Chapter 10
"Of MITEs and Monsters"
Although evening was starting to settle over the city, Alfred was pleasantly surprised to find Bruce still in the Bunker. He wasn't at home, but maybe he was at least staying in tonight – a first step towards normalcy. Relatively speaking.
His hopes were crushed though when he came closer and saw that Bruce was wearing his Batman armour, albeit without the mask. Bruce was monitoring his new drones, the MITEs, on the computer, each screen displaying a different MITE's camera feed.
"Those little imps are working out well then?" Alfred said.
"Already helped shut down a few gang attacks," Bruce said. He called up some recorded footage. It showed a group of people in pointed black hoods and tunics with burning crosses displayed on them laying siege to a brownstone building with flamethrowers. "Blackfire tried to torch the East End Free Clinic because they were giving out information on abortions."
Alfred shook his head. "Such ignorant behaviour. You put a stop to it?"
"With the MITE. Used its adhesive foam to stop the Blackfire members in their tracks. Luckily, the foam also extinguished the fire."
"Did you know that before you rooted the gang members to the floor in the blaze?" Alfred asked accusingly.
Bruce didn't look at him. "There were innocent people in the clinic, Alfred. I needed to stop them. Just like, before that, I needed to stop the Jokerz from blowing up a school."
"Good heavens."
Bruce called up different footage. This time, several people made up to look like the demented Joker were running around the courtyard of a large, prestigious-looking establishment, firing off heavy weapons in a schoolyard, laughing, terrorising the young students and faculty. Some were carrying a small device.
Alfred recalled how frozen in fear he'd been upon seeing the Joker in person, when the madman had crashed Bruce's party for Harvey Dent. He didn't much like the idea of dozens of people trying to emulate him.
"They thought they were proving some warped point about society," Bruce said in disgust.
"And how did you stop them?" Alfred asked, curious and concerned about the answer.
"This MITE was equipped with tear gas." The footage showed the Jokerz clutching at their eyes, staggering around blindly in a fog. "While they were distracted, I had the drone lift the bomb up and drop it in the nearby river. The police were already on route; they took care of the rest with no civilian casualties."
"Oh, so they do have their uses after all?"
Bruce ignored the comment. "Look at the equipment they're all using. Flamethrowers, explosives, body armour, military-grade weapons. This Black Mask must be supplying them all. But I don't know why… What's he planning? Is it just about causing chaos or is there something more at work?"
"You know, I read that Professor Strange's book, sir," Alfred said. "Masks. Fascinating insights. In it, he says that people who hide their faces often do so to mentally distance themselves from their actions. As if they are committed by someone else. Just like this Black Mask, maybe. The gangs too. Perhaps certain other individuals we know of…"
Bruce exhaled, picking up on Alfred's clear implication. "I don't think Hugo Strange is as insightful as people say," he said dismissively.
Alfred noticed activity on MITE 4's live feed. A bunch of leather-clad motorcyclists, all wearing wraparound sunglasses and sporting shocking haircuts and facial tattoos, tearing down a populated street. On the sidewalk. People were jumping aside as they roared past.
"Looks like trouble there, sir." Alfred pointed to the screen.
Bruce grunted and began typing in instructions for the drone, which flew closer. "The Mutants. Biker gang. More reckless than violent though. They only cause harm incidentally. And they don't seem to be benefitting from Black Mask – they rarely use weapons at all."
Alfred scoffed. "Probably the most decent gang in Gotham then."
Bruce kept typing. "I'll use the MITE's EMP to knock out their bikes. Give them a lesson in road safety." He hit a control, and, on the screen, all the Mutants' bikes suddenly came to a sudden stop as their electronics shorted out, sending the riders flying forward.
Alfred winced as they hit the pavement. "Surely there must be less… extreme ways to subdue these gangs, sir?"
Bruce sighed. "The MITEs are each equipped with a sonic disruptor – causes sound waves to induce unconsciousness…"
"That sounds much better."
"But it overloads the drones' batteries. Burns them out. So it's a last resort. I have to find whatever means I can to stop these people."
"And to protect others from them?" Alfred noted Bruce was sounding more aggressive than defensive. "You became Batman to help the innocent, rather than punish the guilty, remember?"
"Speaking of the guilty," Bruce said, evading Alfred's query. He turned to a printout on the desk. "I analysed the dust found on Bill Earle's body. It's rust."
Alfred's weathered face screwed up. "Rust?"
Bruce nodded. "Traces of iron, carbon, silicon, copper. Could have come from any one of a hundred abandoned properties in Gotham. Doesn't help us figure out where Earle was taken."
"What about the mask he was wearing? Could have some ritual significance."
Bruce now looked up at him with a haunted look in his eyes. "I think it was some kind of death mask."
Alfred frowned. "Like the ones they used to make for the rich and famous centuries ago? Those were usually put on display or kept privately, weren't they?"
"Some were buried with the deceased. Like the ancient Egyptians or Mycenaeans. And Earle was wealthy. Could be whoever did this was trying to make a statement about the rich or saying Earle was covering up something by hiding his face."
Bruce pulled out another document and summarised its grisly details. "The coroner's report also confirms CSI Fields' guess that Earle died of a heart attack, not because of the wounds he received, none of which were applied post-mortem."
"Tortured to death. That poor man." Alfred shook his head. "The sooner you catch whoever-"
MITE 7's screen was beeping an alert. They both saw a large man trashing the parking lot outside of the Gotham Mall. He was massive, bald, wearing a grey jumpsuit, and smashing up cars with his bare fists, beating anyone who got close to him. He even picked up and threw a motor scooter before heading into the mall.
"This is new," said Bruce, already donning his mask. "Can't get the drones into the mall. I'll have to handle this myself."
Alfred took Bruce's seat at the computer, ready to assist, while Bruce ran for the Bat-pod – the specialised motorcycle he used to get around since the destruction of the larger, tank-like Tumbler.
"Be careful out there, sir," Alfred called as Bruce and his bike ascended in the elevator. "For all our sakes…" he added quietly once alone.
Batman reached the Gotham Mall within minutes, blazing through the glass doors in the Bat-pod. Thankfully, the mall had been evacuated by the time he arrived, but this huge brute was still there, causing carnage.
He did not slow down, heading for the monstrous figure, who was smashing up a store window. As the Bat-pod raced past, Batman leapt from it, grabbing the brute's neck and using the momentum to pull him backwards.
The bald brute roared but was not taken off his feet as Batman had intended. He tried to grab Batman futilely, the Dark Knight hanging on his back. Batman tried to choke him out with his arm, but he was too muscular, his neck barely contracting from the hold.
Batman landed several blows with his fists and his good knee on the massive body, but the brute didn't even react. Instead, he pushed himself backwards, slamming Batman into a concrete wall with such force it cracked. Batman grunted and released his grip, dropping down.
The brute picked up Batman in both hands with ease, lifting him while grunting like a beast. Batman jabbed the sharp edge of a batarang into his exposed neck. It drew blood, but the brute didn't seem to even feel it.
He threw Batman across the mall, into the decorative fountain at the centre, the wall of which broke apart on impact. The brute then charged towards him.
Sitting up, Batman quickly threw a flashbang into the air. Its light and noise seemed to startle the brute, halting him as he threw up his hands defensively. He was almost animalistic.
Batman took advantage of the hesitation to hurl a brick from the wall at the brute's head. It hit, and broke in half, but again the beast didn't react, only resuming his charge. Batman quickly grappled up out of danger, leaving the brute to charge into the fountain, knocking the rest of it to pieces.
"Who are you?" Batman shouted, dropping behind the savage. "Why are you doing this?"
No answer except another roar. It was like he was mindless, primitive. Perhaps on drugs, which could also explain the lack of reaction to pain.
The brute tried another charge for Batman, who activated the remote in his hand, summoning the Bat-pod from where it had coasted to a halt. It rushed towards him, with the brute in between, and knocked him over on its way.
Batman climbed onto the 'pod as the brute picked himself up. Before he faced another rush of muscled madness, Batman fired the 'pod's barricade-destroying cannons into the pillars holding up the balcony on the upper level of the mall.
Again, the brute seemed stunned by the loud bang of the cannons, and he was soon crushed under the fallen balcony.
Batman got off his bike and cautiously approached the pile of debris. He jumped back in alarm as it moved.
The brute groaned as he struggled to get up, still conscious but barely, pieces of concrete falling off him.
Batman delivered a hard punch to the brute's head. It took several more to completely knock him out for good, leaving Batman breathless, his hand aching.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp jab in his neck and heard the sound of something small and metallic clattering on the floor. He looked down to see what looked like a tranquiliser dart. It must have failed to penetrate his armour.
"Damn!" he heard someone say.
He turned to see Professor Hugo Strange, in an off-white trench coat, aiming a rifle at him. What the hell was he doing here?
As Batman repositioned himself to face Strange, the older man threw aside his rifle and produced a more compact weapon. It was a net-gun, as Batman discovered when Strange launched the wire mesh netting at him.
It was high-grade, its corners weighted so that it couldn't be easily pulled off.
"I have you!" Strange shouted in glee. "You're mine now!"
But Batman used the blades on his gauntlets to cut the net open, freeing himself, much to Strange's dismay. "Not today," he growled.
Strange made for another tool from his coat, but they both heard police announcing themselves as they stormed the mall.
"No!" Strange screamed in fury.
Batman would have to wait to discover just how Strange had known to come here, prepared for him. He leapt back onto the Bat-pod, racing it up an escalator. The police would probably have the main entrances covered, so he'd make his exit via an upper floor window.
As he fled the scene, he heard Strange yelling after him.
"I will know your secrets! I will!"
Philip Keane's screams stopped, leaving the vast open area silent again. Another member of the Wayne Enterprises board tortured to death. Black Mask enjoyed their pain, making it last as long as possible, and always regretted it when they expired. That was the problem with older victims though; they didn't have much life left in them to begin with.
The surrounding members of the False Face Society stopped their whispered chanting and simply stared at the deceased with their disguised visages. Black Mask put down his bloody tools and waved at his two faithful henchmen in the faceless black masks to prepare the body.
He addressed the rest of his followers in his low, gravelly voice. "Our plans are nearing completion. Soon, Gotham will be ours, and your loyalty will be rewarded."
The Society began whispering again. "Black Mask… Black Mask… Black Mask…"
Mask wiped his gloves and approached three followers, each in glamorous dresses. One wore a fox mask, one a vulture mask, and the other a shark mask.
"I have a special task for you three…" he told them.
