Batman Story Excerpt

[b]Batman[/b]

He'd been in these situations before.  Trained to peak physical perfection and in every aspect of criminology, he no longer had to consider his actions or plan methods of attack - it was instinct.  He had to be sharp, rely on pre-programmed skills in his subconscious to stay one step ahead of the defilers of Gotham City.  This prowess hadn't failed him yet, and it wasn't about to fall short, now.

Not to mention there was always an extra effort given by The Dark Knight when hostages were involved.  Admittedly, there was a particulary unforgiving hate buried deep in the back of Bruce's mind for criminals that relied on holding captives at gunpoint for negotiation, but hadn't the Batman done the same in the past?  There was a time when, as a young mind at Berklee, the heir to the Wayne Forturne would have been unable to wrap his mind around such a selfish disregard for human life, but over the years the responsibilty of serving as Gotham's savior got to Bruce and he had to admit something a young vigilante never even considered - he needed help.  A murdered mother and son, a paralyzed acrobatic, and an emotionally scarred, now dismissive pupil and friend were all he had to show for his crusade.  The city was worse than ever and anyone who dared to get close to the Caped Crusader became hostages in his war on crime.  If Batman could actually ever have friends, that is - you had to be able to trust friends, afterall.

"Now's not the time, Bruce," he often thought to himself.  But, if not now, when?

He approached the once abandoned warehouse gliding through the crisp, night sky - no longer aware of the feel of the wind on his face.  Silently, he dropped to the rooftop and moved to the skylight.  He wasn't alone - someone was inside...

[b]Batman[/b](still at warehouse)

One look through the skylight was enough to confirm his suspicion - [i]he[/i] was here.  The segragation of the warehouse into order and madness mirrored the detachment in the psyche of the perpetrator and his one time friend.  As much as Bruce wanted to believe there was still good in Harvey, deep down he knew the truth - there was no bringing him back.  For the one time district attorney, morality was no longer a question of "right" or "wrong."  Instead, he relied on chance - the simple flip of a coin.  Innocence or guilt, loyalty or betrayal, good or evil was all now determined by an even more abridged notion - heads or tails.  Two-Face's entire state of mind and every decision he made relied on this gamble, and without his idol to serve as judge, jury, and executioner, Bruce fears he would be even more detached from reality.

No sentries on the roof and no trip wires or alarm systems in place.  Two-Face wasn't exactly trying to make this difficult on him.  In a moment, Batman was through the breach and on the ground.  His cowl's nightvision provided a clear look around the room.  Empty.

"Where are you Harvey?" The Dark Knight caught himself saying outloud.  "And what have you done with Barbara?"

[b]Batman[/b]

"Where is she?!"  He growled more intimidating than usual.  It didn't take him long to trace the chemicals in Barbara's hair to the distant shore.  Gotham City itself was built on a rocky East Coast terrain, but the calcium carbonate isomer Bruce isolated from a hair follicle was specific to Arkham Island.  A single drop of hydrochloric acid on the limestone traces sublimed the rock to carbon dioxide and was presented in his cowl's forensic readouts.  No other clues were present at the abandoned warehouse, and Bruce knew better than to deem uncovering the strands of hair as coincidence.  Oracle had left the trail and he sensed he wasn't far behind.

"Inside!" The terrified thug screamed as if he feared for his life.  "She's locked in one of the cells - I dont know which one," he continued.  "Please, don't kill me!"

A single, precise strike to the lower jaw and his prisoner was silent.  With a fire of the batclaw, in an instant he was scaling the inner wall of the prison.  Sticking to the shadows, the Caped Crusader weaved his way to a hidden entrance.

"Good," he thought.  "Trip wires are in place, - still undetected."