ISSUE #11 (September 2023)
Written by Jake Hawkins Featuring: Batman
Robin
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THE APARTMENT OF DA RACHEL DAWES NORTHWEST GOTHAM
Rachel paced around her kitchen, surprised by the adrenaline rush she was still on. She hadn’t expected to ride along with Gotham’s finest or to meet the so-called “World’s Greatest Detective” when she got up for work that morning, but one thing this city always knew how to do was throw a curveball or three in her direction. She waited almost impatiently for the TV dinner in the microwave chirping behind her to be done. She hadn’t realized until she was on the M10 back to her side of town that she hadn’t had a drop of food since last night’s evening meal. Her mother would call her on her morning commute to the office tomorrow, chastizing her about her poor eating habits. With her workload surely about to increase tenfold based on what she saw at the Mayor’s home, Rachel knew how much her energy needed to stay at a high level. She poured herself a glass of the champagne she had been chilling to go along with her meal. Before she could turn on the living room TV, a quick knock on her door she wasn’t expecting got her attention. She got up from her table, dropping her fork against her plate where it clattered loudly. A peek at her door showed her that Jim Gordon, much to her surprise, was doing his own pacing in the hallway. Rachel unlocked the door and cracked it open, poking a confused face out into the hall. “Jim? Don’t tell me more shit has hit the fan?” Gordon stopped walking and placed both hands on his hips. “No, I’m still trying to unclog all the shit that’s already there,” Gordon explained. Rachel opened the door wider and stepped aside, a gesture for Gordon to enter. “I was wondering, or hoping more so to speak, that you might be able to help us track down some information.” Rachel folded her arms as Gordon faced her in the living room. “What do you mean by ‘we’, commissioner?” A voice like a rumbling freight train answered her question with a greeting. “Miss Dawes.” Rachel whipped around to see the Batman silently walking through her apartment. How he entered, she couldn’t begin to fathom, but she was far from happy. “I guess my concerns fell on extremely deaf ears.” She concluded with her eyes boring into the sheepish commissioner. “How exactly can I help our chief of police and the notorious vigilante he enables?” Batman gave Gordon a small nod, signaling for him to take the lead in the conversation. Gordon stepped forward and continued to do just that. “The second attack on the Mayor seems to be unrelated to the first largely. Someone paid Kobra to storm Mayor March’s home.” “Ok, we’re getting somewhere, which is great, but I’m still not understanding why exactly you’re both here.” Rachel looked between them both, her arms folded and eyebrows raised. “We need to know if you have any idea what Kobra members are currently incarcerated inside of Blackgate.” Batman cut directly to the chase. “I can find out, but I will do so under the edict that you won’t be the one speaking to whoever I can track down.” Rachel stood firm in her request, unwilling to relent even under the stares she was receiving from Gordon and Batman. Gordon and Batman looked at each other. Batman gave the commissioner another curt nod. Gordon faced Rachel. “Alright. We can play that your way.” “Good. Then let me grab my work laptop.” She hurried out of the living room and towards the bedroom door that sat in the back. Gordon and Batman waited for her return, both remaining silent until she walked back into the living room cradling her computer under her arm. She plopped down into one of the armchairs that went with the cream-colored furniture set and hastily accessed the Finger County criminal database. Gordon observed her face as she combed through the booking records and penitentiary cellblock assignments. “What have managed to find?” Rachel finally raised her puzzled look from the screen and glanced at Jim Gordon. “I’ve got no confirmed members of Kobra currently incarcerated in county or federal lock up.” The eyebrow she had raised made both Batman and Gordon assume she had more, which she confirmed once she continued on. “But, I think I have someone you might want to speak with anyway. Let me print this docket.” She got up once again just as quickly as she’d plopped down. After setting the laptop in the chair where she had been sitting, she walked back into her bedroom where her HP device could be heard shuffling off the pages she had sent to it. She returned just seconds later with a plain blue folder in hand that she passed directly to the Batman, much to Gordon’s shock. “David Moses. Currently sitting in Blackgate for trying to sell stolen Luthercorp to Argus agents. He’s damn lucky he was able to afford the lawyer he did. The Federal prosecutor wanted him sent straight to Belle Reeve.” That last note on the convict's file piqued Batman’s deductive reasoning. “The file doesn’t say what entity or entities Argus posed as to reel him in.” “A lot of the information on his conviction is redacted. Which means you’ll have to pay him a visit.” Gordon looked over to Batman with a shrug after Rachel finished her explanation. “I got time for another ride tonight if you do, old pal.” Batman nodded in agreement with Gordon's clear choice to visit Blackgate while they were already on the streets. He held up the file in between himself and Rachel before addressing her. “Do you mind if I take this with me, counselor?” Rachel was surprised he had the courtesy to ask her. She folded her arms and regarded the vigilante standing in her living room, the entire spectacle one she couldn’t quite wrap around her head even as it was happening. “Sure, have at it.” She replied with a shrug she hoped was nonchalant. Both Batman and Gordon turned to leave, with Jim giving Rachel a courtesy nod for her help as they turned back to the door. “Whatever you both find out, please continue to keep me in the loop going forward. “Will do. Goodnight Ms. Dawes.” Gordon followed Batman out and closed the door behind them. # # # # # # # # # # Walter Chao peered out the front windows of the pool hall his father had passed down to him. He switched off the Neon lights next to him after taking watching a car pass by on its way uptown. He always double-checked the parking lot as he closed up. He would never take the chance of someone slipping in when the place was empty and trying to take him for the safe. Mistakes like that were why this place ended up in his care in the first place, why he was forced to put his mother in a retirement home just so he could focus on running the business. Chao wasn’t playing the victim as he made sure all the tables were reracked. He knew there were plenty of people waking the streets of Gotham who’d been dealt heavier hands than he ever had. His mother had raised him better than to ever cry over spilled milk, but she also taught him to do whatever it took to get by. Which is exactly what he did when he started selling weapons out of the hall. The right connections thanks to his time in Chino Hills as a kid helped him get his supply base, and his location near uptown made him a prime destination for the kind of clients who needed his services. Chao considered himself a careful man, far too careful at times, but it's what got him this far and he wasn’t going to change that anytime soon, at least he thought. What was about to transpire next, nevertheless, would change the way he did business going forward whether he wanted it to or not. As he rounded the bar and headed to the back office, a green-gloved hand palmed the back of his bald head like Michael Jordan gripped a basketball during his prime. Before Chao could react, the hand smashed his face into the corner of the wall, breaking his nose. Chao wiped the blood pouring from his nose with the back of his sleeve as he saw a pair of size 7 boy’s sized black boots walking towards him. “I’ve wasted enough time tonight, Chao. Hunting down where the rifle that took pop shots at the Mayor was from.” His assaulter taunted him. Chao scrambled backward across the floor, clutching at his nose with his free hand at the sight of the hooded boy wonder standing over him. He’d heard the rumors for months now from movers and shakers as well as a handful of regulars around the pool hall. The bat had finally gone too far, they all said. Most of them coming back from overnight or month-long stints in city lock up, swearing that the dark knight’s latest partner could be even more ruthless than the man himself. Chao brushed off the stories, knowing full well the people he sold to knew better than to have slippery tongues about his under-the-counter stock. As he stared into the blank, white-eyed lenses of the green domino mask worn by the scowling Robin, Chao regretted every shortcut that got him face-to-face with this demon child. He went straight to his immediate instinct when caught in a jam, lie. “Listen, I don’t think I really know what you’re talking about. Please, let’s be more reasonable and less aggressive.” Chao pleaded as he desperately tried to create as much distance as he could between them. A brief glance behind him just underneath the bar was the Smith and Wesson he kept in case of hairy situations, and things didn’t get hairier than one-half of the dynamic duo breathing down his neck. “Why don’t you explain what you’re referring to and maybe ole Chao heard a thing or two around here, yeah?” Robin caught the glint of malevolence in Chao’s eyes, trying as he might to hide it behind his fear. He took a quick look under the bar towards where Chao was attempting to inch towards and spotted the hidden pistol that was very clearly his goal. Robin gave the pool hall owner a mischievous grin before firing a Birdarang at his outstretched hand. The weapon smacked him in the wrist before returning to Robin, who put it back into his utility belt as Chao yelped in pain. His wrist had to be sprained or even broken from the blow dealt by the weapon made from an experimental alloy created by STAR Labs. Fear took precedence over any further foolish movements on Chao’s behalf. “You sold an M-11 rifle recently. A rifle that came from a South American military shipment you purchased off a black marker dealer during his stop in Gotham. The shipment purchase, as I’ve pieced together this far, was around 2 months ago. As for exactly when you sold the rifle-” Chao gulped. Glaring into the mask, he stated the obvious before the boy wonder could. “You don’t care,” Robin smirked again. “Exactly.” Robin retorted. “Now tell me about the man who bought the rifle. And if I don’t like what I hear, someone’s teeth are going to be collected. And there’s only the two of us in here, Chao.” “Look I don’t know too much, ok!?” Chao immediately recoiled when he saw Robin clench both fists, clearly in preparation for a beating he was about to administer. “The guy who came in looked like a former cop, maybe ex-military. Or I don’t know, one of those right-winged militia nut jobs who trains in his backyard every night!” “If you don’t know where I can find him, someone who hits this place often enough does.” Robin cracked both his knuckles. His patience was just about exhausted, and he was ready to make sure Chao understood that. “Ryan Demille! Used to be one of Two-Face’s gang, and usually plays here Tuesdays and Thursdays.” Chao shouted as the child vigilante stood over him. “He started working at the docks unloading shipments, claims he went straight.” “There better be a point to this rambling, Chao.” Robin threatened. Chao nodded his headed fervently, insisting that there was. “He’s the one that referred that Ken Rambo to me in the first place. If anyone knows where to find him, he’s the guy you need to be harassing!” Robin took Chao’s pleading as sincere and backed off slowly. “I want you out of the weapons business Chao, and from now on, you’re my pigeon.” In the blink of an eye, the young tyrant left Chao’s business and allowed the owner a grim but well-needed sigh of relief. # # # # # # # # # # On the far side of town, Chris Smith walked out the back door of Captain John’s Sub shop, a pistol tucked behind him in the band of his blue jeans. He was followed closely by a scrawny busboy over to a dusty and rusting gun-metal gray van sitting in the employee lot. On the side of it was the logo for a local cable television company that Chris took in for a moment while the busboy fumbled for the van’s keys. He dropped them into Chris’s hands, who flashed a confident smirk as he walked over to the driver’s side door. “Where’d you find this thing, anyway?” Smith asked while whipping the door open and peering inside. “Guy sells rebuilt cars he boots out of junkyards on Paris Island. I saw this one on Reddit and figured it was perfect for what you do.” the busboy explained rather sheepishly. Chris climbed into the van and brought the engine to life. “You make sure you get my baby back to the trailer.” Chris told the busboy as he tossed his keys to the thunderbird over to the busboy. The busboy looked confused as Chris backed the van out of the parking spot with his head hanging out the window. “Don’t you think you should let things cool off first? Before taking another crack at Mayor March?” The busboy looked around the lot to be sure no one was overhearing their conversation. Chris gave him a confident chuckle as the van rolled into the alley. “Shoot first. Shoot faster. I’m not worried about the heat.” The van rounded the corner and pulled into the street, leaving the dumbfounded busboy. Across the street from the alley that the van pulled out of was the town car driven by special agent Emilia Harcourt. “Agent Harcourt with a status report.” She informed her base command over the communicator tucked underneath her short blonde hair. “Go ahead, Agent Harcourt.” Her field commander replied. Harcourt pulled on to the street once enough traffic had passed for sufficient cover in order for her to continue tailing her target. “Subject has switched vehicles behind and seems to be gearing up for another run at the mayor.” “Intercept him before he reaches his next destination. It's time he was handled with better care.” “Understood.’ Harcourt ended the call and pressed down on the accelerator while weaving through traffic. # # # # # # # # # # BLACKGATE FEDERAL PENITENTIARY NORTH GOTHAM “Commissioner Gordon, I can’t say I’m not surprised by the visit at this time of hour.” The chief correctional officer at Blackgate, Jacob Rudman admitted as he led Gordon towards the six-hundred block of cells. “I hate to throw my weight around Jake, you know that. But we’re talking about the mayor here.” Gordon explained to the CO head. He wished he could have a smoke, the second of the day when he swore he’d quit a half dozen times this week. He was sure he’d be on his third tobacco-related product by the time he left Blackgate tonight. A pair of guards were waiting for them in front of a cell that sat in the middle of a third-level block. They wrenched open the door and waited for the head CO to reach them. Rudman peered inside, a snarl of disgust on his face as he peeked inside the cell. A tall man with a glass eye and salt and pepper beard rose off the bottom bunk and sat straight up. He got to his feet at the order of the guards who stepped into his cell before they put him into leg and hand restraints. Another few minutes passed, and David Moses was led into an interrogation room on the far side of the prison facility. One of the guards placed him firmly into one of the chairs, his bout of aggressiveness drew a dry chuckle from the convict. Gordon followed them both inside the room and gave Moses a short smile in an attempt to start their discussion off on a lighter note, despite the nature of what he was there to talk about. “Mr. Moses? I’m sure with you being housed here, you know who I am.” Moses nodded, which Gordon took as a sign to continue. “I wanted to talk to you about the operation that led to your arrest.” Moses chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “What’s there to talk about? I’m sure all of that is in my file.” “Actually, it's not. Looks like from what I’ve gathered some real government watchdogs scooped you up in a rather calculated sting. And I need to know how they managed to get the dub on a guy with your jacket.” Moses stared at Gordon with contempt as he relived the day that resulted in him being locked inside of Blackgate. “I can’t be seen or heard talking to you, commish. Ain’t a damn thing in it for me and it's already a bad look that you walked me down here with that &^%$# Rudman.” Gordon took off his glasses for a moment and wiped the lenses on the front of his shirt. “Look we’ve both been dealt a bad hand here. We don’t have any other choice but to play the cards we’re dealt.” Gordon put his glasses back on and straightened them before putting both his hands on the table between them. He shot a hard, stern look that David took as a warning, a rather grim one at that. “Now if you’re refusing to play, well then, I’ll play to rely on incentive. But not the kind you’re looking for.” All traces of amusement had flitted away from David Moses, and Gordon watched as his hard-edged scowl turned to a tremor of fear as the lights flickered in the room a few times before shutting off completely. They were in the pitch black for just a few seconds, but when the power returned standing next to David was the Batman. David looked up into the white-lensed eyes and fierce scowl of the dark knight, and he couldn’t help but allow his fear to overtake him. “If you won’t talk to Gordon, then you talk to me.” TO BE CONTINUED |