In His Own Image, Part III

February 27, 1939

Tracking down the trucks proved to be a difficult task. Batman was frequently confronted by the uncaring reality that he was a single man grappling with the sins of an entire city. Stakeouts of homeless encampments and Hoovervilles produced nothing. His subversion of the police radio offered up few leads. The one truck he did stop was carrying contraband, but no human cargo.

Through his vigil, Bruce went over Leslie's words on his contribution to the city. He had known that much of Gotham lived in squalor. That was an unfortunate fact even prior to the death of his parents. It was one too easy to ignore, particularly in his insulated world. It was out here on the streets, under the cowl, that Bruce came to know his city better.

It would be easy to romanticize or flatten the people that he watched over. To claim that there was virtue in their circumstances, in the way that they were forced to live hard scrabble existences, backs against the wall. He could recognize the cruelty and violence that sprung up from such conditions, the way in which the poor so often were pitted against one another. Batman could defend them, but there was room for more. Much more.

Batman had returned to Aparo Park. His informant, Mattie was gone, the few that were willing to speak to him claiming that she up and vanished into thin air. The icy pang ran through his heart.

It was over a week later when the break arrived, not through Batman, but through Bruce Wayne, in the form of a telephone call to Wayne manor. Alfred informed him that it was Julie Madison.

"She's gone, Bruce!"

"Who? Julie, you need to slow down."

He could tell she was in the midst of tears, her voice ragged with worry.

"It's Linda. She's gone. She's been missing for five days!"

Bruce managed to calm Julie enough to get answers. He learned that Linda had plans to meet Julie yesterday, and when she hadn't showed up Julie had looked into the disappearance. Her apartment was abandoned, though her driver claimed that he dropped her off there the day that she vanished. Julie had gone to the police, but with no news she was desperate. He promised that he would use his own resources to look into it and donned the costume.

Linda's apartment gave little to go on. He could detect that it had been entered several times in the past days, likely by the police. Her calendar was sparsely marked, though it did show the meeting with Julie, as well as a missed excursion with Mario Falcone, her current suitor. It did provide him with the address of her driver.

Her driver stuck to his story, even under duress, but there were discrepancies. Batman found that the man had a distant look to him when explaining how he dropped Linda off on the night of her disappearance. The man seemed as concerned as everyone else.

Mario was the next on the list. Batman tempered his desire to see the man and his father in prison with the need to find Linda. He already knew that on most nights Mario worked at one of his nightclubs, ostensibly independent from The Roman and the other Falcones. It was here, hidden in the shadows outside the second story window that Batman overheard Mario's conversation.

"...not some floozy! No, no, I will not calm down. Not until you're actually listening.

This girl matters to me.

I already checked there. If it was Maroni, he would have left a sign.

I have an idea, a lead.

All I ask is that you help this once… I will owe you. Anything you ask of me.

No, don't hang up. No!"

Mario slammed the receiver down. He paced around the room, before grabbing his hat and leaving. Batman stalked him from the outside. Mario got into one of his cars, waving off the offer of a driver, before pressing hard on the gas and shooting off into the night. Batman retrieved one of the motorcycles he planted around the city and followed Mario's car.

The drive took them out of the depths of the city, over the river, into the outskirts, where the skyline gave way to the knotted tangle of woodlands and hills that characterized Gotham county. He kept a healthy distance from his target, content to let Mario lead the way. They took a twisting road that deposited them on the outskirts of an old estate, the grounds protected by an imposing wrought iron fence. Batman watched as Mario argued with the gatekeeper, before being turned back. He hid as Mario's car passed him by once more. If the man was this interested in the estate, it was worth an examination.

Batman scaled the fence. A cursory examination revealed that there was a contingent of guards that patrolled the grounds. He used the trees that lined the estate's perimeter to close the distance to the building itself. A trickle of moonlight sliced between the clouds. There was the smell of rain to come.

He found a suitable perch and staked out the estate. The building reminded him of Wayne manor, though more foreboding in the harsh angles and points that dominated its frame. Lights were on within the windows, and periodically a figure would pass across them. The entrances were guarded.

An hour into his watch, having observed the building from different vantage points, Batman heard a truck approaching. He watched as the vehicle was beckoned to a side door. The guards helped unload it, their cargo appearing to be limp bodies, unconscious or dead, he could not determine. They carried them into the manor, before an envelope was handed to the driver. The truck quickly departed. More complications

As Batman made is approach to that same side entrance, he became aware of another figure's much clumsier attempt at stealth. The pair of guards at the door, a heavyset bearded man and his slimmer companion, took notice of the other intruder. Before they could reach their target, the pair scratched at their necks and collapsed, one by one, subject to the sleep darts Batman fired. The other individual made an involuntary cry of surprise.

"You're lucky it's me that found you," said Batman. "What are you doing here Mario Falcone?"

Mario came closer, still hunched over in a crouch.

"It's you," he said, his voice a strained whisper.

"We have no time for this. Why are you here?"

"My girl, Linda, Linda Page, she's gone missing," said Mario.

"And you think she's here?"

"It might be a stretch, but hear me out."

"I'm listening."

"This is where she was meeting her new shrink. Something Strange. She was talking real big about him. She was supposed to have an appointment with him early this week."

"Why would he kidnap her?"

"I don't know. I'm at the end of my rope. I mean I'm talking to a nut like you. This was a shot in the dark."

Mario looked pitiful under this light, his nerves frayed down to a thread. Batman considered his options.

"This will be dangerous. Too dangerous for you."

"I ain't abandoning her."

"I need you to wait by your car. If I don't make it out, you'll be the only one that can warn others."

Mario began to protest, but Batman shut him down. They had little time till the unconscious guards were discovered. Mario headed off, while Batman entered the manor.

He slunk through the halls, avoiding any hint of its protectors. Sounds seemed to bounce chaotically off the walls, with the cry of strained wood drawing attention to any excessive movement. It was slow going, charting out the various rooms. Batman found a strange panel by the staircase, one that looked out of place with the rest of the décor. Using the tools on his utility belt, he opened it, uncovering a crawl space that led downwards to a lower level that should not exist.

It turned out to be a ventilation system, one that descended into a tangle of rooms below the manor. Perhaps many of these estates had cave systems waiting to be exploited beyond his own home. The origin mattered little, compared to what he witnessed in his excursion. There were large pens, like those built for live stock, except they were crammed with people. Batman recognized a few of them as members of the various camps and tenements he had watched over. He thought he saw Mattie, but with how full they were he couldn't be sure. Many of them looked tired and underfed. The air was musty with a mix of human filth and noxious, sterile chemicals. It built towards the ebb of a headache after only a few minutes. For those trapped in the cages, it must have been torture. He would have to delay setting them free until he understood what threats barred the way out.

There were fewer guards on this lower level. Batman heard a man's voice down the hallway from the pens. He crawled through the vents, careful to distribute his weight evenly. He did not know if the system could sustain him.

"How fares our latest batch?" asked the voice. There was a distinct quality to it. Measured and even.

"Only two of em died on route. Others are good to go as soon as you're ready," said another voice.

Batman could see the second speaker, a man in a green suit with a narrow mustache. His conversational partner was just out of sight. The boss of the operation.

"Good. Our partner has insisted on another demonstration. His needs grow tiresome. It may be time to alter the nature of our agreement."

"You sure about that boss? Don't we need him for the supply?"

"I've made great strides as of late. Our efficiency is up eighty six percent. We will be able to sustain ourselves.

Now go. Make sure they are prepared. And check on the others. I will be by soon."

The green suit walked away. Batman continued to follow the first speaker as quickly as he could manage from above. The man opened an imposing door, one that was inaccessible via the vents. Batman found the nearest exit and dropped silently to the ground. He continued his subtle pursuit.

The room he entered was large, with a high ceiling and the choking stench of rotten flesh. The floor was stained with red splotches. He saw bones scattered about. His quarry faced him from the other side of the room.

"I expected you here sooner, if I'm being candid," said Hugo Strange. "Disappointing in its own way."

Batman remained silent. His hand hovered by the batarangs.

"This at least saves me the trouble of tracking you down," said Strange. There was a low guttural noise bouncing around the room, an undertone to the confrontation.

"Whatever this is, it's over," said Batman.

"In a manner of speaking you're correct."

The batarang deflected off of the bars of the cage that dropped between Strange and Batman, landing with a harsh clunk. A similar set barred the entrance to the room. The growls rose in volume, as a previously unseen doorway slid open to his right.

The two things that stepped out could scarcely be called human. They towered over Batman, at least four feet taller and equally broad, their bodies gnarled with bursting muscle. Their faces were scrunched up into tight expressions of rage, with craggy teeth sneering out at him. The lead creature let out a blood curdling roar and charged.

Batman slid below the giant fist of his attacker, which clanged into the bars, prompting a groan of pain, or perhaps mere annoyance. The second creature lunged. Batman miscalculated his dodge, with his foes meaty fingers closing on his cape. He was swung about like a sling, the breath tossed from his lungs by the impact. Batman drew a batarang and stabbed it into his foe's hand. The creature released him with a bellow.

He noticed that this monster was missing a finger.

"Patrick?" said Batman.

The name had no effect on the creature as it continued its assault. He weaved through a series of blows, but in the tight space of the cage, Batman was struck repeatedly. He felt ribs crack and threaten to break. His vision grew blurry. A fist to the face sent him on his back, the world rapidly retreating from view. The monsters stood over him, eager with anticipation.

A hissing noise filled the room. He smelled something that reminded him of lavender.

"Apologies my creations," said Strange. "This one is not a meal. But your efforts shall not go unrewarded."

The last sight Bruce saw before the dark took him was his reflection in Strange's round glasses as the man leered at him.

"Disappointing. All too disappointing."