Gotham Knight (TWO)

A New Gotham

Bruce Anthony Wayne, The Batman

"Sir, I don't think you understand." I said sheepishly, trying to keep control of the crowd who was clapping, cheering, screaming and booing all at once.

Just moments ago I had unveiled my new plan, my new order. A New Gotham. Me and Lucius had been working on the designs for months, and now was the time that I released them to the public. A large plan to redo all the older buildings, get new skyscrapers, get Ace Chemicals up and running again, get petty thieves off the streets and implement Harvey Dent's new Dent Act to get drugs away from children and off the streets. 

A Gotham City News anchor, Vicki Vale, stood up and applauded me. "I don't always agree with you, Bruce," she paused. "but Gotham needs help from you higher-ups." she half-smiled as I walked off stage. A large, muscular man in a tan suit grabbed my shoulder as I walked into the crowd.

"Mister Wayne! My name is Jerome Vega." he extended. "I'm familiar with the name. Running for mayor, aren't you?" I asked. He smiled and handed me a small pin that read 'Vote for Vega!' "Indeed. And I want to let you know, that your plan for Gotham is the best by far. If I can get your vote for Mayor, I will fully endorse your order and we can work together to make a better Gotham," he grinned ear to ear. "A new Gotham." Jerome winked. 

Other people pulled me aside, telling me how much they loved my plans, or how many flaws there were in it. I cracked my knuckles and finally escaped the crowd.

7 months. It had been exactly 7 months since that night. The night I drove to the top of the mountain. The night I picked up his dead body, hoping he was alive. The night he died. Jason Todd. Robin. Mercilessly murdered at the hands of The Joker. 7 months now, I had been searching for his evil clown face. 7 months, and no sign of The Joker.

I went to bed every night thinking about how Jason died. His bloody suit stood in the Batcave as a constant reminder of my biggest mistake.

But the worse part of it was knowing he was out there. Laughing it up, enjoying his meals. Having fun with Harley Quinn, messing with local crime bosses. All in the shadows. He never came out like he used to, never taunted me or started a war. Everyone called it "The End of The Joker". But I'm no idiot. He was out there. Watching, laughing, enjoying himself. And it was only a matter of time before The Joker showed his white face again.

____________________________________________________________________________________

"Exactly 46 blades pierced into him. All slightly missing his vital arteries and organs. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. The blades were thrown from far away and still missed all of them. Like something out of a comic book . . ." Police Commissioner Jim Gordon mumbled the last sentence. I examined the dead body that was plastered to the apartment wall.

Jim pulled out one of the infamous evidence baggies and handed it to me. One of the forty-six blades that was thrown at the unrecognizable victim. A small piercing blade with an unusual pattern carved into the hilt. My body froze. No. It couldn't be.

An owl. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and sighed in. A weird, familiar smell wafted into my nose. Gasoline. "Jim." I reached my hand out in front of his lit cigar. He dropped it into my hand, and I threw it at the ground below me. It erupted into a line of flames that moved towards the wall. It continued moving, faster and faster towards it until it started outlining words written in gasoline on the wall. The words formed in front of me and Jim, in almost perfect cursive writing.

BRUCE WAYNE WILL DIE TOMORROW

I smiled haphazardly. Cute. Jim grabbed a phone from his pocket, screaming at Harvey Bullock to get security guards on Wayne.

He turned to me. "What do you think?"

I analyzed everything I had learned in the last few days, from the thugs and now the fire writing. Before I could speak, Jim interrupted me. "The Court of the Owls." he whispered. I shook my head. "Not the real Court, Jim, they don't exist. Someone is obviously trying to make us believe in the children's tale. We've had similar situations like this before. Imitation." Jim didn't look convinced. 

"Beware the court of the owls, that watches all the time,
Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.
They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,
Speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head."

Jim spoke the classic rhyme, moving his thumb across the owl blade. He turned to look at me as I walked out of the window. I gave one last look back.

"Stay focused, Jim. Don't let this Court of the Owls business distract you from our main goal. The Joker." he shifted his glasses and nodded.

Speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head.