by Marv Wolfman
“So what do I do?” He felt uncertainty, and it was an unwelcome thing.
“There’s not much you can do, sir,” Alfred replied. “Forgiveness will either come in time, or it won’t, but whatever the commissioner decides, it’s out of your hands now.”
“He’s one of the best people I’ve ever known, Alfred,” Batman replied. “To disappoint him… it’s crushing.”
“And for him, as well, I’m sure,” Alfred said. “I’m so sorry about this, but the commissioner is a man who believes in truth and justice, and yet he’s learned that those he trusted most have betrayed him. Add to that the realization of the fact that the daughter he cherishes has been taken by a madman.”
“I have to make things better between us. I can’t let this fester.”
“That may be what you feel you have to do, but now’s not the time. Do your job. Find her. Stop Scarecrow. Save Barbara Gordon. Then whatever will happen will happen.”
“Holding back’s not going to be easy, Alfred.”
“I know, sir. But when has anything worth accomplishing ever been easy?”
20
Alfred was right. He always was right, even when Batman couldn’t bring himself to admit it. He needed to push beyond his fight with Gordon and get back to work. The rest would take care of itself.
The Arkham Knight had been here, in the Clock Tower. Batman had seen it on his comm link. The Knight took Barbara, but left her wheelchair behind, as if to prove a point. She was unconscious and even if she wasn’t she still couldn’t walk, so that had to mean the Knight or one of his men carried Barbara to a waiting vehicle.
“Computers,” Batman said. “Show me the security camera feed from the last two hours.”
“Which cameras shall I activate?”
“The ones facing the access ramps. Show me the rear cameras on monitor screens one and two, then the sides and front on monitors three through nine. Play everything at once. I’ll keep track.”
“Accessing.”
He was too impatient to sit, so he stood and paced the room, sweeping his eyes back and forth between the monitors. As the footage was revealed everything seemed normal.
“Play it at two times normal speed.”
Still nothing out of the ordinary appeared. With the exceptions of residents who lived on the lower floors, comically speeding in and out of the building, there was nothing that surprised him.
At the seven-minute mark the rear camera picked up a shadow. A moment later a small truck pulled into view.
“Computer, play at normal speed.”
The rear doors opened and a moment later the Arkham Knight and four gunmen climbed out. Batman watched the Knight laser through the security lock, wave at the camera, then hurry inside. The Knight knew Batman would be going over the video.
Who the hell is he, and how does he know so much?
“Computer, access interior security cameras, same time frame. Focus on the private elevator.”
“Accessing.”
The holo flickered. He saw the Knight walk into the elevator and glance up at the cameras, knowing exactly where they had been hidden. How? He waved again, then leaned against the back wall as the elevator slowly made its way up to the Penthouse suite. The Knight took out his gun and waved it for Batman to see.
“Computer, access penthouse security cameras, same time frame.”
The image switched to the interior of Barbara’s penthouse. The elevator door opened and the Knight and his men rushed out. Barbara was ready for them—she must have been warned when the elevator was breached. Her tasers took out three of the four mercs, but the Knight’s armor protected him and he rammed into her. Unable to fight back, she spilled out of the overturned wheelchair.
The Knight looked up to the cameras—once again he knew exactly where they’d been placed—then stepped back so Batman could watch him taser Barbara into painful submission.
He then hefted Barbara and carried her back to the elevator. Before he got in he turned to the merc who was still standing and gestured. The merc nodded as the elevator door closed behind the Knight.
“Computer, show me the private elevator on monitor one. Show me the exterior of the building on all other monitors. All the same time frame.”
“Accessing.”
The armored figure carried Barbara to his truck. The camera’s position enabled Batman to see what occurred. The Knight placed her in a rear passenger seat, secured her there, then once again waved. A few minutes later his men climbed into the back, three of them still needing the fourth to help them, and closed the door behind them.
The truck took off.
“Computer, tag the truck then feed the information to the city’s street surveillance computers. I want to track where it’s going.”
“Gotham City street surveillance is no longer functioning. System failure occurred. Cannot access information.”
“Not functioning? When did that happen?”
“Accessing. Unable to determine exact time of system failure.” Yet Batman knew when it had occurred.
“It was when the Knight got into the truck. He wanted me to see him take Barbara away, but he also wanted to make sure I couldn’t follow him.”
“Awaiting further instructions.”
Batman didn’t answer. He stared at the monitor, replaying Barbara’s abduction. He saw the truck move off to the corner then turn right, out of sight.
By now he could be most anywhere.
“Awaiting further instructions.”
He replayed the scene, again and again. “Computer, tighten the image on monitor six. Zoom to three hundred percent.”
“Accessing.”
The Knight could be out of the city by now. Batman wished he had demanded that Barbara leave Gotham City when she called to say she was staying.
“Computer, tighten to four hundred percent on quad four.”
“Accessing.”
“Computer, freeze. Print it out and send me a digital copy.”
“Complying. Awaiting further instructions.”
He stared at the screen and saw a unique set of tire treads moving off and rounding the corner. The truck was built for hauling heavy equipment and required special reinforced tires for that purpose.
“Computer, scan those tire treads into your database. I’m pretty sure I know what they are, but let’s be one hundred percent certain.”
“Accessing. Tires are Amertek D60s. Awaiting further instructions.”
“I’m on my way to the Batmobile. Upload that data to its computer and set it to track. The Knight is clever, but he can’t stop me from finding Barbara.”
“Complying. Awaiting further instructions.”
But there was no one to give it any new commands. Batman had already left.
* * *
He kept his eyes on the Batmobile’s computer screen. The tread pattern was interpreted as a green glyph that moved along the highway. The onboard computers tracked and followed as the Knight’s path led south.
He hit his comm and connected to Alfred.
“We have a lead. I’m following it now. I’m going to find her.”
“I know you will, sir. But I was ruminating over your previous conversation concerning Commissioner Gordon, and I wanted to reiterate that, despite what he might have indicated, you are not responsible for her kidnapping.”
“The Knight is definitely targeting me. He knows everything about me. He knows secrets nobody should know. So how do I skirt the idea that if he’s also targeting my friends, it’s not because he has some kind of vendetta against me?”
“We cannot know why he chose to kidnap Ms. Gordon, but it seems just as likely that the source of his vendetta may be her father. He may be intending to punish the commissioner for any number of reasons.”
“But I’m the one who hunts evils like him and punishes them.”
“No, to many criminals you’re an annoyance, a vigilante run amuck, yet operating outside the law as they do. The commissioner symboli
zes the law. He’s the one with whom they ultimately have to deal. It might be difficult for you to understand, but it’s not always about you, sir.”
“Maybe so, but that still doesn’t help. I may have led my parents to their death. I’m certainly the reason why the Joker paralyzed Barbara. And don’t forget Jason.”
“Once again, sir, young master Todd was killed by the Joker. Maybe in reaction to you, but he chose his target. You did not. He made the decision to brutalize and kill him.”
“Yes, but to get back at me,” Batman said. “To punish me. And now the enemy is after Barbara… again.”
“Sir, I must remind you that Oracle has many enemies of her own. The underworld knew before this that she existed. They knew she had eyes on them.”
“They didn’t know who she was.”
“True, but secrets have a way of leaking out. As you say, the Knight knows too many of yours. What I’m saying, sir, is that Barbara Gordon chose to become Oracle. She chose her life. And if I remember correctly, sir, you tried to talk her out of it.”
“Once Barbara gets her mind set she’s impossible to dissuade.”
“So similar to you. Nevertheless, you have to consider the possibility that the Knight targeted her because of what she might have done to him. Again, you’re not necessarily the center of all universes.” Alfred paused, then continued. “Besides, sir, in the grand scheme of life, you’ve done far more good for this city than anyone else… with the possible exception of your own father and mother.”
“It’s never enough, Alfred,” Batman replied, a hot anger beginning to appear at his core. “Crime’s gone crazy. I arrest one mastermind and five more pop up to replace him. Hell, I’m looking at the computer scroll and the Knight’s soldiers are moving through the city with an armada of tanks that will make short work of anyone who tries to get in their way.
“Watch the news, Alfred. Even the cops are surrendering to him. What good am I doing here? In fact, my presence in Gotham City may be exactly what draws them here.”
But Alfred refused to give ground.
“At worst, you’re making it very difficult for the miscreants to win. At best, you’re showing people that sometimes resistance can work. Bruce Wayne is only a man, sir. But Batman, he’s an ideal toward which one strives. You need to—”
Batman shut off the comm.
He didn’t want any more lectures, and he didn’t want anything to assuage the guilt he felt growing out of control. Guilt that might be exacerbated by the Joker’s tainted blood, or Scarecrow’s fear toxin. And he didn’t want to lash out against Alfred, the one man left who might still be on his side.
So instead of arguing, he settled back in his seat and let the Batmobile follow the tire tracks. Soon, Batman knew, he’d find Barbara and rescue her, and once she was safe he’d confront the Arkham Knight. If the Knight had done anything to hurt Barbara, Batman would make certain that he would never be a threat to anyone else again.
Then, with the Knight gone, he’ll find and stop Scarecrow.
I will find them, and they will die, and I won’t give a damn about—
Startled by the thought, Batman glanced at the mirror. For a moment it looked as if his eyes were sparkling green. Then he looked again, and they were normal.
Normal.
Good. Something about him was normal.
21
The truck had crashed on the highway, about nine miles north of the Gotham Bridge. Its front cabin was smashed in, leaving a tangle of twisted plastic, steel, aluminum, and torn cushions. The front airbags had deployed, but now hung limp from the dashboard, sliced through to remove the driver and passenger.
Batman tore open the rear compartment, but there was nobody back there, either. He checked the tires to make certain this was the correct truck, and it was. He leaned in close and smelled traces of pepper spray. Outside he saw scratch marks and other impressions made in the dirt alongside the road.
After the Joker had attacked and crippled her, Barbara habitually kept a small canister of pepper spray with her at all times. She could no longer fight like Batgirl, but she could still lay low an attacker.
In his mind’s eye he replayed the scenario…
* * *
Barbara slowly and carefully took out the hidden canister. Perhaps the Arkham Knight had been driving, but the Knight wore a full mask, so there’d be no way to effectively use the spray on him. Yet if Batman’s assumption was correct, she’d have sprayed it at the driver in order to disorient him, which meant one of the thugs was driving.
The Knight himself likely took the front passenger seat.
She’d need to check her seat belt, keep it buckled for her plan to work. The others might have been belted, too, but that wouldn’t affect her. She probably leaned forward several times, making it seem like an involuntary nervous reaction. In doing so, she’d create a movement that would become commonplace.
When her captors became complacent, she would lean forward again—this time with the canister in her hand. Then when she shot the pepper spray in the driver’s face, he would react instinctively. His eyes would burn, and he’d be nearly blind in less than five seconds.
The truck would bank and crash. Barbara, knowing what was going to happen, would brace herself for the crash. If all went as she hoped, the others would be incapacitated.
Immediately afterward, she’d free herself from the belt and pull herself from the back. Being unable to walk, she’d try to crawl to freedom—that would explain the marks he saw.
Unfortunately, there were boot prints in the dirt. The Knight may have been disoriented by the crash, but it had been brief. He’d made it out of the truck, too, and most likely recaptured Barbara as she tried to crawl away.
* * *
He scoured the area and found more scratch marks near a medium-sized rock, a few feet further from the truck. He pushed the rock aside and found a small mechanical device—it was a voice scrambler not unlike the one he had used to disguise his own identity.
Barbara must have grabbed it in the confusion, and hid it as she crawled away, certain that Batman would find it. He’d deliver it to Lucius Fox to scan for fingerprints or DNA residue.
There had to be some clue that would lead to the Arkham Knight’s identity.
* * *
“Well, I’m certainly familiar with the underlying electronics,” Lucius Fox said, examining the scrambler’s schematics, slowly rotating them on the screen. “More than familiar, considering the identical device I put together for you several months ago.
“Without the advancements I’ve made since then, however, this one’s at least a generation behind the times. Still it’s… quite impressive. Do you know where your old unit is? If you lost it, that would have given someone the chance to clone it.”
“I think you know me better than that, Lucius,” Batman said. “If it’s so much like yours, though, does it include the same GPS capability?”
“Good thinking, and yes,” Fox replied. “The same to your next question, as well—I’ve already accessed its data files, but they’re encrypted. Which means the Knight doesn’t want to make this easy. Even so, it shouldn’t take long to break through.”
“What would I do without you, Lucius?” Batman said.
“Not nearly as well as I’d do without you, Mr. Wayne.”
“How are you coming with a cure for Scarecrow’s toxin? We’ve managed to identify the core elements, but that doesn’t tell us how to combat them. I’m definitely experiencing more and more moments where its effects are disturbingly apparent.” As he spoke, Lucius Fox seemed to peer at him a bit more intently, as if trying to read something into his words.
“I wish I had better news for you,” Fox said, “but I’m nowhere near understanding how the toxin works, let alone finding a way to reverse it. I’ve contacted several A-list chemical specialists and supplied them with the data, but so far they haven’t had any more success than I. Let me assure you, sir, that I’m not giving up.”
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br /> “I never doubted that, Lucius. But I have to be at the top of my game if I’m going to stand a chance of stopping Scarecrow and the Knight, and discovering what’s happened to Barbara.”
“You fear that she may already be dead?”
Batman shook his head. “No, but you’re asking that for a reason, aren’t you?” To his surprise, the CEO looked… pleased.
“You see right through me,” Fox replied. “I was hoping that your answer would give me some hints as to how the toxin might be affecting you. Had your reaction been more severe, I’d be much more concerned.”
Well, there’s no real reason for them to kill her. Not yet, at least. Scarecrow wants me to feel fear—he wants me to fall apart emotionally. Killing Barbara would get a one-time reaction. And it wouldn’t be fear, but overwhelming anger. The desire for revenge would trump any other feelings I might experience. So on an intellectual level, I believe she’s alive.”
“But emotionally?”
“That’s a different story. A part of me worries that he’s killed her just to prove he can—that he’s so insane he’d do anything to get to me, even if it doesn’t advance his cause. As with my parents’ death, and Jason’s murder, and the Joker’s attack on Barbara, my greatest fear is that because of me another good person—a person I deeply care about—will also die.”
“I have a tough question then,” Fox responded, “one you might not want to answer. Is your fear so great you might let yourself die, if you knew your death would save Barbara?”
“Why do you ask? I always put my life on the line, and not only to save people I care about.”
“I wasn’t speaking in theoretical terms,” Fox explained. “I’m asking specifically. Would you put a bullet through your own head, if you were guaranteed that it would save her.”
Batman thought about that for a long moment before responding.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t answer that. Does that tell you anything?”
“It does. You didn’t answer with a firm no, and that degree of fatalism confirms that you’ve been affected. But you also didn’t say yes, which means the toxin isn’t yet controlling you—driving you by pure emotion.