Part I:
The Corridors of Power
“Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Eternal, and eternal I shall endure.
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”
-- Dante Alighieri
"For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?"
-- Luke 9:25
The Gotham Ritz
9:23 AM
Jim felt flutters in his stomach. The elevator shot up past floors. His bodyguard, Officer Melvin Brown, close by. A single GCPD officer served as sole protective detail. He wanted it that way. Mayor Hill's detail was huge. Two dozen cops in black suits with black ties, black shirts, and black shoes. Très fascist fashions. They formed a mini Praetorian Guard. Lines blurred. They became more mini Gestapo. They muscled the mayor's enemies. They tapped phones. They shook down wealthy Gothamites for contributions to the Hill slush fund. Jim's very first act as mayor: Destroy the protection detail, shatter it into a thousand pieces. Cops on the detail were fired outright or given a chance to quietly retire and take half pensions. Brown was his main protection against a would-be assassin. Jim supplemented it with a .38 detective special he kept in a shoulder rig. His suit coat was baggy enough to hide the piece. He still carried heat. Old habits died hard.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. He stepped out into the Ritz's penthouse suite. Evidence of a party's aftermath all around him. Empty glasses on the floor, articles of clothing covered couches, empty liquor bottles stuffed into a plant pot, a used rubber hung on a lampshade, coke residue scattered on a coffee table. Naked call girls sleeping on the floor. His head felt light. Dizziness came and went. The sights made him woozy.
He found them outside on the balcony. County Sheriff Scott Andrews, County Administrator Hubert Perkins, Gotham DA Carl Hull, and US Senator Rupert Thorne. Andrews, Perkins, and Hull wore suits, Thorne wore a bathrobe and slippers. The four wolfed down breakfast food, bacon and eggs with hash browns, coffee, and booze. They stopped when Jim stepped out.
"Mr. Mayor," said Thorne. "Have a seat, have a seat. I hope you don't mind we went ahead and started breakfast without you."
Hull said, "We figured you weren't coming."
Andrews winked, "Six months since your election and you still haven't showed up to our little breakfast pow-wows. Where is the love, Jimboy?"
Jim waved Brown inside the suite while he took a seat at the table. Jim and Hull were the city powers, Perkins and Andrews held the county power. Thorne towered above them all with his hands on state and federal money. The monthly meeting between the municipal powers was where Thorne held court.
Thorne said, "Regardless, he's here now and he is a very welcome presence. Mayor Hill was a valued member of our little meetings, and I hope Jim continues the good work of the former mayor."
They spieled while room service sent up a plate of food for Jim. Perkins cracked racist jokes. Thorne regaled the men with last night's exploits. He did hookers three at a time while coked out of his mind. His food came on a tray with beer and booze. Andrews and Hull pounded shots and Irish coffee. Andrews and Thorne danced an Irish jig arm in arm. Hull did some soft shoe. Jim felt queasy. The booze tempted him. The Thirst came on strong. He forced his food down and zeroed in on secrets.
His big secret: Dirt files on all the men gathered at the table. He found them three years ago when Loeb went to jail. An IA asset forfeiture squad raided Loeb's private safety deposit box. The squad found a USB drive filled with hidden secrets on Gotham's elite. Twelve gigs worth of secrets. Twelve gigs worth of political juice. The words DENT, HARVEY spooked him bad. He read it. It had all of Dent's mental history, his family problems and everything Gordon and Batman never knew until it was way too late. His file there too. Detailed paperwork on his rehab stints, copies of the divorce papers Barbara's lawyer served him with. The papers cited his affair with Sarah and drinking as grounds for divorce. He pocketed it, fudged the chain of evidence so it wouldn't be missed. He wiped his file from the driver and stashed it in his own safe deposit box. He was too afraid to read the rest of the files on the drive. He could not trust himself with that type of information. He would either use it as blackmail or evidence. Either way his political career would be up in smoke.
The party hit a lull. Thorne said, "There is a lot of federal money coming down the pipes, boys. A few senators and I are working on an urban redevelopment bill. This bill will put the entire east side right in the crosshairs of federal grants. It's still going to be a year or two out, but there is going to be a lot of money made on that land. Right now the property out there is dirt cheap. I suggest we all get to buying."
Hull picked his nose, "In my legal opinion, land is always a good investment."
Thorne picked bacon from his teeth, "The entire east side, my friends. The East End, the Bowery, even spilling out into the county. We'll make at least seven figures on kickbacks alone."
Perkins winked. "Kick out all *******s, jack up the prices, and sell it to the rich white people who think it's hip to live in a bad neighborhood. Gentrification at its finest."
Andrews smiled. "God, I love this country."
They went silent. All eyes fell on Jim. He sweated through his jack and coat. The Thirst practically screamed from inside of him. He did a quick count: At least six counts of federal fraud and corruption felonies. Andrews popped his knuckles. Hull flicked a booger off the balcony.
Jim held his glass of water up for a toast.
"God bless America."
They cheered. Jim wiped sweat and gulped water. Welcome to the corridors of power.
******
Kavanaugh's Pub
2:12 PM
Vin Gonzales sat at the bar nursing a beer. Cops drained glasses of beer. Uniformed patrolmen did shots at the bar. Half of them were on duty. Vin was dressed in street clothes. Captain Reddin had Vin's badge and gun in his desk at the Western District station. He was on paid suspension until an IA investigation cleared him of assault charges.
He put a drug dealer's head through a car window. The boy was just fifteen, but the little bastard raised up on him. Vin made him pay dearly for his mistake. The kid nearly bled out on the scene. He came out of ICU with over sixty stitches in his head and missing an eye. That was a week ago. The IA probe was taking too long. There was the kid's testimony along with at least a half dozen eyeball witnesses at the scene. Vin figured he'd get his walking papers soon. Handcuffs to follow right after. This marked his second excessive violence complaint this year, his sixth one overall.
Vin waved the bartender over. "Lemme get another beer."
The barman placed a cold one down on the bar a minute later.
"Compliments of the man in the corner booth. He requested your presence at his booth."
Vin turned around. Hard to see through dim-lighting and smoky haze. He made out a figure. Big and in shadow. Vaguely familiar. He walked over. A big man, six foot five at least, with short gray-blonde hair sat with a newspaper folded in front of him, something underneath. No drink on the table. Vin sat down and eyeballed the guy. A baggy suit hiding his piece and shoulder rig, a big automatic from the look of it.
"Officer Gonzales. Do you know who I am?"
"Flass, right?"
"Inspector Flass to be precise."
"Inspector, what do you want?"
Flass smiled. "Call me Arnold."
"Arnold... what do you want?"
"To talk to you. Your name has come up in conversation with certain company. You have piqued my interest. I read your jacket and liked what I saw, especially your excessive violence complaints. Six total and you've only been on the PD three years. That must be a record. What motivates you, son? A traumatic past? Family abuse? Or have you always been a mean bastard?"
Vin clinched his fists until the knuckles turned white. He almost went across the table. Flass was almost twenty years older, but the man was bigger and looked just as mean. Plus he had a gun. He moved to leave. A big hand grabbed his wrist fast. Flass's grip like a vise. He barred his teeth.
"What. Do. You. Want?"
Flass winked, let his wrist go. "I want your help. I need a new man on my squad. The Surveillance Unit."
"Tail work?"
"It's an innocuous sounding title, Vin, but I promise you it is much more than surveillance. It's a job few men have the stomach for, but you were born for."
"You're barking up the wrong tree. I'm on my way out the department. Probably headed to jail. I'm sure you heard that while I was piquing your goddamn interest."
Flass smiled and pulled the newspaper back. His gun and badge sitting on the table. Vin looked down and then up, slack-jawed and catching flies.
"How?"
"The drug dealer you so appropriately punished has dropped all charges against you. The witnesses at the scene recanted their testimony. Now, pick your things up off the table."
He grabbed at the gun and badge and clipped them on to his belt.
"Why and how?"
"Because you are a violent man. A thug, really. You have a ferocious temper. I plan on using that temper as a weapon. The world we live in, an appropriate amount of thuggery is called for to function properly. Despite our mayor and police commissioner's attitudes, the GCPD still needs men like you. As for the how..."
Flass laid brass knucks on the table. Chipped, smeared with blood and dotted with shards of teeth.
"Memory is a fickle thing."
******
Gotham City Hall
3:30 PM
The mayor's office on the top floor. Photos of Barbara on the desk. Everything else spartan and bare. Gone were Hamilton Hill's tacky faux fur and hunting trophies. He still hadn't gotten around to any type of decorations.
"Sounds like you're screwed."
Sarah Essen flashed a wry smile. Jim felt his heart skip a bit at the sight of that smile. He and Sarah came up together in the PD. She was fresh out of the academy when he arrived from Chi-Town. They were drawn to each other. The spark between them always felt like it could be something more. They were both detectives when those sparks turned out to be kindling, igniting a raging inferno that caused Jim his marriage and gave Sarah a reputation as a girl who slept around. The affair led to a fifteen years self-imposed exile from each other after that. They were dangerous together. Passions could not be contained. Just like the booze, Jim had the Thirst for Sarah. The years had tempered their passions. They could stand to be in a room alone together without ending up on the floor naked. Jim learned self-control and Sarah made her way in the department on her own merits. The city council, not him, appointed her interim police commissioner after Jim resigned to become mayor. That spark still sat there between them. He was afraid to acknowledge it. So was she. Their roles demanded a chaste relationship.
"Astute observation. You should try being a detective, you might make a good one."
He lit up two cigarettes and passed her one. They smoked in silence. Jim replayed the meeting with Thorne and the others over in his head. Threats, implied and real, came to the forefront. He relayed the scene to Sarah. Politics was not his milieu, even as a politician. Sarah acted as his guide and adviser on all related matters.
"You did good from what I could see," she finally said. "Let them plot and scheme all they want. You're mayor of the city and nothing can go on illegally without your consent. Your worst enemy at this point is yourself."
"That's... disturbing, but insightful."
"Just remember to tread carefully from here on out. Thorne is a US senator. He controls federal purse strings. He can make this entire city hurt if he feels like it."
Jim blew smoke and frowned and said, "I know. I just have trouble with this. I'm not a real politician."
Sarah smiled. "Bull Don't give me that. Look who you're talking to. Every cop who made rank above patrolmen is a politician. You have to be a politician to make rank. Even being anti-political is being political, Jim. Your end-around with Batman was a political move and look where it got you. You say you're not political, well too goddamn bad. You need to start getting political if you want to stay in this lovely office."
He stubbed his cigarette out in a glass ashtray and looked at her.
"I seem to recall you wanted to see me about something as well."
Her eyes flashed annoyance. "Flass. I want to eliminate his unit once and for all. They're nothing but a bunch of crooks."
"So you went and bypassed the public safety committee and came right to the mayor?"
Sarah shrugged. He saw a smile somewhere beneath her frustration. "What's the point of having the mayor's ear if you can't tug on it once and a while?"
Flass. A lot of history there between them. All of it bad. They both made rank at the same time. Flass was old school Gotham cop which meant he shot first and let someone smarter sort out the dead bodies and what it all meant. They brushed up against each other over fiive years ago. Flass had a good five inches and fifty pounds on him and Jim still made him bleed. Flass. A killer with a badge and a lot of political juice behind him. Including the new mayor. Their pact. Their agreement. Mutually assured destruction.
"Let me work on it and see what I can do."
Sarah winked. Jim felt his heart skip a beat. He looked past her out the window. Gotham Central sat a block away. He saw the roof and the tarp-covered object on it. The bat-signal. The last time it burned was during those insane three weeks two years ago. When Harvey Dent became a monster and a partnership of three was ripped apart.
This office and this job. It wasn't meant for him and it never was. It was Dent's for the taking. Harvey was their politician. Jim and Batman were the men of action. Harvey was the dreamer, the planner. And now? Their planner sat in a padded cell, sans half his face.
If this city could tear even Harvey Dent down, then what chance did he have at changing it?
Sarah said, "A penny for your thoughts."
Jim smirked, tried to hide his thoughts. "Thinking of getting out of here and taking you to dinner tonight. Interested?"
She smiled back Jim forgot all about Batman, Flass, and the corrupt powers that be.
"Let's go."
******
Northern Gotham City
4:24 PM
Adolphus Wood Parkway packed tight. Southbound traffic locked bumper to bumper. The armored car stalled in traffic. A three man team on the courier run. Two armed guards in the cab arguing over the radio, one in the back flipping through a skinmag. The driver put on the golden oldies station. The passenger made the jerk-off sign and rolled his eyes. Traffic began to move. Glenn Miller's orchestra played Perfidia. The armored car made downtown in record time. Perfidia faded. Sinatra crooned Blue Moon.
At Fourth and Monroe the pavement beneath the armored car exploded. The explosion twisted the behemoth onto its side. It skidded across sidewalk and flattened parked cars. The armored car slammed into a department store. Glass shattered. Mannequins went flying. The car came to a stop. People ran and screamed. A black sedan pulled up. Four men jumped out. Masked with gray hoodies, black gloves, blue jeans and weapons. A man in a Batman mask carried a combat 12 gauge. A man in a pig mask carried an Uzi. A man in a Spider-Man mask carried an AK-47. A man in a Mickey Mouse mask carried a pistol and a satchel. Mickey pulled a homemade bomb from the satchel and placed it on the rear door.
Batman fired breaching rounds into the cab. The guards screamed, fired back. Their shots missed wide. Batman kept firing, pumped ten shots into the cab. Blood spattered the windows, blood spattered the seats, blood ran out the cab. Mickey stood at the back of the car, set a charge on the door and ran. A small explosion blew off the car's back door. The guard in the back came out firing. Two rounds caught Mickey flush in the chest. Pig boy and Spider-Man blew the guard away with automatic rounds. Spider-Man stepped over the dead guard, fired twice into the body to make sure he stayed down, went inside the flipped car. Mickey got up, picked mushroomed bullets from a kevlar vest underneath the hoodie. He stood on wobbly legs, dry heaved inside his mask.
Thirty seconds later, Spider-Man came out the back with two big manila envelopes under his arm. The four robbers retreated to the car. Batman got behind the wheel. They hauled away from the scene. Car alarms went haywire. Burglar alarms rang. Bystanders screamed. Sirens wailed far away. The radio blasted Sinatra. Blue Moon echoed through the sounds of chaos.
