Chapter Fifteen: Invasion

From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City

Case No: HS 07/23/40/7432

Booking: Victor Zsasz and Cyrus Gold

Reporting Officer: Cptn. James Gordon Date: Jul. 23, 1940

Myself and two other officers managed to bring Cyrus Gold in last night. He was in his usual spot in the sewers. Let it be known, the Batman (the REAL Batman) showed up and helped to incapacitate him. The fake Batman, who I allege is one Lieutenant Maxwell Cort, is still at large.

A team of 18 of our finest men in blue brought Zsasz in shortly afterwards. He was in the Upper East Side, swinging a knife and muttering the usual garbage he’s been known to spout. Some good citizens were able to hold him off until our guys arrived on scene, and there was a brief standoff before they were able to cuff him without further incident.

Joker and Crane are still at large, and there has been no trace as to their current whereabouts. These men are the most dangerous of the bunch, and I am worried it may be some time until we catch their trails again.

From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City

Batman Task Force

Cptn. James Gordon Date: Jul. 23, 1940

The Batman Task Force has officially been placed on indefinite hiatus for the time being. After my latest verbal report with Grogan, he was willing to accept that the Joker and Crane take priority over our vigilante. He also may wind up being able to yield some clues as to their current whereabouts, and on that front I am of the belief that we could use all the help we can get. Despite all that’s gone on over the last month or so, and with the latest business involving one of our very own trying to set him up, he still came to our aid last night in the apprehension of one of Arkham’s escaped men. That says a lot about his character, if you ask me.

Even so, Grogan reserves the right to re-open this task force once we’ve dealt with the remaining men at large. Cort has a lot of explaining to do, if we ever do manage to find him again.

From the confessions of Bruce Wayne

The next two days went by in a bit of a blur, I must admit. An emergency meeting was called by the board members of the asylum to discuss the latest disaster. Not only had Hugo Strenj’s negligence led to the escape of four convicts, but it cost both his own life and that of one of the guards in the process. Though I was only an unofficial member of this board, given I was the largest financial stakeholder, and yet held none of the professional positions needed to perform the necessary duties at the establishment, I felt rather awkward. Blame was thrown back and forth across the table, but none of it in my direction. And yet, given my relationship with Strenj, guilt still plagued me nonetheless.

There was a general sense of panic amongst our crew. Everyone knew that City Council was bound to come down hard on us after this mess up. And after I had fought so hard to be allowed to open the institution in the first place, I could not help but feel that each of these members had also let me down in their decision making. I had, after all, entrusted the affairs of the day-to-day operations in their care, and we had now gone through not one, but two directors with obscene mental wellness problems, leading to an unfortunate series of mishaps.

As expected, City Council called their own emergency meeting later that night, which I was also invited to take part in. While I knew the flack should not rightly be thrown directly at my feet in this case, I also felt an obligation to attend, and to fight for the future of the Asylum, lest it be shuttered down forever as a result of my absence. As one might suspect, the meeting did not go particularly well. And in fact, it was quite terrible for me.

“Arkham Asylum has been plagued with issues since its inception. It was an ill conceived plan to begin with, and we all knew it,” a councilman announced. “But the failures to comply with the most basic of legal standards have been outrageous. Add to that a complete lack of accountability, starting with a bungled hiring process -”

“Councilman,” I chimed in, “I would like to remind you that I was not a part of this process. Even though I went and conducted the appropriate research and meetings with some of the top minds in psychology, I was kept out of the decision making process by this very council, as it wanted a significant degree of control over the institution. Specifically because of their initial reservations, I might add.”

“Yes, yes, we know, Mister Wayne. No one is blaming you in particular.”

“I’m merely pointing out that the lack of accountability in which you are speaking of, falls deftly upon this council.”

“This council never wanted the asylum in the first place!”

“And yet it was decided by this council to move forward with it,” I stood my ground.

“Let’s not point fingers, gentlemen,” another council member spoke up. “What’s in the past is in the past. We need to decide upon the future.”

“And I am telling you there is simply no recovery from this latest disaster,” the first intervened. “It must be shut down and its patients sent back to Blackgate.”

“Or, you could give me more of a say in how it will be run in the future,” I suggested.

“Forgive me if I’m uncomfortable about all of the big decisions being left to one man,” the council member frowned at me. “He who spends all the money should not call all the shots. I know that’s a foreign concept to you, Mister Wayne, but it’s how a civilized society should work.”

“Are you suggesting I am unqualified to take a more active role in such matters?” I was beginning to become quite offended.

“I am stating that it is too much for one man to handle on his own. Don’t you have a company to run?”

“He does,” a voice from the back of the crowd interrupted. I turned to look upon a familiar face in one Oswald Cobblepot, who had somehow managed to infiltrate this meeting without proper invitation. “So perhaps a silent partner would be of benefit to the cause.”

“Who is that?” the council member yelled in annoyance.

“I am Oswald Cobblepot, sir.”

“The crook?”

“The businessman,” Oswald smiled snarkily. “I thought perhaps my aid would be appreciated both in terms of lightening the financial burdens placed on Mister Wayne, as well as to serve as a sort of consultant in certain matters.”

“Mister Wayne, is this your doing?”

“Not at all,” I defended.

“I’m here of my own accord,” Oswald came to stand next to me. “Though, we’re good friends, you know.” He placed his arm around my shoulders in a show of camaraderie.

“What are you doing?” I whispered accusatively.

“I’ve dealt with my share of Gotham’s most sordid miscreants, so I know a thing or two about how to handle them,” Cobblepot smiled sardonically up at his audience, ignoring my question. “Sure, Wayne is said to know his way around a library. And he might even be looked upon as respectable in certain lights and in certain crowds, but he can’t tell a man for who he is just by looking at him. That’s where my expert advice might come into play.”

“I don’t need any help, financial or otherwise, I assure you,” I said.

“Nonsense, Bruce. You’re a busy man. Arkham is a project I believe in wholeheartedly, and I’d like to offer my services where I can.”

“Look, we’ve been arguing about this for too long already, and we have other matters to attend to. Let’s put the talks on hold for now while we determine the best course of action,” the second council member offered up. “In the meantime, Mister Wayne, instead of chiming in with insults and accusations next time, perhaps if you’d come up with a charted action plan, it may be a more valuable use of all our time.”

Once again, it seemed, it all fell to me. Unless I wanted Oswald’s charity, which I surely did not.

After being promptly dismissed from the remainder of the meeting, I rounded on Cobblepot, “Just what exactly were you trying to accomplish in there, Oswald?”

“Why, just lightening your load, old friend,” he smiled. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Or have you forgotten about our little arrangement we talked about from before?”

Adrenaline rushed through me then. Had he been checking up on me regarding the loan shark business? And if he had, surely he would know about the Batman’s visit later that night…

“After you’d reminded me about my old pal the loan shark, I decided I’d pay him a visit. I was dismayed to find out he was no longer operating in Gotham, however. I’m sorry for steering you wrongly.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Relief flooded my veins, and it was all I could do to try and mask it from him.

“But, you know, I did try my best. That’s what us pals do for one another, after all,” he smiled evilly. Blackmail. He believed he knew Bruce Wayne’s dark and detestable secret, and he was using it against me. But why?

“And just what is your vested interest in Arkham, Oswald?”

“I have friends on the inside, and as such, it is my duty to ensure that they are getting the utmost when it comes to their care.” He straightened his back in a dignified manner. “I would be most grateful if you’d allow me the honor of joining you on this important venture, Bruce. I implore you to think it over. Carefully.” He smiled that sinister smile of his and walked away, leaving me to boil in lonesome.

Later the next evening I attended Julie Madison to dinner. As she was not in the mood for crowds, I invited her over to my humble abode for some wine and snacks that Alfred had whipped up in case of precisely this occasion. It was there that we engaged in good humored chatter, and once more I was reminded how delightful the girl’s company had been. I spoke in depth of my time away from Gotham - with her prompting, of course, and she outlined her gradual rise to fame. We retired to the dining area at some point, and that is where our conversations moved to a more intimate variety.

“Do you like cinema, Bruce?” she asked skeptically.

“As much as the next fellow, I should expect.”

“You strike me as being more of the old school of thought, preferring literature to the dramatic arts,” she teased.

“I am more familiar with literary compositions, it is true,” I admitted. “However, the power of the theater does not escape my amusement.”

“Really,” she expressed doubtfully, “and what was the last film you saw in a theater?”

As with all things regarding the Batman, my first inclination was to lie, and so I dashed The Man Who Laughs from my thoughts and pondered hard for an alternative.

“I was rather fond of The Skinny Man,” I replied.

“You mean The Thin Man?

“Oh, right you are!”

“That isn’t exactly new, you know. In fact, there have been two sequels since,” she admonished.

“Sequels,” I exclaimed. “I thought those were reserved for monster movies and the like…”

“You see? You do hold films to a much lower standard!” Luckily for me, she laughed as she said this. And, she did have a point.

“I suppose I could get out to the pictures a bit more…”

“Well you have a great excuse, now that you’re running with a screen thespian,” she stood from her seat and walked seductively over to where I sat. Casually, almost nonchalantly, she sat upon my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck, staring deep into my eyes and beaming the most beautiful smile upon her face. I was agasp - in total awe of her feminine wiles.

I shan’t regurgitate the intimate details of our lovemaking that followed, but needless to say, we did end the evening in my room. The only light a small candle upon my nightstand. She was kind and understanding, and cared not for the fact that I’d only shallowly dipped my heels into the wondrous waters of eros in my past. At the night’s closing, we dressed ourselves once more so I might see her on her way out.

As we were dressing, we heard an odd sort of knock. It was faint, almost to the point that I was unsure if I had actually heard it, but Julie’s expression of alarm mimicked my own and a feeling of unease washed over me.

“What was that?” she asked in fright.

“Likely just Alfred, bumbling about,” I assured her, though there was something about the sound that had managed to chill my bones. Some deep part of my mind screamed at me in warning, and I cannot begin to explain it except that the previously warm atmosphere surrounding us had suddenly chilled. “I’ll go check on him.”

I opened the door and moved out onto the upstairs hallway, peering down into the foyer. The scene before me knocked the wind from my body. Lying limply at the front entrance to the mansion was the poor old form of Alfred, blood seeping from a wound upon the back of his head. I hadn’t time to react when a loud shot rang out and I was stricken with an immense sensation of pain in my right calf.

BANG!

I crumpled to the floor, grasping in pain at the bullet wound to my leg. I heard Julie scream from behind me.

“Stay back!” I called to her.

It was then I sensed a form ascend the top of the stairs and vault his way over to me. A hand gripped the back of my collar and hauled me upwards, but my weight won out as I clung helplessly to my injured limb.

“Get up, Wayne,” the familiar voice commanded me. I looked up into the maddened face of Maxwell Cort. He was attired in his Batman outfit, but was not wearing the cowl at this moment. He attempted again to lift me to a standing position, but I winced again and he backhanded me to the face. I fell harshly in a heap back inside my room. Julie screamed again.

“Stop it! Leave him alone!”

“Well, aren’t you a sight to behold,” he laughed and pointed a gun towards her.

I grabbed pitifully at his leg, attempting to claw my way up, but he kicked me square to the jaw and I fell backwards again.

“Let her go,” I pleaded. “Whatever your qualms, they have nothing to do with her!”

“What do I care?” he spat. “My life is ruined because of you! I might as well just take what I can while I’m free!” He produced a small metal bar from his shoddy tool belt and struck at me. The blow shook my left forearm and I felt the bone shatter instantly.

“Mmph!” I refused to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

“I’ll do as you say, just leave him be!” Julie begged.

“No… no, he’s gonna pay for this. With everything he’s got.” He turned his head to look upon her then. “Maybe I’ll just take you now, and this cowardly little worm can watch!” He advanced upon her.

Using all the force of my one good leg, I righted myself and lunged hard against him, tackling him to the floor.

“Run, Julie!” I called, and we struggled on the ground as she scurried around us and through the door to the open hallway. I heard her scream again, undoubtedly as she’d stumbled upon the image of poor Mister Pennyworth lying cold upon the tiled flooring. “Get out of here!” I called once more.

Cort punched me hard to the face, and I felt the last of my energy being sucked out from underneath me. Realizing this, he hit me once more in the head before rolling off and standing overtop of me.

“I’m gonna enjoy this.”

“Who… who are you?” I asked, trying my utmost to maintain my innocence in this matter, exposed as my charade may have been.

“Don’t play games with me, you know I’ve been imitating you. That’s why I came here wearing this. You may not know who I am underneath, but the moment you saw this uniform, I know damned well you knew what this was about.”

“I don’t… you’re… you’re the Batman?” I pretended feebly.

He responded by kicking me in the stomach. “I said STOP LYING!” He paced the room momentarily before rounding on me again, “Strenj told me he’d figured it all out, just before he died. I don’t know how you managed it, but I fucking KNEW you were a killer. And now…”

“Please, I don’t know what -”

He slammed his fist into my cheek once more, “SHUT UP!” He brandished his gun and aimed it at my uninjured leg. “When I heard about his death, I knew it was only a matter of time til it all came crashing down on me. Lo and behold, shortly after I’d left work in a panic, I got the APB call on me.”

That was Gordon’s doing, I had nothing to do with it, I wanted to scream. Alas, I could only bite my tongue.

“All I wanted was to rid this city from the likes of you. And now… I’ve lost everything. EVERYTHING!” He stared down hard upon me, and all I could do was stare back, feigning an expression of both fear and confusion to the best of my ability. “Do you deny it?!”

“...I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You’ve done everything wrong!” He jutted his foot out and pressed upon my bullet wound. I grunted in pain, but I refused to cry out. “If I’m gonna go down, I’m gonna make damn sure you go down even harder. I thought about turning you in, but what proof do I have now that Strenj is dead? Nuh uh… I’ve already killed someone. I might as well add you to my list of victims. And I’m gonna do it slowly. Painfully.”

“Please…” I begged, hating myself for having to show such weakness.

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

BANG!

He shot at my good leg, but narrowly missed in his rage, surprising us both. He moved to aim more efficiently, and I moved without thinking, kicking with my left leg and knocking the gun sideways. He did not drop it, but wavered just long enough for me to tackle him again. We struggled, and I was forced to fight using only the weight from my left leg to push at him.

This went on for some time. Being at a momentary standstill, I maneuvered sideways and we fell atop my bed mattress. There, I managed to wedge the gun underneath me so that he could not move it, and I head-butted him, attempting to throw him off just enough that he would loosen his grip completely. On my second try, it worked, as he appeared to be in a daze.I then clasped at his shoulders and forced him sidelong, off of the bed, crashing against the window. It smashed, but we did not fall through, quite luckily.

He overpowered me then, throwing me back against my nightstand. This, by chain reaction, caused the candle to topple over and roll to the edge, and the window curtain subsequently caught fire.

Cort lunged for the gun on the bed, and I tackled him from behind, holding his arms steady in my own. He batted his head backwards, crushing my nose, and then again! I loosened my grip, but repositioned myself to hook my arm around his neck. I squeezed.

He pulled the gun free and tried to aim it behind himself towards me. It was too much of a risk, so I forced myself to grab for it, and having taken advantage of the backwards momentum, I was able to wrench it free from him. A gun was far too dangerous to keep in play, so I briefly let go of him and turned, throwing the weapon out through the broken window. He turned and punched me in the face, and then grabbed for my throat. I did the same, but being that I was on top, I had the advantage of position. His airways closed, and every part of me was urging me on to push and push and push until he could move no more.

As I saw his eyes start to glaze over, I released my grip. At this show of mercy, he reached for the side of his belt and I felt something stab me in the lower left side of my ribs. A knife, most likely.

It was too much. Exhausted and injured, I merely hauled myself away, grabbing the foreign object from my side and throwing it upon the ground. I needed to get away. If this madness did not cease, I would surely lose consciousness in the next moment or two.

Limping away, I threw myself towards the doorway and hobbled down the hallway towards the stairs.

“WAYNE!” I heard Cort screaming after me. As I heard running steps approaching from behind me, I dove for the stairs and began tumbling my way down them. I looked up at the front door, a mere 10 feet away from me. The door had been left wide open and… oh, no… where was Alfred? He was not where I’d last seen him. Did Miss Madison somehow manage to pull him to safety all on her own?

I hadn’t the time to think about it. I recomposed myself and hopped to a limping stride once more. As I stumbled through the doorway, I could perceive the distinct sound of police sirens getting louder and louder. I looked out across the yard, and I could see Julie off in the distance, flagging down the approaching police squad cars.

I limped forward, ignoring my fading senses. After a few seconds, she turned and saw me then, and ran to meet me.

“Bruce, oh my god!”

“Where’s Alfred?” I demanded gruffly.

“He’s still inside… isn’t he?”

Panicked, I turned back to look upon my mansion. The light of a growing fire could be seen through the front door, and smoke billowed down from the upstairs floor.

Alfred, where are you, old man?