Wayne of Gotham

by Tracy Hickman

  “Kronos: activate!” he said again.

  “Activated.” The console answered this time, but Bruce realized the sound was indistinct and muffled, as it was coming from beneath him. “Systems online. Main bus charge level sixty-nine percent.”

  The cowl…the sound is routed through the cowl.

  “Kronos: audio to panel and exterior view to panel,” Bruce barked. The visual displays would all be two-dimensional without the cowl, and he would have limited tactical awareness. The vehicle was chained down to the railcar, so the drive wheels would be useless. Time was slipping away from Bruce Wayne.

  The eye-level displays lit up instantly. Bruce could see the clown police milling about the car with their weapons drawn but none of them firing. The Joker stood next to the rails pointing up at him and doing a little dance.

  I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to know who is behind all this.

  “Kronos: increase physical profile twenty-five percent,” he said, pulling at the safety restraints. He managed to find and straighten them out, though each needed adjustment to fit him without the bulk of his Batsuit, which still sat under him.

  The vehicle responded to his command. The exterior shell of the car, charged with electric current, pushed outward, inflating its size against the restraining chains, which creaked and groaned under the pressure but held strong.

  “External resistance approaching stress limits,” the car responded. “Fuel stable at eighty-six percent. Power reserves dropping to fifty-three percent.”

  “Kronos: reset physical profile,” Bruce said.

  I have to move! There’s no time…

  “Did you ever wonder how long a bat will keep?” the Joker asked the Nervous Clown, his gun arm draped over the quivering thug’s shoulder. “I mean without refrigeration. Normally I would never advocate leaving a bat inside a car, say, on a hot day while going into a grocery store or embarking on a protracted cruise. However, we have an opportunity now to—”

  Short gouts of flame exploded from ports suddenly appearing in the car’s body, rocking the railcar from side to side. The clown police leaped off of the railcar, scattering from the jet’s blast.

  “Oh, pardon me!” Joker exclaimed. “Was that me?”

  Suddenly, four columns of flame and smoke erupted from the back of the chained-down Batmobile, their exhaust merging into one. The roar filled the enormous space with a sound that forced many of the clown police to their knees, hands slammed against their ears.

  The railcar groaned…and then started to roll down the track.

  “NO!” the Joker screamed, his words swallowed up in the deafening sound of the rocket motor. “You’ll ruin everything!”

  The railcar and its chained, raging cargo, rumbled faster and faster down the rails together, picking up speed as it vanished into the subway tunnel beneath the city.

  “Stop him, you morons! Arrest him!” the Joker yelled. “What’s happened to law and order in this city? Bring him back!”

  The clown police were galvanized into action. Those left standing on the tracks rushed back into the tunnel and down a maintenance side tunnel. They soon reappeared in pairs astride ATVs, their drivers hunched down over the handle bars while their passengers were readying weapons ranging from assault rifles to rocket-propelled grenades. They plunged into pursuit of the rocketing railcar, the high-pitched keening of their engines changing to an echoed pitch as they followed the smoke trail into the subway tunnel.

  The Joker clambered quickly back onto Platform Sixty-one, smoke from the rocket engine still choking the room.

  “Well, that might have gone better.” The Joker sniffed, and he climbed back up the stairs to his throne. “But you know, whenever I get discouraged or think life is getting me down, there’s one thing that always cheers me up.”

  He sat down, picking up a laptop. An Ethernet cable connected it into a port on one of the routers rack-mounted in a stack on one wall. He opened the laptop. The screen sprang to life, displaying “Gotham Transit Authority Rail Service.”

  “I relax by playing with my trains,” the Joker said, cracking his knuckles before pressing the keys.

  The displays were giving Bruce a clear night-vision view of the tunnel as it moved past him at an increasing rate. A digital counter in the corner continued counting down the seconds to the four PAM rockets shut down.

  Twenty- five…twenty-four…twenty-three…

  It cannot happen too soon.

  The PAMs were propelled by solid fuel. It was efficient and relatively stable as propellants went, but once ignited, it could not be stopped—it had to burn its full duration. Each alone would have been sufficient to thrust the Batmobile forward significantly in normal conditions, but the enormous weight of the railcar might have slowed his exit enough to allow the Joker and his henchmen to toss something large in front of him and completely block his escape. So he had ignited all four at once. Even then, he was only guessing at the mass and resistance of the old railcar and, for a moment, was concerned the thrust would not be adequate. Then the flatbed started to slide down the rails propelled by the vehicle, straining against its restraining chains and leaving the platform and the underground control room behind.

  Bruce now saw that he had leaped from the Joker’s frying pan into a different line of fire; the transformation of the railcar into a rocket sled. The speed may not have been great compared to the normal operating limits of the Batmobile in these tunnels, but for a rolling stock railcar attached to the rails only by its weight and the strength of its open wheels, the velocity was beyond dangerous. They were a top-heavy, rocket-driven sled…

  And they were rapidly approaching a bend in the track.

  “Kronos: plot track forward and display!” Bruce said quickly.

  “Three hundred meters to intersection with Diamond District line.”

  Bruce glanced again at the PAM countdown to end of thrust.

  Fifteen seconds. At this speed, the corner is four seconds away.

  “Kronos!” The stress Bruce was feeling was reflected in his voice. “RCS control to manual. Status?”

  “RCS manual and online.”

  Bruce gripped the controllers on either side of the pilot seat, drawing in a breath as the railcar entered the left curve.

  The railcar pushed hard to the right with inertial force, tipping precariously. Bruce slammed the lateral control hard to the left. The reaction rocket motors fired both front and back, pushing against the tipping mass. He held the thrust constant, watching the heat indicators on the thrusters climb dangerously high but knowing the alternative to melt down was an uncontrolled crash. The thrusters kept the railcar held through the curve, and the left wheels of the carriage slammed down with a terrible squeal as the rail tunnel straightened out before them.

  Bruce shook from side to side in the still-too-loose restraints, sweat beading on his brow. The turn had robbed some of their speed, but the continued burning of the PAM motors was quickly increasing the acceleration once more.

  “Kronos: track green to Diamond District Line!” Bruce called. “Track green,” the computer answered.

  Wayne Enterprises had computerized the subway routing system back in 2004. Bruce had made sure that he knew the back door into the control system precisely for this purpose: so that he could manipulate the subway traffic and allow this version of the Batmobile to traverse beneath the city. It was normally a sophisticated system that subtly delayed or advanced the subway trains in such a way that commuters never knew that the Caped Crusader was moving through the same tunnels they used to commute to work and home again.

  Now is not the time for subtlety.

  The red light on the line switched to green, the points ahead having been switched. Suddenly the light went red again.

  Joker! He’s using my own system against me!

  “Kronos: track green to Diamond District Line!” Bruce shouted, though he knew the only difference it would make to the audio interpreter was possibly to confuse it.


  “Track green,” the computer answered as the light turned green once more.

  It was barely in time. The railcar hit the rail points hard in another left turn into the main subway line. Bruce again slammed the translational controller all the way to the left, firing the side-thrusters at full throttle. He could feel the carriage under him shudder under the contradicting forces. The flatbed railcar again fell hard against the track, but it was now on the main commuter line running around the city. Bruce knew that they were traveling west now on the southern circuit—a straight run for at least a mile before it turned northward. He glanced to his right as the rockets continued to press him into his seat. The Geilla Park Station flew past in a bright blur, its platform filled with the gaping faces of commuters before the rocketing sled and its chained Batmobile cargo again plunged into the darkness.

  Then he saw the light ahead of him.

  The headlight of an oncoming train.

  That’s impossible. The trains on this route always run clockwise around the city.

  “Kronos: magnify ahead times fifty for two seconds.”

  The image of the subway train ahead of him suddenly leaped forward.

  Empty! What’s the matter with Joker…couldn’t he find a full commuter train in time?

  “PAM cutoff in three seconds,” the console announced.

  “Kronos: start main drive,” Bruce said, pulling the straps on his restraining harness as tight as he could make them. The engine behind him spun up. He could feel the rumble through the seat.

  “Kronos: prepare to execute on my command,” Bruce continued as he settled his hands on the steering and drive controls, his feet resting in an awkward position because of the Batsuit still under him. “Minimize profile smooth. Standby?”

  “Ready,” the console confirmed. “PAM cutoff in three…”

  The train was closing quickly with the rocketing flatbed.

  “Two…”

  Bruce held down the clutch, revving up the engine in anticipation.

  “One…Cutoff.”

  Bruce felt the release from the acceleration pressure of the rockets.

  “Execute!” he yelled as he released the clutch.

  The reactive armor shell of the vehicle suddenly collapsed inward, tightening to its smallest size and smoothing itself out. The chains that had bound it suddenly hung slack. They would still rake the car and possibly damage the adaptive armor, but Bruce hoped it would be enough to slip the bonds.

  The wheels of the Batmobile squealed against the rough surface of the flatbed railcar. The Batmobile lurched rearward. The chains tore at the car but with the Batmobile’s exterior minimized, the restraints could find no real purchase in the smooth surface. The Batmobile suddenly sprang free of the chains, its wheels pushing the still-careening railcar from under it as it shot backward.

  Bruce shoved the clutch back in, standing on the brakes at the same time. The Batmobile landed astride one of the rails skidding to a stop.

  The flatbed, shot forward toward the oncoming train, derailing it as it jammed under the front wheels. The subway train began to pile up in the tunnel, folding on itself in a rolling wreck that filled the passage ahead before it ground to a stop.

  Bruce engaged the drive forward, skidding the Batmobile on the tracks and pointing it back toward Geilla Park Station.

  “Kronos: plot course home, then display—”

  An explosion rocked the Batmobile.

  “Combat mode!” Bruce called out as he threw the throttle forward and released the clutch. The displays inside the cockpit of the Batmobile suddenly changed. Weapons systems were coming online in the far right display while the left-hand display showed the car’s exterior shifting from transport optimization to adaptive armor. Heads-up targeting and maneuver displays sprang to life in front of him, although without the Batsuit he had lost some of the dimensional imaging.

  It’s not perfect…but it will have to do.

  The Batmobile shot forward over the rails. Bruce could now see the Clown Police’s ATVs charging down after him in the tunnel.

  Small arms and RPGs. They’ve come to play.

  In the night-vision display he saw the flare of an RPG ignition from the back of one of the ATVs. Bruce reacted instinctively, turning the Batmobile into the path of the ATV that had fired on him. The rocket-propelled grenade slid past the Batmobile, exploding against the wall and kicking Bruce’s vehicle sideways.

  Bruce drove on. The ATV driver wavered for a moment, uncertain as to whether he should drive into the wall or cross in front of the Batmobile.

  It was hesitation enough for Bruce. He clipped the front of the ATV, sending both its occupants sprawling into the tunnel. Then he turned slightly back into the center back onto the tracks and accelerated.

  Bowling for clowns. Bruce smiled to himself.

  The Batmobile plowed through the ATVs on the track, crushing two of them beneath its wheels. Four more bounded off the reactive armor, slamming into other ATVs and tumbling them all savagely across the tracks and against the walls of the enclosed tunnel. The remaining ATVs scattered out of the Batmobile’s way as it powered through them, turning as quickly as they could to continue their pursuit.

  Bruce now saw the Geilla Park Station platform on his left, still filled with commuters. He could make out their astonished faces as they watched the Batmobile roar past them a second time—now free of the railcar—pursued by what looked like traffic patrolmen in clown masks on ATVs.

  With that commuter train blocking the westbound tunnel, it’s going to be a long commute home for them. I wonder if anyone will believe their story?

  The Batmobile roared down the tunnel, its wheels straddling the rails. The tunnel curved through the bowels of Gotham, snaking to the right and then turning hard to the north.

  Fashion District coming up next. That track runs parallel with the City, Financial, and the Sommerset Express lines under the old Cotton Station.

  Another explosion shook the vehicle, sending its back end momentarily into the air. The wheels rebounded as the chassis crashed back toward the tracks, skidding slightly.

  Bruce glanced at the rear display. The remaining ATVs were still behind him, though they were falling further behind.

  He could clearly see the bright area of the Cotton Station platforms ahead through the night-vision displays…and the burning headlight of the scheduled commuter train closing with him directly ahead.

  The regular Diamond District commuter. It has a stop here. I’ll swing to the other track before we reach the platform and lead these clowns down the abandoned Harbor line.

  Bruce’s eyes widened.

  The Diamond commuter train was not slowing down to stop at the station. He could see the panicked engineer frantically trying to work the suddenly ineffective controls.

  Bruce pitched the throttle full forward. The Batmobile responded immediately, surging forward down the track toward the rapidly approaching train. The Cotton Station had platforms on both sides of the track, but only one of them was now in use. There would only be commuters on the western platform, Bruce thought. The east side platform should be deserted. He hoped it was deserted.

  Never play chicken with a train…

  The Batmobile cleared the tunnel moments before the train. Bruce kicked the thrusters again, to the right this time, shoving the Batmobile off the tracks and up onto the east side platform. The back of the Batmobile shattered tiles covering the subway wall.

  Bruce slammed the brake pedal to the floor. The tires of the Batmobile squealed on the cement of the platform. The concrete wall at the north end of the platform was looming ahead of him. To his left, the Diamond District train was still roaring through the station, its cars still filling the tunnel at the northern end of the station, leaving him nowhere to turn.

  The Batmobile continued its skid against the right-hand wall, the all-too-solid end of the platform rushing toward Bruce.

  How long can this train be?

  Sudde
nly, the last car cleared the tunnel and Bruce kicked the thrusters to the left. The Batmobile responded, slammed side-ways by the thrusters back onto the barely cleared tracks and vaulting back into the darkness of the subway tunnel.

  “Now that’s what I call railroading!” the Joker howled. “I say it’s time we all enjoyed a little mass transit.”

  An empty train pulled onto Platform Sixty-one, its doors opening. More trains could be heard approaching behind it. The Clown Police grabbed their weapons, piling into the open subway cars.

  “All aboard!” Joker screamed. “It’s coupon day and everybody rides the ride!”

  Bruce gulped down a breath. The external optics had taken a beating and their clarity had suffered. Some of the feeds were blurry from the right side of the car.

  Through the blur, however, he could see something quite clearly: another train, paralleling him on a second set of tracks, its doors open and filled with heavily armed clown police.

  Bruce throttled back suddenly. The train on the parallel track continued forward, its breaks squealing in reaction. The Clown Train could not brake fast enough. Bruce wheeled the Batmobile around the end of the train, falling in behind the last car. He could see through the smudged cameras that the clown police were gathering quickly in the rear car, working to open the access door so they could fire the rocket-propelled grenades. The momentum of the train continued to carry them forward into the tunnel of the old Harbor line.

  Wait for it…Wait for it…

  The breaking train shifted slightly as it crossed the switcher points to the old Coventry line and veered to the right.

  Bruce nudged the steering to the left. The Batmobile disappeared into the forgotten crosstown tunnel to Coventry as the clown train ground to a halt down the side tunnel.

  A train was stalled on the crossing ahead of him. Another was roaring after him from behind. The red control lights were burning bright in unheeded warning. Bruce dropped the Batmobile precipitously down through an access conduit, the sounds of the grinding collision of the trains fading behind him as the Batmobile fell onto the Westside University line below.