PART 1 - Chapter 13 - A Night in the Narrows - Overture
When darkness can be found not only on the streets, but inside the hearts of men as well.
Sunset came, and a group of anxious prospects sat inside one of the rusty subway train carts laying abandoned at Gotham's Railroad Cemetery.
These men and women were from different origins and had no real matching uniform or color code, the exception being the upside down crown, a symbol painted on the cart's doors and windows, and recently sprayed on their backs, either on clothes or skin.
One of the supervisors for tonight's events walked between the initiates, all resting on the dirty seats.
The man wore black lipstick, one eye mascara and had an upside-down plastic crown resting on his head.
The woman had hair tinted red and white, long earrings holding chess pieces, and carried a metal bucket in her hands.
"These are the orders of the AnarKings. The orders of the leaderless mass!", this was the night for their rite of initiation. That's all they knew.
The black lipped man took out the plastic accessory and put it on top of the woman's head, still upside-down. The woman raised the bucket, in reverence. "This chalice contains your fate! Fulfill your destiny, survive the night and become royalty! If you can't, leave!"
She passed the bucket to one Initiate, who picked up a paper then passed the bucket to the next, the action repeated several times.
None of them spoke up. None of them got up to leave. Fourteen initiates came. Fourteen stayed, their orders read and understood.
At the end, the bucket was dropped on the floor, the woman producing a lighter from her jacket's pocket and tossing it lit onto the remaining papers, setting them on fire.
All the Initiates tossed their slips of paper into the flames as well.
"Deface! Wreck! Pilfer! Eliminate! Triumph!", the woman ordered and passed the crown back to the man, who 'crowned' himself.
"AnarKings follow! AnarKings rule!", he shouted.
"FOLLOW AND RULE!", all of them yelled, in unison.
"FOLLOW AND RULE!"
"FOLLOW AND RULE!"
"FOLLOW AND RULE!"
The Narrows.
One hour later.
The roaring sound of the car filled the impoverished street, people on the sidewalks trying to take cover as the driver chucked bricks from his window, aiming at any unfortunate soul in his path not quick enough to dodge them.
He had already made two fatal victims tonight, and an ambulance was coming for a probable third one.
Suddenly, a dark cloth was dropped in front of the windshield, then a black leather-covered arm entered through the window, swiftly cutting his seat belt. The monster tried to reach and stop that foreign limb, but he got blocked and had something attached to his arm in a blur. Before he could comprehend what was happening, there was a loud shot, a cable and claw sent outwards, pulling the driver out of his seat.
The slender form of the Black Bat entered the vehicle through the open window and sat in the now vacant spot, quickly stepping on the brake and turning off the engine, preventing any more accidents with the stolen vehicle.
The man, hanging by his left arm several feet behind, his arm on a handcuff connected to a claw stuck onto a shop's wall, had been knocked out as he impacted against the brickwork.
"Cass, report on the joyrider.", came Oracle's voice on her earpiece.
"I stopped the car.", she spoke slowly, checking the knocked out man, the tip of her fingers revealing a dislocated shoulder. "I stopped the man."
Cassandra adjusted herself, pulling one arm back, while the other kept the man in the right position.
A quick strike on the spot set all things inside back into place.
A second strike made the man stop screaming and go back to sleep, less painfully now.
Oracle's voice returned. "Cass, was that a-"
"I stopped the man.", Cass repeated, in annoyance.
Cassandra Cain-Wayne had done this multiple times before, though there were admittedly less painful methods of fixing a shoulder.
The Black Bat turned to the side, seeing the trail of destruction left by the criminal and nodded to herself.
She also could have done it more painfully.
She gave him a good look. He was older than her. Much older. Like Da… Like Batman old.
There was a drawing made with golden make-up, on both his cheeks.
"O. See with me.", Black Bat told the code-phrase, while pulling out a small pen-like device from her belt, the lens directed at the knocked out man.
From all the members of the Family, she was the one who liked the screen inside her full cowl the least, so adjustments had to be made for her.
"Gang?" Cassandra asked her friend. She understood the desire of joining a family and bearing their mark. Hers were on her suit, her badge, yellow outline proudly presented on her chest. She was a Bat. Just like Alfred and Dick and the rest of the adopted. Even Kane.
Then there was this man. He was a bad person, violent, didn't care about others, enjoyed hurting others. A bad man. A bad family?
There was silence, then Oracle's voice.
"AnarKings, they should have disappeared years ago after Two-Face and Penguin's turf war. I'll check with the others. You did good, Cass."
She had been right. A bad man. A bad family. And like her family, his would be out tonight, doing the same as he did.
"Okay. I will stay here. Tonight."
"You're in Red Hood's territory, you know."
"Brother is good at sharing."
She did not have to be at the Belfry to see Oracle's smirk and headshake.
"Only with you, Cass. I'll tell the others. Be safe."
The Narrows.
Ten blocks south.
A group of old school friends had recently met and decided to catch up, have a little fun, enjoy the Gotham nightlife… sadly, in the case of these six delinquent minors, 'fun' involved shoplifting at a gas station.
Then, the sound of a siren, the approaching red and blue lights, the revving of a motorcycle. The group started running even faster, trying to lose their new chaser. Unfortunately, these were the Narrows, the island in the middle of the Gotham River, situated between Midtown and Downtown Gotham City. The lack of proper urban development and the excess of population already made living conditions worse for the Gothamites who lived there, but the maze-like streets and the less than necessary law enforcement turned this part of Gotham City into the heart of street crime.
Either by panic or by confusion, the teens got themselves stuck into a path with no way out. Quite literally, as there was a large chain link fence, topped off with barbed wire, cutting off their escape route.
The motorcycle stopped at the front of the alley, blocking off the way in.
The most desperate of the teens started crying.
The second most desperate pulled out a small pocket knife, blade out, and hid it behind his back.
"You crazy?!", whispered one of his partners in crime. "You stab a cop and it's jail for us!"
"Don't be stupid, a cop giving chase in the Narrows?", reasoned the one who pulled the blade. That made the group stop and really take in the situation. The rider was coming towards them, still hidden by the shadows.
The teens started picking up any of the trash laying about, an old piece of plywood, a rusted pipe, a brick. One armed himself with a bottle of beer, still unopened, part of their loot.
Then the small flash of light came.
Click. Spark.
Click. Spark.
Click. Flame.
The man in front of them was suddenly visible, as he lit a piece of cloth in his hand.
He was dressed as a cop, but, instead of a badge, he wore a piece of bent metal on his shirt.
An upside down crown.
The cloth he had lit on fire was half inserted inside a bottle full of foul smelling liquid. They instantly recognized the improvised incendiary device, a 'molotov cocktail'.
The 'cop' raised the bottle up, the flame revealing his sneering painted face, a black skull on his face and the word 'pig' written in white on his forehead.
The man pulled back his arm…
… and that's when they all heard the shot.
And the burst of glass.
The sploshing of gasoline.
And the man in front of them set on fire.
The teens were too entranced at the sight to notice the large man slowly walking behind the burning man. He wore a leather jacket and gray armored suit under it. Military boots, leather gloves, several pockets and holsters filled with a collection of firearms and knives, and, on his head, a helmet, form fitting and colored red.
The burning only lasted three seconds, when the masked man tossed something into the fire, which exploded into a cloud of foam, putting it off.
This man was known to the teens, as to everyone else in the Narrows. And they had reason to fear him.
"Since you guys didn't hurt anybody, I'm feeling generous tonight.", his distorted voice came and filled the entire alley. "So, I'm going to count to ten… and you all better be far away from this place when I finish counting…", the armed vigilante spoke up, amidst the groaning and whimpering of the police man he had just attacked.
The teens were frozen still.
"Eight."
They ran, passing by the smoking man and avoiding the vigilante.
Left alone in the alley with the policeman, Red Hood picked his victim up and tossed him against a brick wall, the man unable to keep himself up, dropping to the ground, surrounded by garbage. But at least alive.
"Oracle", Red Hood spoke, the comm link established with her base of operation. "Just caught an…"
"AnarKing?"
Red Hood stopped and furrowed his brow. "You're good."
"Cass just caught one herself, half a mile North."
'That's almost at Nolan Bridge', he mentally calculated. The wrong side of the Bridge. "That's still my…", Red Hood took a breath and reminded himself. It was Cass. "Fine, I guess I can take the help. Do me a favor and call the cops to my location, will you? I'm leaving them a little present."
As an afterthought, Red Hood asked, "What about B? Is he around?"
"He's doing some investigations on the murder attempt on Bruce Wayne."
"Yeah, about that.", Red Hood knew he had to ask. "How is…", but he hesitated, then changed tactics. "Any ID on the killer?"
"None, because the body disappeared."
Now that was interesting. "Stolen?"
Oracle went quiet, then several images started popping on his helmet's HUD. Before Jason could complain, Oracle explained. "We are not sure. The ambulance never reached the District's Morgue. Vehicle's GPS helped find it two hours later, set ablaze at Donnie Dump's Junkyard, two bodies left inside."
"The driver and the coroner?", Jason predicted.
"Both. And not a trace of the Talon."
"Talon?"
"The killer was talking about the Court of Owls before capture and suicide. Batman's theory is that the killer was using the old nursery rhyme as an inspiration."
"Huh", was Red Hood's reply. 'Or they'll send the Talon for your head', he recalled the lyrics. "Cute. So he had accomplices?"
Another quiet moment. No typing in the background this time, though.
"Batman believes that… the murderer did it himself."
That made the Red Hood pause. "So... the guy died, came back to life and started a killing spree?", Jason huffed. "Think I should sue him for copyright infringement?"
"That's not funny, Jason."
"It's called a coping mechanism, Barbara", he replied, leaving the slightly singed man behind, in handcuffs. "You know nothing is ever really funny in our work."
The Narrows.
Not that far away.
At the same time.
"Good evening, my name is Spider-Man", the hero said, as he dodged the barbed wire covered baseball bat. "And I'll be serving you some justice, with a side of comeuppance for your actions!", one punch and the man went down.
The hero had caught the silent alarm on his police scanner and decided to check on it. What he had found were a trio of men trying to break into a food bank at East Side Narrows, one of the Martha Wayne's Foundation's.
And they brought with them metal canisters strongly smelling of gasoline.
He had already knocked one out by flying kick into his back, making him smash face first onto the closed door, and leaving the other two, one armed with the 'Mad Max' baseball bat and the other with a crowbar, at his mercy.
"What, not hungry, Sir?", Spider-Man dodged the swing of the crowbar. "Please, there's always room for 'just deserts'!"
At the next attempt, Spider-Man simply caught the weapon mid swing, completely halting the attack. One web shot at the guy's feet, a swift pull and the goon fell backwards.
"Seriously, burning a food bank? What's next on the going-to-Hell list? Stealing wheelchairs and kicking puppies?"
He webbed the last one and pulled him back up, catching the man by the lapels of his jacket, the golden inverted crown painted on the breast pocket.
"Okay, 'Brain Trust'. Talk: why set a food bank on fire?"
The goon smiled back. "AnarKings don't obey. AnarKings follow and rule."
Spider-Man pinched the bridge of his own nose, the man still held above the floor with the other hand. "It's always the crazies in this city, I swear… Okay, let's try this, instead."
With a quick hold and push, the man was sent rocketing upwards.
"G.O.O.B.E.R., please, search AnarKings.", he commanded over the yell of panic of the still soaring man.
A short list of news articles came up in his lens-display, mainly from the Gotham Gazette, showing their connection to a considerable number of small occurrences, vandalism, property invasion, thefts, arsons and murders throughout the years.
There were some recent updates on their activity, not more than an hour old, all coming from the island he just found himself in.
'This is troublesome, maybe just the beginning of a crime wave to crash down on top of Gotham… oh, almost forgot.'
Spider-Man raised his arms and caught the criminal midfall, bending his knees and absorbing the excess force, leaving the man barely injured, though in a frayed state.
"Now, I believe you had enough time to reconsider your options. So, once again… talk".
To Be Continued!
Author's Notes:
It's the beginning of a new arc, and time for a meeting long delayed, but I promise you all, there will be a casualty in the next chapter...