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Chapter 215: No More Batman
2023-10-23 Author: Rowing Without Oars 233
Gotham City Police Department, rooftop.
The golden-yellow Bat-Signal was cast upon the pitch-black clouds, the Bat emblem hanging high in the deep, slightly crimson sky.
Commissioner James Gordon stood by the giant searchlight, lighting what must have been his umpteenth cigarette and puffing out smoke rings.
"I don't think he's coming, Commissioner."
The speaker was Gordon's old partner, Detective Harvey Bullock. A detective with a portly figure and a round belly, he perennially wore a bowler hat and an old overcoat, his belly filled with who knows how much beer and donuts.
"Let's wait a little longer," Gordon said, lighting another cigarette.
Harvey glanced at him. "I thought you'd quit."
"Theoretically, yes. So do an old pal a favor and don't tell Barbara."
"What, now you have to hide your smoking from your daughter?"
"Yeah, she's becoming more and more like a little detective," Gordon said with a smile, tapping the ash from his cigarette. "She's confiscated every cigarette I've hidden in the house. Last night, I couldn't resist and was about to retrieve the one from the crack in the floorboards. Guess what? I only found a note that said, 'You'll have to try harder, Dad.'"
"I suspect you're just taking the chance to boast about your girl's skills. A sweet problem to have." Harvey adjusted his hat. "The kid looks like she'll be a great detective."
"That's not a good thing, especially not in a place like Gotham." Gordon shook his head. "I've always tried my best to keep her away from the police system. I've worked so hard for her to have a better future. But look at us now. The only reason people can sleep soundly is because of some lunatic in a costume. And the worst part is, we might have just lost that lunatic."
He finished his last cigarette and felt inside his pocket, only to find the pack was empty.
"Alright, turn off the light. It's going to burn out if we keep this up." Gordon gestured at the searchlight and turned to leave the rooftop.
Harvey grumbled, "I've said it before, that Bat-lunatic is unreliable. Just a vigilante acting on a whim. It wouldn't be surprising if he got tired of it and quit one day..."
Before he could finish, they both felt a chill on the backs of their necks, as if a cold wind had swept past. The next moment, they turned around in unison to see the familiar, imposing figure emerging from the shadows, having appeared there at some unknown time. Most of his body was wrapped in a large cape as he slowly walked out.
An imperceptible glint of joy flashed in Gordon's eyes.
"You finally came." He smiled faintly. "You're much too late."
"I was held up by something."
Batman, or rather, Orin Vale dressed as Batman, replied.
It was the classic Batman-style guttural voice, processed by a voice changer to sound deep, hoarse, cold, and strange.
"Alright, I won't ask where you went on vacation. Regarding the clue you gave us, I had my best detectives investigate it. You were right. Alien weapons—large quantities of them—were transported through the routes you mentioned and are piled up in a warehouse at Gotham Harbor. Our men exchanged fire with the dock workers. Detective Greed was hit by a ray gun blast... Poor guy, he was supposed to retire next year. I had to be the one to notify his family. There wasn't even much left to bury at the funeral."
"We'll catch them, Jim."
Orin Vale took the documents he was handed and gave them a quick scan. They marked several facilities near Gotham Harbor.
"Cave, cross-reference the facility owner's information," Orin Vale said, connecting to the Batcave.
The ever-capable butler, Alfred, clattered away on the Batcomputer, pulling up the database Batman had established.
After all, Gotham was practically owned by the Waynes. The owner of every building, almost every brick in this city, could be clearly identified through the Batcomputer.
"The owner's name is Jack Snake... a front. The Batcomputer has traced the financial trail. It's a shell company. The lead points to... the Iceberg Lounge."
Hmm?
It seemed unexpected, yet somehow, it made perfect sense.
Penguin, him again?
Hearing this name now, Orin Vale actually felt a sense of familiarity.
After Falcone's fall, it wouldn't be entirely wrong to call The Penguin the emperor of Gotham, yet he couldn't truly live up to the title. He was a rather pathetic emperor. Whenever Batman was investigating a case, if he was out of ideas and had no clues, it was never a mistake to pay a visit to the casino and give Penguin's little head a good knock.
Stuck on a deduction? No leads in the case?
No problem. Why not go ask the amazing Penguin?
Just as Orin Vale looked up after finishing the file, he saw the two detectives in front of him staring at him with a rather odd expression.
"Is there a problem?"
Orin Vale believed his mimicry should have been flawless. The battlesuit and equipment were all original, and the voice was the classic guttural type. There shouldn't have been any giveaways.
"No... nothing," Gordon said strangely. "It's just that I thought... I thought you'd already be gone by the time I turned back around."
Orin Vale: "..."
Crap, I forgot about that.
Batman's classic passive ability: vanishing the moment you look away. The skill had a bonus effect on Commissioner Gordon.
He could only feign nonchalance. "Hmph."
He turned, and under the watchful eyes of the two detectives, silently reached into his cape to pull out his grappling hook, preparing to fly away...
Damn, wrong side. The grappling hook is on the left.
So he nonchalantly switched hands, pulled out the grappling hook, and with a *thwip*, shot it to the rooftop of the opposite building. He pulled the trigger, the rope retracted, and his figure, like a giant bat, flew into the night.
"..."
Conclusion: flying under his own power was more convenient.
Watching Batman depart, the two detectives were silent for a moment.
Gordon muttered to himself, "So this is what it feels like to have a complete conversation..."
"Say, it's not just my imagination, is it, Commissioner?" Harvey adjusted his hat again. "Why do I feel like the Bat was a little... different today?"
Gordon glanced at him, patted Harvey's shoulder, and said meaningfully, "It's best not to ask questions you shouldn't be asking, Harvey."
Iceberg Lounge, somewhere within.
"You are all people of commendable courage."
The Penguin, Cobblepot, puffed on his cigarette holder, standing at the head of a conference table that looked as if it were carved from ice crystals.
Seated around the table were figures in all sorts of strange costumes. A man in a black suit with a red capsule for a head, a black skull like a poison symbol painted on it. A fellow in a yellow and green uniform with a sallow, emaciated, and malnourished face; his body was so thin he looked like a skeleton wrapped in skin. A masked man in a simple white uniform. And another with his face concealed by a purple scarf, wearing spiral-shaped glasses.
"Gas Man, Speed Demon, Human Bomb, Hypno-Master," Cobblepot said. "Look at you all. Different abilities, different talents, different positions, yet you share the same goal. In Gotham, you face a considerable number of threats, and some of them come from your pitifully few friends. Of course, more come from your numerous enemies. This is why you've come here. You need my protection... you need each other's protection. Because, it goes without saying, among those many enemies, we all share a common, and greatest, threat. A single threat."
The Penguin took a hard drag from his cigarette holder, then forcefully spat out the word.
"Batman."
Everyone looked at each other but said nothing.
"But you have my guarantee. United, standing together, we will be invincible. And Batman, in the end, is just one man."
The corner of Cobblepot's mouth twitched, curling slightly upward.
"If I'm not mistaken, Batman should be here very soon—just as he has many times before. But this time, he will find that I have a surprise waiting for him here."
"After today, there will be no more Batman in Gotham City!"
(end of chapter)
2023-10-23 Author: Rowing Without Oars 233
Gotham City Police Department, rooftop.
The golden-yellow Bat-Signal was cast upon the pitch-black clouds, the Bat emblem hanging high in the deep, slightly crimson sky.
Commissioner James Gordon stood by the giant searchlight, lighting what must have been his umpteenth cigarette and puffing out smoke rings.
"I don't think he's coming, Commissioner."
The speaker was Gordon's old partner, Detective Harvey Bullock. A detective with a portly figure and a round belly, he perennially wore a bowler hat and an old overcoat, his belly filled with who knows how much beer and donuts.
"Let's wait a little longer," Gordon said, lighting another cigarette.
Harvey glanced at him. "I thought you'd quit."
"Theoretically, yes. So do an old pal a favor and don't tell Barbara."
"What, now you have to hide your smoking from your daughter?"
"Yeah, she's becoming more and more like a little detective," Gordon said with a smile, tapping the ash from his cigarette. "She's confiscated every cigarette I've hidden in the house. Last night, I couldn't resist and was about to retrieve the one from the crack in the floorboards. Guess what? I only found a note that said, 'You'll have to try harder, Dad.'"
"I suspect you're just taking the chance to boast about your girl's skills. A sweet problem to have." Harvey adjusted his hat. "The kid looks like she'll be a great detective."
"That's not a good thing, especially not in a place like Gotham." Gordon shook his head. "I've always tried my best to keep her away from the police system. I've worked so hard for her to have a better future. But look at us now. The only reason people can sleep soundly is because of some lunatic in a costume. And the worst part is, we might have just lost that lunatic."
He finished his last cigarette and felt inside his pocket, only to find the pack was empty.
"Alright, turn off the light. It's going to burn out if we keep this up." Gordon gestured at the searchlight and turned to leave the rooftop.
Harvey grumbled, "I've said it before, that Bat-lunatic is unreliable. Just a vigilante acting on a whim. It wouldn't be surprising if he got tired of it and quit one day..."
Before he could finish, they both felt a chill on the backs of their necks, as if a cold wind had swept past. The next moment, they turned around in unison to see the familiar, imposing figure emerging from the shadows, having appeared there at some unknown time. Most of his body was wrapped in a large cape as he slowly walked out.
An imperceptible glint of joy flashed in Gordon's eyes.
"You finally came." He smiled faintly. "You're much too late."
"I was held up by something."
Batman, or rather, Orin Vale dressed as Batman, replied.
It was the classic Batman-style guttural voice, processed by a voice changer to sound deep, hoarse, cold, and strange.
"Alright, I won't ask where you went on vacation. Regarding the clue you gave us, I had my best detectives investigate it. You were right. Alien weapons—large quantities of them—were transported through the routes you mentioned and are piled up in a warehouse at Gotham Harbor. Our men exchanged fire with the dock workers. Detective Greed was hit by a ray gun blast... Poor guy, he was supposed to retire next year. I had to be the one to notify his family. There wasn't even much left to bury at the funeral."
"We'll catch them, Jim."
Orin Vale took the documents he was handed and gave them a quick scan. They marked several facilities near Gotham Harbor.
"Cave, cross-reference the facility owner's information," Orin Vale said, connecting to the Batcave.
The ever-capable butler, Alfred, clattered away on the Batcomputer, pulling up the database Batman had established.
After all, Gotham was practically owned by the Waynes. The owner of every building, almost every brick in this city, could be clearly identified through the Batcomputer.
"The owner's name is Jack Snake... a front. The Batcomputer has traced the financial trail. It's a shell company. The lead points to... the Iceberg Lounge."
Hmm?
It seemed unexpected, yet somehow, it made perfect sense.
Penguin, him again?
Hearing this name now, Orin Vale actually felt a sense of familiarity.
After Falcone's fall, it wouldn't be entirely wrong to call The Penguin the emperor of Gotham, yet he couldn't truly live up to the title. He was a rather pathetic emperor. Whenever Batman was investigating a case, if he was out of ideas and had no clues, it was never a mistake to pay a visit to the casino and give Penguin's little head a good knock.
Stuck on a deduction? No leads in the case?
No problem. Why not go ask the amazing Penguin?
Just as Orin Vale looked up after finishing the file, he saw the two detectives in front of him staring at him with a rather odd expression.
"Is there a problem?"
Orin Vale believed his mimicry should have been flawless. The battlesuit and equipment were all original, and the voice was the classic guttural type. There shouldn't have been any giveaways.
"No... nothing," Gordon said strangely. "It's just that I thought... I thought you'd already be gone by the time I turned back around."
Orin Vale: "..."
Crap, I forgot about that.
Batman's classic passive ability: vanishing the moment you look away. The skill had a bonus effect on Commissioner Gordon.
He could only feign nonchalance. "Hmph."
He turned, and under the watchful eyes of the two detectives, silently reached into his cape to pull out his grappling hook, preparing to fly away...
Damn, wrong side. The grappling hook is on the left.
So he nonchalantly switched hands, pulled out the grappling hook, and with a *thwip*, shot it to the rooftop of the opposite building. He pulled the trigger, the rope retracted, and his figure, like a giant bat, flew into the night.
"..."
Conclusion: flying under his own power was more convenient.
Watching Batman depart, the two detectives were silent for a moment.
Gordon muttered to himself, "So this is what it feels like to have a complete conversation..."
"Say, it's not just my imagination, is it, Commissioner?" Harvey adjusted his hat again. "Why do I feel like the Bat was a little... different today?"
Gordon glanced at him, patted Harvey's shoulder, and said meaningfully, "It's best not to ask questions you shouldn't be asking, Harvey."
Iceberg Lounge, somewhere within.
"You are all people of commendable courage."
The Penguin, Cobblepot, puffed on his cigarette holder, standing at the head of a conference table that looked as if it were carved from ice crystals.
Seated around the table were figures in all sorts of strange costumes. A man in a black suit with a red capsule for a head, a black skull like a poison symbol painted on it. A fellow in a yellow and green uniform with a sallow, emaciated, and malnourished face; his body was so thin he looked like a skeleton wrapped in skin. A masked man in a simple white uniform. And another with his face concealed by a purple scarf, wearing spiral-shaped glasses.
"Gas Man, Speed Demon, Human Bomb, Hypno-Master," Cobblepot said. "Look at you all. Different abilities, different talents, different positions, yet you share the same goal. In Gotham, you face a considerable number of threats, and some of them come from your pitifully few friends. Of course, more come from your numerous enemies. This is why you've come here. You need my protection... you need each other's protection. Because, it goes without saying, among those many enemies, we all share a common, and greatest, threat. A single threat."
The Penguin took a hard drag from his cigarette holder, then forcefully spat out the word.
"Batman."
Everyone looked at each other but said nothing.
"But you have my guarantee. United, standing together, we will be invincible. And Batman, in the end, is just one man."
The corner of Cobblepot's mouth twitched, curling slightly upward.
"If I'm not mistaken, Batman should be here very soon—just as he has many times before. But this time, he will find that I have a surprise waiting for him here."
"After today, there will be no more Batman in Gotham City!"
(end of chapter)
