Chapter Text
December Twenty First,
The flooded areas of the city are shrinking, but as I predicted, the element in the city has become worse in the past year. Much worse. Mayor Real has been true to her word, and taken active steps to manage the situation yet….the city resists. Like a sickness that flares when you treat it with medicine, the crime rate has grown. Drops have never been more popular. Gangs have grown larger, bolder. Looting more and acting openly. I have tried to beat it back, into submission. It resists. Persists.
It has been little over a year since what many have been calling “The Long Halloween”, and I have since realized my fatal error. As Alfred said, I was neglecting my duty to this city. I am darkness, the shadows of the night. But I have resources that many do not. Had I not payed more attention, been more aware, I could have seen what Renewal truly was. I could have prevented….all of it. Everything he did. It was my duty, and I failed. I will not fail again.
Alfred has been instrumental in our current project. Much of the Wayne resources have gone into Reál’s programs, but it is not enough. She….she showed me that. I try not to think of her often, but I cannot help it….sometimes. When I see a stray cat, or find a robbery in progress, or a woman walking at night….with tall black boots. She’s been gone for over a year. Yet the memories remain.
The Penguin has taken over Falcone’s operations, which is fairly predictable. So far, he has lied reasonably low, even cooperating with our investigation. But the Drops are coming from him, and it’s only a matter of time before we can prove it. So for now, we have used him to root out the corruption in the GHPD and government. The last of Falcone’s original empire. His power struggle with the Viti family, however, has begun to grow more visible and destructive. I have had to get involved on more than one occasion, and so I may have to take greater action soon.
Last night, Gordon and I finally took down a key player on the oversight committee that gave up many names on the Falcone payroll. Unfortunately, tonight Bruce Wayne must make an appearance at the yearly Gotham Solstice Gala. We are hoping to gain enough interest in our project to begin the first steps of rebuilding our citizens personal resources. Small business grants alone could make huge strides in rebuilding. But I dread the price I must pay. In the armor, under my cowl, I can breathe properly. But in a suit and tie, with a false smile on my face…that is my true mask. I hate it. Yet I need it. I dislike that he was right.
“Ah Mr. Wayne!”
Bruce turned, his shrewd eyes falling on a tall boisterous man with rosy cheeks and a slightly rumpled tuxedo. He plastered on a falsely welcoming smile, which Alfred noted as he stood beside him.
“I thought you said he was out of town.” He muttered to Alfred out of the side of his mouth.
“I don’t recall having ever said that sir.” Alfred returned with a slight smirk, betraying his lie. Bruce gave him a sidelong glance filled with a promise of revenge. This only made Alfred’s smirk grow, which he hid behind a fist and a false clearing of his throat.
The man crossed the space between them with a slight sway, betraying a fairly significant amount of alcohol in his system. This information only caused Bruce’s anxiety to increase. His palms sweating, he tried his best to keep that smile on his faceand not tug at his collar. He would take a rough beating from a hoard of thugs over a single conversation with this man.
“Councilman Dorsey. How nice to see you again.” He said, with a surprising amount of warmth given how coldly he felt towards him.
Dorsey slapped him on the back in a rough, drunken way and Bruce grit his teeth to keep from punching the man directly in his red face. Some of his irritation must have shown, because Alfred gave him a very subtle “Easy” in sign language. Bruce responded with an equally subtle “Shut up” while pretending to touch his mouth thoughtfully.
“How the devil are you? Haven’t seen you since Reál’s Health….Hospital….whatever benefit. You know, the one at the end of the summer?” Dorsey slurred slightly, turning that slap on the back into an arm around his shoulder. Bruce wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.
“I am well, thank you for asking.” Bruce said, unable to keep some of his words from having a slight clipped edge. “And yes. I do remember.”
Bruce gave Alfred a quick look that screamed “rescue me”. Alfred, who had been slightly amused at Bruce’s discomfort, recognized that he had been tortured enough. He nodded slightly, slipping away for a moment to find an excuse to tear Bruce away.
“Come now young man, tell me what you’ve been doing with your time. You’re quite the recluse, surely you must fill your time with something.” Dorsey leaned in close, and Bruce could smell the alcohol on his breath. Rum and coke if he had to guess. With a suggestive eyebrow raise, Dorsey prompted “Or perhaps, someone?”
Bruce’s blasé expression turned more natural, and serious. A memory of men, leering openly in a club flashed across his mind. He saw them, their open hunger boring into his eyes. But they were not his eyes. They were her eyes. He remembered the change in her breathing over the connection, the way her eyes darted away, wanting to hold contact as little as possible. He had replayed that moment many times, both in his mind and the recordings he created. What he once mistook for a lack of care for his cause, he now recognized as fear. The same sort of fear he felt when others openly gawked at him, but darker. More knowing. It made him feel dirty, he can only imagine what she must have felt.
Ever since his return to the public eye, rumors had begun to float around about him. Some true, some less so. He did not know how the rumor about his sex life being salacious in nature began, but it was the one he was trying hardest to squash. After she left, Bruce decided to create a public persona for him to use. One that could accomplish tasks the Batman could not. However Bruce was naturally soft spoken, brooding, and shy in nature. “Bruce Wayne” needed to be more. More charismatic, likable, but also less likely to be suspected of being the Batman. For a time he considered making his persona sexually promiscuous, a callous playboy. After all, she had correctly deduced that he had been “born rich”, so it was only a matter of time before others did as well. Yet he could not bring himself to act the way those men did with her. He did not want to be seen that way, and his social anxiety was bad enough that it would have required an enormous amount of energy to pull off convincingly. He would rather use that energy to do good. He had other ways to deflect suspicion.
“No.” He said forcefully, causing Dorsey to pull away slightly. Bruce noticed and schooled his features quickly to make up for his mistake. “Women can be entertaining on occasion, but I grow bored with them easily. I would rather devote my time to the city and my family’s legacy.”
“Shame.” Dorsey said, using his weight to turn Bruce slightly. “I’ve been eyeing that one all night. I would never have a chance with her, but you might if you had the inclination.”
Dorsey gave a flick of his wrist towards the other end of the hall. The Gala was in full swing, and was packed with Gotham’s wealthiest in their finest attire. Bruce noticed Alfred weaving through the crowd in the same direction as Dorsey indicated. He had two individuals in tow, his reinforcements. Bruce could have sighed with relief, until he saw who it was.
A tall, slim, and graceful man approached with an equally graceful woman on his arm. But Bruce knew this woman. He would have known her anywhere, just from the way she moved. Bruce’s breath caught in his throat, his body locked, his heart both stopped and sped up.
Selina.
She was in a stunning couture gown, more slim and modern than all of the other people in the room, making her stand out. She would have stood out anyway. Her hair was slightly longer than he remembered. Still short, but longer in the back and top of her head. A coy smile lingered on her lips, one he had seen many times. Her makeup made her eyes look more sultry than they already were, and when she locked eyes with him he had never felt so bare.
It was the first time she had ever seen him without his cowl between them, and he felt naked without it. Raw and so…vulnerable. He felt all at once terrified of it, and entranced by it. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
“Perhaps you do, eh?”
Dorsey’s impromptu comment caused Bruce’s gaze to suddenly snap away from Selina’s. He gave Dorsey an intense look as the man gave him a knowing wink. If Bruce wanted to sink into the floor earlier, he wanted to plummet through the building into the ground now. Dorsey gave his back another large slap This caused Bruce to lean forward, nearly losing his balance and letting out his held breath. Dorsey laughed loudly, and told him he’d see him again, stumbling off with a brief nod to the approaching couple.
“Ah Master Bruce. I would like to introduce you to Dr. Victor Fries and Miss Selina Kyle.” Alfred’s look turned knowing at the mention of Selina’s name, but thankfully only Bruce would notice.
“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Wayne.” Dr. Fries droned, a slight accent coloring his words. Bruce took his extended hand robotically, his brain still foggy from Selina’s sudden appearance.
“Yes, quite the pleasure.” Selina drawled, her tone somewhere between bored and pointed.
She held out her hand, palm down, and Bruce took it gently. It was the first time he had ever touched her skin with his bare hands, and he savored the feeling. He was supposed to nod his head gently, but he just stared into her beautiful, amber eyes. He waited just a bit too long, her expression shifting slightly in confusion before he muttered a low “The pleasure is mine.” He dropped her hand suddenly, and she pulled it back slowly. Her confusion turned to coldly assessing. He felt so exposed, that his wall of mild sociability and interest came up to protect him. He didn’t want to think about his feelings right now. Couldn’t afford to.
“Dr. Fries has just opened a new clinic and is working on several experimental trials.” Alfred said, getting a nod from Dr. Fries.
“Yes, we are looking into new treatments that could benefit thousands of individuals.”
“Including Fries Disease I presume? The illness you discovered?” Bruce questioned with genuine interest. He noticed a very brief flicker of some kind of emotion over Fries’s face, but then it was as if it was never there at all.
“That is correct. Fries Disease currently has a sixty four percent mortality rate. While only two point eight percent of the population is affected, I believe our research could cut that mortality rate down to less than ten percent.”
Bruce’s eyebrows raised, genuinely impressed by the claim. If Fries was so confident in his own abilities, he may prove an invaluable asset to his Gotham Project. Healthcare costs had spiked due to a lack of facilities and supplies. If Bruce was able to convince Fries to work with him by funding his research, he might be inclined to help him with his project. Bruce filed that away for later as Selina turned to him.
“Dr. Fries has already proven invaluable in his research on congenital and epigenetic diseases. I’m sure he will accomplish that goal.” Selina said with genuine faith in her tone. Fries looked down at her with a familiar sort of softness in his eyes. He gave the hand on his arm a gentle pat, as she gazed up at him with an expression of fondness in her eyes. Something caused a stab of tension to lance into Bruce’s gut. Something that most definitely wasn’t jealousy.
“Well you definitely have my interest Dr. Fries. May I impose upon you for a visit to your clinic? I am looking to get more involved in healthcare, as it is one of the areas that our government is sorely neglecting at the moment.”
“Yes absolutely, I would be honored.” Dr. Fries replied with a slight inclination of the head. He handed Bruce his business card, who took it and deftly slipped it into his chest pocket.
For a moment it looked as though Dr. Fries was leading Selina away, allowing Bruce to turn back towards Alfred. Then suddenly she was there, and so much closer than he would have been comfortable with. He could smell her perfume, and that intoxicating scent just under it that was all uniquely hers. Like leather and rain.
“Dance with me.” It was not a request, it was a demand. Bruce was so stunned by the suddenness of her closeness. His heart leapt, his hands grew clammy. The request was so surprising to him that he nodded his head in agreement before he could even think. She gave him a slow, sly smile before taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor, Alfred looking on with raised eyebrows.
She pulled and he let her. She turned when they were firmly in the center of the other swaying couples. She stepped into his space, and he felt a tightness in his chest. She lifted his arms, placing one on her waist another up to cup their hands. It wasn’t quite proper, his hand should be at her back just below her shoulder. Yet he could not bring himself to move it, for when he touched her he discovered that it was backless. He had to concentrate to move his feet correctly due to sudden weakness of the knees.
They began to sway, and after a time Selina laughed. A throaty forced laugh. He had heard it many times on his recording of her. He savored the sound nevertheless.
“You know Mr. Wayne, it’s usually the guy who leads the girl.” She teased, and Bruce stiffened. He then began to push and pull, like he had been taught long ago.
“Sorry.” He said softly. “I don’t do this often.”
“Shame.” She said. “You’re really pretty good at it. You’d be surprised how many rich guys aren’t.”
Bruce paused for a moment, allowing him to turn her a few times as he gathered his words.
“I take it then you are not…a part of…”
“- the upper crust?” She interjected with a disdainful laugh. “No. No I am not.”
“You do not like us.” It was a statement of fact, succinct.
“Why would I? Everyone in this room lives in opulent splendor while girls like me have to hook on every corner just to scrape by.” There was feeling in her voice he had heard before. Empathy, anger, with just a hint of sadness.
“Then why ask me to dance, if you hate us?” He asked quietly. He hadn’t noticed when the space between them had shrunk so small that her dress began to brush against his legs. His heart sped up as her eyes locked with his.
“Curiosity.”
“Curiosity.”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
They were almost chest to chest now, he could feel her breath so faint against his face. He thought someone might have injected him with adrenaline his heart was pounding so fast.
“Why me?” He said faintly, not quite a whisper, but only for her. Her face contorted from it’s mask of indifference to quizzical, but with an earnest softness.
“Because there is something about you that I don’t understand.” She said. “And you’re not exactly like everyone else here.”
“And you want to know why?”
She gave him a smile, at once a smirk and something more. Something real.
“Not quite.” She said as the song ended. She pulled away, and Bruce didn’t have the power to stop her. She slipped through the crowd, just as graceful as ever. And the beating of his heart slowed.
He almost sighed openly in relief when he saw the signal through a skylight in the hall a half an hour later. A distraction is exactly what he needed right now. No thoughts of her. Anything, but her.
“Let him in.” Came the raised voice of Gordon as both he and Bat arrived at the scene. The sound of the pounding rain made it difficult to communicate, even at short distances. A young beat cop gave them both a wary glance before lifting the tape and allowing them both to pass.
“You got it Captain.” The Cop mumbled, refusing to meet the Batman’s gaze. Gordon lead him through the crime scene to the outside of an Italian restaurant. The whole street was blocked off, as there were multiple bodies all across it. Some fell behind parked vehicles, some just inside the restaurant’s windows. There was blood everywhere, now being washed away by the rain.
“What have we got Martinez?” Gordon asked, and the newly promoted detective straightened his spine. He gave the Bat a side glance, although not an unfriendly one.
“9 Dead in total. Two in the restaurant, 7 outside. All of them have bullet wounds of some kind.” He pointed to the nearest three, two of which were on the sidewalk just outside the broken restaurant window. One of which seemed to be half in the street. They were all covered by tarps, trying to protect them from the worst of the rain. Yet you could still see their blood mixing with the rain water as it moved across the cement. Martínez pointed to the man mostly on the asphalt. “This one however died of blunt force trauma.”
Martínez lifted the tarp just enough for them to see, but not so much that the rain could hit the body. So far, the Bat had seen many bodies, some significantly more disgusting than others.
This was by far one of the worst.
The victim’s face had been completely caved in, some of the grey matter splattered around it. He wondered how much had already been washed away. The sternum was shattered, ribs broken into sharp pieces, sticking out at odd angles and digging into the internal organs. Even with the rain there was so much blood, everywhere. All over the broken man, the asphalt, splattered on the car right next to him.
“Jesus Christ.” Gordon muttered beside him, his head turning away slightly. The Bat had seen Gordon at many crime scenes, and this was the most affected he’d ever seen him. Martínez lowered the tarp to cover the body again. Gordon locked eyes with the masked vigilante. “You ever seen anything like this?”
“Once.” He uttered lowly, turning to look at the covered corpse again. “Gorilla attack. Typically don’t hurt humans, but when threatened….”
He let the words linger, the implication hanging in the air.
“You think a gorilla did this?” Martinez questioned in disbelief.
“No.” The Bat said, just loud enough for him to hear. “Someone as strong as one perhaps. Look at the bones. Broken suddenly, cleanly. Indicates a large amount of force. Someone weaker might have been able to induce the same result but it would have taken longer, more hits.”
He then walked away, leaving to examine the other bodies. Gordon followed silently. The two in the restaurant appeared to have been hit before they could even get a shot off. One still had his gun in his jacket, a large man with meaty fingers. The other had pulled his partially. The two on the sidewalk looked as though they were hiding behind the car, which was riddled with bullet holes and broken glass. One of the bodies, a slender man, had glass on top of him. He must have died before the car’s glass was broken. The other died after, for he had glass under him and glass in small cuts on his body.
On the other side of the street were four others. One inside the car, the driver. He was slumped towards the passenger side. Most likely trying to get out because the bullet holes in the door were consistent with his wounds. Two others were behind the car. Probably using it as a barricade. The one farthest away, and almost half way down the block was the strangest by far.
He was a short, squat man and had fallen face forward on the ground, one arm splayed out to the side, the other above him. His eyes and jaw were open wide, with hands, arms and face all covered in blood. His phalanges and carpals looked completely broken, some of the bones piercing through the skin. The Bat noticed the hints of a small tattoo on his neck. He pulled his collar back just a touch, enough to see a fresh bluish black marking. It was an umbrella.
“God, what happened to him?” Gordon spoke to no one in particular, but the vigilante answered anyway.
“Our Gorilla.”
“You gotta be kidding me man.” His disbelief was palpable. “No way this guy was strong enough to do all this damage. Perp had to be a weight lifter.”
“Hands broken.” The Bat said, as he circled the body. His eyes flicked over him, taking in every detail. “Too much blood for his injuries. Only surface bullet wounds. Nothing vital.”
“But how? Look at him, he just doesn’t have the kind of muscle structure necessary for that level of force.”
The Bat hummed low in his throat, hinting at his own confusion. But he was certain he was correct, and that the DNA evidence would prove it. He caught sight of something glinting in the storm drain just a few feet away. The Bat moved, bending down to examine it. On the top of the grate, very close to falling into the rushing water below, he found a cracked cellphone. He picked it up carefully, handing it to Gordon.
“Battery is dead. Could be completely fried from the water and the damage.” Gordon said examining it carefully as the Bat stood up. “So what are you thinking?”
“The five near the restaurant are Viti most likely. Restaurant is a Viti meeting place.” The vigilante then gestured to the others. “Four on this side are Penguin’s. The one with the broken hands has an umbrella tattoo. Wouldn’t be surprised to find similar ones on the others.”
“To most it would just look like an average gang fight.” Gordon said to him, looking up thoughtfully. “But that one victim…”
“Yes.” The Bat said, confirming that he followed Gordon’s thought process. “Check the phone. Don’t think this was random.”
“We will. What are you going to do?”
The Bat looked up and around at the buildings in the area. The rain had begun to thin into a light drizzle, making it easier to see. Perhaps there had been another shooter somewhere up above. He saw nothing, until something moved on a rooftop to the south. Or rather someone.
He immediately pulled his grappling gun from its holster and latched on to the nearest rooftop. Gordon gestured after him.
“Man, why does he have to always do that?” He said, turning away.
Batman had to catch up with her. If she saw something then he needed to know. He ran towards the building she had been on, jumping over gaps between the roofs. He could see her clearly now, running lithely like a cat. She was breathing fast but a breathy laugh escaped her.
“Hey baby.” She teased as she leapt and tumbled on to an adjacent roof. A thrill shot through him, giving him a small boost of speed. She was so much faster than him, much more agile. He had made some improvements to his suit since last they met, making it easier for him to move, less heavy. But he was still slow in comparison. Yet, he was catching up. She wanted to be caught. The knowledge of that made his heart beat even faster. Bringing more oxygen to his brain and making him feel light headed with adrenaline and excitement.
The Bat finally caught up with her, grabbing her waist. She let out a slight yowl of surprise as he tried to pull her back. She pushed off of a chimney with her legs, allowing her to flip over his head and he released her. He turned quickly facing her, and she gave him a wide grin. She had a new cowl. This one made of leather, much like his own, with what appeared to be subtle points on her head that looked like…cat ears? She also wore slanting goggles of some kind, obscuring her eyes. However, she raised them so he could better see her flushed face. He didn’t want to admit that he thought she was beautiful.
“Miss me Vengeance?”