fuck that shit!" one of Novak's men exclaimed, reaching into his suit.
"Shut up!" Novak snapped at the man in question. Then, to the masked giant of a man, "You and I, I think we can work something out. Maybe we can form a partnership."
"No. I am not interested in partnerships, nor working with anyone. You will all be working for me. Those who refuse…" His loyal generals steadied their guns at the group, eyeing the men hungrily.
"No Nose! You're going to let him talk to us like that!" the man from before demanded.
"There's no let in this, Mitch, but don't worry. You won't have to hear any more disrespect ever again," Bird retorted.
And that had been the start. From the beginning, Novak was to be a warning to rest of Gotham's underworld. Bane was here for everything, starting with all criminal activities. Anyone who hesitated and presumed too much were executed. The bloodbath that had followed was a start, and with Novak out of the way, any survivors were quick to pledge their loyalty to Bane.
Six weeks later, most of the opposition was either decimated or in full retreat. By now, if you had not surrendered, no quarter was to be given. Even should his remaining enemies choose this course of action, it would be not accepted. Mercy had only been permitted in the beginning, and only so as to gain vital intelligence on how the criminal enterprises in Gotham worked. Men who so easily switched loyalties had no place in Bane's Gotham.
To seize control had been simple. The street-level thugs were no match to the disciplined Santa Priscan mercenaries brought along as cannon fodder. These men were brutal and efficient in comparison to the starved ranks of any organized crime family. Before any alerts to law enforcement could be made, the violence would already be over, and another operation completed, ending with more turf in Bane's grip.
It would not be long until the rest of the city followed suit.
As domination was turning to completion, it was only a matter of time until dissension in the ranks could be expected. Not to Bane's surprise, that dissension came from one of his trusted generals, more specifically Trogg.
For the past weeks since the masked man's announcement of Batman's defeat, the hardened man had been making comments and questions, all directed towards one detail.
"He is alive because I permitted it," Bane stated to his demolitions man. "To complete the Batman's fall, he needed to be alive for the following humiliation."
"I do not mean to question you, but I disagree with it. So long as he remains alive, this Batman could pose a threat. Threats, even if they are not real, must be crushed," Trogg argued. "You know this. You should know this."
"I do, Trogg. But breaking the Batman's spine would not be enough to break his mind, or his spirit. He is more than a man, a symbol, and a simple death would not have accomplished anything." Bane had not torn his gaze from the television, the channel set on the news, which was reporting about the recent spike of violence in the city. Naturally, all blame was laid at his feet, for which he would take the credit. "The death of a symbol is much harder than the death of a man. To wit, his broken body, still breathing, would carry a stronger message as well as tear away the myth surrounding him."
"I understand the importance of symbols, Bane. I only question why you have not finished the man off afterwards. They continue to show your victory on all the outlets—" Trogg gestured towards the television, which was once again playing the footage of the Santa Priscan man throwing the defeated vigilante out into the streets before a massive crowd, "—and focus on the blood he continues to spill. His mortality is clear to blind men. I ask why you have not killed him the following day, or even the day after that."
"There is no point and it would be a waste of time. There would be no purpose or accomplishment in ending the life of an invalid," Bane answered. "I have more important matters to attend to, such as my conquest of Gotham. Immediate action was required to subdue as much of it as I have. But that job is not finished."
"Indeed," Zombie agreed, joining the conversation. "There is still resistance in the northern sector of the city. What's left of the Italian mob is still there. They have refused to leave the city and all of their remaining operations."
"Unfortunately, they may stick around longer than we'd want," Bird added. "They're turning a whole city block into a fortress. While our men are good, they're stretched thin enough as it is. If we're to hold onto what we have, we're either going to have to consolidate, or find new recruits."
"Not necessarily," Bane disagreed. "While it is true that our forces are not at full strength, we do have reserves to turn to."
"What reserves?" Bird questioned.
"The men in police custody," Zombie stated, picking up on the masked man's thoughts.
Bane nodded in confirmation. "They're well rested and will be eager to prove themselves. However, we will have to act soon if we are to liberate them. The police commissioner is planning to transfer all arrests to facilities outside of the city."
"And if we strike first, not only will we be shoring up our numbers, we will be striking at the cops as well. Show that not even they can stand up to you," Bird finished. "I'm really liking this plan."
"Begin the preparations," Bane ordered from the chair he reclined in. "We strike at nightfall. Law enforcement will be weakest at their jail, their officers spread out throughout the city to try and fight us off. We will show them that not even their authority means anything. Only mine."
"As you wish," Zombie said before leaving for another room to begin organizing the men.
Without looking, there was one other matter that was not yet finished. "What is it, Trogg?"
"You know my thoughts. One does not need the use of their legs to continue resisting. Should his mind ever heal, the Batman will return in one form or another. Like you yourself have proven, not all threats are physical. The mind is another battlefield, in which you have also defeated him."
"If it is so important to you, Trogg, then go after him. Finish it," Bane said, his impatience seeping into his voice. "The Batman is beneath me now, where he will always remain. Gotham is my next conquest and requires all of my attention."
"I will handle it and bring his head for you as a trophy," Trogg swore.
Bane nodded, but said nothing more. Already, he was considering how this would affect his future plans. Trogg's talent for demolition would be missed, but it was something that could be worked around. Not all bombs and explosives needed to be masterpieces. Crude could be just as effective as refined.
Once he had the criminal underworld under his full control, everything else, from the centers of business, to the halls of governance, the rest would be conquered. Gotham, though, would not be the last to fall.
Gotham was only the beginning.
Never before had Gordon welcomed the space that was his office. The firmly shut door muffled the droning buzz of ringing phones that kept on screaming without end. It had been like that for weeks, ever since the newcomer Bane had begun his war on Gotham.
The fact that the phone calls kept coming in meant that Bane was winning.
But that was only one part of the problem. The other part was one that had him, for a change, berating the mayor and not the other way around. Even now he still remembered the fury he felt, anger not only fed by the recent Arkham breakout, but also by the images of a bloody, almost broken-looking Batman lying in the streets.
"I warned you, Hady! I warned you that Arkham was not the place to be keeping those people!" the Commissioner thundered, standing over a miserable-looking Hady, who did not shy away from his rage. The Mayor for his part was slumped forward, the sides of his head held up by his hands, propped up by elbows.
"I know, Gordon, I messed up," Hady groaned. It wasn't a groan that meant he was getting tired of the Commissioner's rant, but that he knew he was in deep shit and knew not how to get himself out of it.
Hundreds of recaptured Blackgate inmates, all of them back on the street, were undoing all the hard work the GCPD had done to round them up in the first place. Bad enough as that was, that was one more thing that made this situation even worse.
"Explain to me why. Why did you think that it was a good idea in the first place to put those people in the same place as the Joker?" Gordon demanded. He already knew the reason: convenience. However, maybe it was the turmoil still welling in him from seeing the badly-injured form of Batman flashing in his mind that had him wanting more.
"I thought Sharp could handle it. He was a goddamn warden, for Christ's sake! Who else could be qualified for it?" Hady answered, not lifting his gaze from his desk.
Speaking of which.
"This was a one time thing. Growing pains. Arkham is not yet suited for the demand we have of having to put these animals somewhere," Sharp, the man only mentioned a second ago, spoke up. Even though the world was falling apart, there was not a strand of hair out of place, or a wrinkle in his suit.
"Growing pains, my ass! The kind of load you wanted to hold there was not suitable. Arkham could not, and can not, substitute for Blackgate! It's obvious to everyone that the only unqualified person in this room is you!" Gordon snarled.
Sharp didn't take too kindly to the criticism. "How dare… I'd like to see that woman you're fond of do better."
"There's a difference between you and Warden Zorbatos. With her, the prison was attacked from the outside. You? Yours came from the inside. You underestimated the people you were holding and what happens? The Joker, the man who's responsible for filling cemeteries with countless innocent people, gets out of his cell and frees everyone in the building. You've only been in charge of Arkham for a little over a year, and now people like Tetch, who kidnapped the niece of a senator, and Crane, who created a poison that makes you see your worst fears, are back on the streets now. We're lucky that Harvey Two-Face is still there because he couldn't flip his coin to decide if he wanted to leave or not.
"But wait, there's also Hugo Strange, who also happens to be linked to several major incidents like the October 27th attacks, releasing a bunch of Man-Bats, and creating Two-Face in the first place, is back out there too. Not to mention the Joker got out as well! And you're going to say that this all happened because of growing pains? No Sharp, this one's on you, and please, do tell your friends in Trenton how this latest breakout is everyone else's fault other than your own. On your watch, the Joker got out of his cell! My forensics team found out that he's been getting out of it on a daily basis! Under your watch! Explain how that one happened!"
"Gordon! We get it!" Hady interrupted, preventing a red-faced Sharp from answering. "It's obvious that we...I made a mistake. I know that. What would you have me do? We're still patching up Blackgate. What are we supposed to do with these people?"
"This can't stay in house—not anymore. Until Blackgate is certified secured, we need to reach out to the other prisons in the state. Hell, any prison on the eastern seaboard should be looked into. If we're to do anything to fix this, we need to get these people away from Gotham. That way we don't risk a third breakout whether it comes from the outside, or the inside," Gordon listed out, and for once, he had a mayor hanging on his every word.
For a man who campaigned on being tough on crime, this whole thing was a nightmare. He was going to do anything to fix it and save his ass in the next election cycle.
"I'll make the calls," Hady said after a moment. "I'll do it personally. I'll talk with the governor, the Department of Corrections, the goddamn Federal Bureau of Prisons—everyone. You're right, we need to get these people out of Gotham, not keep them here."
"Hady, this is just—" Sharp began to speak.
"No, Sharp, Gotham is going to hell in a hand basket and we need to do everything to fix that. It's obvious that you weren't up to the task of managing Arkham, that's for certain," Hady interrupted. "Do your best to get Arkham secured, but know that it's not going to stay in your hands for long. I'm looking for your replacement as soon as you leave. While the Commissioner believes you still have friends in Trenton, I'm aware that after the last election, many of them were voted out of office. They don't have the same clout anymore. Do everyone a favor, go quietly, don't make a ruckus, and even this will go away."
Sharp looked like he was about to throw a fit, but he stayed silent. His red face revealed how much he wanted to shout back.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go do my job and recapture as many of these new escapees as I can," Gordon said. Nodding to Hady, he turned and exited the office because he didn't want to stay any longer than needed.
However, leaving the Mayor's office was the easy part. Leaving the building was another.
"I don't think I've ever heard you so angry before," Zorbatos herself spoke, leaning up against a wall with her arms crossed. With a single eye piercing into him, "I don't know if I should be flattered that you once again stood up for me, or not."
"Take it as you will; what's the latest?" Gordon asked.
"As of now, two of the major holes are patched up. They'll need more reinforcement to meet my liking, but for the most part no inmate will be digging their way through them. The steel for the outer wall just arrived, though if we have enough to completely fix it is another matter. Those steel tariffs couldn't have come at a worse time," Zorbatos reported. "Oh, and so you know, I have my best man reformatting the whole security system. Lyle will make sure that even a bunker buster won't crack the walls this time and make the Great Chinese Firewall a memory."
Competence, good.
"What about the inmates you still have? Are they secured?" he pressed.
"That you ask insults me, but yes, they are. Tighter than a sardine can. Block C will be ready by the end of the week, if not the following Monday." Zorbatos leaned forward. "Certified, by the way."
She had heard that too. Then she also heard the rest. "Don't expect anyone to fill those cells anytime soon. Due to what's happening in the city, I've already advocated for transferring any new arrests."
"Just gives me more time to make my prison all the better," Zorbatos shrugged.
Gordon paused. "That...doesn't piss you off?"
"Everything you do pisses me off, it's only to what degree," Blackgate's warden retorted. "However, my hands are tied; I don't have the same leverage as I used to. If anything, I'll use the people I still have to test out C Block when it's ready and beef up A and B Blocks in the meantime. No one will be escaping me this time, even if they come with an army."
The Commissioner nodded in understanding. Privately, he knew this was Zorbatos' own way of telling herself she still had some control over the situation, when the truth was that no one did. The only person that did was already plunging the city into chaos.
"If there's any you want to ship off, send a list to me. They'll be out before the day's over," he said instead.
"Seems like you still aren't finished with asking anything of me," the Warden jested. Though her tone of voice was light, her single eye was narrowed. "Could it be that the loss of that vigilante has gotten to you?"
"This is only a change in tactics. For all we know, this Bane was responsible for the initial breakout," Gordon found himself retorting. "If he feels the need to, he could gain more followers by raiding what's left of Blackgate, then come for the rest down in lockup. I'd rather starve him out and deny him whatever manpower he can get."
"Ah, so you're worried that you're going to be hit too," Zorbatos remarked. "Guess you have a lot to do, Commissioner. Now, I have to meet with the Mayor myself and while I'm in there, I guess I can bury what's left of Sharp. After your little tantrum, I do have a lot of ammunition to use."
Gordon grunted and began heading down the hallway. Zorbatos never could give up a grudge, especially when it involved those people whom she despised.
However, the point he had raised up with her was now weighing heavily on his mind. First a breakout at Blackgate, then Arkham. The only place left in the city that still held any prisoners was at GCPD headquarters. As his first wife once remarked, everything comes in threes.
And with the rule of three in mind, the Commissioner had been working nonstop to get transfer agreements with any and all correctional facilities he could. One of the first transfers had been that of Pamela Isley, because like hell he was going to keep her here when there was no place that he could trust to be secure enough to hold her. Strykers up in Metropolis had generously agreed to hold her until she could be brought to trial, and for a place that regularly held the enemies of Superman, that had been a godsend.
However, there were still Blackgate, and now Arkham, inmates that had been recaptured in the past few weeks. What to do with them? On top of that, there were some odd, Hispanic commandos that had been brought in some time before the news on Batman broke. Who the hell were they? What were they doing in his city?
Those were questions to be answered later. Right now, he was in the process of signing off on their transfer papers to get them out of town. Whoever they were would have to wait until the situation here calmed down, or was resolved, preferably the latter.
It was a lot of work to do, and he found that it was much more preferable to do. It preventing him from thinking that maybe...maybe this time...maybe this was the last time that Batman would ever leave.
For some reason, the thought that he could come back did not seem plausible.
And that thought would not leave him alone.
With exhaustion, Huntress sighed as she pressed her back up against a roof access structure, sliding down it until her butt touched down on the gravel-covered roof.
Six weeks—it might as well have been six months, or even six years. She could remember a time where she didn't feel this tired; she knew such a time existed. However, she could also recall a time when it seemed like the city was going to Hell.
Unlike that time though, there had been no let up this time. Bane had struck Gotham in a way no one had expected. First he took down the Bat, then without hesitation he cracked down on the city's remaining criminal element. This wasn't the Falcone or Maroni crime families at the peak of their power, mind you; the size of those organizations couldn't survive with the vigilantes bearing down on them. These were small time outfits that rarely disturbed the waters lest Batman, or the Birds of Prey crashed their little parties.
No-Nose Novak was the largest of such groups and now he and his top guys were more like bloody Swiss cheese than men. Such news swept through the criminal underground. Some armed themselves while others went on the defensive. There were a couple that even tried to launch a surprise attack.
All fell just the same. Bane's mercenaries treated the criminals like shooting dummies. Now, it was safe to say that Gotham was falling neatly into Bane's hands and the resistance was damn near non-existent.
That included the vigilantes. No matter where Huntress went, it was always too late to help stave off the next massacre. She only ever found a battlefield of dead bodies and blood. It was like trying to stop an arsonist from lighting a fire, except there were twenty more of them lighting up at the same time and they had flamethrowers.
Faintly, Huntress thought back to the last time Batman was gone. It had to be the Great Gotham Fire, when everyone thought he had died. At first, there had been a strange sense of peace—peace meaning no activity on the criminal front. They had spent months being beaten down by the Bat and then the Joker had torn the city a new one, no one knew just what to do in the smoldering remains. Months had gone by before new crime families rushed to fill in the power vacuum.
In response, Huntress had run into Black Canary and Katana and they had formed the Birds of Prey. The Batclan popped up sometime after that and they tried to hold the city together with middling success right up until Batman returned to the scene.
No such break had been given this time. Both vigilante groups were still on the scene, so their emergence wasn't an option now.
And there wasn't going to be a return for Batman, not this time. She had gotten a look at him at Leslie's clinic; she had been filled in on the extent of the injuries he had sustained. A crippled man wasn't going to be coming back on a white steed in shining armor, even if he were still alive. It was kind of a prerequisite to walk in order to fight crime.
Raising a hand up, the purple-clad vigilante ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. With all of those little—read, big—facts in front of her, it made her wonder why she kept up with this. She was running herself ragged in a losing fight. Don't get her wrong, she had been in losing fights before, but there was a least a glimmer of a chance at victory.
There was none of that now.
What would Batman do in this case? Huntress snorted. He would still keep fighting, of course. He never gave up, even when things looked their bleakest. It was as if giving up wasn't in his vocabulary, at least the part that wasn't used to threaten thugs and robbers. This was the job, no matter how hopeless it was.
So how was it he always seemed to come out on top?
She shook her head. Alright, she couldn't think like the Bat. His way didn't always work for her, even though that was probably the best way in the long run. He wasn't here anymore, so now she needed to come up with what would work for Huntress. So far, running around solo wasn't working. In fact, that hadn't worked so well after the Gotham Fire either.
So she needed backup. Who though? It wasn't like there was a second coming of the Birds to pick from. She wasn't going to join the Batclan either, not with their recent youth movement. She didn't feel like watching more amateur vigilantes come out of the woodwork so that she could scoop them up and train them. She didn't have that kind of temperament, not when it came to fighting. Not when one small mistake could kill her and her trainees. She supposed she could go back to the Birds for the time being; Lord knows Canary would let her come back.
She wouldn't crawl though. That was a no-go; she still had her pride after all.
Of course, she would have to go find them and with everything that was going done, that wasn't going to be an easy venture.
Paul Webber would not be needing his condo in Zurich anymore. Said man was slumped in a very comfortable chair, his hand still gripping the glass of wine that was yet to be finished. With a robe covering much of his body, the garment was stained with blood which leaked from a large gash in his neck.
Though his body was cooling, his condo had not been vacated by his killer. No, the person responsible for his death was close by, peering down into an open laptop whose light, outside of the one in the small kitchen, lit up the large room.
On the portable computer's screen was a video, one that held the contents of Batman's broken body falling into the streets below where he laid still, not moving. It took a sharp eye to pick out that the fallen vigilante was still breathing, but that it was shallow, enough that most would make the mistake that he was dead.
The murderer, however, knew that the bloodied man was far from dead, nowhere near the state that Mr. Webber was. As the video played out, an internet personality replaced that of Batman's body, making commentary on the footage as well as mentioning that the event being discussed had occurred six weeks prior.
There had been no more signs of the Batman since.
This was not the first time that Batman had vanished. The first time had been for three years. The second a month. Both times, neither had any visual evidence of any injury sustained by the costumed man. This, this was a first and the state in which he was last seen was very...interesting.
By now, most of the wounds should have healed up, provided he had received the proper medical care. Even then, there were some injuries that could not be healed in that amount of time, meaning that the vigilante was still incapacitated to some degree.
This meant this was an opportunity for the killer. A chance to tie up loose ends that had been left behind, still begging after all this time to be tied up.
Because there were still those out there who had thought to use it. To throw it away when they were finished with it. Who had managed, like the former Paul Webber here until recently, to avoid the sharp eye of the Batman and had gotten away with their crimes.
They thought they were safe, even now. But that couldn't be any further from the truth. It had only been a stay of execution, no more, no less. As long as Batman had patrolled the streets of Gotham, it had been too risky to even consider returning. But time was up. It was now so much more safer.
As light gleamed off a long blade, the darkly dressed killer shut the laptop and picked it up. The device still held important information, specifically a list of contacts of certain individuals of the False Face variety. Also important, he held some...incriminating evidence that the killer would prefer not to be made public. Naturally, the late Mr. Webber had been eager to share his password in the vain hope of sparing his life.
It was time to leave, then prepare, and see to the proper arrangements.
After so long, the Phantasm would return to Gotham.
To Guest: Things are going to get a lot worse before it gets better. That's just how Gotham works