Carmine Falcone was smiling.
Adorned in the customary orange jumpsuit of Stonegate Prison, the former mobster had been awaiting trial for multiple counts of conspiracy to commit murder and assault for months, now. But due to a certain number of... influences, the trial had been stalled due to mysteriously disappearing evidence. Falcone was smart, and he knew it wouldn't be enough to throw out the case entirely. But it certainly wouldn't take much to keep it stalled as long as he needed. And that, Carmine imagined, would be a very long time to come. Despite the convenience of such a situation, however, that wasn't why he was smiling. Or why he was practically on cloud nine. The reason was that, only on a morning such as this could Carmine taste the sweet nectar of one of life's few remaining pleasantries while behind bars: The sensation of victory.
Having been jailed for months, never a day went by when Falcone didn't remember the man who put him there. And it
was a man, despite what half the city seemed to believe. Carmine had seen the emotion on his masked face the night he encountered him - that anger, that so many of his victims' loved ones gave him whenever he had walked the streets. The difference was, those men had no guts or glory to do what they should've. The Batman had come the closest. And Falcone wasn't about to let that go.
"Falcone! You got visitors,", The guard motioned, unlocking the cell door to escort him down to the visitors' center. "Come on, let's not keep them waitin'."
"Oh, no. I wouldn't want to do that," The mobster agreed, with a sick smile on his lips.
"Well? What are you waiting for? My audience awaits."
The guard raised his eyebrow, but directed him out, as the two walked onto the cellblock. At first, he didn't know what to make of Falcone's commet... but the message soon became clear. Instantly from every side, it seemed like the entire prison had erupted with life, as the usually quiet rows of convicts exploded in cheers and claps, upon seeing Falcone's recognizable figure. The mobster grinned, not paying attention to any of them. He was too busy savoring the moment to himself.
"What the hell was that all about?", The guard asked no one in particular.
Falcone turned his head, nonchalant as he was lead to the end of the corridor.
"Maybe they heard the news, too."
And the smile became even wider, as he said it.
"The Bat is dead."
"You look good today, boss."
Falcone sneered for a moment, but nodded as his loyal assistant, Mario, gave him the compliment. Mario always said the same thing, and it was beginning to get on Carmine's nerves. He already knew he looked good. But today, he probably looked even better. Now that the freak was finally out of the way.
"I feel good, Mario. Today is a day to be remembered.", Falcone explained.
"Tell me, my most trusted confidant. How is my family on this day?"
"No worse than usual, Mr. Falcone.", Mario answered.
"The kids still miss ya, and your wife... she still grieves the loss of her brother."
Falcone looked off, uncaring as he inspected his manicured fingernails.
"Yes, well... he was becoming a problem. Sacrifices had to be made."
"Of course, boss."
"And you say my children miss me?"
"Terribly. Little Francisca asks about you every day."
Falcone's expression changed, as he suddenly seemed moved. His little girl was his pride and joy, and to hear such news broke Carmine's heart. But the news of today was made even more sweeter by the fact, as he realized that the man that had taken it all away was finally gone. Now his little Francisca would have justice.
"Then you are to bring her back some good news about her father, Mario. News that she has been seeking every day for months, now.", Falcone began.
"My dear friend, I have finally grown tired of my time. My debts to society have been paid, and my sentence has been met."
"But... Boss, you were never sentenced."
"I know that, idioso.", Falcone sneered.
"I meant the sentence that I myself determined. I had never planned to stay here, forever."
"Then why did you, boss?"
Carmine narrowed his eyes.
"Because he was out there. Waiting for me. Expecting it to happen. I stayed in here out of simple spite, to let him savor what he valued as a victory. Without such a distraction, last night would not have been possible. And for that, I doubt he ever saw it coming."
Mario chuckled to himself, just as pleased as his boss was with the mention.
"Tell me, to whom of my loyal officers do I owe the victory?"
"It was Zucco's call, boss.", Mario offered.
"He's been runnin' things while you been away. Keepin' your seat warm for you."
"Zucco...", Falcone said under his breath, surprised.
"I am impressed. Months ago, he would not be able to accomplish such a feat, let alone wash himself. I underestimated him, and for that, I shall give my thanks to him in person."
"When are you planning to get out?"
"Soon, Mario. Soon."
Falcone smiled.
"For now, let me give a moment of silence to The Bat. May he rest in peace."
Almost precisely on cue, the cellblock erupted once again.
"-ere to report breaking news, on the top of the hour. This is The Gotham Guardian."
Alfred Jarvis had only just managed to pull himself away for his duties, at the start of the morning news. After a hectic night of dealing with stressful trauma, he found it to be a rather suitable way to relax himself before heading 'back into the fire', so to speak. Wiping his hands of dried blood and water, the young assistant to Bruce Wayne picked up the remote to the living room television and turned up the volume. On the screen appeared both a male and female newscaster, the hosts of 'The Gotham Guardian': Mike Engel and Vicki Vale.
"It is now 6:30 AM, as the sun rises early today. I'm Mike Engel."
"And I'm Vicki Vale, joining you live with a breaking news story on the top of the hour."
As the program begins, Alfred turns, hearing his employer's cellphone go off. Getting up from his seat, he flips it open, answering immediately.
"Wayne Towers, Bruce Wayne's residence."
Alfred's attention was immediately turned back to the television, however, when a large Bat-like ensignia appeared next to a closeup of Ms. Vale's face.
"...N-no, I'm sorry, he's not awake at the moment."
"As the day begins, unconfirmed reports circling news venues around the city suggest that the vigilante known as 'Bat-Man' was killed last night during a rioting at the city's dock circuit. The Bat-Man, an alias given to him by the press based on eyewitness accounts, was said to have been attempting to flee the scene when protesters ambushed him in response to his alleged involvement in the murder of Gotham City police officer John Grayson. Grayson died last week of injuries inflicted by gunshot wounds."
"Yes, I'll be sure to alert him when he's available. Good day."
Alfred left the phone open, as the newscast continued.
"The alleged attack itself was said to be organized when an anonymous source cited the location of The Bat-Man just moments before he was to have appeared. While police are not commenting at this time, it is unlikely that they were affiliated with the vigilante. Commissioner Gordon himself, following the death of Detective Grayson, issued a warrant for his arrest just last month. As of now, the Bat-Man's identity remains unknown."
My word, Alfred thought to himself.
Ordinary citizens did that to him?
Peeking around the corner of the hall, Alfred spotted a glimpse of his employer in question, deeply unconcious in his own bed. Heavily bandaged around the arms, ribs, and head, after a full night's work to prevent his death from massive blood loss alone. He was lucky to have survived. But it seemed, as the newscast indicated, that was not what the city itself believed. Perhaps this was the way out that Alfred had been looking patiently for. Maybe, god willing, this would provoke Bruce into giving it up once and for all.
One can only hope., He again thought to himself, turning off the television.
A sudden knock at the door interrupted his train of thought, as Alfred stood and rushed to the door instantly. His first instinct was that it was a buisness partner, or a paparrazi looking to get an interview with Wayne for the front page celebrity columns. If they saw Bruce as he was, there'd undoubtedly be a much larger story to tell...
Looking at the security camera panel on the sidewall, Alfred was relieved to discover that it was simply Ms. Harriet Cooper, Bruce's housemaid and the occupant of the suite just across the hall. Opening the door only slightly, Alfred gave a warm smile to the elderly woman, trying his best to hide his and Bruce's current and trying situation.
"Ms. Cooper! What a lovely surprise,", He stated.
"And how are you, this morning?"
"Oh, Alfred, you're such a dear. Always asking about me,", Ms. Cooper replied, cheerful as ever.
"I'm doing well. How are you and Bruce?"
Alfred paused for a moment, trying carefully not to give anything away.
"Oh, you know us. We're managing."
"That's good to hear. Bruce can be such a distant man... it's almost hard to tell.", She mentions, looking over Alfred's shoulder.
"Is he here, Alfred?"
"Oh.", Alfred says, absently.
"He's currently, ah... out of town on buisness. Did you need him for something?"
Ms. Cooper narrows her eyes, fascinated.
"Out of town? My. It must be such a luxurious job to be going out of town for... I can't possibly imagine. I just hope he didn't forget what day it was."
"Day, miss?"
"Yes,", Ms. Cooper continued.
"Today's the day of the adoption hearing."
And suddenly, he freezes.
"Adoption hearing...", Alfred says to himself, with widened eyes.
"Oh, my lord. He... I mean, I must have completely forgot. For the Grayson boy?"
"Oh, yes. It's such a terrible thing, that child's gone through. To lose his father to that... horrible vigilante.", Cooper says, sadly.
"Sometimes, I just get the feeling this city isn't as safe as it used to be."
"Don't we all.", he replies, his eyes shifting back.
"Well, I'm sure Bruce hasn't forgot. It's just that his flights to and from the city are usually hectic, so it's terribly difficult to imagine when exactly he will return."
Ms. Cooper frowns, looking astry.
"Dreadful. Simply dreadful. I was so hoping he'd be there to meet Richard."
"As was he. However, I'm quite certain he wouldn't want to miss the boy's first day as a resident. I'll make it his first priority at once as soon as he returns."
"That would be lovely of you, Alfred. Thank you. I'm sure Richard would need the company, in such a difficult time.", Harriet finishes, before looking at her watch.
"Well, I had better get down to the courthouse. I don't want to be late. Goodbye, Alfred."
Alfred nods.
"Madam."
As Ms. Cooper continues towards the elevator, Alfred quickly shuts the door, already feeling both compromised and ashamed for the slight lie he had to tell. But, such was the way of keeping secrets. Especially ones as drastic as these. Wiping the sweat off of his brow with the bloody cloth he was hiding from Harriet the entire conversation, Alfred looks down the hall once more.
"Bruce?", He asks.
"Sir, are you feeling alright? I know you're in a great deal of pain at the moment, but it seems we have a..."
With a closer look, Alfred realizes that Bruce isn't in his bedroom anymore.
"...a situation."
He sighs to himself, having had enough stress for one morning.
Ah, bloody hell.
Welcome Home, Mr. Wayne
"Oracle.", I nod, just barely cohesive after being given dozens of painkillers.
"Status report."
Crime Rate Percentage At Fifty Six Point Three Percent
Less than yesterday. Good. I don't need any more distractions today.
"Carry on."
Protocol Scan Resuming
I sit down at my workbench, and weakly grab the lighter. Fingers are probably more broken than they feel. Showing little sign of concern, I search around for a pack of cigarettes while pulling up my latest project: A multi-skeletal robotic claw glove. No idea why I'd ever need such a thing, but it helps to be prepared.
"Oracle, see that I'm not disturbed unless absolutely necessary."
Request Acknowledged
I've been far too careless.
In this war, this battle, hell, in this life general... there are only so many mistakes you can make before it ends inside a bodybag stuffed within a morgue. And for the last few months, I've been teetering the line between a valuble soldier and a thrillseeker out for kicks and looking to get himself killed. I was disciplined better than this. Trained better than I've been. Gotham City, as I've been learning these last few years, is no simple steel cage full of scum - it's a war zone full of multiple facets of evil. I went out of my way to stop the mob, and scare the minor ones... the muggers, the thieves, and murderers. The simple ones. I don't know where or when it got so complicated, but I've noticed the change slowly taking over. Whenever I put Falcone away... the weirder ones starting coming out of the woodwork.
Occultists.
Biochemical ganglords.
Extremist drug smugglers.
Schitzophrenic terrorists with delusions of grandier.
The list goes on. And the
names... I'm still trying to get over the names. The Monk. Doctor Death. The Chemical Kingpin. Duke Clemence D'Orterre. Sin Fang. I realize the hypocrisy of my critiquing of it all, but my god... I went into it with the intention of theatrics. I allowed the public to name me 'Batman'. Most of these people actually think these aliases are some divine destiny that awaits them - it's absolute insanity. And that's just one of the mistakes I've made. I didn't take the time to prepare for this kind of threat, let alone even imagine it. There's no telling how many more varieties of them are out there. I find myself asking the dreaded question more and more as the weeks go by: How can I fight a threat that's completely unpredictable?
The question lingers on my mind, as I light up a new cigarette and breathe in the burning nicotine. It's the only thing that distracts me from the pain of my injuries. Last night was both a disaster... and a revelation. I realized, firstly, that I've had it with pulling my punches. If the mob's going to play dirty, I need to fight dirtier. Grittier. Starting with the costume: The basic concept was sound, and even meritable, but it's lost it's edge. I was dressing to fight a battle against crime in the modern era using a pair of tights over armor to get my point across. And I actually expected it to scare people. Simple mistakes like that almost cost me everything. Infact, my entire arsenal needs a similar upgrade. It's going to take a lot of work, but I can handle it.
It's all for the mission. I need to never forget that.
Taking the lit cigarette out of my mouth, I crush it into the ashtray and bring out a sheet of past designs. Back when I first experimented with the costume - fabrics, armor types, concepts and so forth. I settled for less when I could afford much more.
Like I said. Mistakes.
"Oracle,", I say for one final time.
"Get the boys at Goth Tech on a secure line. I'm going to need some supplies."
Request Acknowledged
I heard the newscast Alfred was watching. The entire city believes Batman to be dead. I say, good. Let's keep it that way.
His return to the streets needs as much supernatural flair as possible.
