Bruce: Chapter 7
Ser James Gordon showed signs of stress across his face. His light orange hair had dulled to light gray on the sides of his head, while his eyes had thin lines under them indicating years of stress. This was the first time Bruce had actually seen Gordon since that night fifteen years ago when the man comforted him as a fearful, scared boy. If there was any hint of fear in the man now, he did not show it.
Gordon thought for a moment, and mulled Bruce's words over. "And if I give you this name, what then? Do you kill him? What about any other thug in your path?" The man had good reason to doubt Bruce's intentions; he was dressed in dark armor while hiding his face after all.
"Have I killed yet?" he asked Gordon in his gravelly voice.
"No, but you've only been around a few days; happy three day anniversary I suppose. But I have no idea what you plan to do with the man whose name I have, or any other names I'd give you. You could be a killer, not that that matters in a kingdom like ours," Gordon said looking Bruce up and down.
"That is why it matters most. I do not kill because I am not like them. I am not some mindless thug looking for gold, or some arrogant knight seeking fame. I am a man on a mission, and I will complete that mission whether you give me the name or not," he replied. He could see this had violated Gordon's perception of Batman in the expression on his face. Gordon furrowed his brow and looked down to the ground.
"And I suppose that that thought helps you sleep at night. That you aren't like the other men of Westoros? You can keep your head above the filth and corruption? Is that what you're telling me? I have yet to see a truly incorruptible man, but I'm supposed to believe that just because you have yet to kill in two nights, and that you hide who you are, you won't give in?," Gordon asked skeptically.
"I will not give in because I am not a man. I am a symbol. A man can give into the darkness, I am the darkness. I could be anyone underneath this helm, King's officer Dent, the baker Daniel Burrows, one of your men, or…"
Gordon cut him off, "Bruce Wayne?" Bruce had not expected that, although he should have given Gordon's skeptical and curious nature.
"Bruce Wayne, the man who limps around with a cane? Yes, I suppose I could be him as well."
"I've seen miracles in life before, and learned to not always believe what my eyes tell me," Gordon stated trying to read his reaction. He is good at his job, I must give him that.
"I don't have a cane on my belt unfortunately Ser, but I do have great need of that name," Bruce replied.
"Hm…and what will you do with it?, he said sighing, looking back up at the moon.
"I will bring him to justice for killing those who did not need to die. There are too many fatherless sons in this world from war alone, needless murder does not need to add to its share," Bruce stated sternly but honestly.
"It's a beautiful night out tonight, well despite everything that's happened of course. The moon's bright, no clouds anywhere to be seen, stars spotting the sky like snowflakes do the North…One of the last nights like this we'll have I imagine. Hmph…Zucco, Anthony Zucco. I've had a run in or two with him before but never had enough to prove he had a hand in it. He runs down near the docks, him and that small band he calls a gang at least."
"Thank you," Bruce said, trying to sound grateful despite the coarse tone of his voice.
"Don't thank me ser, just keep my city sa-" by the time Gordon turned back to look at Batman, he was already gone. "If you can…" he finished.
Selina: Chapter 5
Well that was a folly, Selina thought to herself as she reached the Lion's Den after her long, odd night. I walked amongst nobles as an equal, I sat at the left of Bruce Wayne himself, and I watched a boy become an orphan…
Selina had seen her fair share of death in her lifetime, and this boy was not the first she had seen orphaned. What does it matter to me? Folks die every day, whether it's a sword through their belly or the ground coming up to hug them…but his face… It was not the young circus boy's face that haunted her, but Bruce Wayne's.
She remembered it vividly, how Bruce Wayne's face began to turn as pale as a wight's, his eyes wider and wider, his mouth hanging open unable to form words. He looked as if he had just watched his parents' deaths again, on a grand stage in front of thousands. The look on his face had almost made Selina tear up, she hated him for that a little.
She had been only five when the Waynes were murdered, so she did not remember anything of it. She did remember her mother telling her the young boy had left though. Selina remembered feeling sad, wondering what losing both your parents would feel like. Well I sure found out now did I not? Selina missed her mother dearly. The way she smelled of roses and summer grass, how warm her hands felt on Selina's cheeks, even the frozen pale blue hue of her eyes. She wondered if Bruce could remember his mother, or if the memories haunted him more than warmed him.
Perhaps myself, Bruce, and the circus boy should start a cause to help the orphans of the city. We can use Lord Wayne's gold, the boy's tricks, and my wits to raise gold and silver pieces galore. What a fool's joke we'd make, the cripple, the circus boy, and the whore.
Selina smirked at the thought as she stepped inside. Holly was there, anxiety in her face. "Well c'mon! How was it? Did you steal that foolish cripple's gold? Are we rich?!"
Selina could not find the strength or desire to respond, merely continued up to her room and closed the door. She stripped off the dress she had bought with the gold she earned off of a stolen gold comb. She took the black-leather jacket from her closet and began putting it on. She wove the thread up the front of her torso to tighten the jacket to her, leaving enough undone to show a good bit of cleavage. If you prevent men from thinking with the right head, they'll be yours every time.
As she put on the matching leggings and heeled-boots, she thought of another matter which bothered her about Lord Wayne. How did a rich shut-in know she was lying? She had perfected the art of lying so much so that even city officials had not questioned her statements or falsehoods. Yet this man who had been in the city all of but two weeks called her out on lying about everything she had told him. Well it wasn't all lies I suppose, and yet…She never said anything in response to him calling her a liar, or given any indication that he was right, but his eyes still spoke with an amount of certainty and resolve she had never seen.
As she donned her custom sewn head-wrap and mask, she let all of her problems melt away. She was not Selina Kyle now. She gazed into the mirror above her desk and stared into her reflection. The leather head-wrap looked perfect, no pointed and black helmet by any means but still sufficient. She was given a beautiful Courtesan's mask from the Jade Sea when she was twelve which she had sewn into the makeshift, black-leather helm. It was just as dark as the rest of her garments, covering the upper half of her face perfectly.
She had cut small, triangular ears to stick out from the mask's top, much like Batman had his longer metal points atop his head. It's as if I'm the more eye-pleasing, seductive Batman, she jested to herself. Her hair was wrapped up into the back of the mask. While Batman and the guards are no doubt busy with the circus mess, I shall run free across my garden of dark spires and black, shingled roofs. Tonight Selina Kyle is no more, tonight, I am Catwoman.
Bruce: Chapter 8
"WHERE IS ZUCCO!" Bruce shouted in a voice that sounded most likely demonic to the scared thug he had in his hands, dangling thirty feet above the streets.
"I-I don't know! He hasn't shown his face in a few days now! Some think he's gone underground, o-others say he turned tail and run! I swear that's all I know!" the man shouted, fear plain in his voice. A trickle of yellow fluid ran down his leg and off his boot down to the street below.
"If you're lying to me it will be the greatest act you will come to regret in your life!" Bruce shouted as he let the man fall. He had tied a rope around the man's ankle and tethered it to the roof so he'd only fall ten feet before being caught. The man would get a sprained or maybe fractured ankle for sure, but Bruce did not care now.
He had been scouring the docks and lower end of Gotham for a week now, searching for Anthony Zucco. He knew he was here still, he had interrogated a smuggler last night who said he had just seen him the day before. Now I only need to find him.
He had spent so many hours scouring the streets that he had neglected to shave; small, black ends of whiskers growing from his exposed chin and lip. Bruce figured it made him look all the more menacing. There are too many damn rat's nests in this city to hide in, Bruce thought to himself as he found his next target to question.
A spritely thief had just volunteered himself as he ripped a woman's beaded necklace from around her throat and proceeded to sprint away as quickly as he could. She screamed but before she could shout for help Bruce appeared from the side alley in front of the man with an outstretched arm. The thief ran into it chest first, and resultantly flew back a few paces landing on his ass.
Bruce stepped over the man and lifted him by the collar, removing the necklace from his possession. The woman hesitantly approached her frightening rescuer with fear in her eyes. Bruce held out the necklace in his right hand, as she took it, he heard a quick and quiet, "thank you ser…"
Bruce shot his grappling shot up into the sky, and looked to the frightened woman and said, "Any time my lady." Then he climbed up with one hand as the other held the thief's collar. Not a sound was made save for the thief's cry of panic. Once atop the roof, Bruce grabbed the man by the ankle and held him out over the streets.
"Tell me about Tony Zucco, I know he runs the thieving down here and I want to know where he is." The man tried crying for help, but no one heard or cared, not in this end of the city. Here, a cry for help would likely just bring more wolves out from the shadows to feast upon the carcass. But even wolves will fear that which flies above it.
"I d-don't know nothin'! I swear!," the man shouted while flailing relentlessly.
"If you are going to talk, I would do it quickly, my arm is getting tired." Bruce let the man's leg slip a little in his grip to fool the thief, making him cry out even more.
"Oh Mother please forgive me, Father please look over me. Stranger-" Bruce cut the man off by lifting him up and grabbing him by the neck this time to dangle above the stone-laid street.
"I am the only stranger you need concern yourself with tonight! Not some god you wish to pray to. Now where. Is. Zucco!" Bruce was running out of patience rapidly.
"Al-alright! Falcone's got him held up in the pub four streets over! Th-the Sleeping Dragon it's called!" The man tried feigning a smile to appease Bruce's anger since he had done as he was bid. Bruce gave a right hook to the man's cheek, and left him dangling unconscious ten feet above the street from a rope.
Bruce had heard of Falcone before. Carmine Falcone had moved to Gotham two years before his parents' deaths. He took control of Gotham's criminal gangs and branches with an iron fist, and has ruled over as the Lord of Crime since. I will deal with him after, now it's time to pay the rat a visit.
The pub was guarded, five men armored and wielding swords at the front door, three in the rear, and three on the roof with crossbows. Bruce silently took out the three on the roof first, then took the three in the back alley out with one spin of his boot. Then he dropped into the middle of the five out front and quickly took care of all of them before they could so much as sound a cry for help. He quietly went in through the front door and slunk into the shadows. He walked up the stairs from the bar room to the second floor without being detected by the five or so guards all drinking at the bar.
Once on the second floor, he dealt with the two standing guard over the only door with a blowgun and darts laced with a fast-acting sleep poison. He burst through the door to see what could only have been Tony Zucco sitting and drinking some ale with five fully armored guards between him and Bruce. Bruce thought for a moment on whether he should drop a smoke bomb and grab Zucco amidst the chaos, or send a message. As he ran into the first guard and spun the man's arm around until he heard bones break, Bruce knew he was going to be leaving Falcone a message, and a threatening one at that. He dodged the first great sword to swing at him, kicked another man so hard in the face he could hear the jaw break from inside the helmet, and then broke another's arm before he could draw his sword. He dodged a second blade, and kicked the two remaining men's closest legs inwards with powerful blows and they fell moments later crying in agony.
Tony Zucco crouched behind the desk, his face pale and white with fear. He was a thin man, with a long, narrow face and a scar on his upper lip. He was balding, with pale gray hair clinging to his scalp, and had a broken nose with two matching black eyes. Falcone must not have been overly grateful for him botching the Graysons' murders with stupidity.
Bruce kicked the desk to the side with a single, deliberate stroke of his leg. Zucco shuddered in fear, corned like a rat in a cage. Bruce did not even lay a hand on him, just stood in front of him, cape covering his entire body. He glared down on the sad, shell of a man and wondered if this was what his parents' killer looked like. How pitiful.
A deep, growling voice emitted from Bruce's throat, "Where is Carmine Falcone." Zucco's face whitened even further.
"I…I don't know…" Zucco managed to speak.
"I have been hearing that a great deal lately, it has yet to be true," Bruce said as he slowly stepped closer to the cowering man. His shadow slowly growing over the man until it enveloped him completely.
Zucco opened his eyes, as he now hung over the Sleeping Dragon's roof with nothing but Bruce's arms keeping him from falling.
"I will ask you only one, more, time. Where is FALCONE!" Bruce shouted, letting his rage overtake him.
"Y-you don't kill! So my lips stay shut! You c-can't make me talk, and this drop isn't enough to kill me…so there's no way to make me talk!" Zucco said trying to find some ounce of courage within. I hate when they try to grow a spine…
"No, this drop will not kill you. I'm counting on it," Bruce growled as his hands unclenched and the man went falling to the street twenty feet below. He landed with a crack and gut-wrenching screams of agony. The guards charged out the front door to see the cause of the noise, but had clearly drank too much as they stumbled over each other. Bruce repelled down and dealt with them just as swiftly as he had their partners.
He stepped over to where Zucco lay grasping his ankles in pain, still screaming and shuddering. Bruce lifted him up by the neck, expecting him to be more conversational now. The man was shivering in his hands, his face grew more ghastly pale with each breath and his eyes waned.
"Falcone. NOW." Bruce menacingly stated, not questioning the man but ordering him.
"You're too late Batman…he's…summoned the Half-Mask. You're as good as a dead man…" Bruce did not know who this Half-Mask was, but he cared not. He had the man responsible for the deaths of John and Mary Grayson in his hands. It took every ounce of restraint and inner strength he wielded to not bash his head in against the stony street beneath his feet.
"Do you feel a sliver of regret at all for what you've done? The lives you've taken or the lives you've ruined?" Bruce asked, unsure of how the murderer would respond.
"The only regret I have Batman, is how I let those filthy Lannister bastards take my home, burn my fields, rape my wife…Were it not for that Batman, I would never have come to this damned city…" Zucco slipped into unconsciousness as the shock finally overtook him.
Bruce brought him to Gordon's main guard keep and left him chained on the stairway leading up to it. He had achieved justice for the young Grayson, or so he hoped. As Bruce stood on a nearby rooftop overlooking the spot where he had laid Zucco, Bruce began to feel afraid. Not of this Half-Mask, or of the criminals he was fighting, but what he felt himself becoming.
So as you can see, the first DC villain is soon to make his debut! I know there has been a relative lack of GOT character involvement in the story so far but I've been taking more of a slow boil approach. In a few chapters shit gets real and Westoros gets much more involved in Gotham and Batman's affairs! Any reviews would be very welcome and appreciated.