Batman
watches the screen grow dark with his same emotionless gaze.
Then he lets out an audible groan as he leans back in his chair.
This
day has just been too much,
he thinks to himself. It's
got to be this emotional rollercoaster that's giving me this
headache, or is it the other way around.
A flash of fresh anger and frustration bubble up as Batman thinks
about how the Scarecrow had fooled him. It doesn't happen often
and he does not like it. I've
developed a blind spot where the Joker is concerned. I don't
know what angers me more, that it exists or that an enemy spotted
it before I did. Blast it! This self recrimination is getting
me nowhere. Back to work. With that he leaned
forward and completed entering his search parameters into the
computer and started the set the system to work. Batman makes
his way down the corridors of his abandoned subway tunnel Bat-Cave
to it's makeshift chopper hanger. He finds himself almost hoping
to find a problem with the Bat-Copter, just so he can have something
to work his frustrations out on.
True to
his word, Robin did arrive at the down town Bat-Cave in just
over twenty minutes. Unfortunately the hurried drive over on
this cold winter's day was the height of his excitement so far.
He'd spent the last 3 hours cross referencing work orders and
locations and police records in a desperate attempt to try and
find where the Scarecrow was going to strike. Ah
the glories of crime fighting, he
sighs to himself. Batman has spent the afternoon making "preparations".
Robin had watched him moving about the cave, from the workbench,
to the makeshift chem. lab, to the vehicle bays, getting together
the equipment they would need when they found the Scarecrow.
Robin had offered three times to trade places, but Bruce repeatedly
turned him down, saying he trusted Tim's ability to find those
bombs. While Tim appreciated the vote of confidence, as the
cold afternoon wore on he wondered if it was justified. Bruce
did stop several times to help Tim generate fresh leads, and
different search parameters, but it was still slow work. It
was days like today that Robin realizes just how big a city
Gotham really is and just how many places a terrorist like the
Scarecrow could have planted his surprises. It's now 4:35 in
the afternoon. He is admittedly getting antsy about the deadline.
Batman comes up from the hanger, smelling of engine fluids.
"Any
luck?" Batman asks.
"Not
yet." Robin replies without looking up. "I just finished
feeding the last batch into the computer and... Hello!"
"Got
something?" The Dark Knight races to his partner's side.
"I'd
say so. We've got a pretty good match. One Rail Gegory, works
on a city maintenance crew, former demo man in the army, worked
on at least twelve of the sites on your probable targets list
in the last week, no previous record, but had a considerable
chunk of change deposited in his account this afternoon from
an offshore bank." Robin grins at the screen. "The
deposit was just cleared a few minutes ago or this guy would
have turned up earlier. So what do you think, this our guy?"
"Probably."
Batman growls. "Scarecrow wouldn't bother covering his
tracks too carefully this close to the end. He doesn't think
we're looking for him yet, just the Joker."
"So
you want to go shake this guy down, or hit the places he's worked
on?" Robin looks over his shoulder at his stone face mentor.
"No
choice, considering the time." Batman glares at the screen
intently, his eyes devouring the information there. "We'll
start... there. It's both one of the first places he worked
on this week and a prime target for this kind of action- the
subway terminal 3 blocks down from Police headquarters."
"Great,
that's halfway across town from here. We going to take that
copter you spent the day working on?"
"Too
visible. Scarecrow is likely to have a spotter on hand just
in case." Batman jumps on his Batcycle and point to a similar
deep red cycle siting next to it. "Come on. We don't have
much time."
Robin barely
has time to dash across the cave and secure his helmet before
Batman is racing down the abandoned tunnels. But he isn't heading
for the tunnel to the street, he's headed deeper underground.
"Batman"
Robin's voice crackles over the helmet radios. "You're
not planning to..."
"Just
follow my lead, Robin." Batman crackles back. "It's
been a while but I've done this before."
With that
the Dark Knight guns his Batcycle and leaps it down through
an opening into Gotham's active subway system. Opening his throttle
as wide as it can go, the Batman races beneath the streets of
Gotham to try and stop a mad man. Ahead in the tunnel, Robin
sees the lights of an oncoming subway train. Gritting his teeth,
Robin follows the fearless Batman as they guide their motorcycles
to ride in the narrow space between the train and the tunnel
wall. Though he had faced death many times, at this moment with
his cape whipping wildly behind him and being just inches from
a very painful end on either side of him, Tim Drake wonders
why he ever wanted to become Robin in the first place.
The Batman
doesn't slow at all. Driving the bike almost solely on instinct,
the Dark Knight's mind is constructing the fastest route to
their goal. Leaping over rails, dodging trains, almost flying
through Gotham's honeycombed subway tunnels, the Dynamic Duo
race against the clock to reach what they believe to be the
Scarecrow's first target. They arrive with ten minutes to spare.
Parking their Batcycles on the far side of the tracks, Batman
and Robin take in their surroundings.
A typical
Gotham subway terminal, the graphiteed walls looking a sickly
green in the florescent light. The orange glow of overhead heaters
tries to fight back the cold air drifting down the stairway
from the street outside. On the train platform, a crowd of weary
Gothamites watch in fear and awe at the sight of their cities
two most famous citizens. It had been a long day for everyone,
it always was whenever one of the freaks was on a tear. The
crowd is smaller than normal for 4:50 on a work day. Half the
city had closed early, people feel the need to be with their
families when the Joker is active and most employers didn't
blame them. A wave of panic starts to overtake the crowd. The
Batman's appearance on a day like today could only mean one
thing, they are in danger.
"It's
okay folks." Robin tries to calm the crowd. "We just
need you to try go back outside for a little while. We've got
things under control. No need to panic."
Robin wishes
he was half as confident as he sounds. Batman seemed oblivious
to the crowd. His cape draped completely over his costume, he
seemed to glide through the room like an inky black shadow.
Batman's eyes sweep the walls and the ceiling, looking for some
sign of where Gegory may have planted the Scarecrow's device.
The crowd parts as he approached them, panic threatening to
set in.
"The
boy said don't panic. Just leave- now." Batman utters in
a low growl that is somehow loud enough for all to hear.
To frightened
to do anything else the crowd makes it's way outside as orderly
as they can. Batman returns to his search as Robin reaches into
his belt for a radio.
"I'm
going to call the cops in." Robin asks as much as informs
his partner. Batman only gives a slight nod in response. "Attention
Gotham dispatch, This is..."
"Robin,
the heaters!" Batman exclaimed as he spotted the bombs.
"He's wired his explosives to them."
In a flurry
of motion Batman uses his grappler to hoist himself to the ceiling
and the nearest heater. A one quick visual inspection tells
him all he needs to know.
"Come
on. Simple enough devices." Batman explains as he begins
to disarm the first device with his free hand and tools he pulls
from his glove. "Timed detonator with a radio activated
kill switch, just enough explosive to puncture these liter canisters
and release the gas. We've got to work quickly though. I can
see one of these attached to all 6 heaters in here and we only
have... 7 minutes before 5 o'clock."
In the
time it takes Batman to explain the situation, he as already
disarmed the first device and moved on to the next. Robin uses
his own grappler to join the Dark Knight in disarming the bombs.
They were finishing up the last one as a few uniform police
officers make their way onto the platform to investigate the
reported disturbance down here. The officers look on with surprise
as the Caped Crimefighters' lower themselves to the floor. The
screech and roar of the 5 o'clock train pulling up to the platform
temporarily prevents explanations. But another sound catches
Batman's ear, barely audible over the noise of the subway, the
sound of the bells of Gotham Cathedral tolling the time. Something
about tat sound tugs at his mind. But a tugging at his arm grabs
his attention.
"Batman,
" The Boy Wonder points to just above the disembarking
passengers. "We missed one!"
There above
the far side of the tracks, hung a solitary heater. Before either
hero can move, the heater explodes with a small pop into a growing
cloud of red smoke.
"CLOSE
THOSE DOORS!" Batman yells to the train as he bounds toward
the billowing smoke.
The terrified
passengers comply as quickly as they can, but some 15 people
had already stepped off the train. Coughing and screaming as
the gas envelopes them, they beat against the train cars, desperate
to be let back in. The Batman flings himself to the roof of
the train, leaping from there to the smoking heater, snatching
it down and engulfing it it in his cape. Landing in a heap next
to the Batcycles, Batman continues to try and contain the gas
with his cape, his hands invisible beneath it. Robin watches,
hoping his mentor has acted in time. Over the screaming of the
panicked passengers a loud >PFAF< is heard and the smoke
leaking from Batman's cape changes from red to a light gray
color.
But no
one could breath a sigh of relief that Batman had managed to
neutralize the gas. 15 people had still been exposed and the
change that was coming over them was chilling. Their screams
begin hysterical laughter and their eyes glaze over. The pounding
on the trains side turns more malicious, and 2 of them turn
on each other in murderous glee.
Producing
a pair of sleeping gas pellets from his utility belt, Robin
flings them into the midst of the crazed victims of the Scarecrow's
madness. Two of the women and one of the smaller men slump into
unconsciousness and a couple of the others seem dazed by the
gas, but for the most part all the Boy Wonder did is focus the
mobs attention squarely on him. Robin produces his collapsible
Bo staff and whips it to the ready. Twirling it about him as
he takes a fighting stance, the small whistle in the staff's
end further galvanizes the crowds attention on the young crimefighter.
Which is exactly what Robin wants.
Rising like a dark shadow on the roof of the subway car, Batman
pauses a second to access the situation. In the next instant,
his hands seem to erupt from beneath his ebony cloak releasing
four whirling objects that wrap themselves around four separate
victims as the gas maddened assailants fall helplessly to the
ground. Robin produces two bolos of his own, tying up two more
of the attackers. The Gothamites gas addled minds can't quite
cope with an assault on two fronts. The six that were still
standing stumble about in confusion, easy targets for a few
well placed bat-lines and a few more sleeping gas pellets.
The last one standing is an very attractive young woman, at
least she was before the gas twisted her features into a murderous
grin. Giggling maniacally, she fumbles in her purse and produces
a knife from within. She leaps with blade raised not at either
crimefighter, but at one of the other helpless victims. A Batarang
appears in Batman's hand and in a blur of motion he lets it
fly, aiming to disarm the woman. Robin has watched Batman do
this more times than he can count, that's why to his shock the
whirling Batarang misses, striking harmlessly to the ground.
But it was close enough to the woman to cause her to stop. Robin
pulled a devise from one of his shoulder pouches and aimed it
at the startled female. With a muted pop, the green capsule
at the end of the devise explodes into a rapidly expanding net
that sweeps the young woman back against the side of the train,
pinning her there.
"Nice new gadget, Batman, thanks." Robin smiles in
admiration.
"Thank the first Green Arrow, I just modified his design."
Batman hops down from atop the subway car. "You officers
should be able to handle things from here."
"Yes sir, Batman." One of the officers replies. "We
called into headquarters when that gas thing went off. The Commissioner
wants to see you right away."
Minutes later, Batman and Robin are in the Commissioner's office
looking at an A/V cart. Jim Gordon is loading a tape into the
VCR as Batman relates what happened in the subway. Robin is
examining the remains of the Scarecrow's gas bomb at the Commissioner's
desk. He holds the device up to a web camera attached to the
Commissioner's computer so Oracle can see it too. On the computer
screen is the stylized computer generated head that was all
most of the world every saw of the computerized crimefighter.
"But how were you not affected by the gas when you contained
the device in your cape?" Jim asks his old friend.
"Simple, I had ample time today to work up a formula that
neutralizes the gas while airborne, and I immunized myself and
Robin against it as well." Batman stands like a dark shadow
in the room. "For us, there was no danger from the gas
itself. Fortunately we also stocked up on restraining devices."
"This was broadcast at exactly 5:00, on every channel."
Commissioner Gordon hits the play button on the VCR as the assembled
heroes watch the monitor.
The image is of a middle aged man sitting in a high-backed
chair, dressed in a smoking jacket. The television light glints
slightly off his receding black hairline. When he speaks, his
voice has strange nasal quality that hints of madness.
"Good evening." The balding man squints as he smiles.
"I've just set off a gas bomb in one of our fair city's
subway terminals. The citizens there are by now going quite
mad. I intend to set off another of these bombs every 15 minutes
in a different part of the city, unless every city official
deposit two million dollars into the account number you see
on your screen, again every 15 minutes. This will continue until
I either run out of bombs, or get at least twenty million dollars.
That's right folks twenty million. The choice is of course yours."
"Who's the old man's Christian Slater?" Robin remarks.
"I don't know, son." The Commissioner shakes his
head. "But Crane really has the basic Joker M.O. down pat.
I don't get the whole 15 minutes part though."
"Simple, the bells at Gotham Cathedral and most other
public clock towers ring every 15 minutes." Batman responds
drily. "It's a play on Pavlov's dog. Crane probably finds
it hysterical."
"Well I don't know how funny this is, but we've got just
over 5 minutes till the next bomb goes off." Gordon walks
over to look at the captured device too. "I'm open for
suggestions people."
"The good news is, these things are on a timer, with a
radio signal override." Robin points to a small section
of circuitry on the side of the device. "Pretty standard
military surplus stuff. We shouldn't have any trouble shutting
them down with the right signal before they explode."
"The even better news is that Crane may have been able
to hide his phone poll operation from me, but that video signal
was all I needed to track him down." Oracle adds. "He's
set up shot at the old Gotham Instruments factory, by Pier 4."
"Didn't that used to be..." Gordon starts to say.
"The old Gotham Toy Factory." Batman finishes."Scarecrow
used it as a hideout years ago. G.I. bought it soon after, only
to abandon it for better facilities upstate. Crane is enjoying
picking at old wounds on this case."
"What's the plan, boss?" Robin tries to snap his
mentor out of his revelry.
"Robin, you work with Jim and the bomb squad to send the
signal that will shut down these bombs. Oracle, can you get
"backdoor" access to Crane's computers when he tries
to see if the money has been deposited, and then fool him into
thinking the deposit has been made?"
"Consider it done." Oracle responds.
"Good. We need to keep Crane in the dark as long as possible
so he doesn't try and manually release the gas." Batman
turns to leave through the window. "I'll handle Crane."
"I'll send Harvey and some of the boys to clean up behind
you." Gordon turns away for a moment to pick up the phone.
"I'll send them in unmarked cars if that's okay with...
gone already." Gordon looks down at the Caped Crusader's
young partner. "You mind clueing him into how rude that
is one of these days?"
The sun is starting to set creating waves of color in the steel
gray winter sky. Whisking silently into that darkening sky,
Batman brings his Bat-Copter in low and fast, using the setting
sun behind him to help hide his approach. There was no outward
signs of activity as Batman makes his first pass of the former
toy factory. He gazes down at the pier, remembering when the
Scarecrow narrowly escaped him all those years ago by driving
a truck into the harbor. It had been Christmas eve, and the
Scarecrow was going to try and deliver deadly toys to Gotham's
children. All in the shadow of a deadly game of hangman being
played out by... Batman stops himself. He was letting himself
get too emotional, too caught up in memories of that year and
the "Long Halloween" that had preceded it. It's
this headache, he tells himself. It's got me on edge.
With an eerie silence, the blue/black helicopter touches down
of the factory roof. Checking the clock, it's 5:37, and no report
on the police band of another bomb going off. His team had done
their job. That's something I didn't have that night you
escaped me here, Crane, Batman comforts himself. Back
then it was just me, Jim, and sometimes Selina, and we still
kicked your ass. Hopping from the cockpit, Batman scans
the cold evening air of his rooftop perch for something. Finding
it, he allows himself a small, almost imperceptible smile and
goes about his work.
Inside the redesign factory, the Scarecrow couldn't be more
pleased. From his desk in what formerly was the foreman's office,
the former Psych Professor turned master criminal stares at
two separate computer screens. On the one, the latest results
that his unwilling assistants had generated for him are being
displayed, the other shows his offshore bank account with a
fresh two million dollars sitting in it. It was all he could
do not to giggle with excitement. Prof. Crane really hadn't
expected Gotham two actually give in and pay him, he just wanted
the results of his final phase of testing to see what aspect
of the Joker Gothamites most feared. (Right now, it was the
clownish appearance that was ahead by a considerable margin,
if anyone is curious.) With his second deadline looming, he
wonders if they really would pay him the twenty million he asked
for. Perhaps next time he too should threaten the city before
launching his next fear experiment, to see if they'll pay him
off too. After all if his fake Joker could get 2 million...
"HA! Those pathetic simpletons must be more afraid of
the Joker than I thought!" Scarecrow yells aloud.
But for now, it needs to be back to business, and that business
is trying to collect as much data as he could before he left.
The Batman would be here soon. This was the point he always
seems to foil the Joker's schemes, and Scarecrow had little
doubt that his dark winged nemesis would be there any minute.
Pulling his trademark burlap mask into place, the Scarecrow
straightened the noose around his neck as it were a tie and
begins downloading the data he has accumulated to disk. I
really must thank my new partners for this equipment they got
for me. The computers, the phone scramblers, first rate all
the way. Reaching over for a radio/phone, The Scarecrow
tries to check in with the sentries he had scattered around
the factory.
No response.
"Drat. He's already here." Scarecrow scowls.
Quickly, the Master of Fear switches disks and starts a new
program running. Placing his data disk into a hidden pocket,
he jumps from his desk and hurries over to the window overlooking
the room where his unwilling phone crew are busily polling Gotham
for him. They were still there, still under the watchful eye
of his armed thugs.
"Good. At least my insurance is still in place."
Scarecrow sighs.
"Not that it will save you this time." a voice growled
from behind him.
Whirling around, Scarecrow finds the dark shadow of the Bat
filling his doorway.
"It's over, Scarecrow. This experiment is finished."
"That may well be, Batman," Scarecrow raised his
hands, appearing to surrender. "But there may yet be one
last Joker in this deck. You are aware of the 35 innocent lives
trapped in that room behind me? And the guns my people have
trained on them? It would be a shame if I were to say..."
The Scarecrow flicks his wrist and a small electronic devices
appears there. "release a dangerous gas into the room with
a touch of this button."
"More of your Joker madness gas?" Batman slowly advances
into the office.
"Oh nothing so exotic as that, Batman." Scarecrow
backs almost involuntarily away from the Dark Knight. "Just
my old fashion fear toxins. More than enough to put that entire
room into a panicked frenzy. Now we wouldn't want that on our
conscience, would we? Now if you'll just step aside gracefully..."
A Batarang thuds into the wall just barely an inch away from
the hand the Scarecrow is holding his detonator in. To the Scarecrow,
it had not seemed that the Batman had moved a muscle. For a
moment, the villain is too startled to do anything but stare.
"That was your last warning." Batman growls, fighting
back frustration at having missed twice today.
The Scarecrow presses the button and throws himself at through
the window as the room begins to fill with gas. Instantly, Batman
snaps a gas mask into place, completely covering his exposed
mouth and chin, and presses a small button inside the buckle
of his utility belt. A second gas begins to flow through the
air vents. And just before the Scarecrow's fear toxin can fully
take hold of it's victims, the second gas overcomes them, sending
them tumbling unconscious to the floor. Protected by the filters
in his own mask, the Scarecrow stares about the scene in disbelief.
"I knew you'd try something like this, so I took the precaution
of loading the Batcopter with a few tanks of fast acting knockout
gas, ready to pump into the air system." The Dark Knight's
voice crackles through his mask. "You're getting too predicable
for your own good, Scarecrow."
The Scarecrow lunges through the smoke filled room to where
he knew one of his goons had fallen, scooping up the guard's
weapon and firing a barrage of bullets where the Batman was
standing. Batman, of course, is no longer there. Fighting to
keep his hands from shaking, Scarecrow makes his way through
the haze back to his office, training his gun on any sound he
hears. Batman watches from the shadows, waiting and watching
for the best moment to strike and admittedly enjoying his prey's
anxiety. The Scarecrow watchfully climbs back through the broken
office window. Batman slowly advances, pressing himself beside
the busted window. He wonders what is so important that Crane
is willing to delay his escape to double back for.
A flash of light streaking towards him sends Batman ducking
out of harm's way. Spinning on his heels Batman see the cackling
Scarecrow wielding a high-tech scythe with a glowing energy
blade. The Scarecrow swings the blade wildly, easily slicing
through the wood and sheet rock wall to widen his exit.
"My new partners did more than just set me up with computer
equipment, Batman." Scarecrow boasts loudly. "They
included several new toys in the bargain!"
This time when the Scarecrow swings the scythe, the blade detaches
and flies at Batman, who nimbly dodges the whirling energy construct.
But before Batman can catch his breath a barrage of the glowing
blades are heading straight for him. In a flurry of acrobatics
the Caped Crusader barely avoids the Scarecrow's attack, though
his cape becomes very much worse for wear for the experience.
Rolling back to his feet in anticipation of another whirling
blade, Batman finds the Scarecrow has made a run for it while
he was dodging. The Dark Knight pauses only to make sure his
cape was the only casualty and soundlessly disappears into the
haze after his quarry.
Clutching his scythe and running as fast as he can, the Scarecrow
heads for the loading docks and a waiting truck. He is struck
with the sense of deja vu, of fleeing the Batman in the darkness
in this very building so many years ago. In hindsight, he probably
should have picked another hideout, but he honestly didn't think
Batman would look for him in the same place twice. Anyway, he
was better prepared this time, he had set up traps and fake
holographic mazes and all manner of things to try and delay
his black-clad foe. He escaped the Bat once here, with nothing
but a gas filled dolly and a knife to work with. The doorway
is in sight. He increases his speed and slams it open as hard
as he can, the cold dusk air driving the warmth from his fail
body. He looked out into the fading light for his getaway truck.
A cold shiver runs through him that is more than just the winter
air seeping into his burlap costume.
There standing in the cold gray light, was the Batman, his
tattered cape whipping around him in the icy wind.
With a snarl of anger and frustration, the Scarecrow charges
the Masked Manhunter, the scythes glowing blade raised high
above his head. Batman deftly catches the weapon by its handle,
and drives his other fist hard into the spindly villain's chest.
Professor Crane hears something snap as the Batman's fist impacted
his chest, and it wasn't his ribs. Doggedly still holding on
to the scythe, the Scarecrow fumbles for his hidden pocket to
try and check his precious data disk. Thinking he's going for
yet another weapon, Batman delivers a devastating kick to the
Scarecrow's upper body, sending the villain sprawling back against
the doors behind him. Tossing the Scarecrow's weapon aside,
the Dark Knight closes on his stunned opponent. The Scarecrow
tries to drag himself to his feet, only to be effortlessly hefted
against the wall by the Batman. Snatching the straw ladened
mask from his rag doll of a foe, Batman stares deeply into the
panicked eyes of Jonathan Crane.
Batman is almost trembling with rage. He had been played with,
his own wounds reopened, people had been murdered and maimed,
all to satisfy the curiosity of this sick little twig of a man.
Batman's head is pounding, the blood thundering in his ears.
A part of him wants to take this day's frustrations out on the
evil man he has pinned to the wall in front of him.
And Crane can see it. Deep within some disconnected corner
of his mind, the part of Scarecrow's mind that purely a psychologist
noted everything it could think of that he did today to drive
his old foe to this point. And he wonders if the Bat does savagely
beat him in this helpless state, did that constitute a victory?
Another part of his mind still directed his battered hand to
try and check on the disk that contained the whole point of
this day's machinations.
Batman swats Scarecrow's fumbling hand away, and reaches into
the Scarecrow's shirt to see what is so important that Crane
is willing to risk further provoking him. Grabbing the disk,
the true focal point of this horrific day, for a long moment
Batman almost releases his anger on the flinching Scarecrow.
But then that cold, hard place deep inside the Batman takes
control again. Meeting the terrified Master of Fear's eyes one
last time, he draws back his hand as if to strike and just as
he brings it forward, the Scarecrow faints dead away, from fear.
Epilog:
The G.P.D.
found the Scarecrow tied up and hanging from the factory flagpole,
an his henchmen similarly bound inside. The Scarecrow's computers
had been wiped clean by a virus the Scarecrow had himself loaded.
No useful data was recovered from the computer on site. The
scythe and remaining weapons are currently in police custody,
and the G.P.D. is currently trying to determine the origin of
the exotic weapon. The Scarecrow is back in his usual cell at
Arkham, under the care of Dr. Quinzel, awaiting his competency
hearing. The villain's unwilling assistants all survived the
experience with only minor bruises from where they had fallen
unconscious to the floor.
Batman stares at the words he just typed into his computer.
Here, back at the main Bat-cave, he was trying to relax and
make sense of the day. His cowl, gloves, and what is left of
his cape lay in a trail behind him where he has dropped them
on the way in. From behind him, his faithful butler Alfred places
a tray of medical supplies on the console next to him.
"All right, Master Bruce, off with that shirt." Alfred
chides his employer like a small child. "That straw bound
ruffian nicked your shoulder with that new toy of his and I'm
going to tend to it before you go out again."
"It's all right, Alfred." Bruce Wayne lifts off his
armored shirt. "I think I've had enough for one day. Tim
can handle patrol tonight and he'll call if he needs me."
"Very good, sir." Alfred replies, placing "butterfly
bandages" over the wound with expert precision. "Something
still troubling you, sir?"
"Crane's lair was loaded with top of the line equipment,
old friend." Bruce scowls at the screen, trying to ignore
the pain, not in his shoulder, but behind his eyes. "And
that new scythe, very high dollar stuff. He spoke once about
new partners, but there was nothing left on the equipment we
recovered that give any clue to their identity. I'll need to
link up with the JLA data bases and see if..."
As the login screen for the JLA system, with it's bright design,
flashed up on the Bat-computer's screen, Bruce winced and audibly
groaned.
"Are you all right, sir?" Alfred looks on concerned.
"You don't look well, if you don't mind me saying so."
"I'm fine, Alfred." Batman leans back in his chair
and rubs his eyes, waiting for the pain to go away. "I'm
just fine."
Next Issue: We take a look at what a typical day for the Caped
Crusader is like, and Batman gets some news that is anything
but typical!
