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BATMAN: SOUTHERN KNIGHT
PART THREE:
“THE PRICE OF HATE”
Based on the DC Comics Characters created by Bob Kane

As Mayor Cobblepot sat in the front row of WayneTech’s main auditorium and eyed the podium behind which Lucius Fox would give the evening’s speech, a dark memory crept into his mind.  Instead of the auditorium, he found himself in Gotham Hill Town Hall’s plush conference room.  He was a child again, and the man at the podium was his father, Victor Cobblepot.  Victor had just been re-elected mayor, and was rambling on about the same reforms he had promised in his previous term.  Of course, his primary focus was on the town’s racial situation, and how he would continue to preserve the “morals” and “traditions” of a true southern utopia like Gotham Hill.
And in a split second, Oswald’s entire life changed.  A shot was fired from a nearby window, and Victor collapsed to the floor.  He died instantly.  Oswald tried to run to his now deceased father, but security and police quickly crowded around the body.  The next time he would see him would be at the Pleasant Farewells Funeral Home.
The assassin was a member of an African-American extremist group, one that exchanged heartfelt speeches and peaceful protests for words of hate and bloody riots; men who discarded the legacy that civil rights activists like Martin Luther King and Thomas Wayne left behind.  But that didn’t simply cause Oswald to despise those that were exceptions to the rule.  At the very core of his soul, he hated them all.
Cobblepot snapped back into reality when Lucius Fox began to speak of his own goals, ones that would continue to hold the values and business ethics that Thomas Wayne set forth many years ago.  Oswald soon found himself yawning at the speech and concentrating more on his ever-growling stomach.  Behind Lucius on the stage, Bruce’s total attention was not on the speech either.  He was once again taking his father’s advice about being aware of the entire picture.  And again, it benefited him greatly… and this time, Fox as well.  Lucius was quite shocked as Bruce suddenly tackled him, but soon understood why as a bullet flew slightly above the podium.  Thankfully, it didn’t hit anyone directly behind Fox either.  With security and reporters now trying to close in on the would-be victim, Bruce used the chaos to depart, make a quick change, and hunt down the one who had just tried to murder his friend.

The assassin’s face lost all color as he sped away in a flashy getaway convertible.  He wasn’t worried about getting caught by the police.  He was a highly trained member of the Night Hawks, and had evaded the law on countless occasions.  His fear was the fact that he had to stand before The Penguin and explain his failure.  And how could he explain it?  Cobblepot was right there.  He considered himself one dead duck… or hawk.
That was his only true fear… until he met the Batman.  He heard a roar behind him that sounded like the combination of a caged lion and a thunderstorm.  He peeked over in the rearview mirror to see a long, sleek, black roadster that seemed to have a life of its own.  Its headlights looked like two vengeful eyes staring his own car down, and on its rear were two massive, wicked bat wings.  As his pursuer drove right on his bumper, the Night Hawk panicked and swerved the vehicle into a telephone pole.  Without so much as noticing the pain in his right arm and back, he crawled out of the wreckage and ran as fast as he could toward the nearest building.  He found a ladder on its side and climbed up, briefly glancing behind him to see if he was being followed- no one in sight.  He huffed out a relieved laugh, but once he reached the roof, his shirt was grabbed by a gloved hand, and the next thing he knew, he was hanging off another side of the building.
“Two questions,” said Batman, whose own eyes eerily resembled those on the high-tech, high-powered vehicle he called the Batmobile.  “And you don’t have a choice of which one to answer.”
“You’re real!” trembled the Night Hawk.  “You’re freakin’ real!”
“Why did you try to kill Lucius Fox… and who ordered you to do so?”
“What does it matter if I tell you?  I’m already dead.”
“Tell me, and I’ll see to you that you get a nice, safe trip to prison.”
“No, man.  Even you can’t stop him.  He’s too damn powerful in Gotham.”
Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by the blast of police sirens, followed by a showcase of flashlights.
“Let him go and stay where you are!” yelled the voice of Commissioner Jim Gordon once he spotted the duo.  He then turned to the officers behind him.  “Get up there, but be careful.  I want both of them alive.”
Once the officers made it to the roof, all they found was the Night Hawk tied up with note between his teeth.  Gordon arrived, grabbed the note, and read it aloud:
“THERE WILL BE NO MORE MARTYRS.”

Ever the resourceful psycho, the Joker found a new hideaway for himself and Harley Quinn in Laughs and Giggles, a now closed down novelty show in Historic Gotham Hill.  While Harley “tested” whoopee cushions behind him, the killer clown growled at the televised news that his entire circus gang had now been escorted to the state penitentiary.
“Oh well,” he shrugged as he kicked the small TV off the table.  “At least I still got you, Harley-Bear!”
“Awww, thanks Cuddles,” said Harley as she skipped over to him.  He then shoved what looked like a grinning gas mask on her face.
“I need somebody to help mix another batch my latest concoction!”
“Muff miff mit?” asked Harley under the mask.  Joker rolled his eyes and removed it.  “What is it?”
“Just a little piece of Buckwheat cake for these hicks that I call… Mirth-ane Gas!” answered her wicked Romeo with another devilish smile.
“You gonna try to kill a bunch of people again?”
“Well, they’ll die eventually.”  The Joker rose and walked over to what used to be the register counter.  On it sat the infamous canister with the smiling skull-and-crossbones seal.  “After all, this stuff is highly toxic.  But they will live long enough to become my personal army of laughing lunatics!”  He then swiftly turned back to Harley, scaring her enough to deflate the whoopee cushion she had in her hands.  “You see, Harley-Bear, I didn’t just bring my little show to this town to appease that over-sized pelican Cobblepot!  No, no, no, it’s because Gotham Hill is the perfect place for my own plan!”
“Because the folks here are dumb enough to actually fall for it?” giggled Harley.  She froze when she caught the Joker’s barely amused stare.
“Partly,” he said.  “But there are two other key reasons:  One, unlike places like Metropolis and Central City, this area is small enough for my Mirth-ane Gas to spread a considerable distance before the police even make it out of the donut shop to know what happened.  Another is that in addition to being morons, these Gotham Hillians have enough hate in their hearts to wreak truly hilarious havoc once they are exposed to my creation.”  As the Joker was about to bellow out another laugh, Harley shook her head.  “Oh, what is it now?”
“I think you forgot about the Bat,” she mumbled.
“Oooooohh, did I now?” said the Joker.  “I believe that it is you who have forgotten the first vital step in introducing a new sensation like Mirth-ane Gas to the masses- testing it!”  And with that, he finally got to release his howl of a laugh.

“Secret societies?  Crazed circus performers?  Some vigilante dressed up as a bat?” said Commissioner Gordon with a shake of his head to his men in blue.  “Since when did Gotham Hill become some place out of a comic book?”  He rose from the chair behind his office desk and picked up the newspaper.  “And now there was a near-riot in the streets this morning because we can’t convict this guy who tried to kill Lucius Fox.”
“Seems like every time we do bust one of those Night Hawks, some legal technicality surfaces,” said one of the officers.
“I know,” sighed the Commissioner.  “There’s something fishy going on with that, and neither I nor Harvey Dent can figure it out.”
“Well, the D.A. has been under a lot of stress lately,” said another officer.  “Especially after that psycho tried to cook half his face with a bottle of acid.”
“He’s recovering from that now,” said Gordon.  “Besides, we don’t need excuses.  We need answers!  And if you ask me, the only one who has’em and isn’t givin’ them is Mayor Cobblepot!”
“You keep pressing the mayor, you might not have to worry about this case at all,” said the same officer who spoke of Dent.  “You might be out of a job.”  Gordon nodded slightly at this, and then put on his jacket and cowboy hat.
“I swore an oath a long time ago to protect this city and preserve the peace,” he said as he headed out the door.  “Not being the police commissioner hardly gives me permission to break that oath.”  He tipped his hat to the officers.  “I’m going out to get something done.  When you’re ready to join me and stop giving into your doubts, you can follow along.”  Mere seconds after he walked out the door, the officers placed on their own hats and took the advice of a man they had the highest respect for.

“Well, they’ll be anything else, sirs?” Alfred asked Bruce Wayne and his early evening dinner guest as he removed their finished plates from the dining room table.
“No thank you, Alfred,” smiled Bruce.  “I think Oswald and I are just going to talk in the study for a bit, maybe play some darts.  You can call it a night if you want to.”
“Very good, sir,” said Alfred.  He bowed to both his employer and Cobblepot before walking away.  The mayor hardly acknowledged his farewell, but then gave Bruce an approving grin.
“You know, it’s nice eating a traditional European dinner now and then,” he said.  “Living in Gotham Hill, you kinda get sick of fried chicken and pork chops.”
“Alfred’s a great cook,” agreed Bruce.  “Well, just a great man altogether.”
“You’re lucky, Bruce, that you had him to take care of you after…”  Oswald stopped for a second.  Even he was careful not to over-step those bounds.  “Well, you know.  After my father was killed and mother went insane, I stayed with some pain-in-the-ass distant relatives until I was old enough to collect my inheritance.”
“I’m surprised you still sound so bitter, Oswald.  You’ve done pretty well for yourself since then.”
“Ah, hush,” chuckled Cobblepot.  “I’m just the mayor.  You’re the one that’s doin’ well, Mr. New WayneTech Division.  What in the world have you got cookin’ up down there?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential.  Heck, even I’m not allowed to tell.”  The two shared a laugh, though Cobblepot showed a bit of disappointment at Bruce’s answer.  “You know, Oswald, it’s been a long time since we’ve been able to sit down and just chat like this.”
“Yeah, I do miss the old days.  I guess you and I are just getting older and more… business-like.”  There was a hint of sadness in Oswald’s voice.  Deep down, he was nostalgic for the most pleasant times in his life, times that didn’t “force” him to become what he had become.  And often, he also wished he hadn’t dug the hole he placed himself in too deep.  To him, there was no way out now.
Oswald’s thoughts were interrupted by Alfred, who announced the arrival of Lucius Fox.  As Bruce asked Alfred to invite him in, his other guest let out a silent groan.
“Hiya Lucius,” said Bruce as his old friend walked in.  “Care to sit down and join in the conversation?”
“Hey Bruce,” he then turned to Oswald.  “Mr. Mayor, always a pleasure.”
“Same here,” said the insincere Cobblepot.
“Wish I could stay, Bruce, but I just came to tell you that the crate you’ve been expecting has arrived at WayneTech.  I was on my way there, and thought I’d give you the news.”
“Always the considerate one, Lucius,” said Bruce jokingly.  “However, I don’t know if I’ll be able to drop by tonight.  I have some pressing business to take care of elsewhere.”
“Oh my,” said Oswald, pretending to actually be concerned by the time on his pocketwatch.  “As do I.  Bruce, forgive me but I must take my leave.”
“Understood, Oswald,” said Bruce as both rose.  “After all, you’ve got an entire town to watch over.  I can’t imagine the responsibility.”
“Yes, the welfare of the people is always my top priority,” grinned Oswald.  “See ya, Bruce, Mr. Fox.”  He then shook Lucius’ hand, but not out of civility.  He did so in order to slip a small electronic bug under his sleeve.  But unfortunately, his assumption that he had done so unobserved was a poor one, though Bruce did not say a word as he left.

Less than an hour later in the Golden Gander Hotel, Oswald had once again taken on the persona of The Penguin as he approached the Night Hawk who had failed to assassinate Fox.
“Thanks for bailing me out, Penguin,” smiled his henchman with false confidence that vainly hid his fear.  “And you know not a word will be said to anyone about this.”
“Not a word,” hissed the Penguin as he suddenly fried the poor fellow with a lethal electric shock that was built into the tip of his umbrella.  The crime lord then turned to the other Night Hawks, who were hardly stunned as they knew this was coming to any who failed their boss.  “Get him outta him, and then get your gear together.  We’re striking WayneTech tonight.”
“I thought you said you were through robbing your friend Wayne,” said one of the Night Hawks.
“Tonight isn’t about Wayne.  We have unfinished business with Mr. Lucius Fox.”

The sword of irony dangled above the Penguin’s head, as while he discussed listening in on Lucius Fox with the Night Hawks, he had no idea that his hotel suite/office was bugged as well following the Joker’s recent visit.  With the aid of over-sized, ear muff-like headphones, the Joker grinned as he listened to the bird chirp about the evening’s activities.
“Harley, get your giddy little tush over here!” he yelled as he removed the headphones.
“You want some birthday cake, pookie?” asked Harley, who was eating the cake right out of the bakery box it came in.  Joker then rubbed his skull again, massaging away another Harley-produced headache.
“Should I even bother to ask whose birthday it is?”
“Oh nobody,” giggled Harley with her mouth full.  “The window displays at Mama Gotham’s just look so tasty that I…”
“Gimme the cake, Harley,” sighed the Joker, who threw it into her face once she did so.  “Now clean yourself up and get ready!  We’re going to WayneTech!”
“Why Waynetech?” said Harley with icing still all over her face.
“Because that fattened fowl Cobblepot will be there!  He’s got some kind of white-trash vendetta against some guy named Fox.  Oooh, why must people be so prejudice?”
“Yes, they should want to kill everyone equally like you,” smiled Harley.  “Except for me of course, huh Snookums?”
“Well, you’re almost right.”  The Joker then brushed past her and grabbed a canister of his gas.  “Cobblepot said there was also a big shipment arriving at WayneTech, which means that the big bad Bat will no doubt be present as well in case of trouble.”  He then stared at the canister with eyes that seemed like someone else was flying.  “And believe me, he’s gonna have a whole nose full of trouble!”  This naturally gave way to another round of demonic laughter as he juggled the canister in his head.

Lucius clutched his heart at the sight of Batman shortly after he stepped out of his car.  The phantom of a man stood about two feet away in the shadows, and seemed to stare through him instead of at him.  The look harbored no ill will towards Fox.  Batman stared at everyone that way.
“You again?” laughed Fox.  “You know you almost made me…”  Batman suddenly grabbed his arm and ripped out the bug Oswald placed under his sleeve.  Fox barely got a chance to look at it before it was crushed between two gloved fingers.
“No time to explain,” whispered Batman.  “Get out of here, get on the phone, and call Commissioner Gordon.”
“But I’m the only one who can…”
“If you walk into WayneTech right now, even I might not be able to save you.”  Lucius sighed, nodded, and stepped back into his car.  Batman then turned his attention to the elaborate spectacle of a structure containing Wayne Enterprise’s best kept technological secrets.  He knew trouble would be arriving soon, and he planned to be there before it showed up.

A group of Night Hawks went through the trouble of making their way through Wayne Tech’s highly advanced security system only to find that their “target” was nowhere in sight.  Nevertheless, they raised their firearms and took a look around.
“I don’t think this ‘darkie’ has even shown up yet,” said one of them.  “The lights ain’t even on.”
“I’ll take care of that,” said a haunting voice as the main lab’s emergency light lit up the place.  Batman then swooped down, and with his skill in martial arts, he took down the entire group before a shot could even be fired.  He glanced at his handy work for a second, and then looked up to see the arrival of the Night Hawk’s leader, who confidently stared back at him as he ignited another cigar.  In his other hand, the Penguin gripped his umbrella, as if he was prepared to do battle with it.
“Cobblepot,” whispered Batman.  “Do you even realize what all you can lose by killing a man in cold blood?”
“I’ve already lost a father, my masked friend,” said the Penguin with a hint of grief.  “Lost him to those who took advantage of rights they didn’t deserve.  And I refuse to see some uppity negro take a position of power in one of Gotham’s finest companies.”
“Bruce Wayne would despise you for this,” said Batman.
“You forget how the Night Hawks work.  Bruce isn’t going to know about this.”
“He just might already.”
Suddenly, the two heard the hiss of gas making its way into the room via the air vents.  Once Batman saw the strange-colored cloud, he removed a small gas mask from his utility belt and placed it over his face.  The Penguin backed up behind a set of file cabinets and shielded himself with his open umbrella.  Soon, Batman couldn’t see a thing, which allowed the arriving Joker to kick him in the face.  The killer clown and Harley had grinning gas masks on as well, and both gave out hideous chuckles as the vile smoke known as Mirth-ane Gas finally cleared.  Batman staggered to his feet as the Penguin came out of hiding.
“Well, lookie here,” said the Joker as he and Harley removed their masks.  “I have both the Bat and the Bird right next to each other; double the pleasure, double the homicide!”
“I don’t how or why you decided to interfere with my business,” said Oswald.  “But between my caped friend and myself here, you ain’t putting a hand on anyone.”  Batman gave Cobblepot a brief dirty look at the semi-courageous remark.
“Ooooh, how right you are, Mr. Mayor,” said the Joker.  “As depressing as it is, I won’t be doing the actual eliminations tonight.  My new allies, the Night Hawks, will be taking care of that for me!”
“You must be crazy if you think that those who have sworn loyalty to me are gonna turn on me like a pack of dogs,” grinned the Penguin.
“Why yes, I am crazy!” laughed the Joker.  “But then again… so are they now.”  Joker and Harley then moved aside to reveal the frightening effects of the Mirth-ane on the Night Hawks.  Their faces were ghost-pale with a touch of green, and all of them had snickering smiles on their face.  Slowly they began laughing, one after the other as they aimed their guns at various directions of the room, including right at Batman and their employer.  The Joker laughed himself as he pointed at his two adversaries and fled the place.  Harley made sure to blow them a kiss good-bye as she followed him.  Even worse, before they left, Joker used a gimmicked remote control to lock the place down.
“Well, told you Bruce ain’t gonna know about our little assassination attempt,” said the Penguin to Batman.  “Don’t think anyone’s gonna live to tell him.”  He then wondered why Batman refused to budge an inch as the first triggers were pulled.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Description
BATMAN: SOUTHERN KNIGHT
PART THREE:
“THE PRICE OF HATE”
Based on the DC Comics Characters created by Bob Kane

As Mayor Cobblepot sat in the front row of WayneTech’s main auditorium and eyed the podium behind which Lucius Fox would give the evening’s speech, a dark memory crept into his mind.  Instead of the auditorium, he found himself in Gotham Hill Town Hall’s plush conference room.  He was a child again, and the man at the podium was his father, Victor Cobblepot.  Victor had just been re-elected mayor, and was rambling on about the same reforms he had promised in his previous term.  Of course, his primary focus was on the town’s racial situation, and how he would continue to preserve the “morals” and “traditions” of a true southern utopia like Gotham Hill.
And in a split second, Oswald’s entire life changed.  A shot was fired from a nearby window, and Victor collapsed to the floor.  He died instantly.  Oswald tried to run to his now deceased father, but security and police quickly crowded around the body.  The next time he would see him would be at the Pleasant Farewells Funeral Home.
The assassin was a member of an African-American extremist group, one that exchanged heartfelt speeches and peaceful protests for words of hate and bloody riots; men who discarded the legacy that civil rights activists like Martin Luther King and Thomas Wayne left behind.  But that didn’t simply cause Oswald to despise those that were exceptions to the rule.  At the very core of his soul, he hated them all.
Cobblepot snapped back into reality when Lucius Fox began to speak of his own goals, ones that would continue to hold the values and business ethics that Thomas Wayne set forth many years ago.  Oswald soon found himself yawning at the speech and concentrating more on his ever-growling stomach.  Behind Lucius on the stage, Bruce’s total attention was not on the speech either.  He was once again taking his father’s advice about being aware of the entire picture.  And again, it benefited him greatly… and this time, Fox as well.  Lucius was quite shocked as Bruce suddenly tackled him, but soon understood why as a bullet flew slightly above the podium.  Thankfully, it didn’t hit anyone directly behind Fox either.  With security and reporters now trying to close in on the would-be victim, Bruce used the chaos to depart, make a quick change, and hunt down the one who had just tried to murder his friend.

The assassin’s face lost all color as he sped away in a flashy getaway convertible.  He wasn’t worried about getting caught by the police.  He was a highly trained member of the Night Hawks, and had evaded the law on countless occasions.  His fear was the fact that he had to stand before The Penguin and explain his failure.  And how could he explain it?  Cobblepot was right there.  He considered himself one dead duck… or hawk.
That was his only true fear… until he met the Batman.  He heard a roar behind him that sounded like the combination of a caged lion and a thunderstorm.  He peeked over in the rearview mirror to see a long, sleek, black roadster that seemed to have a life of its own.  Its headlights looked like two vengeful eyes staring his own car down, and on its rear were two massive, wicked bat wings.  As his pursuer drove right on his bumper, the Night Hawk panicked and swerved the vehicle into a telephone pole.  Without so much as noticing the pain in his right arm and back, he crawled out of the wreckage and ran as fast as he could toward the nearest building.  He found a ladder on its side and climbed up, briefly glancing behind him to see if he was being followed- no one in sight.  He huffed out a relieved laugh, but once he reached the roof, his shirt was grabbed by a gloved hand, and the next thing he knew, he was hanging off another side of the building.
“Two questions,” said Batman, whose own eyes eerily resembled those on the high-tech, high-powered vehicle he called the Batmobile.  “And you don’t have a choice of which one to answer.”
“You’re real!” trembled the Night Hawk.  “You’re freakin’ real!”
“Why did you try to kill Lucius Fox… and who ordered you to do so?”
“What does it matter if I tell you?  I’m already dead.”
“Tell me, and I’ll see to you that you get a nice, safe trip to prison.”
“No, man.  Even you can’t stop him.  He’s too damn powerful in Gotham.”
Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by the blast of police sirens, followed by a showcase of flashlights.
“Let him go and stay where you are!” yelled the voice of Commissioner Jim Gordon once he spotted the duo.  He then turned to the officers behind him.  “Get up there, but be careful.  I want both of them alive.”
Once the officers made it to the roof, all they found was the Night Hawk tied up with note between his teeth.  Gordon arrived, grabbed the note, and read it aloud:
“THERE WILL BE NO MORE MARTYRS.”

Ever the resourceful psycho, the Joker found a new hideaway for himself and Harley Quinn in Laughs and Giggles, a now closed down novelty show in Historic Gotham Hill.  While Harley “tested” whoopee cushions behind him, the killer clown growled at the televised news that his entire circus gang had now been escorted to the state penitentiary.
“Oh well,” he shrugged as he kicked the small TV off the table.  “At least I still got you, Harley-Bear!”
“Awww, thanks Cuddles,” said Harley as she skipped over to him.  He then shoved what looked like a grinning gas mask on her face.
“I need somebody to help mix another batch my latest concoction!”
“Muff miff mit?” asked Harley under the mask.  Joker rolled his eyes and removed it.  “What is it?”
“Just a little piece of Buckwheat cake for these hicks that I call… Mirth-ane Gas!” answered her wicked Romeo with another devilish smile.
“You gonna try to kill a bunch of people again?”
“Well, they’ll die eventually.”  The Joker rose and walked over to what used to be the register counter.  On it sat the infamous canister with the smiling skull-and-crossbones seal.  “After all, this stuff is highly toxic.  But they will live long enough to become my personal army of laughing lunatics!”  He then swiftly turned back to Harley, scaring her enough to deflate the whoopee cushion she had in her hands.  “You see, Harley-Bear, I didn’t just bring my little show to this town to appease that over-sized pelican Cobblepot!  No, no, no, it’s because Gotham Hill is the perfect place for my own plan!”
“Because the folks here are dumb enough to actually fall for it?” giggled Harley.  She froze when she caught the Joker’s barely amused stare.
“Partly,” he said.  “But there are two other key reasons:  One, unlike places like Metropolis and Central City, this area is small enough for my Mirth-ane Gas to spread a considerable distance before the police even make it out of the donut shop to know what happened.  Another is that in addition to being morons, these Gotham Hillians have enough hate in their hearts to wreak truly hilarious havoc once they are exposed to my creation.”  As the Joker was about to bellow out another laugh, Harley shook her head.  “Oh, what is it now?”
“I think you forgot about the Bat,” she mumbled.
“Oooooohh, did I now?” said the Joker.  “I believe that it is you who have forgotten the first vital step in introducing a new sensation like Mirth-ane Gas to the masses- testing it!”  And with that, he finally got to release his howl of a laugh.

“Secret societies?  Crazed circus performers?  Some vigilante dressed up as a bat?” said Commissioner Gordon with a shake of his head to his men in blue.  “Since when did Gotham Hill become some place out of a comic book?”  He rose from the chair behind his office desk and picked up the newspaper.  “And now there was a near-riot in the streets this morning because we can’t convict this guy who tried to kill Lucius Fox.”
“Seems like every time we do bust one of those Night Hawks, some legal technicality surfaces,” said one of the officers.
“I know,” sighed the Commissioner.  “There’s something fishy going on with that, and neither I nor Harvey Dent can figure it out.”
“Well, the D.A. has been under a lot of stress lately,” said another officer.  “Especially after that psycho tried to cook half his face with a bottle of acid.”
“He’s recovering from that now,” said Gordon.  “Besides, we don’t need excuses.  We need answers!  And if you ask me, the only one who has’em and isn’t givin’ them is Mayor Cobblepot!”
“You keep pressing the mayor, you might not have to worry about this case at all,” said the same officer who spoke of Dent.  “You might be out of a job.”  Gordon nodded slightly at this, and then put on his jacket and cowboy hat.
“I swore an oath a long time ago to protect this city and preserve the peace,” he said as he headed out the door.  “Not being the police commissioner hardly gives me permission to break that oath.”  He tipped his hat to the officers.  “I’m going out to get something done.  When you’re ready to join me and stop giving into your doubts, you can follow along.”  Mere seconds after he walked out the door, the officers placed on their own hats and took the advice of a man they had the highest respect for.

“Well, they’ll be anything else, sirs?” Alfred asked Bruce Wayne and his early evening dinner guest as he removed their finished plates from the dining room table.
“No thank you, Alfred,” smiled Bruce.  “I think Oswald and I are just going to talk in the study for a bit, maybe play some darts.  You can call it a night if you want to.”
“Very good, sir,” said Alfred.  He bowed to both his employer and Cobblepot before walking away.  The mayor hardly acknowledged his farewell, but then gave Bruce an approving grin.
“You know, it’s nice eating a traditional European dinner now and then,” he said.  “Living in Gotham Hill, you kinda get sick of fried chicken and pork chops.”
“Alfred’s a great cook,” agreed Bruce.  “Well, just a great man altogether.”
“You’re lucky, Bruce, that you had him to take care of you after…”  Oswald stopped for a second.  Even he was careful not to over-step those bounds.  “Well, you know.  After my father was killed and mother went insane, I stayed with some pain-in-the-ass distant relatives until I was old enough to collect my inheritance.”
“I’m surprised you still sound so bitter, Oswald.  You’ve done pretty well for yourself since then.”
“Ah, hush,” chuckled Cobblepot.  “I’m just the mayor.  You’re the one that’s doin’ well, Mr. New WayneTech Division.  What in the world have you got cookin’ up down there?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential.  Heck, even I’m not allowed to tell.”  The two shared a laugh, though Cobblepot showed a bit of disappointment at Bruce’s answer.  “You know, Oswald, it’s been a long time since we’ve been able to sit down and just chat like this.”
“Yeah, I do miss the old days.  I guess you and I are just getting older and more… business-like.”  There was a hint of sadness in Oswald’s voice.  Deep down, he was nostalgic for the most pleasant times in his life, times that didn’t “force” him to become what he had become.  And often, he also wished he hadn’t dug the hole he placed himself in too deep.  To him, there was no way out now.
Oswald’s thoughts were interrupted by Alfred, who announced the arrival of Lucius Fox.  As Bruce asked Alfred to invite him in, his other guest let out a silent groan.
“Hiya Lucius,” said Bruce as his old friend walked in.  “Care to sit down and join in the conversation?”
“Hey Bruce,” he then turned to Oswald.  “Mr. Mayor, always a pleasure.”
“Same here,” said the insincere Cobblepot.
“Wish I could stay, Bruce, but I just came to tell you that the crate you’ve been expecting has arrived at WayneTech.  I was on my way there, and thought I’d give you the news.”
“Always the considerate one, Lucius,” said Bruce jokingly.  “However, I don’t know if I’ll be able to drop by tonight.  I have some pressing business to take care of elsewhere.”
“Oh my,” said Oswald, pretending to actually be concerned by the time on his pocketwatch.  “As do I.  Bruce, forgive me but I must take my leave.”
“Understood, Oswald,” said Bruce as both rose.  “After all, you’ve got an entire town to watch over.  I can’t imagine the responsibility.”
“Yes, the welfare of the people is always my top priority,” grinned Oswald.  “See ya, Bruce, Mr. Fox.”  He then shook Lucius’ hand, but not out of civility.  He did so in order to slip a small electronic bug under his sleeve.  But unfortunately, his assumption that he had done so unobserved was a poor one, though Bruce did not say a word as he left.

Less than an hour later in the Golden Gander Hotel, Oswald had once again taken on the persona of The Penguin as he approached the Night Hawk who had failed to assassinate Fox.
“Thanks for bailing me out, Penguin,” smiled his henchman with false confidence that vainly hid his fear.  “And you know not a word will be said to anyone about this.”
“Not a word,” hissed the Penguin as he suddenly fried the poor fellow with a lethal electric shock that was built into the tip of his umbrella.  The crime lord then turned to the other Night Hawks, who were hardly stunned as they knew this was coming to any who failed their boss.  “Get him outta him, and then get your gear together.  We’re striking WayneTech tonight.”
“I thought you said you were through robbing your friend Wayne,” said one of the Night Hawks.
“Tonight isn’t about Wayne.  We have unfinished business with Mr. Lucius Fox.”

The sword of irony dangled above the Penguin’s head, as while he discussed listening in on Lucius Fox with the Night Hawks, he had no idea that his hotel suite/office was bugged as well following the Joker’s recent visit.  With the aid of over-sized, ear muff-like headphones, the Joker grinned as he listened to the bird chirp about the evening’s activities.
“Harley, get your giddy little tush over here!” he yelled as he removed the headphones.
“You want some birthday cake, pookie?” asked Harley, who was eating the cake right out of the bakery box it came in.  Joker then rubbed his skull again, massaging away another Harley-produced headache.
“Should I even bother to ask whose birthday it is?”
“Oh nobody,” giggled Harley with her mouth full.  “The window displays at Mama Gotham’s just look so tasty that I…”
“Gimme the cake, Harley,” sighed the Joker, who threw it into her face once she did so.  “Now clean yourself up and get ready!  We’re going to WayneTech!”
“Why Waynetech?” said Harley with icing still all over her face.
“Because that fattened fowl Cobblepot will be there!  He’s got some kind of white-trash vendetta against some guy named Fox.  Oooh, why must people be so prejudice?”
“Yes, they should want to kill everyone equally like you,” smiled Harley.  “Except for me of course, huh Snookums?”
“Well, you’re almost right.”  The Joker then brushed past her and grabbed a canister of his gas.  “Cobblepot said there was also a big shipment arriving at WayneTech, which means that the big bad Bat will no doubt be present as well in case of trouble.”  He then stared at the canister with eyes that seemed like someone else was flying.  “And believe me, he’s gonna have a whole nose full of trouble!”  This naturally gave way to another round of demonic laughter as he juggled the canister in his head.

Lucius clutched his heart at the sight of Batman shortly after he stepped out of his car.  The phantom of a man stood about two feet away in the shadows, and seemed to stare through him instead of at him.  The look harbored no ill will towards Fox.  Batman stared at everyone that way.
“You again?” laughed Fox.  “You know you almost made me…”  Batman suddenly grabbed his arm and ripped out the bug Oswald placed under his sleeve.  Fox barely got a chance to look at it before it was crushed between two gloved fingers.
“No time to explain,” whispered Batman.  “Get out of here, get on the phone, and call Commissioner Gordon.”
“But I’m the only one who can…”
“If you walk into WayneTech right now, even I might not be able to save you.”  Lucius sighed, nodded, and stepped back into his car.  Batman then turned his attention to the elaborate spectacle of a structure containing Wayne Enterprise’s best kept technological secrets.  He knew trouble would be arriving soon, and he planned to be there before it showed up.

A group of Night Hawks went through the trouble of making their way through Wayne Tech’s highly advanced security system only to find that their “target” was nowhere in sight.  Nevertheless, they raised their firearms and took a look around.
“I don’t think this ‘darkie’ has even shown up yet,” said one of them.  “The lights ain’t even on.”
“I’ll take care of that,” said a haunting voice as the main lab’s emergency light lit up the place.  Batman then swooped down, and with his skill in martial arts, he took down the entire group before a shot could even be fired.  He glanced at his handy work for a second, and then looked up to see the arrival of the Night Hawk’s leader, who confidently stared back at him as he ignited another cigar.  In his other hand, the Penguin gripped his umbrella, as if he was prepared to do battle with it.
“Cobblepot,” whispered Batman.  “Do you even realize what all you can lose by killing a man in cold blood?”
“I’ve already lost a father, my masked friend,” said the Penguin with a hint of grief.  “Lost him to those who took advantage of rights they didn’t deserve.  And I refuse to see some uppity negro take a position of power in one of Gotham’s finest companies.”
“Bruce Wayne would despise you for this,” said Batman.
“You forget how the Night Hawks work.  Bruce isn’t going to know about this.”
“He just might already.”
Suddenly, the two heard the hiss of gas making its way into the room via the air vents.  Once Batman saw the strange-colored cloud, he removed a small gas mask from his utility belt and placed it over his face.  The Penguin backed up behind a set of file cabinets and shielded himself with his open umbrella.  Soon, Batman couldn’t see a thing, which allowed the arriving Joker to kick him in the face.  The killer clown and Harley had grinning gas masks on as well, and both gave out hideous chuckles as the vile smoke known as Mirth-ane Gas finally cleared.  Batman staggered to his feet as the Penguin came out of hiding.
“Well, lookie here,” said the Joker as he and Harley removed their masks.  “I have both the Bat and the Bird right next to each other; double the pleasure, double the homicide!”
“I don’t how or why you decided to interfere with my business,” said Oswald.  “But between my caped friend and myself here, you ain’t putting a hand on anyone.”  Batman gave Cobblepot a brief dirty look at the semi-courageous remark.
“Ooooh, how right you are, Mr. Mayor,” said the Joker.  “As depressing as it is, I won’t be doing the actual eliminations tonight.  My new allies, the Night Hawks, will be taking care of that for me!”
“You must be crazy if you think that those who have sworn loyalty to me are gonna turn on me like a pack of dogs,” grinned the Penguin.
“Why yes, I am crazy!” laughed the Joker.  “But then again… so are they now.”  Joker and Harley then moved aside to reveal the frightening effects of the Mirth-ane on the Night Hawks.  Their faces were ghost-pale with a touch of green, and all of them had snickering smiles on their face.  Slowly they began laughing, one after the other as they aimed their guns at various directions of the room, including right at Batman and their employer.  The Joker laughed himself as he pointed at his two adversaries and fled the place.  Harley made sure to blow them a kiss good-bye as she followed him.  Even worse, before they left, Joker used a gimmicked remote control to lock the place down.
“Well, told you Bruce ain’t gonna know about our little assassination attempt,” said the Penguin to Batman.  “Don’t think anyone’s gonna live to tell him.”  He then wondered why Batman refused to budge an inch as the first triggers were pulled.

TO BE CONTINUED…