ISSUE #9 (May 2023)
Written by Jake Hawkins Featuring: Batman
Robin
Peacemaker
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Commissioner James Gordon couldn’t quite get comfortable in the hardback leather chairs of the Mayor’s receptionist area. He did what he could to stop his incessant squirming, already able to tell he was starting to wear on Mayor March’s assistant’s nerves, polite as she was not to let him know this directly. He was sure she was quite busy herself, as the phone had not stopped ringing since he arrived for his appointment. He felt a bit of angst for her as he watched the receptionist juggle call after call, transferring some to other offices or desks across city hall.
He couldn’t imagine having to deal with most of the chaos that comes through this office, and he worked in what many would consider the biggest madhouse of them all, outside of Arkham of course. His train of thoughts were pushed aside when he saw the Mayor’s assistant look up from her desktop monitor and give a wave to the young woman who had just entered. Rachel Dawes pushed her brown hair behind both her ears to hold it there while walking to the front desk. “I’m not too early am I?” She asked as sheepishly as one could. She knew her promptness could offsettling to many. It was a trait however, that had helped her far more than she had come to realize in her career at this point. “Not at all, please have a seat!” She looked over her desk at the row of chairs, meeting the commissioner’s eyes as well. “He should be with you both briefly. I’m sorry about the wait, commissioner.” Gordon waved off her apology with a kind twinkle in his eyes, mirrored in his glasses frames. “Don’t worry about me. Glad to get a break from my desk, trust me.” She returned his kind smile before their brief conversation was interrupted by her phone. She snatched the receiver up quickly, her eyes on the caller ID. “Yes sir, they have both arrived. Right away sir.” She hung up as fast as she’d answered before glancing over her desk at the both of them. “You both can head on in if you would like!” Gordon stood up, gesturing for Rachel to lead the way, which she did. A tailor referred to him personally by Simon Stagg finished sizing up Lincoln March’s broad shoulders, just as the door to the office swung open. “Please, come on in. I was just finishing up a conference call when Mr. Volente had time to fit me into his pressed schedule.” Lincoln walked behind his desk, looking out over the bustling financial district of Gotham. Rachel and Gordon each took a chair on the other side as Lincoln waited for the door to close behind the tailor before speaking again. “Sorry to drag you both across town in the middle of the day.” “I don’t think myself or the commissioner mind too much, sir.” Rachel tried to ease into the conversation with pleasantries. She could already tell by how clearly nervous the usually collected Lincoln was, that whatever he needed to speak with them about had been eating at him for some time. “I’m not sure if either of you have heard the grumblings on Gotham Tonight or in the Daily Planet, but there is some truth to my considerations of a run at the governor’s office.” Lincoln revealed the information much to both their own collective surprises. Gordon cleared his throat, breaking the brief silence after they all took in the news he had just told them. “Well I would like to be the first to congratulate you if this decision you feel is best for you and your family sir. But color me a tad bit surprised on quite a few fronts.” Rached raised an eyebrow, still trying to get a feel for where the Mayor’s head was at during this conversation. “Most people, present company included I’m sure, would have figured you a shoe in for reelection. And with all the good you’ve done since taking over for Hamilton Hill, I’ve got to ask with all due respect Mr. Mayor-” Lincoln sighed and asked the question for her. “Why now? Well Rachel, the only answer I think I feel comfortable giving to that at this moment is…I think Gotham is going to need me to take another step up if the city is ever going to truly turn the corner.” Lincoln converted his sigh into his natural, sure handed, white-toothed smile that dazzled on the front of newspapers across the city every week. “Now if we can, I’d like to get to the meat and potatoes on why I wanted you both to be the first to know of my, shall we say, budding decision.” Both Rachel and Gordon leaned forward just a hair or two in their seats, each of them flabbergasted by what the Mayor revealed to them over the next few minutes. Gordon leaned back in his chair, scratching at his white mustache as he considered the suggestion that was just proposed to him. Rachel on the other hand was quite the opposite, a proud smile spreading across her lips as she listened to Lincoln continue. ### As the after work rush hour hit, Alfred placed the Chrysler 300 on cruise control while breezing through downtown Gotham. “Dare I say young Master Damian’s route suggestion and departure time look to be accurate sir.” Alfred informed the broad shoulder and barrel chested Bruce Wayne with a look in his rearview mirror. Bruce looked over at his ten year old son doing his own version of pouting while glaring out the window next to him. “Of course it was accurate, Pennyworth. I’ve been studying the maps my father has of the city for weeks now.” Damian responded, more to assure himself than anyone else it seemed. I hate to admit it, but I’m shocked he actually took my advice for once. Bruce mused to himself as Alfred headed towards city hall. If there is one thing that bonds Damian and I deeper than blood, it's our sheer determination. Whether he got that from me…or her is a mystery even I don’t care to solve. “Why are we wasting our time preening at the Mayor’s press conference anyway? There are at least a half a dozen other tasks we should be preoccupying our afternoon with before the night’s patrol.” Damian sneered, still upset he was forced away from his book and into a Gucci suit. Alfred chuckled at Damian’s aggravated question, drawing a patented glare from the backseat. “Public appearances like these come with the job, Damian.” Bruce explained in a tone he knew always got his son to sit up straight and pay attention. “I wasn’t too fond of playing the role of Bruce Wayne either when I first returned to Gotham-” “And it is still one I hope you embrace fully instead of your nocturnal persona, but I digress.” Alfred interjected. Bruce almost smiled at Alfred’s suggestion, but instead continued the point he was belaying to his son. “It was Alfred however, who showed me how vital it is to what I do as Batman.” Damian nodded as he listened to his father, his attention razor sharp. Alfred couldn’t help but smile as he watched the both of them while saddling up to the curb in front of city hall. Damian grunted and gripped the handle to the door. “Alright, let’s get the dog and pony show over with.” “See? Now you’re getting the spirit.” Bruce replied. They each stepped out of the car, camera’s flashing in their direction the moment they headed up the steps towards the front of city hall. Bruce waved and flashed his Brad Pittesque smile in every direction, all the while surveying the crowd and press, taking note of faces he recognized. He was glad to see Commissioner Gordon sitting next to the podium erected at the top of the steps, looking rather nervous as usual anytime he was forced into the spotlight. “Bruce Wayne has arrived at the Mayor’s impromptu press conference that should start in the next few minutes, along with his ten year old son most of Gotham is still reeling over.” Jack Ryder spoke into his camera, making sure they were getting a shot of Bruce and Damian taking their seats up front. Damian crossed his arms and looked around, hoping that whatever this was for would be quick and painless. “TT, what exactly were we invited to this clown show for anyway?” Bruce caught a glimpse of Rachel Dawes as she took a seat next to Gordon near the podium. He recognized her from her time with IA and the district attorney’s office, and he wondered if March’s announcement revolved around her. His train of thought wasn’t derailed by the roar of the gathered crowd that came once Lincoln emerged from city hall. He waved to his constituents and gathered media in the crowds gathered at the foot of the steps before striding towards the podium. He greeted a few city council members seated to the left of him before turning to the mic and the crowd facing him. “Thank you Gotham, for not only your support today, but the support you have given me throughout my term as mayor of this great city.” His voice was solemn, the statement one he hoped people knew wasn’t some line fed to him by a GSU intern on the ride to city hall this morning. “With your support, and the support of the men and women seated alongside of me, we have been able to turn a great corner on what the city of Gotham represents. And I don’t just mean to our immediate neighbors, but to the world at large.” Lincoln took a deep breath as he shuffled the notes he had for his speech in front of him, then planted his eyes firmly on the teleprompter. “To advance on the very ideals I’m referring to, I want to proudly announce that Rachel Dawes will be taking over the vacant District Attorney’s office until it is up for reelection.” Lincoln motioned for Rachel to stand and she did so momentarily, sheepishly soaking in the applause before returning to her seat. In the crowd seated just in front of the podium, Damian rolled his eyes and turned to his father. “Are we really going to sit here for this entire dribble?” He leaned over and whispered. His disdain for Lincoln’s speech however was stifled when he noticed the razor sharp attention his father was paying to March. There was nothing that Dolt could possibly be saying that could have him so intensely captivated. What Bruce whispered back to him without so much as moving his lips confirmed Damian’s assumption. “Six o’clock, twelfth floor. Get there. Discreetly.” Damian only gave his father a curt nod at the murmured directions, noticing the contact lens that connected him with the batcomputer contracting around his pupil. He darted from his chair, gone before anyone could really notice he had left his father’s side. “With all of this being said, I would like to announce my bid for Governor of this great state in time for this year’s race!” The entire concourse rose in a cascade of applause, with Lincoln embracing it with a swell of emotion in his chest. Bruce stood with the rest of the crowd, never breaking from the carefully laid character he played in the public eye. However, his attention was on the view he was getting via the drone he had rotating around the area at a ninety degree angle. I’m thankful I sent the drone ahead. I honestly figured someone would try taking a shot at any of the public officials that would be gathered here today, or even myself. Damian will have his suit on him, the boy is a soldier to his core. Sometimes it’s a badge of honor I love to see him brandish, other times…it couldn’t scare me more. Still, he’ll get to the shooter, hopefully before we discover the hardway who their target might be. Damian sprinted through traffic and towards the highrise apartments just across Woodward drive. He ducked into the lobby elevator, ignoring the frustrated shouts from the front desk clerk wondering exactly who the hell he was and what he thought he was doing. The moment the doors closed, he made sure to knock out any cameras that may be in the lift with a targeted EMP that would momentarily stop the elevator as well. He used the handrails inside the elevator to boost his jump upwards towards the ceiling grating directly above him and climbed through. Once the elevator regained power and rebooted, it headed back towards the lobby. Already in his hooded Robin uniform, Damian fired his grapple gun and let it zip him upwards the rest of the six flights. He leaped out of the elevator shaft and on to the twelfth floor of the highrise, breaking out into a sprint down the hall. ### Inside one of the penthouse apartments, mud splattered combat boots stomped across the freshly waxed pine floors. The owner’s of the condo, Ted and Lillian Crosby, were both tied together back to back on their suede llama skin premium grade sofa. Lillian craned over her shoulder in an effort to check on her husband. His slumping body weight and strained, raspy breathing was starting to make her frantic. She was already thankful he was still alive after the vicious beating he’d suffered from the intruder staging his own personal shooting gallery in their living room. A thick necked, blonde haired man took a deep breath once he’d finished assembling his rifle of choice. He readied the M11 rifle and checked his sights once more, then took a look at his wristwatch. He wasn’t a hair off schedule. The light above the 85 freeway just turned green, and that traffic would come swooping past city hall in just another minute and a half. He’d been clocking it since dawn. He clocked his distance, enjoying the favorable wind and still charting about six hundred and twenty-two meters to the target. It was light work for the M11, and a shot he’d been prepping for a moving target prior to the announcement of today’s press conference. If there was one thing his father taught him, one lesson more than likely burned into his brain if it were possible, it's that opportunity was never to be wasted. He reached behind him and pulled the silver helmet out of the Adidas gym bag he’d lugged with him. Once his helmet was in place, the man dubbed as Peacemaker placed his eye on his rifle's sights. Before he could line up his aim, the sound of the front door being kicked right off its steel bolted hinges forced him to drop the rifle. Robin strode into the condo high rise while cracking his knuckles. He saw the gunman his father had spotted with the drone's camera and didn’t give him the chance to get to the piece on his ankle holster. He sneered as he fired a pair of Birdarangs from underneath his cape. Peacemaker rolled to his right and drew his glock, avoiding Robin’s opening assault. Robin cartwheeled out of the line of fire as Peacemaker blasted away in return. He was surprised his father’s directions were so pinpoint accurate that he managed to make it just in time. He was far from impressed by the helmet wearing lunatic he had discovered, and opted to wrap this up as quickly as he could. Judging by his quick response to his own offense, Robin could tell this man was competently trained. If he had to guess, he was more than likely former military judging by the way he moved. As he ducked behind the kitchen island, he tossed a handful of pellets overhead. The pellets rolled across the surface of the island before clattering to the floor. Smoke erupted from the pellets, obscuring Peacemaker’s vision as it filled the kitchen and the condo living room. Peacemaker cursed under his breath as this unforeseen chaos tore him from his well crafted plan.He knew the traffic he was planning to use as cover for his shot would be passing now. There wasn’t any more time for him to waste. Before he could turn back around and snatch up his rifle, Robin dove out of the thick gray clouds of smoke like a far more dangerous bird of prey. He pounced on to Peacemaker’s back and tried to lock in a guillotine choke, one his father had been working on him with to perfect for struggles such as these where the job needed to be done quickly. Peacemaker had a neck thicker than Lord Steven Regal himself however, and shrugged the ten year old off of his massive shoulders with a violent jerk that sent him crashing back first through a glass table. He stepped over the boy vigilante and stomped back over to his fallen rifle, checking his sights as quickly as he could. He’d have to fire from a standing position but he adjusted properly for the distance with swift efficiency. He took a deep breath and ignored the squeals from the overweight woman on the couch as he placed Lincoln March’s beaming forehead in his crosshairs. Just as he squeezed the trigger, a steel coil rope wire wrapped snugly around the barrel of his rifle, yanking his shot off kilter to the left. An enraged Peacemaker shot a glare to his left in time to see Robin holding his fired grapple hook and giving him a sneer of his own right back, ready for a second go round between them both. Panic had overridden everyone’s senses the moment the bullet shattered against one of the stone columns right behind Mayor March. Bruce used the pandemonium to his advantage and sifted through the crowd, trying to get across the street to the building the shot came from. That erratic shot was the only bit of confirmation I’ll get more than likely that Damian made it to the gunman in time. Bruce kept his eyes up at the window where the bullet’s trajectory emanated from before slipping past the police officers trying to implement order amongst the chaos created by the assassination attempt. Bruce glanced back towards city hall, watching for a brief moment as Gordon and Lincoln’s own personal security team got him back inside the building. Gordon is still pretty spry in his early fifties. He knocked March to the ground faster than I anticipated him to once the shot rang out. He’ll turn city hall into a fortress until otherwise is needed, and that gives me the opportunity to put my focus on helping Damian snatch up whoever was bold enough to pull a stunt like this in MY city. ### Bruce ran through the already chaotic traffic that some beat cops were trying to redirect until the situation was better under control. No way for me to slip into the suit, not in broad daylight, but a digital mask emitter is more than enough for Bruce Wayne to disappear under. With a click of his wrist watch the small device he kept behind his left ear projected a digitally imposed face of his own, one that looked remarkably like a young Michael Caine. Sirens blared as Bruce fought against the tide of patrons in the lobby trying to see what was going on across the street. He pushed open the door leading to the stairwell and didn’t upwards. Knowing Bullock’s procedure in a situation like this, he’s already contacted that lobby attendant and had the elevator shut down. Whoever that was on the streets with him will be leading a charge of officers over here to comb every inch of this building in the next three minutes if I’m being optimistic for once. Damian’s silence on the com-links began to gnaw at Bruce’s gut as he bounded the stairs, passing the seventh floor. It wasn’t like Damian to go radio silent this long, and Bruce started to wonder if he underestimated whoever he’d spotted on the drones camera by sending Damian ahead. He pushed this thought aside and raced to aid his son. ### Inside the apartment, Peacemaker took his ever escalating frustrations out on the hood and domino mask wearing vigilante that had ruined his carefully constructed plan to rid Gotham of its Lincoln March problem. A plan he needed to get out of this building to rework and reimplement, but this little bastard was far tougher than he looked. No matter how much damage he thought he dealt to the punk, he kept coming back for more, blocking Peacemaker’s every effort to escape. He’d had enough of this entire farce, enough of the child who had stopped him from making progress this city truly needed. But what he was not going to do, Peacemaker decided as he watched Robin stagger back to his feet, was stop him from rectifying today’s mistakes. “Well, not that I need it, but it sounds like this place will be crawling with cops soon.” Robin gloated smugly. He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his dark green gloves and got into a defensive stance. “How about I make their job a little easier and cripple you so they can just drag you down the steps?” Robin’s disrespectful jabs were followed by physical ones as he threw a flurry of punches that Peacemaker managed to block or slip. He cracked an elbow across the face of Robin, who didn’t let the blow stop him from countering right away with a straight kick to the patella. The blow annoyed Peacemaker as much as it reaggravated an old injury, and he reacted instinctively. With a dead switch hidden on his gloves, he activated the sonic emitter in his helmet, and the wave caught Robin with its full brunt head on. The sonic shockwave sends Robin crashing through drywall and into a bathroom on the other side. Peacemaker seethed for a moment, the adrenaline from the entire tussle coursing through him as if he’d shot himself full of it. He didn’t have time to soak in the violence he had to deal out, and there was no way for him to make it out through the building. The smug little bastard was right in his estimation of the police’s response time, that much he had studied himself before taking the risk of his attack. He looked towards the floor to wall windows overlooking downtown Gotham, gauging his distance to the office building next to the condos. Peacemaker gritted his teeth and took off at a full blown sprint. Bruce entered the condo, stepping over the door Robin had booted down, just in time to see Peacemaker leaping through the floor to wall windows in a desperate attempt to escape the highrise. Bruce hurried over to the now shattered window, reaching just in time to see Peacemaker sprinting out of a startled young woman’s office across the gap between the two buildings. Bruce sent every image taken with his retinal camera of the fleeing shooter immediately to the batcomputer for analysis before turning and tending to the clearly distraught woman tied to her husband behind him. Bruce quickly loosened on the woman’s arms and legs before removing the gag stuffed in her gullet. “You’re going to be ok.” Bruce assured the devastated woman, his voice modulator giving him a baritone far unlike his own voice to go with his digital mask disguise. He checked her husband’s vital signs as he laid him gently back on the couch, a sigh of relief is expelled under Bruce’s breath when he realizes the man is still alive as well. “Your husband as well. EMT’s should be here shortly. Stay here, stay calm.” The woman nodded her head, mystified by how and why this stranger was able to reassure her after the last few hours but more thankful than she could really understand. Bruce whipped around once he heard clanging from the other side of the hole in the condos drywall. A very disgruntled Robin stepped through the hole created by himself and grabbed the hand extended to him by his father to help him to his feet. “Please tell me you got that buffon.” The surly gaze his father had etched on the face that was not his own gave Robin the answer he was not looking for. Bruce turned his focus to his son, who was walking rather gingerly while holding his rib cage. “I’m fine. Let’s go before Pennyworth worries himself into a stroke.” Robin shut down his concern immediately, far more pressed about the shooter managing to escape. Bruce clenched his fist tight. “Let’s get to the cave.” ### Gordon paced around the conference room, wearing his brown Stacy Adams dress shoes into the carpet. Inside the box-shaped room were a handful of uniformed cops and the Mayor, all of them awaiting news on what was happening outside city hall. Gordon chewed over what details he had received from Bullock and his new partner, who had yet to find the shooter even after Gordon had shut down traffic in a four block radius the moment they were able to get the pandemonium created by the shots ringing out under control. The shooter had set up shop inside a high rise condo, even leaving behind the rifle of use. The attack was bold, brazen to the fault of stupidity Gordon would think if the shooter hadn’t managed to escape in broad daylight. Whoever was responsible for the attack, Gordon was very sure they had not seen the last of them anytime soon. What Gordon’s focus on now was how to make sure he never got that close to taking the mayor’s life again. After he gave the go ahead for an escort to get Ms. Dawes to safety, he hadn’t heard from any of his detectives since. This literal radio silence left something gnawing in Gordon’s gut, and it took a tap on his shoulder to pull him from his developing train of thought. He turned around to see Lincoln March extending a stogie of a cuban cigar in his direction, with one of his own hanging out of his mouth. Gordon took the cigar and chuckled softly as the mayor lit up his own. “Better late than never to celebrate, am I right?” Lincoln tried to muster a shifty grin under the circumstances, but only formed a rather half hearted smile while puffing away. “Glad to see your keeping your optimism, Mr. Mayor.” Gordon assessed while taking a short drag. “I know your family has been trying to reach out directly to your office since this entire madhouse began-” “Yeah I would imagine Regina more than likely isn’t too pleased with me considering she found out about my intentions for governor the same time the rest of the city did.” Lincoln plopped down into a chair behind Gordon, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Well considering after this I’ll be canceling the reservations Sarah and myself had at that new Mediterranean restaurant a couple of blocks from us, we can both enjoy the dog house this evening.” Gordon’s crack drew a wry smile from Lincoln, who sighed and he puffed a stream of smoke out of his nose. “You know, I thought I weighed out everything that I had to before deciding to try and take this big swing.” Lincoln explained. He scratched at the side of the graying edges of his mostly jet black hair, holding the cigar between his middle and index finger as the ash built on its tip. “I figured let me carry the weight, shit I watched you do it since I took this job.” Gordon tried to pull together a response to the mayor’s clear misgivings about his decision, when a chirp from his radio interrupted their smoke break. “Commissioner?” Gordon recognized the voice of Bullock’s partner and walked a few paces away from the mayor before responding to the hail. “What have you got for me, Detective Brenner?” “Bullock’s giving the all clear for us to move the mayor out of the building, sir.” Gordon looked behind him at the beat cops in the room, who also heard the message from the young woman. “Alright, let’s keep it quick and tight. I want an airtight team working hand in hand with the mayor’s personal security all night. I’m talking 24/7, we don’t close shop.” “Understood sir, I’ll let Detective Bullock know.” Gordon put his radio away and turned around to see Lincoln blotting out his cigar. The mayor got to his feet and prepared himself to follow the officers out of the room. As he passed Gordon, he gave the commissioner a pat on the shoulder, a small gesture of thanks for his efforts. “We’ll try to have this wrapped up for you sooner than later sir, and do whatever we can to put your family at ease in the meantime.” Gordon told him for good measure before he followed the officers swarming around him into the hall. ### Dusk fell on Wayne Manor, the golden setting sun hitting the living room and basking it in its warm amber hue. The sound of Alfred’s shuffling footsteps accompanied the clanging of silver atop the tray of food and tea he was carrying. He stopped in front of the grandfather clock and spun the hands to a time that meant everything in this house. The front of the grandfather clock swung open, revealing a small elevator inside. Deep below the manor, Bruce and Damian Wayne both sat in front of the industrial sized monitor that was used to work on the batcomputer. On the monitor footage gathered from both their encounters with Peacemaker are being replayed and sifted through. A program on the desktop chimes an alert that it has finished running, prompting Damian to check its results. “It looks like the league database managed to pick something up based on the images we uploaded, father.” Damian pulled up the database information that the computer found to the forefront of the screen. Bruce adjusted the reading glasses Alfred had gotten him a handful of Christmases ago as he went over the rap sheet that his connection to the Justice League criminal databank helped him discover. “He’s got quite the lists of felony activity in his past, but no history in Gotham until today.” Bruce scratched at his chin, wondering the best way forward from there. “His father is a former member of a conservative militia group who died in a Texas prison around eight years ago.” “So he’s some kind of right wing gun toting crackpot?” Damian asked the question with a tinge of disgust, still very sore that Peacemaker managed to get the better of him. “Remind me to break both of his legs when we find him again.” “We need to figure out how we’re going to do that first. Doesn’t look like the computer has been able to find any traces of him on any CCTV or traffic cameras in the city.” Bruce ran down their limited options just as Alfred stepped into the cave from the lift. Alfred wandered over, setting the tray of food in front of the two of them. “Surely we can’t just wait around for him to try and blow the mayor’s head off again.” Damian said before snatching one of the chicken jalapeno sandwiches from the silver tray. “We can start by running the serial number on the barrel of the rifle he dropped.” Bruce came to the conclusion after freezing the footage from Damian’s cowl on Peacemaker’s weapon. “It looks like a custom job. If we can find out whoever helped him put it together for the job, we may find him.” “TT, no doubt Gordon’s men already have the rifle in lock-up.” Damian guessed as he folded his arms over his always puffed out chest. “Then that’ll be our first stop.” Bruce came to the conclusion as he folded his own arms as well. ### Lincoln March sat in his personal study, a glass of scotch on the rocks in hand. He watched the small television set he kept near the book shelf across the room, watching one of the late night ATN hosts discussing his bid for Governor. “Former Gotham Gazette beat writer for more than fifteen years, Alexander Knox joins me tonight to discuss the fracas at city hall this afternoon.” Jack Ryder began before turning to his co-host for the evening. The camera went to a two-man wide shot as the discussion kicked off the episode of Gotham Tonight. “Well by fracas I mean we could be talking about a number of things, if we’re being completely honest, now couldn’t we?” Knox intertwined his fingers as he started his position on the topic. “Please elaborate if you don’t mind Alex, you are after all a guest here this evening.” Ryder replied graciously, and Knox took it upon himself to do as was suggested and continue. “Well we all heard the rumblings for weeks that the mayor was starting to get a little too full of himself and the inflated numbers that his people have been propping him up with for months-” Lincoln sipped his drink, allowing the diatribe from the late night political pundits to make him surlier than he already was. The private cell phone he kept in his study desk vibrated loudly, interrupting the chatter mocking his bid for governor. Lincoln sat up in his chair rather clumsily but abrupt, startled by who could be calling that device at this time of the evening no less. He slides open the drawer apprehensively, as if he was handling a tripwire bomb, and pulls out the flip phone. “Yeah, March.” “Lincoln, I saw the news. I’m happy to hear your head still has the correct amount of holes in it.” Lincoln went pale at the sound of the voice on the other end of the call. He nearly leaped out of his chair and turned around to the partially opened blinds behind him and turned them closed. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again. I wouldn’t have thought you would use your resources for a stunt like that, especially to get me out of the picture.” Lincoln did his best to sound defiant. He paced around the office, his hand tightly gripped on his glass. “Don’t disrespect me or what I represent with those kinds of accusations.” The voice warned him in a playful yet intimidating tone. “You should expect more decorum if the SYSTEM decides you are obsolete.” Lincoln stopped pacing in the center of the office, his feet planted firmly on the luxury rug he kept there. “And what has the SYSTEM decided?” The voice sighed, almost as if they were disinterested in the question Lincoln had asked. “You know I like you Lincoln. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve gotten to get to know each other these past few years. Which is why I convinced the other members to consider giving you a second opportunity.” “I told you last time and I’ll say it once more: I am not interested in a first, second, or third opportunity to join you. I came to you hat in hand and did what was needed for my family.” “And think about how much more you could provide your family, especially with a push for the governor’s seat going exactly your way in the fall. The opportunities are only limited by you. And as someone who considers themselves your friend-” Lincoln couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the term being used by the caller on the other end. They had been far from friends, and Lincoln had learned that the extremely hard way since he made it clear he had no interest in continued dealings with the organization he represented. That was something he was going to make abundantly clear once more during this conversation. “I’m sorry Carl, but I’m not going to play ball with you or the ones who bankroll your organization. I can’t be of any help to you going forward. Don’t think I was much help to you prior either, honestly.” Carl Grissom sat back against the leather seats of the 2023 Cadillac he was being driven around in. A glint of anger sparkled in his eye as he tightened his hold on his cell. “Well that’s just too bad. Just too goddamn bad Lincoln. I was expected to deliver you as a member. I’d hate to see their disappointment.” Carl ended the call without a proper goodbye. His driver, a blonde haired young man in a silver smoking white jacket, rolled the partition down as Carl looked out the window at the buzzing Gotham nightlife. “Where are we headed, boss?” The driver asked while glancing in his rearview mirror. “Back to the house.” Grissom grunted, his temper starting to get the better of him as he weighed on the conversation he just had with the mayor. “Let one of Jason’s boys in Blackgate know I need to speak with him. Urgently.” The driver nodded and raised the partition back in place. ### Jim Gordon stepped off the elevator that led to the third floor of the 14th district precinct. He pulled a few tylenol from the inside of his brown leather jacket and tossed them back. As he waded through the bureau, making his way towards his office before the late night shifters could get their evenings started, Detective Bullock caught sight of him from his own desk. “Hey commish!” Gordon stopped in his tracks and whipped around in time to see the detective on payroll he trusted the most, half waddling, half running over to him as quickly as he could. “I didn’t think you’d be in tonight. I thought you had those reservations at-” Bullock cut his sentence short when he saw the look Gordon gave him over the top of his glasses. “Have we pulled any prints off the weapon we found inside that condo yet?” Gordon asked the detective as they both continued down the hall towards his office. Bullock lifted his gray fedora and scratched at the back of his jet black hair. “Nothing substantial enough to run for a match. Which reminds me, you got somebody in there waiting for ya!” Gordon once again gave Bullock a look of annoyance. “Who the hell could possibly be in my office at this hour?” He replied back gruffly, his mustached bristling as he pushed open the door with his name and designation etched onto the glass. Gordon and Bullock entered the office, the sight of the newly crowned Gotham district attorney cut his building tirade short. “Detective Bullock wasn’t expecting you in tonight commissioner. Somehow I figured you’d still be taking point on that insanity we were front and center for today.” Gordon shook Rachel’s hand before walking behind his desk and dropping into his favorite chair. “What exactly can I help you with, Miss Dawes?” Bullock snatched a donut out of the box sitting on the spare desk he was leaning against and watched the conversation start between the pair of them. “Well I wanted to be as hands on as possible during the investigation process. I know you’ve got an uphill battle ahead of us, but I want to make sure we put whoever was behind that rifle under Blackgate as soon as possible.” Rachel stated plainly, her voice firm and commanding. Gordon sat up and looked through the forensic reports of the shooting he already had on his desk. “I take it you’ve already had the opportunity to look through this?” He asked her, gesturing towards the folders full of photographs and reports. Rachel nodded, and Gordon continued. “So you’re well aware right now we’re chasing a god damn wraith. Whoever this guy was, he managed to slip into that building without any of the security cameras getting a glimpse at anything but the back of his head at best. Uphill is optimism at its finest.” “What sort of precautions are we taking at the mayor’s home?” Rachel asked next, placing an arm on the back of her chair as she included Bullock in the question with her body language. “Well we got four cars out there, two rotating the block and four beat cops walking the property inside and out, coordinating fully with the mayor’s personal security.” Bullock assured her. He wasn’t too pleased by the sour expression on her face as she turned back to Gordon, straightening upright in her seat. “Well, I guess we’re all on the starter’s blocks for now.” Rachel replied regrettably. “I’m planning to go over some of the mayor’s decisions when he was on city council, see if there was any flack for some particular ruling or edict in the past that may have ruffled the wrong feather or two. If I find anything worth sharing, you will be the first to know, commissioner.” Gordon gave her a nod and stood up as she did. “You know Rachel, with all due respect, while I appreciate you aiding us in this investigation-” “We’re probably dealing with a certified wack job is what the commish is about to say, ma’am, and the last thing we need is you painting a target on one of your DKNY suits.” Gordon shook his head in annoyance as Bullock interrupted his far more delicate sentence. “I’m well aware of the dangers of doing my job, specifically in this city no less, detective.” Rachel shot back over her shoulder. “Please excuse Detective Bullock, Miss Dawes.” Gordon’s apology was interrupted by his phone vibrating loudly against his desk. Rachel raised a curious eyebrow as Gordon snatched up and checked the caller ID. Gordon saw the scrambled number, clearly a fake with a Star city area code, and knew it was from the only man who could contact him through such means. Gordon scrolled to the single word text message that simply read “Rooftop” before stuffing the phone in his back pocket. “If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes Miss Dawes, I have someone else I need to go over the specifics of the shooting with.” Gordon hurried out of the office, tossing his coat back on as the door slammed behind him. Rachel stared at the door mystified, wondering for a moment who could have contacted him that forced him to end their conversation. ### The sound of the roof’s rusted hinges let me know without a look that Gordon got my message. I can’t imagine he’s made too much progress yet, so pooling resources is the best course for both our investigations. Jim Gordon took off his glasses and wiped them on his dress shirt before placing them back on his face. He looked into the sky at the Bat Signal burning brightly against the gray storm clouds gathered there. As he fumbles for a cigarette, Batman and Robin step from behind the signal. The sight of their sudden and silent appearance causes Gordon to utter a few choice curses before his lighter fumbles out of his hand. “I hope you got something to run with by now.” Gordon finally managed to tell the dark knight once he’d caught his breath. He snatched up his lighter and finally managed to light his cigarette. Batman looked down at Robin and jerked his head. Robin nodded and held up his left arm, a pair of holographic images emerging from his gauntlet on command. Gordon inspected the images taken from Robin’s cowl of the shooter, shocked that Batman was in possession of them. He looked at Robin, then back at the holograms before piecing together the events that must have transpired earlier. “You’re the reason that shot missed, not me knocking March off that podium.” Gordon summarized as he looked Robin up and down. Robin ended the hologram and nodded, giving the commissioner a sly grin. “We haven’t been able to find anything on the shooter in the criminal databases we’ve cross referenced thus far.” Batman explained to Gordon as he took a step forward. “Haven’t found a trace of him on any camera footage in the city either. Which is why we’re here.” Gordon shook his head, hating to be a disappointment but about to be anyway. “You having pictures of this clown at all is more than we’ve had since this entire debacle started.” “You’ve got the rifle. I need to take a look at it.” Batman responded flatly. Before the conversation could go further, the rooftop door swung open once again. Rachel walked across the rooftop, her heels clacking against stone as she approached the floodlight. “I hate to stop you from turning over evidence to a pair of vigilantes, but according to Bullock down there, it seems like they stop responding at the mayor’s home.” Gordon’s face went stark white just as Bullock burst onto the rooftop himself. He gasped for air desperately, winded from the sprint up the three flights to the roof. As he was doubled over with both hands on his hips, he managed to stammer out a few words. “Commish…I was on my way up…she beat me here….” Gordon walked past the dynamic duo and over to his detective. “What is it, Bullock? Have our men stopped checking in?” Bullock looked up at him, genuine worry etched on his face. “Worse. Looks like the power’s been cut on the whole block too.” Horror engulfed Gordon’s expression as his mind raced on how to proceed. He turned around to speak with Batman next but the dynamic duo had already left the top of the building. Rachel turned around too, following Gordon’s line of sight. She did her best to hide the surprise in her that Batman and Robin had managed to slip off the rooftop the moment the attention was off them. “Where do you think they're headed?” She asked Gordon as she faced him once again. “Same place we are. North Gotham Heights.” Gordon responded before jerking his head towards the stairwell as a signal for her to follow. ### The Batmobile burned rubber as it hit sixty-five miles per hour on the highway ramp. Batman gripped the steering column tightly as Robin watched the GPS on the console monitor. My gut tells me whatever is happening in Lincoln’s neighborhood can’t be a coincidence, but it also can’t be the same man Damian scuffled with earlier. Whoever was able to knock the power out in Gotham Heights had to have been planning to for weeks. Not exactly the kind of thinking I believe our shooter is interested in doing. I don’t like taking my eyes off a rogue element like that, but clearly something is brewing around Lincoln March that warrants taking a closer look. “There’s no way that oaf pulled something like this off in such a small window.” Robin chimed in, interrupting his father’s thoughts while slouching in his chair. “That’s the same assumption I was going with. The only questions we’re left with are, who has enough power to orchestrate something like this and why are they choosing now to go after March?” Batman asked out loud, and both himself and the boy wonder pondered these questions to themselves as the batmobile continued speeding towards the disturbance in the upscale neighborhood. ### A cherry red Pontiac thunderbird squealed to a stop in front of the beaten down mobile home near the back of the trailer park. Christopher Smith hopped out once the aggressively loud engine came to a quiet. He stomped up the steps of the trailer in a dirty white tank top and Levi’s he’d bought specifically because he’d seen Brett Favre in the commercial for a pair. Under both arms was a six pack of Voodoo Ranger IPA, and somehow he managed to unlock the door without dropping anything. He placed the beer on the surfboard he used as a coffee table and stomped to the back of the trailer and out of sight. The living room itself, besides the fat back television that was certainly cutting edge in 1995, was an armory. Guns and ammunition of every size adorned the walls, filled the china cabinet that he kept across the living space, and covered his kitchen table. Chris returned to the living area and snatched one of the beers up. He cracked it open with the use of his surfboard table and tossed it back. Sitting on the kitchen table just behind him was the silver domed helmet he wore as Peacemaker, the winged eagle of peace engraved on its forehead. Christopher snatched up the Sig M17 sitting on the white and blue surfboard in front of him as the local news began, of course covering his antics from today at the top of the hour. Chris watched the telecast fixated, his eyes never leaving the screen even as he loaded and prepared the pistol. He couldn’t help but scoff as the on location reporter described Gotham PD’s ongoing manhunt for the shooter. He didn’t bury an ounce of smugness as he listened to the news report explain how desperate the mayor’s office was for answers. Chris wasn’t interested in giving them any, only in finishing the job. That was the only task on his mind, and he knew after today’s scuffle with one half of the caped crusader’s that the difficulty was only going to ratchet up from there. Chris didn’t mind in the slightest however, as he admired the pistol once he was done inspecting it. He knew once he put Lincoln March in his crosshairs that there was a strong chance he would cross the dark knight’s path. That was fine with him, he had a bullet for him too. Unknown to Christopher Smith, while the local authorities and even the world’s greatest detective had not surmised where he was laying his head low, someone already had. A blacked out town car sat nearly clear on the other side of the lot. Inside a thirty-ish blonde haired woman snapped pictures with a telephoto lens camera aimed directly in the direction of Smith’s trailer. She uploaded the photos directly to a server after pulling the SD card out of the back of the camera and loading it into a usb drive sitting in the seat next to her. Once her phone confirmed the upload was successful, she speed dialed a number and waited for an answer on the other end of her call. At the sound of the receiver being picked up, Emilia Harcourt didn’t wait for an answer to speak. “Yeah, I’ve got eyes on the target. Are you sure about this one?” ### Lincoln March laid face down in the middle of his foyer, the blood from his mouth seeping into his carpet. Unable to move due to the boot heel on his neck, he was helpless as he watched the dark green clad Kobra worshippers, all armed to the teeth with automatic weapons, kicking his wife mercilessly. His wife laid a few feet away from him as her face, hands, and arms began to bruise from the beating she was suffering. “That’s enough god damn it. I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!” Lincoln’s temper hit a boiling point as he thrashed underneath the Kobra member who had him pinned down. The Kobra sect leader corralling the worshippers inside Lincoln’s home held up a fist, and the other’s ceased their brutality momentarily. The sect leader wandered over to where Lincoln lay with his face half in the carpet, amused by the hatred on the mayor’s face. “That’s interesting, isn’t it?” He asked more to one of the worshippers than Lincoln as he observed the searing anger Lincoln was trying to contain. “All that personableness goes out the window when you’re the victim.” The Sect leader sucked his teeth as if he was more disappointed than fascinated at this juncture. “Politicians man, all of you are a dime a dozen.” He turned away from Lincoln and stalked around the cowering Mrs. March in a circle. The rest of the Kobra members leered behind him, enjoying the terror he was inflicting on the middle-aged woman. “We were approached with an offer to teach you several lessons. A healthy amount of money was offered.” He paused for a moment, locking eyes with Lincoln as he stood directly over his wife. “The money was turned down.” He delivered a nasty flurry of kicks to her ribs, causing her to squeal and yelp in pain. The sect leader stopped his attack once again, catching his breath as he seethed above the writhing woman. He met Lincoln’s eyes again as he motioned for one of his men to hand him a weapon. He aimed the glock he was passed at the crown of her temple, never letting his gaze move from the mayor’s. “For all the members of Kobra you have rotting away in Blackgate, maybe her soul will be a fair trade? Let’s find out.” Lincoln closed his eyes, unable to watch his wife be executed in front of him. The sound he heard however, was not a gunshot but the sound of metal clanging against metal before the glock went flying across the room. The tossed Birdarang sunk into the carpet one end up directly in front of the mayor, just as he opened his eyes. The sect leader clutched at his wrist, where the modified weapon had hit and forced him to drop his gun. The other Kobra members looked around the foyer with weapons aimed, trying to find the source of the attack. “TT, cutting the power was a mistake. You must want to make this easy for us.” The voice of Robin rang out, teasing the guards with a cut of malice in his tone. The soft piff of a grapple gun being shot cut through the air. The steel rope emerged from the shadows behind one of the Kobra members and wrapped him head to toe. He fell face forward and lost the grip on his gun. His eyes bulged with fear as the rope reeled him backwards into the darkness. “SOMEBODY HELP MEEEEEEEE-” The Kobra member screamed before he disappeared out of sight. The Sect leader backed away from the mayor and his wife, the other members forming a semicircle around him. Batman emerged from the darkened study behind Mayor March, much to Lincoln’s own shock and awe. It was his first time seeing the dark knight in person, and he couldn’t have been more thankful that this was the particular moment it finally happened. Batman stared down the sect leader and the rest of the Kobra members, his cape wrapped around him. His hand’s twitched at his utility belt, ready to reach for whatever he may need if any of them made a sudden move. Kobra making a move like this on the Mayor isn’t their usual style, there has to be a pretty big incentive behind this attack. Something beyond monetary compensation. Batman sized up the cowering religious cult members as he stepped in front of Mrs. March. “This is your only chance at mercy from my hand. Tell me who asked you to attack the mayor, and none of you will need a trip to Gotham General before county lock-up.” All of the Kobra members instead aimed their guns directly at the dark knight, an open act of defiance. Batman balled up both his fists in response. “Alright. Then NONE of you walk out of here.” Batman’s voice rumbled like thunder as he issued the threat that was more likely a stern promise. TO BE CONTINUED |