From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City
Compiled Report: Streetnapper Case
Reporting Officer: Lt. James Gordon Date: Jul. 19, 1939
The following is a compiled report of the current Streetnapper of Gotham City case and all that we know so far.
Firstly, it can no longer be doubted that the kidnappings from 16 years ago and the ones happening today are strictly related. We are dealing with either the exact same individual, or some sort of copycat. All cases occur across the full landscape of Gotham, and all victims appear to be randomly chosen. Reportedly, victims have claimed they were abducted at gunpoint by persons who seemed to be homeless, and descriptions of the perps vary widely. This leads us to believe the real Streetnapper has been hiring underlings to do his bidding.
At the moment, we are sitting on 26 reported disappearance cases. There may, in fact, be more of them, as people in this town go missing all the time without it being reported to us. 26 as opposed to the 19 from 16 years previous. Of those 26 people, 21 have been found. 13 of those have died. Possibly one more as well, though she died by explosion, so we haven’t been able to verify it was one of our abductees.
The Streetnapper is using stronger and more potent concoctions to drug his victims each time. It appears he’s trying to gain control of them using their fears to influence their actions and see what he can manipulate them into doing. Our latest info came from a man named Fenton, and what he said was peculiar, to say the least. Most victims reported being injected with the drugs via syringe, but Fenton said he was sprayed in the face with some sort of mist or spray. Seemingly, there’s no end to the number of experimental ways this perp has been dosing his victims.
I was handed an anonymous tip on my desk this morning asking me to look into a man by the name of Jonathan Crane. Supposedly, he worked for Gotham University for a time, which would have aligned with the previous abductions from years back. Aside from that, we’re still at a loss as to who this Streetnapper could be, or what his ultimate aim is. There’s no telling how many more kidnappings we’ll have to suffer through either, as the number keeps going up.
From the personal diaries of Selina Kyle, renowned cat burglar extraordinaire
7-19-39
Dear diary,
I’ve been drinking a lot. Every time I think of Holly, and think of what she went through… the drink is the only thing that helps me take my mind off it for a while. Last night I got so drunk I actually took a stroll through Crime Alley unarmed. So stupid.
TWICE I was attacked. Harassed virtually everywhere I went. I was stumbling hard, I know it, much as I tried to deny it to myself at the time. Lucky I wasn’t hurt, a couple solid kicks to the crotch saved me from the molesters. Even luckier I didn’t run into anyone who knew me. Since I left my previous vocation so unceremoniously and all… bound to be some people looking for me.
Anyways, there was this one thing that happened…
Found my way to a little bar, spent some time there downing shots. As I was leaving there was a group of guys standing in a circle, one of them talking a big game. Said he’d had a run-in with the Bat guy. Having run into him myself, it got me interested to hear more, so I eavesdropped on the story.
Evidently, this narrator had been selling dope for the Falcones. Some new drug I’ve been hearing about, here and there. So apparently this Bat-man or whatever wanted to know where he was getting them from. He said he wouldn’t tell the guy squat, but I’m willing to bet that ain’t the case at all. His friends ate it up, but I could tell he was lying.
It’s got me thinking, if the Batman guy is chasing after this drug, there’s a decent chance it’s related to Holly’s kidnapping. Right? And if the Falcones are involved… well then I may have just found my revenge targets. I know where the Roman hangs sometimes, so I’m gonna try and follow him tonight, see if I can learn anything new.
Meantime, I have a hell of a headache to get rid of. Heh… a “bat”, huh? Could have sworn it was a cat. But I guess that makes more sense when you factor in the cape.
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
There is a very famous place in Crime Alley that for a long time was known as the Iceberg Lounge, where a man by the name of Oswald Cobblepot oversaw operations housing the absolute most despicable criminals in all of the city. Before it was established, however, the most prominent underground club in the whole of Gotham was known as Molly’s, also located deep in the crevices of Crime Alley. It was owned by Carmine Falcone in those days, and served as one of his many headquarters. Often, people referred to it as Rome, as it was such an integral part of the Roman’s domain. It was also a place where politicians, judges, crooked police officers and the like could relax and conduct shady business openly with one another, completely free of consequences (aside from having to adhere to the Roman’s rules and oversight). It was heavily guarded, and anyone who had been allowed to step foot inside was sure to be armed to the teeth. That was where I was headed on this night, to try and confront Falcone himself.
A part of me had wanted to attend the evening as Bruce Wayne, the man I still held to be my true self (at the time). To place my trust in my family’s notoriety and to waltz through the front door of the club, as if I belonged there with the rest of the scoundrels who bled the city and its people dry. That, of course, would have been stupid. Only the Batman could go to such a place, and to use the front door… no, he was much too theatrical for that. No one who used the proper entrance could be construed as any kind of a threat. I needed a clear path to Falcone himself, and much as I wondered how I would fare, beating my way from the front of the building all the way to the back rooms where he most likely dwelt, it did not seem like the most effective use of my time or energy.
I had yet another argument with Alfred over the debacle. I cannot remember the conversation well, but it went much like the last few we had trifled in. Begrudgingly, he once again yielded to my demands and agreed he would act as a chauffeur for the evening, but I knew his patience with me was soon running out. I had not presently tried hard to persuade him to see my particular line of reasoning during this period, and that is where the problem arose. Alas, I was young, bitter, and untrusting. It occurs to me now that perhaps there was some part of me that feared, or even assumed, he would leave me just as my parents had, and so I was unconsciously creating a barrier between us. It is difficult to determine, as I was emotionally shut off from everything in those days of my youth. I was task-oriented, and driven by the ultimate goal of revenge. Nothing else, and no one else, really mattered.
And so, as we were growing accustomed to doing, we drove to our destination in silence once more. Parking in a dark, shadowy alley, with just enough room for me to squeeze out of the passenger’s seat, I dawned the cape, cowl, and armored suit once again, and dashed my way through the night towards Molly’s bar.
Upon reaching the place, I noted there were six oversized grunts guarding the doorway as two gangsters in slick, striped apparel received permission to enter. Then, stalking my way back through more back-alleys, I snaked around to the hind-side of the building. There, up atop a fire escape, a stout man stood lazily smoking a cigarette. As I crept closer, I noticed just beyond him that the back door to the establishment had a lock installed above the handle, so it was a likely scenario that this man held the key somewhere upon his person. As luck would have it, the neighboring building was adorned with steel piping along its side, and I was able to climb it with little difficulty to the rooftop. From there, I softly pitter-pattered my way to the far end and hopped over the gap.
Something alarmed me at that moment, and I hesitated briefly. I peered about, scanning amongst the rooftops through the darkness for any hint of movement. I sensed nothing, but the feeling of being followed remained. It was exceedingly unnerving, and I must admit, the sensation was almost enough to persuade me to cease the operation entirely. My determination won out, however, and I pushed forward, with my senses on high alert.
I positioned myself behind the smoking man and judged that I would need to be quick, as it would make an awful sound when hopping down upon the metal apparatus. Catching him unaware, I managed to put him in a chokehold from behind and subsequently applied pressure to his carotid artery, seamlessly putting the fellow fast to sleep. I then procured the key from his side pocket and unlocked the door, making sure to be cautious as I entered the building.
I could hear music playing from the main room as I peered down a darkened hallway, light illuminating the way at the far end of the tunnel. To my left, a door left ajar, with no light emanating from within. To my right, a closed door. The floor creaked audibly as I moved my way forward, but there was nothing I could do to prevent this. I took a quick glance inside the room on the left, but it was obvious that no one was inside. So, I put my head to the right door and listened for any sound coming from within. I vaguely heard voices, low and just barely perceptible over the music. I reached for the handle and attempted to turn it, but it was locked. I would have to use force, and my attack would need to be swift.
My hand unconsciously clutched to my belt where a thin but heavy piece of metal in the shape of a bat was bound. Ah! It seems I’ve forgotten to divulge the latest piece of gadgetry I’d forged for this operation! You see, as a result of my traumas from the night of my parents’ murders, it seemed I had devloped somewhat of an aversion to guns. I had taken steps during the armor tests with Lucius to get over the fear of them, but the apprehension to actually use one still remained. I had determined in later years that a part of my psyche was trying to eliminate any parallels to be made between myself and the aggressor from that night. So, being still of the mindset that I may need some form of ranged weapon, the apparition of a sort of boomerang came to mind. Without much thought, I had playfully decided I would shape the thing much in the same way as the suit’s metallic breastplate - like a bat.
Bracing myself, I used the entirety of my strength to kick open the door. The hinges exploded off the wall with a loud crash. I had no time to examine the room’s surroundings, and merely focused on the two men who came immediately into view before me, grasping for their guns at their sides. I armbarred down upon the closest man’s hand, knocking the pistol out of reach across the floor. I then kicked him backwards, and he stumbled into the way of the other as he attempted to target me. As the first man fell, I launched myself in a horizontal dive overtop of him and smashed into the other, pushing him to the ground and disarming him with a quick twist of the wrist. Finishing him off, I punched hard across his temple to knock him out of his wits.
“Whaddinna…” I noticed a third man sitting behind a desk, frozen in shock at the sight of me. It was fortuitous enough, as it gave me a short window of time to similarly knock out the first man as he was attempting to stand.
The third man was Falcone, I could see it now. I remembered his face from the newspapers, although he had aged significantly since those days. A handsomely dressed, gray-haired fellow with a commanding presence, he indeed posited an imposing presence. As he motioned for his sidearm, I kicked the table up from the ground, flinging him back to the wall and pinning him against it. From there, I forced my full weight upon the desk, further trapping him beneath it. He lurched his head back and winced in pain as the object’s weight crushed down on his thighs. With his arms pinned to his sides, he was completely helpless.
“Falcone!”
“Get offa me!!”
“Tell me what I need to know, first!”
“The fuck I will!” he bellowed.
Feeling that he was already trying my patience, and especially knowing our time here was limited, I thrust my hands atop the desk’s surface and applied more pressure downwards. He screamed in anger and torment, cursing me.
“Arrgh, you fuck! Youuu fuck, stoppp!”
“I know you’re working with Crane, pushing the drugs he supplies you with. You’re going to give him to ME!”
“Never heard of the guy!” He glared deeply into my eyes.
I forced my weight forward once more, worried that I may in fact crush him as his squeals became hoarse.
“Hnnnnng!”
“WHAT’S YOUR DEAL WITH CRANE?!”
“Alright, alright!” he cried. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“You’re wasting time!” I warned.
“I’ll tell you what you wanna know, ‘cause it don’t matter what you intend to do with it. You’re DEAD after this, you hear me?”
I narrowed my gaze intimidatingly upon him, but he met my eyes with equal intensity.
“Yeah, we got a deal with Crane,” he rasped, trying to smile through the pain. “He supplies us with the drugs, and we supply him with the low level conmen he needs for his experiments.”
“The abductors, they’re your men?”
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“Men hired by my men. I don’t employ them kinda lowlives. It’s below me!”
“Nothing’s below you!” Despite myself, I pushed against the desk again. He had struck a cord in me somehow, as this was the closest I had been to someone who was responsibility for the murders of my parents. He shared at least a portion of the blame, and I wanted to see him writhe in suffering. Ultimately, my mission won over, and I eased off once again. “Who are they? I want names!”
“I don’t know!”
“YOU’RE LYING!”
“I’m not! I swear on my mother!” He flinched, expecting the pain to surface once more. When it did not, he continued. “It’s all anonymous, plausible deniability and whatnot! That way they can’t be traced back to my crew, and no one can break if interrogated by the likes of you!”
I considered a moment, and it seemed the likeliest scenario. Perhaps I never would learn the name of the man who had taken everything from me by his own hand that night… but I could still get Crane. “For too long you’ve sucked this city dry of its wealth, its spirit… its hope for any semblance of a future,” I grabbed him by the collar. “That ends tonight. Know that as long as I draw breath, you will never sleep soundly in this town again!” I sensed movement from behind me, too late to do anything about the first assault, but grabbed for my bat-boomerang regardless.
BANG!
I turned and let fly with it just as the bullet lodged itself into the bottom left side of my torso. The flat-side of the boomerang knocked the previously unconscious man back into slumber as the sting from the bullet radiated from its entranceway. I gritted and bore the pain and immediately turned back to Falcone, feigning immunity to the gunshot.
His eyes went wide with horror as he realized what had just happened.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph… what the hell kind of demon are you?!”
“I’m the Omega to your reign, Roman! This all ends here and now!”
“Okay, okay! I’ll give you the creep!”
“I want your meeting place with him!” I growled, tightening my grip on his neck as the rage overtook me.
“The docks! By the warehouse! That’s where he makes the narcotic drop-offs!”
“WHEN!?”
“Tomorrow night, nine o’clock!”
“I can smell your deceit!”
“I ain’t lyin’! He replenishes the supply every Thursday! The freak wears a burlap sack to cover his face from the boys! A hat overtop! I’m the only one he’s let see his face!”
I grunted in frustration. Whatever this man said, I could never believe him. And even if it were the truth, it was in all likelihood destined to amount in a set up. I had two options: go to Gordon and allow the police to take it from there, or take the risk upon my own self. Much as I knew the smartest, and indeed, safest route would have been to hand the matter off, I could never allow myself to end my crusade against Crane after all I’d been through. This revenge was to be mine, and mine alone. I had finally come to a point where I could meet the devil face to face. Stupid as I had known it to be, I would attend this meeting, and I would nab the napper even if it meant being shot at by a hundred of Falcone’s men.
After another few seconds’ contemplation, I let go of the Roman’s collar and snarled in anger, heading back towards the exit.
“This ain’t over! You have no idea what you’ve done tonight! You just made the worst enemy of your life, pal!” Falcone’s voice wavered from behind me.
“Sweet dreams, Carmine.” I was satisfied my threat had been made clear.
I had contemplated going to see Gordon again tonight, to find out what he had learned from the University about Crane. There seemed no real need now, as I was determined to end it all with the heathen tomorrow. I no longer required his services, and as well, I felt that perhaps I’d be placing his life in danger if I continued escalating his involvement in the case. However, Alfred had an opinion on the matter, and seeing as how he had been short on words with me recently, I took them to heart.
“Not going to meet with the Lieutenant tonight, sir?”
“He’s no longer needed.”
“Mm,” he frowned in deep thought. “That may be true, but he has been a bonny ally to you in all of this. Perhaps just a word of parting… so as not to leave him wondering.”
I had not wanted to tell Jim - as I had somehow begun calling the man in my head, almost as if we were friends - that it was ending. Alerting him to what I knew in any capacity could prove disastrous for both my plan and the police force itself, if it did in fact come down to some sort of shoot out. However… Alfred did have a point. Perhaps I did owe the man something in the way of a final meeting. A goodbye, as it were, even if it was somewhat one-sided.
“Right you are, Alfred. As ever. Let’s make a brief detour before heading home.”
It did not matter in the end. Once we had reached the GCPD HQ, James Gordon was not in his usual spot. Instead, we immediately spotted him across the street from the building, sheltering from the rain underneath the entryway to a small shop. He was with a woman, deep in a romantic embrace. I knew from my previous outings while following the man, this blonde haired bombshell was not his wife.
“In’t that him?”
“Let’s go home, Alfred.”
“You sure?”
“I’m not going to tell you again, old man!” I spat angrily. My temper got the best of me then, and I felt a dark madness spread through me. I had felt quite a fool. All these weeks I had built up such trust in this man, who I had viewed as well and decent… someone worth placing my confidence in. And yet, there was my evidence to the contrary. He was nothing more but a liar and a cheat, just like the rest of the men in blue.
I would finish this alone, and to bugger with the rest of them all.
From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City
Update: Streetnapper Case
Reporting Officer: Lt. James Gordon Date: Jul. 19, 1939
I visited Gotham University today. Turns out our anonymous tip was good. Crane did work for the University for a time as a professor of Psychology. Interestingly, he changed over during the year to become a student in the discipline of Chemistry. An odd change, but it definitely aligns with what we know of the Streetnapper and his knowledge of narcotic recipes.
This confirms that we not only have a chemist on our hands, but a psychologist as well. It’s possible he’s using his talents for chemical concoctions to test his own theories on mind control, or something in that realm of thinking. If control is his game, it might serve to explain some of the bolder actions we’ve seen from these abductees as of late.
No one I spoke to had any direct dealings with Crane themselves. I was given a few names to follow up on, so I’ll be trying to track them down next. It definitely feels like we’re getting somewhere, finally.
The anonymous tip also mentioned a possible connection to the local Mafia gangs. We don’t have anything solid to prove that as of yet, but it’s worth mentioning that all drug trafficking in the city goes through them first. If he wanted this stuff on the streets, his best bet would be to align himself with them. If this is true, is it money he’s getting from them in return? Or is it possible they’ve been helping him keep a low profile during these abductions? Still so much we don’t quite know yet, but I can feel it all coming together, bit by bit.
From the personal diaries of Selina Kyle, renowned cat burglar extraordinaire
7-20-39
Dear diary,
I was right! The bat guy showed up at Molly’s, just like I thought he would. He’s quite a stealthy devil, for such a big and heavy thing, I’ll give him that. He ain’t as agile as I am, so he had to climb up some pipes on a neighboring building, whereas I was able to get up there by jumping a gate and hopping across a few window ledges. He got the job done though, so much so that he almost caught me spying on him when he’d reached the top. I saw him stop when he got to the top of Molly’s for a minute there, looking around like he’d noticed me or heard something that was “off”. Lucky me, I was hanging off the corner of the roof ledge until he made his move and attacked some guy on the fire escape.
When I heard that I pulled myself up and stalked after him. This idiot is too brash. I get that he’s big and can take a bullet or two, but he broke into Falcone’s VIP room where he does business like a one man army. If the music weren’t so loud, no doubt somebody’d have heard and come running.
I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but when a guy he knocked out was waking up and tried to shoot him, I made a small crack of my whip against the floor. The sound alerted him enough to turn around and take the bullet face-on. I dunno how much good it did, but I mean, he only took the one shot instead of a few to the back. I feel like it was worth the risk. No way I was busting in to join in on the fight or anything. The moron probably doesn’t even realize he had my help. AGAIN.
All in a day’s work. So he managed to get some answers from Falcone. I had half a mind to go in there and finish him off after the bat guy left. He’s a big part of the reason Holly was taken, after all. I got scared though. Figured I’d taken too many chances already. Bat guy started leaving, and I ducked into a room on the other side of the hall until he was out of sight.
Anyways, I hate to make a habit of helping this moron out, but it definitely feels like he’s heading straight into a trap. Not the smartest one, this bat guy. He needs to learn that none of these Mafiosos ever tell the truth. He’s heading to the docks tomorrow night to meet with the kidnapper. Crane, it sounded like. I have to be there too. I don’t know what this vigilante boy plans to do with him, but I need to be there to make sure this sick fuck gets what’s coming to him. I’m gonna make him tell me who delivered Holly to him, and then I’m gonna kill him. Slowly. I just need to figure out the best way to snag him from the bat guy first…
That’s gonna be difficult.
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
I prepared both mentally and physically the next day for what was to come upon nightfall. My torso ached like the devil, and as such, my range of motion and speed were compromised. However, I had trained myself quite well over the years to ignore pain and would have to rely on my strength of will ahead of the rest.
I knew very well I was headed for a double-cross of some kind, and there was no guarantee that Crane would be there. But I also knew this may in fact be my only chance at nabbing him, and I had to take it, or it would forever haunt the rest of my days. My plucking would need to be swift, so as not to be burdened by those who would have me surrounded.
Alfred was not entirely privy to what was planned for this night, although he understood that I had made a breakthrough and was relieved to know that this business might soon be done with for good. As we arrived near the docks, I exited the vehicle and he asked me to wait a moment.
“Oye, hold up!”
“I must depart before I’m seen here…”
“Just… be careful, aye?”
I nodded in annoyance, ducking down and masking myself in shadow. As I snuck closer to the docks, I could vaguely spot a lone figure standing by the pier. A large shipping boat was docked beside it, but no one else seemed to be coming to or from the behemoth. There appeared to be no way to get to it. If Falcone had men waiting to get the drop on me, they’d be stationed inside there.
Nevertheless, I staked out the abandoned warehouse first, to ensure that I wouldn’t be shot at from all sides. It was empty of life, so I was relieved by that, at least. The building was located just a few yards out from the pier, so I was lucky enough to have a steady view.
I then lied in wait for a time, staring from behind a jumble of empty shipping containers at the man on the pier. He was visibly shaking. It wasn’t cold, and in fact the temperatures were staggeringly hot on this night. Could it be that he was frightened? Of me? Had Falcone truly kept to his word and set him out to be taken by me? Surely not. This whole ordeal reeked of deceit. Something was amiss, and it was likely this poor scared fellow was not the man I was here for. But I had to know for certain. The compulsion proved too much for me, and I slowly padded my way towards him.
Upon seeing me, the figure froze in place to watch my approach. I could see his trembles work their way down to his wobbling knees. He was, indeed, quite terrified.
“S… stay there!” he cried. He was dressed as Falcone had said he would be; a burlap sack with holes cut out for him to see through covering his face and a funny pointed hat sitting atop it. His clothes were baggy, dirty, and torn in multiple places - as though he hadn’t taken them off in years. The smell was also horrific, as one might assume by the look of him.
I continued my stride, peripherals focused upon the boat to the right of him. When I’d come close enough for my rasped voice to reach his ears, I spoke the name, “Crane.”
“That’s f… far enough! I mean it!”
I continued on, now just a yard away. He panicked then, and crouched down to hug his knees.
“Please! Now! Now, please! DO IT NOW!” he whined.
Just as I’d anticipated, it was a set up. And this poor devil - Crane or not, I couldn’t be certain - was quite obviously an unwilling participant. I still could not sense movement coming from the boat, however, and so I grabbed the weaselly fellow by the collar, hoisting him up to meet my face. My eyes bore into his skull, and after taking one quick glance at me, he began to weep. This wasn’t him. This could not be Jonathan Crane.
“Ohohoho goddd… please, help meee….” he moaned like a child.
Something caught my eye then from the boat, something bright. It was a flare, arching its way sidelong across the sky. No gunfire, just a signal. A signal for what? And from where was the attack going to come from? I looked about, but no other movement could be sensed.
Then came the sirens… police sirens! They were close, mere blocks away. How had I not seen them on my way to the docks? Of course, it would occur to me later that they were likely stationed in the more populated and well lit areas. Places they knew I would try to avoid. And stupidly, I had not been tuned in to my radio device on this night, as I’d had no interest in the GCPD chatter any longer.
While I stared at the sniveling coward, I no longer saw him, but only felt the pangs of panic stabbing at my mind. It is because of this that he was able to raise his arm without my noticing, and I was suddenly overcome by a moist, misting sensation in my exposed mouth and nostrils. He had gassed me with what I could only guess was one of the hallucinogenic concoctions! And oh, what a foul taste!
In anger, I lifted him up from the ground and he squealed in fright.
“WaaaaAAAaaahhh, lemme go! Lemme go, I’m sorry!”
“Hrrhhh!” I growled my frustrations, punching him in the face and knocking him unconscious. He fell to the ground in a crumple, and I began to drag him by the wrist across the pier towards the warehouse. How long until the narcotics began to take effect? I could not know, but anxiety had already set in over my predicament, and I knew this would render the effects of the hallucinogen more powerful in influencing my compromised composure. That is how these drugs work, you see. They take one’s already existing mood and they take that mood to the extreme.
As I reached the perimeter where the pier met with the mainland, the police vehicles reared into view from the crowd of buildings beyond. The situation was hopeless. I had wrongly believed Falcone would rely on his band of criminals to do his dirty work for him, but instead, he used his influence to persuade the GCPD to come for me. And by the looks of things, it was beginning to seem that the entire force had been brought out for my capture. I looked down at the unconscious man I had been dragging, and then looked up again to find even more police units driving into view. Much as I wanted to continue on with my captive, I knew I could not. I would have to let him go, and take my chances hiding in the warehouse. Even then, my chances of escape were quite low.
“Rrrrraaaaa” I roared in outrage, letting go of my prisoner’s wrist in a violent tantrum. I ran then, towards the warehouse entrance, as the police cars came closer and closer. As I was within a couple yards from the building, a few of the cars stopped and the policemen started jumping out of their vehicles with their guns aimed at me.
“Freeze or we’ll shoot!” I heard a few of them say.
I did not heed their warnings, and the sounds of gunfire began to fill the night air.