Chapter 2
Gotham Unleashed
Selina looked beautiful. She took one last look in the mirror and winked. Her eyelashes were the perfect dark colour that closely matched her brown eyes. Her hair was let loose such that it would slash about around her face, and her dress… well, there weren’t any words to describe it. It was a gift, from her friend. Well, she liked to think he was more than a friend, but he was always too grim for his own good, always brooding away. She hadn’t seen him in a while, so she hoped that today would be the day he would resurface from his obsessive attachment to solitude.
She walked out of her dingy apartment, carrying herself like a woman from the Upper West side. This was what came naturally to her, pretending to be someone else during the day. She was .. well there was no other word for it .. a thief. Plain and simple. Although she did help people occasionally. Especially when he was around. He had this pull on her. And when around him, she saw the world differently. But her true self was the one she had during the night. A masked thief, fast and balanced – like a cat. And she had started wars. Oh yes. And she had pulled jobs that most men only dreamed of. She had killed. As she turned the corner of her street, a cab pulled up. She got in, passing the driver a decent credit.
“Take me to the Art symposium on Elk street by the Styx, and make sure you pass by the Wayne mansion,” she said dismissively. It was important to maintain appearances. Even if it was with the stranger cabbies, that way no one could place her anywhere near here later.
She stared at the dodgy neighbourhood as the cab passed several homeless people on the streets, shouting and quarrelling over food and shelter for the night. A fight or two would go out of hand, and there would be bodies found the next day. It was all very common, Gothamites were used to it. Crime was their one constant companion.
She turned away, choosing to look at the dark skies beyond. It burned plainly in the dark sky for the third day now. The Bat signal. Gordon must be getting impatient. Crime in the last week had been tumultuous. She was finding it hard to get her usual high paying jobs from the rich, spoiled clients. When he was away, they tended to rely on petty thieves and thugs to get the job done. This was why she was dressed up so well tonight. She had to get a job for herself, work the parties to try and steal something valuable, to keep her in business until he returned. Things would then go back to normal. Except for the occasional help she provided him, which were never rewarding ironically, since she would be doing something for the greater good. But, she didn’t mind. Bruce had always told her she could come by his house any time she wanted. They had known each other for a very long time. She had stolen from him too. But she had kept the necklace for herself. It was hers and he agreed.
Her thoughts wandered to his absence now. Surely the Justice League were at some crossroads with a mission of theirs and they needed all hands on deck. Otherwise he would be here. And the crimes would be in check. She was a little surprised the sidekicks had taken a backseat in his absence as well, but nothing was predictable with the Bat family. They worked well together but individually they were really scattered and lost. Except for him.
Wayne Manor was getting close now. And she hoped to get some answers. If he wasn’t here then perhaps one of the other members of the vigilante force would shed some light on what was going on. If not, at least his sincere butler would be home. Either way she had to know what was going on.
“Wait here for a moment,” she said, yanking the door even as the cab slowed down. She got out swiftly and crossed the highway, choosing to jump over the gates rather than wait for an answer at the machine outside. She walked in fast paces, leaving all pretences behind and anxiety taking over. He could very well be here. He could be back.
The mansion stood there, tall and dark in the faint moonlight. There was but one light in the study, well the study that people knew existed, it also led to the much larger study underground and further beyond the house. The larger, remote study was not so much a study as it was a cave. She smirked. Bruce was a man after her own heart.
She walked towards the study, there was no need to knock. She never did, even in her own house, well if you could call it a house. She took a leap, and climbed over the railing, a single window that was always kept open with curtains swinging in the evening breeze had a bulk of light pouring out. She moved towards it, quietly. And then there were voices.
“… I am sure there is an explanation, Master Grayson. With all that has happened, there could be any number of possibilities. The Commissioner would not return my calls. I am afraid the only thing we can do is wait for Master Bruce.”
“Tim is dead, Alfred. And you’re acting like everything’s fine. And I don’t blame Gordon for keeping his distance. He loved Barbara. I don’t think we can look to any Police help on this. Everyone’s beginning to notice Bruce’s disappearance. And the crime lords are convinced that Batman is nowhere near Gotham. Haven’t you noticed the deaths becoming more gruesome each day? I am going back to the docks, follow my lead,” said Nightwing. She recognized the voice. She knew everyone on the team of course.
So the old Robin was dead? What did that mean? Bruce was missing? Surely it would be reported in the papers? He would be in bad shape. Perhaps Batman sought the desolation on purpose. He always did have trouble dealing with loss. And a loss this big would have shattered him. She wanted to reach out to him. All plans dropped, she turned to leave, to go to the docks and follow Nightwing. Then Alfred spoke and she stopped, listening.
“I hear the Joker was involved as well Master Grayson, might I suggest you visit Arkham Asylum and find out what he knows? Lord only knows what that man was up to this time. It was Gordon who caught him. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to carry out his duties as the Commissioner when his daughter’s body was found at the scene.”
“So this was all Joker? Our friend at the precinct swore to me it was Penguin. I need to know what went down so I can start looking for Bruce. I had a chat with the Lantern today, no one in the JL has heard from Batman either. I wonder how the clown is involved in this. Better check on him too,” said Nightwing.
“Leave that to me, boys,” said Selina, choosing that moment to show herself. She speedily jumped in, landing lightly on her feet and smiled at the two men standing by the table. Alfred seemed surprised and beamed at her, Nightwing looked rather annoyed.
“Why Miss Kyle, it has been a while. It’s good to see you again. Care for some tea?,” said Alfred taking a short bow.
“Been listening in again, Miss Kyle?,” said Nightwing, emphasising the word. He never did like her. Ever since Bruce had told the entire family of the time she had ambushed him with Bane. Everything was cleared up now, but Dick never trusted her. And he was smart not to. She smiled at him, knowingly.
“So Bruce is missing. And Tim is dead? What was that about the Commissioner’s daughter? There have been no reports on this. Anywhere. We need to look for him, he could be hurt. What happened exactly?,” she asked.
“Nobody knows. We are trying to find out,” said Nightwing. He started walking to the door, without bothering to wait for her reply. His dislike of her involvement was evident.
“If we both work together it’ll be faster,” she pleaded, “I know you don’t trust me. But I can help. Let me visit the Asylum, meet with the Joker. I’ll report back and then we can decide if you still want me involved.”
“Talking to the Joker would be prudent, Master Nightwing,” said Alfred. It was commendable how he changed addressing his masters in the presence of outside company. That’s what made him such a good butler, she supposed.
“Fine, you report back from the Asylum. I’ll check the docks. Alfred, have Red Hood visit the bars we discussed. He might hear something down there too. I suppose it’ll do well to keep Damian out of this for now,” said Nightwing, and he walked out. Still irascible.
“Give it time, Miss Kyle,” said Alfred. “He is upset that Master Bruce is missing. You will have some tea before you leave?”
“Not tonight, Alfred. But my poison is a dirty martini, for next time,” she said, winking. She then leapt to the window. She turned, looking at the butler who picked up the tea set and started walking out of the study.
“And what about you? Aren’t you upset he’s missing?” she called.
“He’ll be back. He always comes back,” he said, without turning back. “Good night, Miss Kyle.” And then the lights of the study went out.
* * *
Arkham was disgusting. And scary. At least that was what she always felt. She hadn’t visited this place in ages, and it hadn’t changed one bit. Same grimy, green walls, with rats running around everywhere. The prison wards were dirty, and smelled horrible. To spare the guards and the visitors of the horrific inmates, most of these were kept in the dark. No sunlight would reach here, she thought. The walls and the smell made it seem like the fortress was underwater. Even if nothing could be seen, there were sounds, creepy horrible sounds issuing from each cell where she could only guess what would be happening.
She kept walking, making as little noise as possible. Some called out to her. She heard some catcalls but she kept walking. Joker wouldn’t be in one of these cells, he would be kept in the glass wards up above where he would be under constant surveillance. He was one of the most dangerous criminals in Gotham and having a chat with him would therefore be a challenge in itself. But first, she had to make sure they were alone. Not watched by cameras, or anyone else.
She had put the guards by the monitors to sleep. But there would be others, a whole lot of them. Prowling the corridors and torturing the inmates was a regular occurrence. This place would have driven them mad too, many sought violence, a place to vent out their frustration. She couldn’t take them on. She needed a distraction.
Slowly she climbed the stairs, only stopping to peer around the openings to different floors to make sure the coast was clear. As she reached the “Maximum Security” level, she walked right, remembering to sever the camera at the top. No one would notice. She then walked by the cells, looking for him. A couple of the inmates tried to grab her. And they got a couple of scratches on them for their lack of manners. She loved cats, her smile was content.
“You look fine honey, why don’t you come on over,” someone shouted at her. Almost everyone was staring through their cages now. Some even walked up to the steel bars and stared at her. Some had the audacity to shout and whistle at her. She ignored them and kept walking.
She went straight to D11-L7516. And there he was, sharpening his knife on the small piece of sharp rock in his cell. He didn’t look up, nor did he show any indication that he knew she was there, even though the whistling was getting ridiculous at this point. He kept sharpening his knife, and she wondered how someone could be allowed a weapon in this facility.
“I need a distraction,” she said in a voice loud enough to reach him amidst the shouting, banging and the whistling. The noise was getting lower now. And then he looked up. She slid the keys across the cell to him. He chuckled.
“And I need a gun,” said Deadshot.
He picked up the keys and unlocked the doors. He stretched out his legs and arms before looking at her. He looked parched, she thought. His beard was uneven and his marker was missing from his eye, which made him look different, like how people seemed so different without their glasses. He had no hair and his dark skin had marks in a number of places. The orange jump suit looked ragged and dirty, with a few cuts near his shoulder blades and elbows. He seemed at ease, like he was here willingly. He was sane, she knew that perfectly well. He was also a perfect marksman.
“There is a guard subdued three floors below by the stairs, he has a gun. Don’t free anyone else. I need about ten minutes. I don’t care if you run free after that,” she said, walking towards the doors with him. He limped slightly but seemed in one piece.
“Try to keep the guards down below L3 as long as you can. The camera crew is out cold so you should be fine,” she finished, taking the left at the fork where he would be needed to go down the stairs.
“Is this Bat related?,” he asked, pausing at the stairs looking at her.
“What you need to know is that I got you out and you will give me ten minutes worth of distraction,” she said, not bothering to look back.
She reached the trap door just as the shooting began behind her. She climbed up the ladder and climbed through the door, closing it behind her. This hall was cylindrical with half of its base broken. There was gushing water in the broken half, the other half led up to a metal door beside which was a fire extinguisher that had a dent in it. A small yellow light flickered near the top of the door. The hall stretched for three floors, with each landing leading off to a different section of the prison. Each landing was marked by a lining of the walls, part of the floor that wasn’t destroyed stuck to the circular walls and formed irregular arcs and each one had a door similar to the one on the first landing. On the third and final landing however, the part of the floor was preserved so as to enable walking to the corridor leading off of it to the part of the prison that held the most dangerous criminals. That was where the Joker would be.
There were stairs behind the steel door by the landing but she didn’t want to be bothered by them now. She swung up the wall, with little edges that were left by the long destroyed tapestries. This was much easier than last time. She must have climbed 2 floors in less than one sixth of a minute. On the last landing, as she climbed on and walked to the corridor beyond the hall, she heard some voices below her. A stream of guards was running out the steel door on the first landing. She continued, inwardly thankful that she hadn’t bothered with the door. The gunslinger’s distraction seemed to be working.
As she crossed the corridor, she entered an even bigger hall. It was quiet here, eerily so. Most of the glass cages were empty, some showing permanent acid covered decay. Some of them were occupied. She recognised the habitants immediately, having helped put some of them in here while she worked alongside Batman.
There was Harley Quinn, sleeping away like a baby in her bed with tea cups on the table beside it. In a cage on her right she saw Death Stroke, without his swords and armour. He seemed to be in a daze, staring fixedly at the wall above him, yet his eyes were out of focus. Harvey Dent looked dead in his cage, he slept on the floor with his bad side up. He was the DA of Gotham once, she remembered and this was what had become of him. It was dark enough to barely make out their appearance. All of them were in the orange suits, and all of them looked ill. They must be on sedatives, she thought. She walked past more cages and then saw the Joker sitting in his cage, his smile upside down. She swallowed.
She knocked on his glass cage. He stared up, uninterested. Surprisingly, he was still in his suit. The familiar green jacket and the white collared shirt. His boots were torn and his face looked beaten up. There were many cuts and bruises all over him, and his hair seemed impossible. His clown make-up was missing in places too. And his lips weren’t the usual red she remembered. He looked like he could faint any moment. He went back to his silent brooding. Like he didn’t care. He didn’t joke or laugh, he didn’t seem himself. And that worried her.
“What happened — ?,” she began, pressing her hand against the glass.
“Still haven’t found him, have they?,” he asked, dull.
“Wha … no. He is missing. And so is Penguin. What happened?,” she said, still baffled by the Joker’s behaviour.
“He’s dead,” said the Joker. “I poisoned him. And then the Penguin shot him. Twice. Unless they reached the river and he had some water, he’s dead. I gave him a strong dosage. Enough to kill an entire city, but the antidote was gone. It saved your pathetic lives instead. I don’t think the water would have worked as well.”
She stared. She couldn’t move. Not for an entire minute. Surely this was another of the clown’s stupid jokes. He didn’t know what had happened to Bruce. He was found at the scene of crime but Batman was not. Perhaps Batman had taken off after Penguin when Gordon showed up. Perhaps he had arranged it with Gordon beforehand. To take down the two villains. Yet the clown was not his usual self. Something was wrong. She didn’t want to know anything anymore from him.
“Did you kill them? The children? Why?,” she asked nonplussed.
“It doesn’t matter. He won’t come back. They died for nothing .. Haha. No, they didn’t die. I suppose I killed them. Leave before it starts,” he added sadly.
“Before what starts?,” she asked, still unfocussed.
And then the sirens blurted out. The hall filled with red light, and the alarms were louder than ever. She could hear footsteps and laughter. Harley Quinn was up and was laughing out like a maniac. Half face was suddenly alert and wandering about in his cage. All the other inmates seemed to be up too. The noise filled the halls like a bunch of bees, increasing exponentially with time.
“Get away from him missy,” shouted Harley, looking at Catwoman. “Step away or I will KILL YOU!”
Catwoman turned back to the Joker, he was right where he had been. Just as disinterested. She did not believe it. Bruce couldn’t be dead. She moved, going back the way she had come. But there was someone running from the hallway.
The Joker looked up from his reverie. And he saw her frantically looking for a way out. Batman was fond of her and he knew that. He pointed towards the other end – the control room.
“The guards are already dead. You can leave from the emergency exit. Just slide down the path till you see the opening, and then jump out the window on L3, there must be ladder there still .. Ha,” he said.
“Just tell me one thing, hmm, does the Penguin live still? Is he alive?,” he asked, standing up.
“We don’t know. He is nowhere to be found,” she shouted, over the sirens as gunshots reached the hall, she then took off in the direction he had pointed. Into the control room and out the slide door, as she slid down into the L3 level, she saw it.
Horde of men charging down the corridor, there were women too. With guns and weapons. They weren’t the Arkham guards but the inmates themselves. She took one look at the dead guards and the ones running for their lives and then flew out the window where she was able to get hold of the ladder that still stood there.
She looked down. The men were walking out, charging the streets. The shootout began. The Police were getting shot all across the street. Some were prudent enough to run, others weren’t so lucky. This was Chaos. This was what Gotham would be like if there were no Batman. She remembered the Joker’s words. He’s dead. She couldn’t move. She just watched. It didn’t occur to her to try and save some of the innocent lives there. She felt paralysed, empty and above all frightened. Not of the mob down there, not of the criminals that dominated the streets of Gotham, but frightened of herself. She couldn’t believe it. She would keep looking for him, for he was the one who had shown her the way – who had forgiven her time and again, who had been with her all her life. Flashes of memories went through her head. The first night they met when they were just kids, the first time she came to warn him when Maroni put a bounty on his head, their first kiss, the day they fought together for the first time, the day he introduced her to the Bat family as herself and not as Catwoman. She had thought him dead before, but he had always come back. This time would be the same. She just had to wait. For a couple of days, he would be back and fix everything. Unknown to her, a tear made its way down her cheek, and she wiped it off. No, she would have to remain strong and help Nightwing find Batman. Find Bruce. Slowly, she leapt off the ladder, running faster than ever towards the docks.
* * *
The docks of Gotham stretched for almost 3 miles. Nightwing aimed to be at Miller Harbour by 21.30. There was going to be a pre-arranged drug bust by some dirty cops only to be taken in by the Falcone later on. He knew how the operation was planned. But tonight he didn’t care about catching them and reporting the crime. The thing he was about to do would have to be off the books. He parked his Muscle a safe distance away, then moved in stealth in the direction of the docks.
According to the thug found at the crime scene of Robin and Batgirl’s death, the bust was supposed to be ambushed by Penguin’s men, which meant someone here would have answers. Seemed like Penguin was getting smarter with his tactics and was giving fair competition to the drug lords of Gotham for his goons showed up precisely on time even in his absence. So they believed he was still alive. That was a good sign, in a way. That meant Batman was in on this too. He would surely have gotten this much out of Penguin.
Dick watched as Penguin’s men hid themselves in places to strike. It was almost time. The cop car arrived as scheduled, and three cops got out. One was fat and balding, and was having a difficult time trying to keep up walking with the other two, who seemed of average build, one slightly taller than the other. All three of them were in their blue uniforms, to make it official GCPD business. He felt the disgust on his own face. Cops who swore to protect and serve the city of Gotham with their lives were involved in cheap drug exchanges, muggings and murders throughout the city. Some did it for the money, others in fear. And Batman insisted that nobody be killed. So much for trying to save Gotham, he snorted.
As the cops stood there, waiting for the shipment, and Penguin’s men stayed hidden, waiting to take them out, his thoughts wavered over to the events that had taken place about a week before. Robin and Batgirl had died. And no one knew how. Batman had gone missing at the same time. Although his source had sworn that there were three people still alive at the scene, he had been certain that Batman had been badly hurt and poisoned by the Joker when Penguin’s party arrived. Nightwing hadn’t mentioned this to Alfred, and it troubled him now. Selina had interrupted them. He scowled. She had a knack of getting on his nerves. He had always felt that she was not trustworthy, and ever since she had betrayed Bruce with Bane, he hardly considered her an accomplice. Yet someone had to talk to the Joker, and he couldn’t be in two places at once.
But Batman would know how to take care of himself. He would have gotten out and found an antidote for himself. What shocked him was that he had left the Joker alone, and vanished. Wasn’t Joker the one who had killed Robin and Batgirl? Wasn’t he the one who had killed Jason a long time ago? Sure Jason was now alive and kicking as Red Hood but, Batman had been furious when he had found out what Ra’s had done to bring Jason back from the dead. He would never allow Tim to be brought back the same way. He tried not to think about it, but couldn’t stop. Tim had been a great Robin, always eager to learn and take on bad guys. Having once been Robin himself, he knew what it felt like to be in the Dark Knight’s shadow. To feel the constant need to prove oneself worthy of being Batman’s sidekick. Tim was kind too, unlike Damian or Jason. More like himself, Dick thought and smiled. And he kept the spirit alive at the Wayne manor. Vengeance burned within him, but he knew how to control it. Batman had taught him too well, and for the longest time than anyone else. But there would be punishment, a proper judge and jury would decide and he couldn’t see a way for Joker to get out of this one. Even if it had to be done the wrong way, it was not his right to bring Justice for Tim. It would have to be Batman, but then again with Batman there would only be one way – the fair one. He stood there remembering Tim and wondering how Batman could endure so much pain without breaking, and that was when the boat arrived.
It looked like a Grady white Express 370 with six men, all carrying heavy ammunition. From the other side of the docks, Falcone’s cavalry arrived. Two Ford Anglias, with 4 men in each vehicle, heavily armed. Dick relaxed. This was a shootout waiting to happen, yet he had no intention of intervening. He surmised how this was all going to go down.
The men in the cars got down and approached the cops. Two of them slapped the fat cop on the back like they were buddies and he returned the favor, all of them guffawing. Couple of them seemed drunk, poor state of mind when coming to a fight. But then they did not know that they were walking head-on into a trap.
“Al’ good, Fusco?,” one of the men asked the fat cop, coming forward and shaking his hand.
“Yeah, everything seems in order. But we gotta bust you boys, keep the shipment for ourselves,” said the cop mockingly, and together they all burst into fits of laughter. Clapping and bumping into each other stupidly. Nightwing was getting impatient. He pursed his lips, adjusting his binoculars so he could count the party’s adversaries. It wasn’t going to be an even fight. Even with the Cops, Carmine’s men would be outnumbered two to one, easily.
The boat docked. And the men within came out to meet out to complete the exchange. Three men from the boat carried what seemed to be a large crate. After about two minutes, the crate was placed in front of the men and opened. Large blocks of Cocaine cut precisely to the size of ordinary bricks were placed in heaps.
“Good haul boys,” yelled Fusco. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
They began by opening up the cars’ trunks and getting half a dozen suitcases from each one. Then, they filled the suitcases with the bricks of Cocaine, some of them occasionally getting a sniff of the merchandise. When all the cases were filled up and loaded on to the cars, almost half the large crate still remained filled with the white bricks.
“We’ll get the remaining to Carmine in a couple of days. No harm no foul. What’chya say Larson?,” Fusco panted closing the car trunk after placing the last case.
“Sounds good, and remember it’s always gotta be less than 15 pounds. And keep the dogs away huh Mell boy. Wouldn’t want any incidents like last time,” said Larson. He then walked up to the car and got something out. A duffelbag,
“200 large in there, as agreed.”
He then handed the bag to one of the men from the boat. Without another word, they left the way they had come. The man with the bag opening it as he went.
“Quarter of the haul is yours as discussed, Fusco. Should be more than enough to pay every dirty cop on Carmine’s payroll. And don’t you keep anything for yourself you dirty scumbag or I’ll know. Use the remaining to bust up Maroni’s boys. You can find evidence can’t you? You’re a cop,” Larson said.
And they all burst out laughing again.
“Help us put it in the trunk will ya?,” called Fusco, joining in the laughing. “Let’s get outta here.”
“Oh you won’t be going anywhere,” said Fish. She walked up to the scene as everyone drew their guns and pointed it right at her. She almost seemed bored, ignoring the guns and kept walking, looking at the cops, and the men intently. Her eyes then fell on the crate. “That’s a bit more than you can handle, isn’t it?”
Fish Mooney was a gangster that owned a nightclub downtown. She had shoulder length hair with a little red in it, like blood had been splattered on it when she had killed someone previously and she hadn’t bothered to wash it up. Her slender figure made her attractive with a long face that had high cheekbones. Her eyes glowed in the darkness and she seemed, at the moment, defenceless. Although she had been working for Falcone almost all her life, there had been a recent spat, and she had chosen to build her own army. And ever since her umbrella boy had become so powerful, she had almost always sided with him. So Penguin wasn’t here but his number two was. Nightwing cursed inwardly. This was going to be a waste of time.
“Hello Fish,” said Larson. “Falcone’s been worried about you. Where you been?”
“Falcone worries about me? Please Larr, don’t make me laugh. The last time I saw that bastard, he told me he’d kill me himself if I wasn’t dying already. Lucky me, I had an admirer who saved my life and now I work for him. Tell your boss thanks for the donation. We will make sure all the contributions are made in his name,” said Fish, pointing at their haul. Still seemingly unconcerned about the guns pointed at her, she walked about among the men, occasionally touching someone and muttering something to them. Larson seemed to think that there was no immediate threat in her as he had lowered his gun as soon as he had seen her walk up to him.
Penguin’s men emerged. One by one. Soon there were enough at the scene to make Falcone’s men see sense. They stared at each other nervously. Except for Larson, he seemed to be in command.
“Let’s not make this messy. You want this? Take it and let us walk,” he said.
“No, no. I like messes. You see Larr, I am not here for the Cocaine. Well I am.. heh.. what am I saying? But I am also here to make a statement. It’s time for new rule. Falcone will get my message. No one needs to deliver it. Your bodies would be enough. But I do need these cops to carry out exactly what you told them to. Except when you pay your pals, you’ll tell them that the money is from me. Fish. And not Falcone. You hear me? Let me give you a clearer perspective on what will happen if you don’t do exactly as I say.”
She took a gun from one of her men. And pointed it straight at Fusco. Nightwing could see him sweating and shaking. The other two cops looked relieved, slightly. She clocked the gun.
“But you’re already afraid of me,” she said looking at Fusco, who was shaking all around, he started crying almost instantly.
“Please … please … I got kids … please”
She promptly turned the gun on the tall, muscular cop who was smirking at Fusco’s whimpered sobs and shot him in the eye. Nightwing stood up, shocked. She hadn’t killed him yet. The cop cried out, hopping around on the spot so she shot him in the knee caps. As he fell, clutching his eye that was overflowing with blood, she proceeded to kneel beside him. She started scraping out his other eye with her knife. The others watched in horror and still Nightwing didn’t intervene. She opened up the eyeball and held it in her hand, examining it as the poor man shouted out in agony. Dropping the eyeball in her overlong coat, she finally stabbed him in his gut, repeatedly. Until no sound came out of him. His blood drenched the sand, seeping through it hungrily. Fish then wiped her hand over her mouth, licking the blood.
“Like I said, I love messes. You two,” she pointed at the cops with her knife. “You know what needs to be done with the Cocaine?”
They nodded, unable to speak. Both seemed to be out of their wits, and Nightwing seemed certain that Fucso had wet his pants. Slowly they closed the crate and carried it to their car. One of them opened the trunk and they then put it inside together.
“Don’t look back now. Keep drivin’,” she called. The cop car pulled out of the driveway and then sped off.
“So darling,” she turned to Larson, “how would you like leave this place? Quick and Easy? Slowly? I’ll give you a choice since I’ve known you for a while now. Don’t worry. Falcone won’t miss you. He trusts old Johnny boy more than you now, doesn’t he? Gave you a petty job from the likes of it,” she laughed.
“Go to hell!,” Larson said. “Penguin’s dead. You think you’re the boss now? They’ll rip you to pieces before you reach home, Fish. Let us go and we’ll have your back. Falcone still owes you. He will protect you. Join us.”
“Dead? Heh … Dead? Who t’is that’s dead? Me? No no no no. I ain’t dead sonny. Is t’at wha’ teyr’e sayin’? Penguins dead? Haha it worked den din’ it? Baha .. Wha’ happen’ las? T’ey chew it up? Hmm?,” said a voice, issuing from one of the dark containers.
Nightwing froze. It was Penguin. Slowly he emerged from the depths of the container, from the darkness, limping on his wooden leg and leaning on his umbrella, as repellent as ever. He laughed his stupid laugh and the others joined in. Slowly he made his way to the very centre of Falcone’s men. He then hit Larson in the shins with his umbrella, hard. Larson faltered, falling on his knees and throwing up blood.
“I asked ya is t’at wha’ tey bin saying,” he roared.
“Ugnn .. yes .. yeah … that’s what they’re saying. All over Gotham. You was’ killed by the Batman and thrown in the river,” muttered Larson, through his blood covered mouth. “Never meant no disrespect sir.”
“Oho! Sir? Ya see t’at Fish, he callin’ me Sir. Yer buddy boy Larson is callin’ me sir. He’s a smart ‘ne, jus’ like ya said Fish. He is. Bleh .. Falcon’s finish’d boy, ya hear me? Kill ‘em”
“Walk wi’t me Fish,” he gestured at her. Together they began walking towards a black sedan that was waiting quarter of a mile up ahead. It was there then that he’d have to question them, thought Nightwing. He didn’t have time to save Falcone’s men from their fate right now. He had more important things to take care of. Like questioning Penguin. He called Officer Mahoney.
“Hello …”
“Hello M, this is Nighwing. I am down by the docks at Miller Harbour. There is a situation that the GCPD needs to handle. This involves Falcone’s men and Penguin’s by dock 926, hurry .. ”
He said it all in a rush. Not sure if M had caught everything. However he need not have worried. Mahoney responded in the affirmative.
“Will be there in 10. Are you sticking around?”
“No. I have somewhere else to be. Just don’t be late. And bring a lot of backup ..”
He hung up. He then shot 3 warning shots at the crowd. Making everyone scatter and fire their weapons randomly in alarm. Hopefully this would give Falcone’s men enough time to hold off until the cops showed up. He didn’t waste time to see if his plan had worked and plunged down the building, landing on an advertisement board smoothly. He had to hurry, the car was already speeding up the highway. As he ran after his quarry, with increased agility, he saw that he had competition. Catwoman was up front, almost reaching for the car. She did have a habit of interfering in important work. He grit his teeth and sped up, closing the gap between them.
“You were supposed to be at Arkham,” he shouted.
She didn’t reply but leaped in the air, just like a cat and slashed at the vehicle’s tires. The car swerved out of path, losing its momentum and then, as expected, the shooting began. Penguin’s bodyguards were shooting at them from the front of the car. As he ducked to miss the bullets he saw that Catwoman was still on the chase, not caring enough to dodge the bullets. She threw what seemed to be small, spherical ball through the back window shield which was broken and slowed down. Suddenly the car filled with white gas, Nightwing stared, impressed. He was still behind and sped up to stop the car from crashing. Catwoman mirrored him. Together they yanked the front doors of the car open, and pulled out the two bodyguards. The car was still moving, although it was slowing down considerably. And then Penguin and Fish both took over and started shooting at them. Both of them let go, as the moving car came to an abrubt stop. Penguin came out shooting out of his umbrella, and Fish had a shot gun up her sleeve and spun around on the spot, looking for the perpetrator.
Catwoman was nowhere to be seen. Nightwing had to admit that it was useful to have her on their side in fights. He remained by the arched pillar, waiting for the shooting to stop.
“Come out ya sidekik. I’ll kill ya the s’me way I killed Batman,” yelled Penguin.
Nightwing froze for the second time that night. Yet recovered quickly. Clearly Penguin had heard the story go around that Batman was nowhere in Gotham, and had decided to give himself the credit for his absence. But why was everyone back but Batman?
“Yer missin’ him aren’ ya. T’ats why ya came after me.”
There was a shout, a woman’s. And then a couple of gun shots and then all was still. Fish seemed to have fallen to the ground with no one in the vicinity. Apparently Catwoman had decided to intervene again. Fish took her time getting up. Her gun was gone. And to his surprise, he found that Catwoman was a few feet to his left, behind the next arch. Holding the gun. She peeked around and fired. There was a low moan that told him that the bullet had found its mark. Penguin was clutching his leg, near the place where his wooden leg connected to his broken one. Fish held him tight so he wouldn’t fall.
Nightwing picked up a trash lid and held it up as protection. He then chose to run straight at the car, smartly dodging the bullets fired at his legs as the trash lid protected his face and torso. As soon as he was close enough, he smashed the lid at the couple. Both fell and the firing stopped at once. He dragged Fish away from Penguin and threw her aside. Later, he proceeded to pick Penguin up and punch him in the face repeatedly until Penguin couldn’t make sense of what was going on. He then threw the body to the ground. Breathing heavily.
Catwoman had taken care of Fish by then. She had Fish handcuffed behind her back in a kneeling position. From the looks of it, she didn’t seem to have gone to any trouble in doing so.
Normally, such a situation would mean a witty cheek on her part for a job well accomplished, but she came straight to Penguin.
“Where is he?,” she asked. The panic in her voice wasn’t hidden anymore. And Nightwing empathized with her.
“Yer bo’t wastin’ yer times. Bat is dead. I killed him. I shot ‘im. Twice. In the chest. He ain’t comin’ back.”
“WHERE .. IS ..HE?!,” she shouted, saying each word with a carefully placed punch. He heard the ribs crack under his hold and almost felt sorry for the mob boss.
“Ar … eh … I told ye. Batman’s dead. I killed ‘im. I did. Ask the Joker, he wa t’ere. I ain’t lying. I swear,” he said, through the pain.
She continued to pound at him, breaking what was left. Nightwing stopped her. He thought he saw tears in her eyes, through the mask. She turned away.
“We need information,” he told her before turning back to the Penguin on the ground. “What happened there exactly? Tell me now or I won’t stop her again.”
“T’was simple. The clown had already poisoned ‘im. All I had ter to was get rid of t’at antidote, an’ I did. T’ats all I did. And w’en he tried to kill me, I killed ‘im firs’. T’at all,” Penguin blurted out.
“You can’t lie to me. I’m not Batman. I can kill you. I don’t give second chances. Or third. And you have used up more than that Penguin. So there’s nothing stopping me from killing you now but the truth,” said Nightwing, slightly losing his temper now.
“I swear. T’ats truth. T’ats ‘onest to God. Ma Mamma. T’ats wha’ happened down t’ere.”
Nighwing banged his victim’s head against the car, making him go all fuzzy. He then landed straight shots on Penguin’s chest, with force that could puncture some of the arteries. Pretty soon Penguin started throwing up.
“Ask t’er clown. Ask ‘im. T’ats what happenedd … t’ats w’at … uh .. bleh ..”
Dick raised his hand, ready to go again. He did not believe it. That couldn’t have happened. Not in this universe. Not in any universe.
“It’s true.”
He never expected her to speak out like this. Selina was walking away from them, towards Fish. She seemed determined, angry and calm at the same time. Like someone deciding to do what was right rather than that which comes easy.
“What do you mean?,” he shot back at her.
“The Joker said the same thing to me. He is not lying.”
“You’re losing it. Batman cannot die.”
“Yes, he cannot,” she said. She went to Fish without turning back. The gun was still with her. She aimed it at Fish’s head.
“Who else knows? Who knows that he’s dead?”
“What? Just us. And no one else. We will keep it th-”
The shot echoed in the cold dark night. Fish Mooney died an instant death with a bullet to her skull. Catwoman turned, now aiming the same gun at Penguin.
“Did you know who he was? Did you see him? His face?,” she said, slowly walking towards them.
Nightwing subdued Penguin, holding him in place. “Catwoman you cannot kill criminals. Have you forgotten – ?”
“Did you know who he was?,” she almost shouted the question. Tears streaming her eyes now.
“Bruce Wayne. T’was Wayne. Please,” sobbed Penguin, with his free hand shielding his face. Nightwing looked at Cobblepot in shock, momentarily losing all thought. He felt oddly detached from the conversation. From his own body, even. So it was true? He looked at Selina, almost mechanically. She believed it to be true. He could see it in her face. In her tears and in her movement. And he knew that it had to be the truth.
Selina shot him, just as Nightwing pushed the gun aside from her hand. Penguin was shot in his stout belly. He yelled out in pain. Whimpering like a mouse in pain, his breathing quickened.
“Ma case … In the back seat,” he said, slowly.
Catwoman moved to retrieve the case. She got it out of the back seat and slammed it on the trunk. It had a 3 numbered pin as password.
“6-2-7,” muttered Penguin.
She quickly put the pin into the case and it opened up. Peering inside they found the latest Batsuit, torn to pieces. The mask was broken in half and only the smaller half remained. Most of the gadgets were gone, except for a few Batarangs and the utility belt which was heavily damaged.
Nightwing looked at Catwoman, his horror reflected in her eyes. Finally, the truth. Batman was gone. He was gone for good.
Gotham City
the Broken Dragon 