Curt Connors woke up from the same dream that plagued him almost every night.

It was the day he lost his arm. He remembered the bombs and the screaming and the pain, the shrapnel tearing through his right arm like it a burning poison.

He jolted upwards, sweat drenching his body and for a brief moment feeling his arm on his side like a lingering phantom, feel his fingers running through the bedsheets. His alarm started to ring. Curt frowned, switching it off. He got out of his bed and headed to the shower. Curt walked through the wide passages of his house, going downstairs with photos hung on the wall. Photos of him in the military, photos he forgot to remove of him and Martha before the divorce and pictures of Billy Connors.

He made himself a cup of coffee and while he waited for it to cool down he went over to his mailbox and sorted through the mail.

Bills, mortgage payments, summons from Martha’s lawyers and his discontinuation from the Wayne Veteran program. Curt sighed. Before, he used to be able to pay for anything. The benefits and coverage offered by the Veteran Program made him able to afford the bills and the lawyers after his divorce with Martha. Now, with Bruce Wayne nowhere to be seen since last year and Lucius Fox tied up with keeping the company afloat costs were being cut and an unfortunate side effect of that were the various funds and programs Bruce Wayne set up in Gotham biting the dust or being put under newer, more awful management.

What’s more, funding was being cut from Wayne Inc projects that weren’t electronics or weapons related leading to him slowly but surely losing funding for his project (and salary cuts). That lead to him turning to people like the Master Planner, people like Sawyer.

His phone rang. It was Martha. Curt picked up.

“Billy is coming over today,” Martha said tersely, hanging up as soon as she started.

Curt sighed. How had this happened? When he got back home he expected to be embraced lovingly in Martha’s arm. She was his rock, his guideline but when she saw his amputated arm she looked at him like everybody else did. She looked at him like she was a freak. Things were normal when he had but now that he lost it, he was seemingly lesser. All the love and tenderness disappeared, leaving him alone and bitter, with an arm that wasn’t even his writing hand.

But the people that looked at him as if he was different he could handle. Let them be content in their close mindedness. It was the people who looked at him as if he was a thing to be pitied, as if he was only his amputated arm and not a brilliant scientist that enraged him. The ones who thought they were better than those that treated him like a freak because they were nicer. Being looked at with pity was an even worse punishment than losing his arm.

The last letter in his pile didn’t have an address. Curt already knew who it was from.

Remember who’s paying off the lawyers that let you see your son. We know what you did.

It was Sawyer. Curt crumpled up the paper and threw it in the bin. He slammed against his table, wanting nothing more than to get his arm around Sawyer’s neck, wanting nothing more than his other arm back.

…

Peter stood in front of Barbara’s room, dreading opening the door. The doctors said it was okay to visit but Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to. He muttered a prayer to himself and opened the door to see Barbara talking to her father with the smile he missed so much.

“I’ll be fine, dad,” Barbara said. “Stop worrying.”

“If there’s anything you…”

“I know dad,” Barbara said, giving her dad a reassuring smile. “I know. You worry wayy too much.”

Barbara caught Peter’s eyes and waved at him. The Commissioner placed a hand on her shoulder, giving Peter a firm nod before leaving the hospital room.

“I came as soon as I…”

“Come here,” Barbara said, Peter leaned down and they kissed and for a brief moment it felt like Peter’s anxiety didn’t exist.

“No flowers?” Barbara asked after they pulled away.

“No money either,” Peter joked. “I got fired from everything.”

“Oh no,” Barbara said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, started that internship thing Bruce offered,” Peter said. “It’s been great, Doctor Connors is a great guy to work with.”

Barbara smiled. “That’s great. That’s good.”

“How have you been?” Peter said. “What did the doctors say?”

“I’ve been good,” Barbara said. She ignored the second question and Peter felt his stomach twist. He figured something was up but he didn’t know what.

“Barbara,” Peter said, firmly this time. “Are you alright? What did the doctors say?”

Barbara chuckled. “It’s fine, Peter. Bruce will sort out everything. There’s something I want you to see.”

It was clear Barbara didn’t want to talk about. It made Peter’s heart ache but he figured she’d talk about when she was ready to.

“What is it you want me to see?” Peter asked.

“While I was doing my check-ups I heard some rumours going around,” Barbara said. She pulled out a laptop from under her pillow. Peter leaned at her side as she opened a newspaper article with a missing person’s poster. On it was a boy that looked around 10 years old with blonde hair, a huge grin with one missing tooth and bright green eyes. On the poster was: MISSING JAMES SANTINI. AGE 10 YEARS OLD. Alongside details of his clothes and a number to contact if found and the fact that he was deaf in both ears.

“James Santini has been missing for about a month now,” Barbara said. “The details are all here.”

“Don’t kids go missing in Gotham all the time?” Peter asked, Barbara stared at him. “I mean it sucks don’t get me wrong but what makes this different?”

“Here’s the thing,” Barbara said. “Mrs. Santini knows where her son’s last known location was.”

Barbara pulled up the Facebook page of Mrs. Santini who shared the same blonde hair and facial features but her eyes were a bright blue. “In her posts she mentioned she took her son for some special treatment at a clinic by Gotham Port but get this…”

“There’s no clinic at Gotham Port,” Peter said.

“Yeah,” Barbara said. “And when she went to the building it was empty, like nobody was there. She called the police but other than a few empty beds and bullet holes there was nothing else.”

“Seems pretty elaborate for a kidnapping,” Peter said.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Barbara said, putting her laptop back under her pillow.

Peter shrugged. “So, send all the details to Bruce…”

“No,” Barbara said, her voice harsher than usual.

“What?” Peter said. “Bruce is the better detective. I’m sure he’ll find something that the police…”

“You seem to forget that Bruce trained me to be a detective too,” Barbara said.

Peter stared at Barbara for a while before realising what she was saying. “No. No way Barbara. You haven’t even been discharged yet…”

“I leave tomorrow,” Barbara said.

“And you didn’t think to tell me,” Peter said, surprised. “What’s going on with you? Either way you’re in no condition to…”

“I am in perfectly fine condition Peter,” Barbara said. “You think just cause I can’t walk I’m not capable of handling this?”

“It’s not that,” Peter said. “You just got out of the hospital and you want to put yourself in danger again?”

“Please be quiet,” said a doctor. “You’re disturbing the other patients.”

Peter sighed, kneeling down to Barbara and looking straight at her green eyes.

“Barbara are you okay?” Peter asked. “I asked you what the doctors said but you haven’t answered me.” Peter placed his hands on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Barbara stared at Peter’s eyes for a brief moment, in that brief moment Peter saw a flash of sadness in her eyes before…

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter,” she said, barely meeting his eyes.

“Babs…” Peter said, loosening his grip on her shoulders.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“We’ll start investigations tomorrow,” Barbara said. “Once I’m dismissed.”

Barbara turned her wheelchair around, rolling over to the window and staring out with a distant expression on her face, the late afternoon sun making her hair redder than usual. Peter got up.

“Sure,” Peter said. “Sure. I’ll uh… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peter closed the door behind him. Missing Barbara let out a sob as her fists clenched atop her legs.

…

“You will train and train until you learn some restraint,” Bruce said, his voice like ice. “Until then you will stay here and think about your actions.”

“But I’m sorry,” Jason said, genuine remorse in his voice. “I’ll be better next time. I swear I didn’t mean to do this.”

“Then why do you look like you enjoyed it?” Bruce said. “No, you lack restraint and until you learn how to restrain yourself, you will train.”

Bruce left the training room and headed for the Batcomputer which was in the central Batcave where Alfred was waiting for him.

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh, sir?” Alfred asked.

“He almost killed the man,” Bruce said. “He would have killed him if I hadn’t stopped him.”

“That may very well be the case,” Alfred said. “But you seem to be forgetting that you were much like him when you first started.”

Bruce remained silent. His eyes trained on the computer.

“Master Jason comes from a turbulent background,” Alfred said. “What he needs more than dressing up in a colourful outfit and beating up criminals is guidance…”

“I am guiding him,” Bruce said. “I’m giving him another opportunity.”

“Holed up in a cave, his only contact with the outside world being an old butler and beating up criminals?”

“What do you want me to do Alfred?” Bruce said. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Did you?” Alfred asked. “Master Dick had the opportunity to go to school, form a life outside of Batman. Master Jason was picked off the streets by Batman and seems unable to separate himself from you. His only friends are an old man and a vigilante who’d rather stayed holed up in a cave than face the world. Hardly good figures for a boy with a childhood like his, don’t you think?”

Bruce stood up. “That’s enough Alfred!”

Alfred didn’t back down. “For a man who uses fear as a weapon, you’re doing a bad job of not letting it consume you.”

Bruce ignored Alfred and turned to his computer.

Alfred turned and walked towards Jason whose fists were thumping against the boxing bag with violent force, sweat his face. His shirt was thrown haphazardly to the side and he was wearing his Robin pants.

“Master Jason,” Alfred called, Jason didn’t hear him. “Jason,” Alfred called a little louder. Jason stopped his training and turned to Alfred with a grin on his face.

“What’s up Al?”

“I came to talk to you after your… altercation with Master Bruce,” Alfred said, taking a seat on one of the bench-press machines.

“It was my fault,” Jason said. “I wasn’t disciplined enough. I was an idiot and…”

Alfred raised a hand to stop him. “We mustn’t blame ourselves too much. Master Bruce is only harsh on you because he sees a bit of his younger self in you.”

Jason chuckled. “Oh really. How was he when he was a boy?”

Alfred smiled. “Not as a boy. As a man. When he first started out as Batman he was a lot like how he says you are. Angry, undisciplined. It took him a long time to grow into the man you see in front of you today.”

“But it’s like he doesn’t need me,” Jason said. “He can do everything without me and that’s because I’m so useless.”

“You’re not, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “One of the reasons he grew into the man you see today was because of Master Dick.”

Jason snorted.

“The Robin before you,” Alfred continued. “As much as he doesn’t like to admit it, Master Bruce needs you. You just have to live up to your capabilities.”

Jason smiled. “Thanks Al.”

Alfred ruffled his hair. “No problem, what say after this we have some ice cream. My treat.”

Jason grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

…

When Curt got to his office, a representative of the Wayne Enterprises Board asked for him.

“The board wants to see you,” he said in a curt voice. There was a tag attached at the top of his blazers left pocket that said Williams. Curt followed Mr. Williams to the elevator where they ascended to the boardroom.

The board room was huge, the size of a lobby. In the middle of the room was a huge glass round table with a W in the middle. Sitting around it like King Arthur’s knights was the Wayne Incorporated Board, behind them a giant window with the entire city of Gotham spread out like a massive painting.

Curt felt his stomach twist in anxiety when he saw that acting CEO Lucius Fox wasn’t there to oversee the proceedings.

“Mr. Connors,” Williams said to the board before leaving the room. The board turned to face him, all twelve eyes drilling into him as if they were judging his every breath.

“Good morning,” Curt said. “What can I do for you?”

The first to start was Mr. Brown. Of course, it was him. “Mr. Connors, the board has called you here to inquire about your research on DNA transplants. We’ve been informed that you’ve been assigned new help on Mr. Wayne’s recommendation,” he said in his almost robotic voice.

Curt nodded. “Yes, the new help is excellent and we’re making progress.”

“I see,” Mr. Brown said. “How far is said research going? Are you able to carry out human experimentation?”

“Well human experimentation is too risky as of…”

“What about simian?”

“I’m afraid with our current funding…”

Mrs. April spoke up. “I understand funding seems to be an issue however we have also not been met with any results. The board has read through all your papers and many of your experiments seem to end up in failure.”

“Scientific breakthroughs take time,” Curt said. “You can’t expect…”

“We’re afraid that the board doesn’t have the time,” Mr. Campbell said. “We’ve been pouring a lot of money and subsidies into your experiments and have been met with no tangible results.”

“The board wants results,” Mrs. English said. “Otherwise, we might have to cut funding off this project entirely.”

“What?” Connors said, almost shouting. “No, you can’t do that. Where’s Lucius Fox, he’ll explain the logistics to you. Or Bruce Wayne, he was very adamant about this project.”

“Fox is scrambling to keep this company together in Wayne’s absence,” Mr. Louis said. “And Mr. Wayne is busy lounging about somewhere in Switzerland or Antarctica while his family’s company falls apart, The board decided to take a more practical approach in their absence.”

“Wayne Inc has invested too much money into your venture,” Mr. Moose said. “We don’t want to come up at a complete loss. Therefore, you have until the end of this month to provide us with tangible results, otherwise…” Moose leaned forward. “We’re cutting you lose.”

Curt wanted nothing more than to argue his case but he knew the board’s decision was final. He left the room, slumped over and dejected, anger seething through his body. When he was alone in his office he ripped into his papers, letting out a scream of pure rage.

At that point he got a call from Sawyer. Curt tossed his phone against the wall, digging his nails into his missing arm till he felt his skin peel.

…

“I’m so sorry I’m late…” Peter said.

“Save your excuses,” Curt said. “We have work to do.”

Peter had been delayed because of an attempted robbery at a jewellery store. He would have been on time if one of the idiots hadn’t managed to get in his car and speed off.

As Peter walked over to the lab he noticed frustration in Connor’s face as he went over the lab rats, examining each of them with contempt in his eyes.

“Peter,” Connors said. “Forget about the lab, we need to work on the formula today.”

“Uh, sure,” Peter said. “If you don’t mind me asking why do you look so…”

“Well other than the fact that you’re late,” Connors said. “Funding for this project is being cut.”

“What?” Peter exclaimed. “They can’t do that. You’re…”

“We, Parker,” Connors said. “We’re doing great things. The board only sees profits, they don’t care about progress. Wayne and Fox managed to keep them in check but…” Curt sighed. “Look let’s just work, Peter. Let’s work on the formula and next time please don’t be so late.”

Peter nodded. “Yes sir.”

They started going through the formula, Peter having a silent vow to have a word with Bruce about this whole Connors situation the next time he saw him.

…

With his diving gear equipped, Batman plunged into the murky depths of the waters around Gotham pier.

OXYGEN FILTER: ON, droned the voice of the Batcomputer.

OXYGEN CAPACITY AT A HUNDRED PERCENT

CALCULATING DEPTH

DEPTH 20M

The diving gear Bradfield had was built for depths of up to 100 meters and allowed for quick decompression as you got up the surface. Whoever built the technology was a genius.

As he plunged deeper into the surface, schools of fish spreading around him, kelp and garbage sticking to him.

DEPTH 40M

Deeper and deeper he plunged into the murky depths, accompanied only by the sound of his breathing and the beep of his computer as it counted down his oxygen capacity.

DEPTH 60M

Suddenly he came across a metal cylinder floating amidst a school of fish. The fish scattered as he picked it up. The words OPEN SESAME written in the centre. He attached it to his belt and dived further.

DEPTH 100M

In front of him he saw what looked like an underwater submarine station built into a rock face. It was the size of a small house with a circular door in the centre. Batman swam towards it and in the middle of that door was a small hole. Batman inserted the cylinder inside the door. The cylinder was sucked into the hole, the door started to spin and then it opened up, sucking the air around Batman and pulling him inside despite his best resistance.

As he landed inside the building, Batman couldn’t help but feel as if the Master Planner had been expecting him. He made a careful assessment of his surroundings, on his right, in neat rows were the purple diving suits he saw. Probably for emergency situations. And right next to those jumpsuits were harpoons, guns, oxygen tanks all lined up in separate rows. On his left was just a pool of water and behind him was the circular door he had entered through. Batman removed his scuba mask, diving equipment still on and explored the dark winding hallways of the Master Planner’s base.

As he explored he ran into rows of rooms with bunkers in them, what looked like a laboratory with boxes of the Wayne equipment they had stolen. There was even a refectory. Batman finally stumbled into the main command room which was deserted except for a computer in the middle.

Batman switched it on, any data whatsoever he could find on the Master Planner worth the risk of setting of a bomb.

The computer crackled and written at the top in small green text was: To the Batman.

The screen flickered to life and in the middle was a man in a scuba diving mask, his face blurred out by the film grain on the screen.

“Hello, Batman,” the man breathed. Batman assumed it was the Master Planner. “How’s the leg?”

The Master Planner paused, probably to gloat. “Ah don’t worry. We all know about it, my friends and I. I know about each and every one of my inventions and that leg of yours is no different. It’s back from the days I was naïve, the days when I thought scientific progress was dictated by how much of a difference it could make in the world and not by how much money it could make. Did you lose it trying to protect this city? But don’t worry, maybe you won’t have to sacrifice so much.”

Suddenly a picture flashed on the screen. It was a picture of a living room with expensive sofas and an even more expensive coffee table. On the coffee table was a briefcase with stacks of notes. Sitting on the largest sofa were his parents and sitting across them in a bright white suit was…

“Carmine Falcone,” Batman spat.

“This city was built on lies,” Master Planner said. “The Wayne family aren’t the saviours Gotham thought they were.”

Batman’s com started to buzz. It was Alfred. “Master Bruce.”

“And their legacy must be erased from this city,” Master Planner said, clenching his fist. “Gotham must be rid of her corruption before she’s able to move forward.”

“What is it Alfred?” Batman asked.

“You may want to see this.”

A screen of Gotham News Network appeared in front of Batman. “An image has suddenly surfaced…”

And GCN. “Wayne family built on lies.”

“Where is Bruce Wayne?”

“What the hell is going on?” Batman growled.

“I’m not sure Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “I wasn’t unaware of…”

“We’ll talk about this later, Alfred,” Batman said. “Right now, triangulate any location where there could be a bomb.”

“Starting with the Wayne factories that pollute our air and suffocate our citizens.”

…

In the Gotham night, six explosions lit up the air. Each of them Wayne factories, the Wayne name inscribed on the building being eaten away by the flames.

To be continued…