Genesis: Batman: Let Him take flight once more

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Mir
KING OF STRONG STYLE
Posts: 18700
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm

2008: The Finale Part II

Post by Mir »

“Eva? What are you doing here?” 

Eva’s eyes closed as she heard Steven’s voice. This was not going to end well and she knew it. She looked down at her watch. She had been trying to find the person that she considered to be a genius amongst retarded police officers for getting in touch with her and telling her that they needed help. It had been twenty minutes since she’d gotten in the hotel building. Now it was 11:40. So far, Eva had been rather unsuccessful. Turning, she gave him a big smile. “Okay, so I can explain.” She said, putting her hands up. They were in a hallway on the fifth floor. When she’d gotten to the sixth floor, on the elevator, she’d realized what was going on, and she’d taken a flight of stairs down. The GCPD officers there had recognized her and thinking that Steven had called her, had allowed her in.

Steven was beyond pissed and she could tell. His face was a little contorted, and there was anger everywhere, on his face, and in his body language. She did the only decent thing and gave a chagrined smile. He reached her and grabbed her wrist, knowing that he needed to make sure that she couldn’t get away from him. “What in the fuck are you doing here?” He asked, his voice slow and methodical, low and dangerous. It was the first time since she’d ever met him that she’d seen him this pissed off. Comparatively, when she’d broken out and had invited herself to his mother’s place, that had been a cheery walk in the park with snow cones and hot dogs. “Explain. Now.” He said.

“I just told you I was going to.”

“Right now, sarcasm is not something you should be using.”

“Fine. I got a phone call, telling me exactly what I told you, that your plan was going to fuck up because there are leaks in your office. I figured that it would be better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, so I came here.” She said. “Look, can you just admit that you need my help?” Eva asked.

“I need your help, but this, this isn’t helping.” He said. He was about to speak when there was a new voice in the hallway. Eva’s eyes lit up when she saw the person and started walking over to the person.

“Eva.” Melanie Horne said. “Well it’s wonderful that you came, but I didn’t know that you were going to be here.” She said. “I suppose we can always use another hand, but I could have sworn we wanted you in a different location for a particular reason.” She said. She looked at Steven. “Why did you break with the plan?” She asked.

“I didn’t. She invited herself.” He said. He started walking, still holding Eva’s wrist. “Look, I’ll put her in one of the rooms for the night and drive her back to the safe house tomorrow. I’m really sorry about this, Melanie.” He said. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed one of the keys to the rooms and opened it. Stepping inside, he pulled Eva with him. Shutting the door, he turned and looked at her.

“You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” She asked.

“What was your first clue?” He asked. Then he realized something. “Who called you? Who told you that you needed to come here?” He asked.

“I...I can’t tell you. I told them that I’d take the blame for this. I was planning on coming over anyway.” She said, setting her bag down. “Steven, please. I can help.”



“Damnit, I know you can help. The point of this was to make sure that you’re safe.”



“Steven, do you even know how many police and FBI people are here in this building right now? Why would I not be safe here?” She asked, confused.



“Oh for Christ’s sake-”


“Don’t curse.” She said, because it was a knee jerk reaction. He glared at her and she fell silent.

“If someone was going to attack the jurors, that’ll probably cause a mistrial and they’ll restart the trial with a new jury. That means we start from the beginning.” He said. “That means that you’re important to the trial again. Star witness and all that. Which means that the Vitale’s will want you dead. Now, if they do end up sending someone to kill the jury or to fuck with the jury, and I don’t know, you just happen to be here, well that’s just kind of a two for, don’t you think?” He asked.

“Damn.” She said, realizing that he meant.

“Which is exactly why I was trying to keep you in the apartment.” He said, pacing.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” She asked, her face getting pale.

“Because I don’t like to worry you, Eva. And above all else, I hate, hate seeing fear on your face. The way I’m seeing it right now.” He said. “I was trying to protect you, to keep you safe, because it’s my job.” He said. Steven was caught up in the moment and he wasn't even thinking about what he was saying. All he knew was that this woman standing in front of him was the most important thing in the world to him and he was willing to do anything, whatever it was to keep her safe. “Because I lo-” His sentence was cut off though, as all the lights in the room went out. He stopped and flipped the switches. Nothing. His eyes narrowed. He didn't see the look on Eva's face as she'd pieced together what he had been about to say. What he'd never said to her before and the one thing she'd always wanted to hear from him. “Power’s out.” He said. He leveled a finger at her. “Don’t leave this room. I’m serious this time. I might just shoot you myself, you pain in my ass.” He said and turned to leave. Before he could step out the door, she’d jumped up and turned him.

Eva kissed him, long, deep, and hard. When she pulled back, he could see the apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She said. “Really, I am. I’ll stay here. Be safe.” She said. “Or I’ll kill you myself.” She said, trying to put on a smile, but failing.

He just nodded and left.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Three rounds left the magazine. Two bodies fell to the ground. The GCPD guards on the left side of the building were dead and then the hitman was on the fifth floor. The power was completely out and that meant that there were twelve jurors, approximately thirty Gotham City Police Department officers and another ten or so FBI agents. That meant forty two bodies were on this floor, give or take. Most would be eliminated, but he would be sure that the twelve jurors would be. Their deaths had to happen. The rest, well, if they got in his way, they’d be dealt with. He started moving down the long hallway, dressed in all black. He had on kevlar, but he doubted that there was going to be much firing towards him. After all, he was dressed in all black and had night vision goggles on. Moving down, he saw a GCPD officer and opened fire, his suppressor reducing the noise so that it was barely audible. He knew what was going to happen.

The jurors would get all bothered and scared. They’d come running out of their rooms and that would be the end of it. He’d be able to swoop in and pick them off. Granted, his contact hadn’t been able to get him all the information that he’d needed, like which rooms each juror was staying in, but he’d had enough information to make this plan, so he doubted that there was going to be an issue. Already he was down one GCPD officer and a moment later, he killed another person. Creeping up to the body, he identified the person as one of the jurors.

One down, eleven to go.

He moved into the room that the juror had stepped out of, dragging the body with him. It had been a clean shot and he was moving the body before there was too much blood leaking out. Stashing the body in part of the room, he waited, knowing that protocol dictated that the GCPD and the FBI check on the jurors, to make sure that they were safe. Sure enough less than two minutes later, two GCPD officers and an FBI agent walked in. When they turned a corner, he opened fire, taking them all out. Next, he grabbed the FBI’s ear piece so that he could hear what was going on. After placing the first fire charge, he left the room, entering the hallway again. What he heard next was something that could throw a wrench in his plans. As he stepped out and entered another room to see if there was a juror in there, he heard that they had figured that someone might try to cut the power and so they had made connections already to the back up generator that powered the service elevator. They were going to see if they could redirect the power to at least the fifth floor.

There was a juror in that room and he shot and killed the man. The next fire charge was placed and then he waited, catching another pair of GCPD officers in the trap. It would only work a few more times, since while he did this, they were able to check on the other jurors and furthermore, he could only go so far before he was going to hit the middle of the floor where the largest concentration of people was. However, if he did his math right, he had killed four GCPD officers, one FBI agent, and two jurors so far on the floor. That left him with twenty six GCPD, nine FBI, and ten jurors. This was doable. As he moved outwards, the lights flickered on for a second, but he didn’t freeze, he just kept moving. As he entered the next room, he heard a shout. They would be coming to this room now. He needed to move and he needed to move fast.

He dropped the MP5, the shoulder sling catching it nicely. Reaching into a belt that he wore, he grabbed a small shaped charge. Throwing it at the wall, it detonated, creating a decent sized hole for him to work with. Walking through the hole, he opened fire, catching a pair of jurors this time. It appeared that one had been in another’s room to converse when this had all started. He smiled. Eight left. He grabbed his phone and looked down at his security feed. He could see an FBI agent and three more GCPD officers heading towards the charge he’d placed near the main fuse box. He zoomed in and checked the names that he could see. Mentally, he cross referenced.

Two of them were from the stairs guards. They were the guards for the right set of stairs. He smiled before detonating the charge. Perfect.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Steven ran down the hallway. The majority of the jurors were on the other side of the hallway and this wasn’t going to end well. Already people were not responding over their radios. The power was slowly being brought back up, but they’d just taken a hit. They’d all felt that bomb go off downstairs. The whole building had shook. Steven had his pistol drawn and was getting close to the middle of the floor when he heard some of the doors open. From the voices he could tell that they were GCPD. This was not good. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of, and to top it all off, Eva was here. This was not how he wanted this to end, and it was not how he was going to let it end. “Anybody there?” He called out.

“Steven?” He heard someone call out. “Steven, it’s Irskens. We’ve got a major fucking problem.”



“You’re telling me.” Steven said. “Look, how long until back up gets here?” He asked, as the two reached each other. “We’ve got to get these people out of here.” He said.

“I put in the call to Roberts myself. He said that we’ve got to hold out for at least another ten minutes.

“Christ. In ten minutes, this place could be gone. Do we have numbers?” He asked.

“We don’t know how many there are. So far, we’re estimating at least two. If it’s one this guy is fast as fuck. Possibly a super.” 



“That’s just what I want to deal with. Where the fuck is Horne?” He asked.

“No idea.” Irskens replied. “We’re losing radio contact with people on the left side of the building though. That’s where one of these shooters is.” He said. “We have to drive everyone to the right.” He added.


“Good idea.” Steven said. “Everybody pair up with people who already have flashlights. Do we know how long it should take to get the power up and running?” He asked when the light suddenly flickered.

“Not sure. Should be five minutes, maybe. We were going to work on that in the morning when their tech guy came in. Nobody thought that we were going to get attacked on the first fucking night. Makes sense though.” He said, as the lights flickered on again and held. “Good shit, it seems like the lights might be back up.” He said. They turned and started to survey the area. Suddenly their radios picked up. 

“We’ve found one of the shooters. He’s armed with a submachine gun, suppressed. He’s in room 520.” The voice said, before it cut out. They started to hear gun shots in that direction. 



“Get as many as you can and move.” Steven said, turning and heading into the main staging area of the GCPD. “You guys heard it, move move. I need three officers to remain behind here and I need three more to start rounding up the jurors. We have to get them downstairs and off this floor as quickly as possible.” He said.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

In reality, the hitman was not in room 520. He had killed a total of ten GCPD officers now and three FBI agents. Five of the twelve jurors were dead. When they’d cornered him, he’d shot them and had gotten on the radio. Now he’d set a trap for the officers that were headed his way. Hopefully more of the FBI agents would be headed his way as well. They were the ones with heavier firepower after all. He had the doors open from across the hallway, and he watched from the inside of a room, with a snake camera. He waited until they were all inside and then he opened the door, setting up his spot perfectly. Then he pressed the detonator. He’d placed tear gas canisters in the room and now he set them all off. The concentrated tear gas in a small enclosure meant exactly what he knew it would mean.

They started running out, trying to wipe at their eyes. And there he was, opening fire and mowing them all down. He picked up his weapon and reloaded as he counted. There were three bodies wearing GCPD jackets and three more bodies that were dressed in business suits, screaming FBI. He did his calculations as he smiled. Eleven GCPD left. Seven FBI and seven jurors left. He pressed his fingers to the earpiece to hear what the FBI were saying, and then his eyes narrowed. Steven Santieri. He knew that name. That was the one who was in charge of the GCPD contingent here. He was in liaison with Special Agent Melanie Horne. That was his next target. If he could take out Santieri this would be smooth. Especially when Santieri was directing traffic to move the remaining jurors down to the right side of the building.

If they got to those stairs, they’d be able to get out, easily.

He prepared a canister of gas and then he threw it into the hallway. After the gas exploded and detonated, he ran and kicked open the door of another room. He ran in and his eyes widened. There was a woman in there, black haired. Beautiful. But she wasn’t on any picture ID that he had of people who were supposed to be there. Then his eyes narrowed. He knew who she was. “Eva Rodriguez.” He said. Her eyes widened. Before she could do anything he was in front of her. She thew a punch, but he dodged it and grabbed her head, before slamming it into a table. She crumpled to the ground, knocked unconscious. She would be his last victim. He knew that she was the most valuable target out of all of the ones that he’d been given.

This mission was almost taking care of itself for him.

He stepped back outside and started blind firing through the smoke that still dominated the area.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“We have to get the jurors out of here.” Santieri said to Irskens and Horne. They were in the staging area with the jurors. There were 6 GCPD officers in the room, and five others were outside, in a firefight with their shooter. “We have to go now.” He said. Turning to Horne, he spoke quickly. “I need to find Eva.” He said and then he looked back. “Has anyone seen Thiam?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. Everyone shook their heads, until Horne nodded. “Where is she?”

“She headed home a while ago.” Horne said.

Steven nodded and checking his weapon looked at Irskens. If Aundrea was out of this then that was all for the better. One less person to worry about, and one less person to be responsible for. “Get them out of here. I’ll take care of this shooter.” He said. They headed out and Santieri opened fire, giving suppressing fire as the group headed towards the stairs on the right side. Horne came up on his other side.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She said. “I’ll help you.” She said.

The other GCPD officers made room to help Santieri and Horne. Their shooter was still firing and the smoke was just starting to clear. They still couldn’t see him too well. But apparently he could see them, because one by one the GCPD officers dropped. Santieri looked behind him and saw that Irskens and everyone had gotten to the end of the hallway and were moving down the stairs. Steven was just happy that he’d averted something worse happening. Now he just needed to take this guy down. By the time he looked back, the smoke had finally cleared and the last GCPD officer took a bullet. It was just Steven and Horne left.



“Drop the weapon.” He said to the shooter. “There’s two guns on you.” He said.

Suddenly one of the doors opened and Eva stepped outside, clutching her head. She was bleeding from the head and she was staggering. “Eva!” Steven said and that was all that the hitman needed. He fired, the round shooting through Steven’s shoulder, dropping him. The hitman turned and started running. Horne turned to check on Steven but he waved her away. “Get him, I’ll be fine.” He said, as Eva started running towards him.

Horne just nodded and took off after the hitman.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The door to the stairwell exploded open with a swift kick and the hitman started running down the stairs. He waited until he was on the third floor and then he stopped and turned, waiting. Melanie Horne was coming down the stairs and he watched as she came down and stood in front of him. She glared at him. “You’re completely fucking this up.” She said.

“Look, lady, I just need to get to rest of the jurors and this thing will be in the bag.” He said. “The Vitales paid me and you gave me all the information I needed. Just give me the time I need.” He said with a smirk. “Go back upstairs and tell that cop that I got away. I’ll get the jurors when the police move them. They’ll probably take them to the GCPD headquarters and I have all the routes mapped. Trust me, they’re going to get taken care of. I have contingency plans in place” He said.

“Fine.” Melanie said and he turned to leave. “Wait, there's something else.” She said and he turned around. As he did, she lifted her pistol and fired. The Glock 21 fired a single .45 ACP round that slammed through his head, a clean shot. She smiled as she turned and started back up the stairs. She’d take care of this herself. Avoiding having to do that had been something that she’d wanted to do for a very long time, but it didn’t look like she was going to be able to do that anymore. She’d have to get her hands dirty in order to finish this. And finish this was something that she needed to do.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“Steven! Oh God.” Eva said, sliding down next to him. “Are you alright?” She asked.

“Well, I think I’m bleeding here cause I got shot, but I think I’m okay.” He said. “It was a clean shot.” He said. “The round didn’t hit anything.” He said. “Look, who called you?” He asked. “I need to know.”

“It was Thiam.” Eva said, looking at him. “Why?” She asked. “You don’t think that she had something to do with this, do you?” She asked.

“I don’t want to think that she does, but that’s the only answer to this. She wasn’t supposed to be here, but she was and she left just before everything started.” He said. They looked up as the door to the stairwell opened. Steven lifted his pistol, but then he lowered it, as it was only Horne. “Melanie, what happened?” He asked.

“I got him. But...I had to shoot him in the head.” She said. “He didn’t tell me who the rat was.” She said. “Look, we gotta get you to a medic or a doctor or something.” She said to Steven. “My phone is in the main office. I’m going to go get it.” She said.

“There’s a first aid kit in there.” Steven said.

“I’ll get it.” Eva said, and the two women headed over to the office.

As she opened the door, Melanie smiled at Eva. “Guess we didn’t need your help after all, Eva. I guess that Thiam’s phone call wasn’t necessary. The medical equipment is in that room” She said, indicating a door, before she headed into the adjoining office to grab her phone out of her bag.

Eva nodded and headed into another room to look for the medical equipment. She found one of the kits and ran back to Steven. It was as she was taking his jacket off, that she realized something. “Oh no.” She said. And then she closed her eyes. He would never believe her.

“What is it?” Steven asked. 



“Nothing, just give me your phone.” She said, and took his phone. She turned the voice memo system on so that it would record. “Thiam isn’t the snitch. It’s Horne.”

“Really?” He asked. “I’m shot here and you’re going to start up with this since you don’t like her?”

“She knew that Thiam called me.” Eva said in reply. She turned as Melanie walked over to where they were.

“I called Roberts and told him what was going on.” She said. “Just a few loose ends to take care of.” She said. “Eva, I need you to step away from Steven.” She said and it was then that they both saw the pistol in her hands, and that it was aimed towards the two of them. “Drop the weapon, Steven, and push it towards me.” She said. Melanie gave him a small smile. “Thiam called you to come over here because there was a gun to her head at the time, Eva.” She said as Steven tossed his pistol towards Melanie. She crouched and picked it up.

Steven’s eyes narrowed a little. That explained the look of unease that Thiam had had when Melanie had entered the room. It was probably what she’d wanted to talk about as well. It all made sense now. At least Eva was recording the conversation. “You’ve been the mole the whole time?” He asked.

“I’ve been on the Vitale’s payroll for a long time.” She said. “The trial is going to restart, we both know that. But I can take out the key witness at this point and make sure that the Vitale’s get what they pay for. I really wanted to try to keep you out of this, Steven, but it looks like I can’t. I’m really sorry about this.” She said, and pointed the gun at him. She clicked the hammer back as Eva leapt forward, driving her shoulder into Melanie’s stomach. The pistol went off, but the round missed Steven. They landed on the ground and Melanie scrambled to her feet. She kicked Eva in the stomach and took a couple steps back. “I was going to shoot you second, but I guess I can make a change in that plan.”

“Fuck you, bitch.” Eva said, grimacing.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Irskens checked his weapon. He’d made sure that the rest of the jurors had been secured and looked at the GCPD officers that were with him. The cavalry had finally arrived. He had regular GCPD, SWAT, and he could see FBI response forces driving furiously towards the Watercrest hotel. Well that was a relief finally. “We’re going back in there. Sergeant Santieri, Ms. Rodriguez and Agent Horne are still in there, and we’re getting that shooter.” He said. The group nodded as Roberts exited his vehicle that had just pulled up. Everyone on the force knew Steven Santieri. A lot of them respected and liked him. Even some of the corrupt cops did too, because they knew that even if Steven knew that they were corrupt or on the take, he would still stick his neck out for them, because it was the right thing to do to take care of your fellow man.

“Irskens, I just got a call from Agent Horne, the situation is under control. She took down the shooter, but there were some problems. Proceed with caution. But get our people out of there.” Roberts said.

“Will do, sir.” Irskens said, and charged into the building.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

As soon as Eva got to her feet, she received a strong pistol whip from Melanie and she stumbled backwards. Leaning against the wall, Eva tried to fight through the pain, but after two serious hits to the head and the kick to the stomach, she was starting to go unconscious again. But she knew that she couldn’t. Her life was in danger and so was Steven’s. She had to pull it together and he was shot. “How could you do this?” She asked, stalling for time.

“Well, they pay me, so really it’s very simple. I've been working for them since before the trial started. I cover Gotham City in my office and they wanted to make sure that they had someone who would look out for the family's interests. They offered money, a lot of money. I'm surprised you never heard about me.” Melanie said. She turned her pistol towards Steven as he made a sudden movement and fired, hitting him in the leg. He howled in pain, and Eva bit her lip as the tears started.

“Stop it!” She screamed. But even as she fought the tears, she was thinking. She had never heard of Michael or his dad or any of the capos talk about Melanie before. They'd spoken on how they had people in the FBI, but they'd never stated names. The money that had gone to the FBI agents that they knew, it had been substantial. Eva had been fairly certain that after the trial, when internal affairs came to talk to her about the Gotham City Police Department, she would have been approached by the FBI counterpart. This is all my fault. I should have known. Steven's going to die because of me. After everything he's done...after everything...Jesus fucking Christ, what do I do?

“I’m sorry, Eva, but you have to die now. Everything hinges on you dying. I can spin the rest of the this and it'll go for a retrial. Without you, there will be no case against the Vitale family. No conviction. I'll be rich as fuck.” Melanie said, shock on her face a little. Her hand was shaking a little, and it was obvious that she hadn’t intended to shoot Steven. She cleared her throat. “Turn...turn around.” She said, squaring herself away.


“No. I don’t want to look you in the face, you bitch.” Eva said, sliding her hand down inside of her jacket.

Melanie reached out and grabbed Eva’s shoulder and spun her. As she did, Eva stepped in, and pulled out the Smith & Wesson Model 5906 that she’d brought with her. She had the safety off and she shoved the gun forward, pulling the trigger. The recoil of the pistol hurt like a bitch but she kept her hand on the pistol and stepped back. The gunshot was loud, louder than all the ones that she’d heard this whole night. She staggered back. Though the first time that she’d killed had been incredibly personal and lifechanging, this one was different but so similar. She brought a shaking hand up to her face. Eva kept the pistol level though, knowing that things could still change at the drop of a hat.


Steven’s eyes had widened and he watched as Melanie staggered backwards, her hand dipping to the stomach gunshot wound. Her hand came back and she stared at the blood that was there. “I hate you.” Eva said and lifted the pistol up, firing again. The nine millimeter round tore through Melanie’s chest and the power of the round pushed her back, so that her back hit the wall. Melanie pushed up off the wall, but then she crumpled, slumping against the wall and then down to the ground. Her eyes got distant, far away. Dead eyes.

Eva slumped against her wall, bringing the gun up to her face. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily. “Eva.” She heard her voice being called and opened her eyes. Steven was reaching for her. Scrambling, she got over to him very quickly. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“Me? I’m fine. What about you?” She asked, checking. Tears were welling up in her eyes. “Oh God, you’ve lost a lot of blood. This isn’t good, this is....you can’t die. You can’t die on me, Steven.” She said, pulling him close.

“Woman, I’m not going to die, calm down.” He said.

Irskens exploded through the stairs with some GCPD officers. “Santieri, I’ve got you.” He said, rushing over with two paramedics. He tried to pull Eva away but she fought him, getting back to Steven's side. His eyes were starting to get distant, just the same way that Melanie's had. And Melanie was dead.

“I love you.” Eva said to Steven, grabbing his head and staring directly into his eyes. “I love you.”


But there was no reply. His eyes were getting distant and unfocused.
User avatar
Mir
KING OF STRONG STYLE
Posts: 18700
Joined: Fri Feb 10, 2006 5:43 pm

Re: Genesis: Let Him take flight once more

Post by Mir »

Before

They were meeting in a small abandoned warehouse near Gotham Harbor. The imagery of the place was something that Isaiah had memorized and was already reviewing in his mind. One of the things that Isaiah had been working on ever since he had started this crusade was a functional, working knowledge of Gotham City itself. Though for most people, their definition of functional and working was far different from what Isaiah’s was. His was far more in depth and far more encompassing than most people’s, but then again he needed to. Most might have considered knowing a good bit about the subway system and the various neighborhoods a working knowledge, but for Isaiah that was shaving off a little bit of ice from the tip of the iceberg. He had memorized detailed information, including important building blueprints and locations. Simply put, he knew more about Gotham City and it’s history at this point than anyone else alive. He could fight anywhere and escape any situation he needed to because of his superior knowledge.

So when he’d gotten his information from surveillance that the meeting was going to take place at a small fishery and wharf on the water, he had immediately known where he was going to set up his positions. And he had followed that to the letter. Now, he stood, in the Batsuit on top of the tallest building in the vicinity. He had gotten to the building before anyone else, and he had set up listening devices throughout the place, so that he would be able to know exactly what was going on and when he wanted to drop in. Preparation was the key to survival and Isaiah was planning on going home alive and in one piece tonight. That was one thing that he had known that he would need to do in order to be the Batman. Be prepared. For anything. Always.

He stood, on the rooftop of the building that gave him the best vantage point. Isaiah had installed a set of high powered lenses into the cowl and he had them on now. If anybody had been close enough to see his eyes, all they would have seen was white were his eyes should have been. He continued his surveillance, waiting. In his mind though, Isaiah was even busier. The first thought that came to him was about the timetable of everything that was supposed to take place. Isaiah’s surveillance had yielded him a bevy of results and he knew what was supposed to be happening. As a matter of fact, in a few minutes, the key players were going to meet. This was going to be one of the biggest drug meetings in the history of Gotham City. Isaiah didn’t intend to stop the meeting, nor did he intend to take any of the people who would be soon meeting in the warehouse down. No, his mission tonight was to get their attention. It was to scare them and to let them know that they weren’t going to be able to do whatever they wanted anymore. The Batman would be watching.

The thing was, this wasn’t about blocks of cocaine or heroin. It wasn’t about pounds of marijuana or of LSD pills. Some of those drugs and others would be present here at this meeting. No, this was more about something far more important than even supply. Supply was something that could readily be achieved and obtained, that much was definite. This was about the demand. The demand in Gotham had been growing, ever so slowly, ever so surely. Isaiah had been keeping tabs on the police reports and he knew that. The Vitale family knew this and so did the other criminals who had opted to create or join a larger organization. They knew that a war was brewing, but they also knew that a war could be avoided. All that needed to happen was for certain people to meet and certain people to talk.

Granted, the Vitale family probably had the ability to wipe out the other groups and take over from the top down. But why bother? Don Francesco Vitale was a very smart man, the capo di tutti capi of Gotham City. His son, Michael Vitale was the underboss of the family and despite his mental issues and sadistic, sociopathic tendencies, he too was a very smart man. They knew that they could win that war, but the costs of winning it would make it pyrrhic, a term that Isaiah knew that these Italians would understand and be unwilling to have. It was far smarter to have a sit down, to have a meet, where everything could be discussed frankly and openly. That way, needless bloodshed would be avoided. From what he knew about Michael, Isaiah was willing to believe that this hadn’t been Michael’s first idea, but that he’d been ordered to do this by his father. Michael was smart, but that didn’t mean that he was always willing to listen to his brain. It would prove to be his undoing.

Isaiah looked to his right as he heard the rumble of a car engine. There were two of them turning onto a street close by. Everywhere around here was deserted, which was why it had been picked. The place itself was owned by the Vitale family. He could only wonder what that had done to the go of the leaders of the other groups and their levels of confidence, having to meet in a known Vitale place of business. Isaiah made a mental note to maybe ask one or two of them, after they’d been taken down. It was late at night and Gotham City was cold, the frigid air swirling around him. He couldn’t feel it, save for the place on his face that the mask didn’t cover. He could see his breath.

A good night to get some work in.

The two cars stopped near the building and parked on the side of the road. Batman watched as a total of six men got out of the car and checked the area. Activating the lenses in his suit, Batman focused in on the weapons in their hands. All of them had submachine guns in their hands, Heckler & Koch UMPs. As their statistics and capabilities came to his mind, he watched one more person exit the second car. White hair was visible and Batman recognized the man almost instantly. He was a Czech who had a good part of Gotham City under his sway. He had been building his organization for some years now and he was probably the largest competitor to the Vitale family. The man looked at the building that he had to go into and shook his head before starting to walk, his six bodyguards moving in tandem with him.

Over the next half an hour, the rest of the very important people reached the meeting location. Batman saw quite a few people who were on his target list and at the end of it all, by his count, knew that there were roughly twenty people in the warehouse. The best part was that the Vitale family had yet to arrive. Rigorous self-discipline let him know the time and he knew that Michael was running late. One could only wonder why. Batman let his thoughts wander to the woman to whom Michael was currently engaged. Eva Rodriguez would not have been the cause for Michael’s tardiness. That woman knew better. She knew that Michael was very liberal with both drink and where his belt went. There had been more than a few domestic disturbance calls to the apartment that the two of them shared, but at the end of each one, Eva always took the blame and said that there had merely been an accident. Her actions were those of someone terrified, scared so badly that they had emotionally shut down entirely. It didn’t help that she handled all of the Vitale family’s books and she was one of the best in the world at computers. He was willing to bet that she could hack into his networks if she really wanted to.

No, Batman doubted that she was caused of Michael being late. But whatever it was, it was getting the people in the warehouse antsy. He had rigged a series of bugs throughout the building and the feeds were all being relayed to him through the Batcave. They were being filtered right then to provide one stream, but he could separate it to isolate a particular area of the warehouse. On the one hand, Batman was lucky in that the warehouse did not have many rooms and was really just one, large cavernous place. It meant that there weren’t too many places for people to go. On the other hand, he was unlucky because it meant that almost all of the fighting would be an in an open place. That was not a successful deterrent to someone as determined as him, merely an inadvertently placed obstacle that needed to be overcome.

Then he saw it.

Another pair of cars coming and he knew that it had to be Michael Vitale. There was no one else who needed to be here and Batman reached down, grabbing his grappling gun. Firing it, he felt the tug and pull that signaled that the hook had found purchase and then he was gliding through the air, silently. Landing on the roof of the warehouse, Batman retrieved the hook and set to work, using his knowledge of the building to gain entrance. And then he was inside, waiting in the shadows. He eliminated the main audio feed of the warehouse, so that he only heard things that he could not already see. Then he waited. Waiting was something that he had been doing for a very long time. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“Michael Vitale.” The Czech man said. “A pleasure as always. I pray that this will be a good night for everyone involved?” He asked, with a smile that was shared around the table, and a laugh that wasn’t.

“Petr Horak, you worry too much sometimes.” Michael said with a smirk. “We are all here because we are businessmen and that is what we are here to discuss. Business. We all wish to be wealthy and we all can be wealthy. There are simple ways to ensure that no one is harmed and no one is hurt.” He said as he sat down at the table, his bodyguards behind him, making the number of people in the room an even twenty five. “But first, let us talk of the product. We all deal in a number of products from a number of different sources. The first thing that needs to be done is to eliminate the number of sources. One source for each product. This establishes uniformity across Gotham.” He said.

“No.” One of the men at the table said. Michael looked at the man and identified him as one of those from the Chinese syndicate. “First we establish territories and draw up the map. Why discuss what we will sell if we will be unable to decide where we will lay our heads?” He asked.

“Fine. I was going to come to that later, but if you wish to discuss it now, then that is alright.” Michael said, rising once more. He walked over to a board that had a large, blow up map of Gotham City on it. Currently it was a patchwork of different colors and the colors weren’t always connected like to like. “This is the way the city is now.” He said. “My father and I worked on a break down that provides equal opportunities to everyone involved. Look at this.” He said, and spun the board around, providing a new map. Michael was proud of this map. He’d put in a lot of work on this map. In actuality, he’d given Eva his father’s request and his bitch had done her work the way she’d supposed to. It hadn’t taken her too long, she was good with computers. In all the things he’d seen in his life, Eva was the best at a number of things.

She was the best hacker he’d ever met and he had FBI people on his payroll and CIA contacts. She was the best with computers all around, really. She could make the most amazing meals known to man, and she gave, hands down, the best oral sex that he’d ever had in his life. Michael prided himself on being a connoisseur of blow jobs, and Eva could do amazing things. Shit, she was the best fuck he’d ever had, ever. No woman could ever top her, but he was always looking. A therapist might have said that that was part of the reason why he cheated on her all the time. Part being the operative word there. But the therapist’s theory would have been that since it was so good, and Eva had the ability to be a stingy bitch and not fuck him at least three times a week, that he looked for it elsewhere. He was always chasing that high and no drug would ever be good enough.

Michael gestured to the map as silence dominated the room. “The first thing is that the fighting needs to stop. Tonight. Everything ends. We have enough common enemies, like the police and that new mayor, Albert Jones. Wants to put decent men like you and me out of business. Everyone will cement their operations out of their home area. We have the Chinese to the left on Midtown, controlling Gotham’s Chinatown. The Vitale’s have been encroaching for some years, but that’s going to end. We’re going to pull out. In exchange, the Chinese are going to leave the Russians in Uptown alone, and the Russians are going to make nice with the Czechs. Both of you are going to give the blacks a place to actually play, and they’re going to share the island, give it to them. Granton has enough money for the Czechs.” He said.

“You really expect all of us to go along with this?” The leader of the blacks said. The man had a look on his face that told everyone that he was having a hard time believing everything that he was seeing. He wasn’t alone. Not everyone was happy with the way that this break down was going to be. Everyone had their own territories, but some of them had found more profitable places to traffic their drugs than in their own home areas. What Michael was suggesting would hurt their trade for a while, even with the money saved from turf wars and fighting. Not everyone was on board with this whole thing and he could tell. Now was when he needed to be strong and vocal.

“Fuck yes, I do. And you’ll see why.” He said. After he finished explaining all of the rest of the map, he sat back down at the table. “Questions?” He asked.

“Why are we going to agree to this?” Horak asked.

“That brings me back to my original talking point.” Michael said, lighting a cigarette and taking a healthy draw from it. “My father and I discussed who we would use for suppliers and-”



“Seems to me like the Vitale’s are doing far too much of the thinking on this deal that’s supposed to involve all of us.” The black man said.

There were rumblings around the table of agreement.

“Look, we just felt that putting together some kind of deal would be good to use as a starting point. You guys don’t want certain things and want other things, that’s where negotiation comes in. But we have to start somewhere. As I was saying before Jayceon interrupted, we discussed who we would use for suppliers. Each one of us has something special that we push. The Vitale’s own the cocaine. The Chinese own the heroin and control the LSD. The Russians traffic the heaviest in Ecstasy and Meth. Everyone has their little slice. So everyone is going to share their best supplier. The Chinese aren’t going to traffic in shitty cocaine, they’re going to traffic in the same stuff that the Vitale’s do. In exchange, the Chinese are going to supply the Vitale’s with better LSD. And so on and so forth.”

“What are you, a drug stockbroker?” Horak asked, getting a laugh from some around the table.

“Call me what you want, but you know that this plan makes sense. It’s beneficial for everyone involved in this and that’s just plain obvious. Everyone has access to the best stuff, and everyone has their own clear area. There is no reason to fight. There is no reason to do anything, but make money.” Michael said. He leaned back in his chair and smiled, finishing his cigarette. He knew that he had them. He was right and that was all that there was to it. His plan eliminated the rivalries between the gangs and elements of organized crime. It made everyone rich. And most importantly, it put their focus on their common enemies, the police, DEA, and the FBI.

“I’ll agree to this, for a price.” Alexei Federov said. 

Federov had been silent for the entire duration, but the Russian spoke, everyone listened. That was mainly because he didn’t speak much, normally. Which was why when he did speak, people listened.

“What is your price, Alexei?” Michael asked.

“Times have changed. It's not like the old days, when we can do anything we want. That was how my father acted when he was head of household, and that is how I have acted. Even when I fought the Batman. But times have changed. These Chrell, they’ve changed the way that law enforcement works. You and your father, you have all the judges and the politicians in Gotham City. You must share them. You must let us draw the water from the well.” Alexei said. “Share and share alike, little Vitale.”

Michael sighed. He’d had a feeling that the topic of discussion would turn to this sooner or later. It was a very true statement that Alexei had made. The Vitale Family controlled a lot of the politicians in Gotham City. They definitely had a number of judges. They had worked hard, over the years, to take over the city from the inside out. Now they had it. Whether they were going to share it, Michael knew that this was going to be a sticking point when it came to whether or not they were able to work out a deal. His father had fore seen this as well, and it was one of the things that they had discussed at length when Michael had been preparing for this meeting. His father knew that in order for this deal to go through, the Vitales, as one of the most powerful groups in the city, if not the most powerful, would have to give a sign of good faith.

It was understandable. And Francesco wanted to avoid blood shed.

“Alexei, sharing is something that we can do.” Michael said, and he saw the look of triumph on the Russian’s face. No doubt the other man had thought that Michael would fight on this point. “If sharing the politicians and judges is what will make you all rest easy and trust in this deal, then that is something that the Vitale Family is more than prepared to do, provided that there is a system, a clear and proper way of bringing your needs to us.” Michael said. There were nods around the room.

“This, I can live with.” Alexei said. “Your agreement has my support.” He said.

The Russian had spoken. His words would go far and Michael was glad to have this support.

Slowly, a few others voiced their support and then the rest started to nod. They were all in agreement. This was good. Michael was about to smile and ask if there was anything that anyone else wished to speak about when there was a new voice added to the mix. The voice was harsher, far more so than any of the others that were in attendance. There was grit and gravel there. He couldn’t lie, he shivered when he heard it and he felt the grip of fear. 

“It has my support as well.” 

They were about to ask what was going on, when the lights cut out in the warehouse. There was a whistling sound, more of a zipping sound. Then there was the sound of grunting and men crying out in pain. Bodies were hitting the floor and then there was a brilliant flash that continued and kept going.

Someone, something was standing on the table, holding two flares in his hands. The thing stared at Michael with two, white, piercing eyes. His gaze dropped down to the symbol that was emblazoned on the chest. No...No fucking way. I don’t believe it. It was the thought that raced through Michael’s head as he watched the thing start to run towards him. Gun fire started to erupt all around and the thing ducked, before launching off of the table, the flares thrown backwards. The last thing that Michael saw were the two eyes before the thing’s shoulder slammed into his ribs, knocking him down to the ground. The gunfire stopped, the bodyguards who were still standing and still had their guns unsure of where the man had gone.

“I know who you are, Vitale.” The thing said, with a voice filled with gravel, in his ear. “I know your sins. It’s time to do your penance. Wait here.”


Then the weight on him was gone. Michael scrambled backwards, reaching up to his chest holster and pulling out the 1911 that he kept there. He cocked it back as he heard the sounds of men getting hit by powerful fists. He saw sporadic gunfire, the muzzle flashes lighting up the darkened warehouse. Then darkness. Then flashes. Then darkness. Repeatedly, until there was nothing.

“Who’s there?” He asked. “What’s going on?” He screamed. He got to his feet and he had his arm extended, but his hand was shaking.

Why the fuck couldn’t he stop the shaking? 

Michael didn’t even realize it but tears were streaming down his face. Then he heard the voice behind him.

“I know who you are.”

He spun around and fired twice, blindly. Nothing.

“I know what you’ve done.”

Michael turned in another direction and squeezed off two more shots. His hand was shaking uncontrollably, and almost violently now. The voice came again.

“You need to pay for your sins.”

Turning again, Michael screamed as he emptied the rest of the magazine. He tried to reload, but he dropped the second magazine that he kept in his chest holster. He heard it being kicked away from him. 

“Who...who are you?” He asked, sobbing.

Nothing.

“Who are you?” He asked again and this time received a kick to the back of his knee that dropped him to the ground.

But still, no response.

“Who are you?!!” Michael screamed, his vocal cords crying in pain in the process. Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed his throat lifting him up.

Then he saw the white eyes once more.

“I’m the Batman. And I’m watching you.”

Then he saw nothing.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

He was drunk. He was high. There were no if ands or buts about it. The lights had come on and the man who had attacked them all had vanished like a fucking ghost. They’d argued and yelled, until Vitale had screamed and insisted that they all get the fuck out of the area and that he’d get in touch with them after that. Then he’d gotten into his fucking car and he’d started to drive. His first stop had been to his compartment in the car. He had access to his coke there. After he’d snorted three lines, the world had started to be okay again. His hand had finally stopped shaking and he’d told his driver to get some damn alcohol. They’d stopped and he’d gotten two bottles of Jameson. The Irish knew how to make whiskey that was for sure.

By the time the driver had taken him home, he was almost done with the second one. He’d also puked. Twice. He’d barely rolled down the window though, because when he looked up, every roof top looked like it had the man. The Batman.

It was impossible. It couldn’t be him. There was no way. He was dead. Everyone knew that. He’d died, so the stories went, after a fight with the Joker and with Selina Kyle, the Catwoman. Well, nobody had ever found his body, but he’d been shot point blank. The Bat may have been many things, but there was no way that he had been that strong. So why was he so scared? He didn’t know. Why had he had his driver take three times as long to get back to his apartment? He didn’t know. Michael just didn’t know. He just knew that he was scared and that the Batman had scared him to wit’s end.

Walking up the steps of his apartment building, Michael leaned against the wall, after he got in. His mind was so foggy, so slowed down due to the cocaine and the alcohol. Shaking his head, he entered his elevator and punched in the button for his floor. Less than a few minutes later, he was fumbling with his keys outside of 5H. Finally finding the right one, Michael inserted it into the lock and turned. He was back inside of his house. There weren’t many lights on, and he figured that Eva would probably be asleep at this point. He stumbled into the apartment and the first thing he went for was one of the closets. Rifling through a bunch of things, he finally found a magazine for his 1911 and he slid the eight round magazine in to the gun. Through the haze, he felt safer, despite the weapon’s previous ineffectiveness. Michael almost jumped as the lights came on. His eyes found Eva, standing there in a robe, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Michael, is everything alright?” She asked. “Did the meeting go okay?” The Brazilian asked.

“Fine, fucking...fine.” He said, walking towards her.

“Well, that’s good.” Eva said.

She winced as he leaned in and kissed her, sloppily. She could taste the whiskey on his breath. It was why she didn’t drink at all. One might have thought that someone in her position would have turned into a bit of an addict to something, but she hadn’t. Even the ability to do that had been taken from her. He saw her wince and he took a few steps back. “What...what are you wincing for...fuck.” He said and then took the pistol and put it against her head. “I’m not a fucking monster.” He half yelled, half moaned. “I’m not.” He managed, watching the tears start to stream down her wide eyes. “Say it.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“I would never hurt you.” He said, before pulling his hand back and then hitting her with the pistol. Eva fell to the floor as he started laughing. “Guess I lied.” He said, putting the pistol away. He put the bottle on the table and turned back towards her.

“Please, Michael, stop.” 

“Stop?” He asked. “Is your fault.”

“What did I do? I’ll fix it. I swear, whatever it is I did, I can fix it.” Eva said, starting to inch backwards on the floor. She reached out and grabbed the sofa to help pull her along. It was a physical anchor for her to hold on to. Eva watched as he unbuckled his belt. The tears started to stream faster. She was up against a corner of the room, huddled against the wall as he came towards her, the belt in his hand. The first time it came down, the pain shot through her body. The second time, it did as well. By the fifth time, the pain had gone away because she was used to it. Eva was used to the beatings. She was used to it all. As Michael mumbled something about her fucking up on the computers and that’s how he had known to come there, she took the belting.

She was dead inside and it was because of him. Michael was a symbol for the cancer that Gotham City had become. A place where pimps, drug dealers, extortionists could find a home. A place where innocent people who were just trying to live their lives were hurt for no reason. This, what was happening in this room, right then and there, this was Gotham City.

When Michael had exhausted some of his strength, he looked down at his fiance. “That...that motherfucker thinks he can scare me? Me?!” He asked. “I’m a fucking man. I’m a man!” He reached down and grabbed her arm, his hand clasping over the rising welts. He yanked her up to her feet and then cocked his right hand back. His fist exploded against Eva’s face. He punched her again and again. Then her ribs took a beating as blood started to pour from her nose and lips. Finally, he cocked his arm back. “It’s your fault, bitch. It’s always your fault. Remember that.” He said and swung, his open hand connecting with the side of her head.

Stumbling backwards, Eva fell on to the sofa, but he was already there, and his fingers were wrapped around her throat. Air was being cut off and he stared into Eva’s eyes as he choked her. “You’re nothing but a worthless bitch. You hear me? You’re worth nothing. Nothing I could kill you and no one would care. Not a single fucking person.” He said and let go. He reveled in hearing her cough and sputter. Eva found herself picked up and carried, but not in a good, comforting way. She was thrown onto the bed in their bedroom and she lay there for a moment or two, the pain of everything she’d just endured shooting through her. She watched, numbly, as he unbelted her robe and parted it. She was wearing a cotton blend night gown, but that was ripped off of her, provoking an involuntary shudder that got her smacked again.

She looked up into his eyes as they roamed her body. Eva felt his hand roughly palm one of her breasts and squeeze, hard. Her bra came off and then her panties. She closed her eyes, not out of fear, but because she knew what she needed to do. After the first couple of times that he’d raped her, her body had stopped responding to him. Eva stopped getting wet. The first time that that had happened, she’d come dangerously close to losing her life. He’d accused her of being a dried up, shriveled up bitch. So now, every time, she did her best to find a way to turn herself on or to get wet so that she didn’t get beaten further. She felt his hand cup between her legs and she did her best not to puke.

It wouldn’t do.

Eva opened her eyes and watched as he entered her. She tried to just lay there and take it. She felt it over and over again. The tears just kept coming.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

It was over. Thankfully.

She lay there, on the bed, her eyes closed. Michael had left the room and he was eating something. She closed her eyes again and thought about moving, but everything hurt. Eva didn’t know what to do but she knew that she needed to do something. This, this couldn’t go on anymore. She just couldn’t take it. Michael’s behavior was despicable. He was a monster and she had no way to leave. No way t get out of the situation that she was in. Granted, she’d put herself into the situation years ago, but she hadn’t know then that he would turn into this. He had been so nice then, charming, polite. A real man, and good man. But all of it had been a facade. Once he’d had her, he’d had her, and she had become part of this monstrous life that he led. She did work for the mob and she wanted to stop. But she couldn’t. She knew one of the reasons why he insisted that he come with her from time to time. It was so that she saw the force that he used and that it was a constant reminder that even though he beat her, he could do so much more.

Some days, she wished for death. She wished that he would forget his own strength and just kill her and be done with it. Then she wouldn’t have to live on this earth anymore. Wouldn’t have to go through this anymore. Eva hadn’t known who to turn to and her faith had been tested over the years because of all of this. She was a devout Catholic. In fact, it had been Michael who had finally convinced her to break the vow she’d taken to remain a virgin until marriage. She had gone to church that day, and she had finally spoken to someone about what went on in her apartment. The conversation that she’d had with the priest had been long and heartfelt.

Eva had broken down crying more than once.

The priest had had interesting words for her. He had advised her to continue to pray and that God would find help for her. But also that God did not help those that failed to help themselves. If there was no will to continue, no drive to pull oneself out of the situation that one was in, then God did not help that person. It made sense. Eva had resolved to try to do something. She had hoped to try to talk to Michael, to see if maybe they could attend counseling or something like that. She had intended to broach the subject with him tomorrow. But after what had just happened? No. Maybe it was a sin, but she wished pure evil upon him and his family. His family that would allow this to happen to her without saying a thing or lifting a finger.

She had to act, she had to.

But how? With what? There were weapons in the house, but she knew that with the exception of the kitchen knives, everything else was under lock and key. She didn’t know the passwords to the safes. Yes, she could hack them, but that took time, time that she wouldn’t have if something happened between her and Michael. What the hell was she supposed to do?

Her eyes drifted around the room, until they settled on a shovel that was lying in one of the corners of the room. Michael and some of his cousins had been doing yard work for his mother and he’d brought that filthy, dirty shovel and had left it in the bedroom. She’d told him to take it outside, but he hadn’t gotten around to it. The irony of it was that she had thought about taking the shovel out herself and calling it a day, but she’d decided to leave it in the room to use when they had their discussion in the morning.

Now she had her way to deal with him.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Batman stood on a rooftop a few blocks away from Michael Vitale’s apartment. He had figured that Vitale would do something, he just hadn’t figured that it would be that same night. However, Batman had been paying attention to the police scanner and when a call had come out that there was domestic disturbance in Vitale’s apartment building, he had headed over. It had been confirmed that it was in apartment 5H, which was Vitale’s apartment. Isaiah landed on the roof top of the building across the street and was ready to go in, when he saw the police cruiser pull up. Batman had memorized the key players within the Gotham City Police Department. When he saw the face of Steven Santieri, a Sergeant in the force, he had to raise an eyebrow. Irony abounded here. Michael Vitale was, after all, directly responsible for the death of Steven’s father. That happened when you were the one who fired multiple times into Lieutenant Giovanni Santieri.

Steven was a good cop, one of the few in the Gotham City that Batman knew was an honest cop. He wasn’t corrupt and actually worked to fight corruption within the force. things weren’t going to well for him, since there was such a high level of graft within the Gotham City Police Department. Isaiah straightened up and reached down for his grappling hook. From everything that he knew about Santieri, that man was competent. He worked very hard at his job. Santieri had this situation under control.

There were places for Batman to be and work had to be done. He left.

As he traveled the rooftops of Gotham City, Isaiah kept watch for anything that looked out of the ordinary. His city was big and she called to him. Called to him. To move, to run, to act. Most importantly, to act. He had traveled about six blocks when he heard the scream. Batman halted his movements on one of the roof tops and looked down into the street. The street lights were damaged and the lighting wasn’t that good. The area was fairly deserted. A man had been walking, probably on his way home from work. Now he was being held up at gun point. Isaiah watched from the roof top before shooting his grappling hook and beginning his descent down to the ground. He landed in one of the nearby alleys and made his way over to the robbery that was happening.

Reaching down, Batman pressed a button on his utility belt. The panel slid away to reveal a collection of batarangs. He grabbed one of them and took aim. Then he threw, and it flew through the air, the heavy metal knocking into the robber’s hand. He dropped the gun, while crying out in pain. He turned. “Who the fuck-” But that was all that he managed before Batman’s foot caught him in the stomach. He doubled over and Batman brought his elbow down into the man’s upper back, dropping him to the ground. Then a swift kick to the head knocked the man out. Batman looked up at the man who would have otherwise been robbed. There was a terrified look on the man’s face. Fear. It gripped him. The way that it gripped the city. Fear that he was going to turn into his weapon. The criminal elements of this city would fear him. Because he was going to take them down.

After he cuffed the robber, Batman pressed a button that sent in an anonymous call to the police. It was routed through a number of different failsafes and he knew that there was no way to track it back to him. He was back up on the roof top and he listened in as the police router headed a patrol car over to the nearest intersection. His job here was done and he had places to be. Gotham City wasn’t going to save itself. That was something that had been proven for years.

One down and so many more to go. Isaiah sighed as he left that rooftop. He was the Batman. There was no rest. Only work. He was reminded of a Robert Frost poem that his father had told him when he was younger and something that had always stayed with him. Particularly the end of the poem. It was a poem of a man with a horse stopping in a wooded area. The horse didn’t understand why the man had stopped, but the horse couldn’t understand, at least not in the same way as the man, the beauty of the surrounding area. The end of the poem was what had always stuck with Isaiah though. There were miles to go before he could sleep. So many miles.
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