He wondered if
the extra second that it took for him to break his reverie allowed the man to
escape. Two gunshots from some distance away pierced through the gloom of the cloudy,
still night. Having heard the sounds many times, he recognized the sound of a police
held Glock pistol immediately. And in the seventy one seconds it took him to
reach the alleys around where he judged the shots were fired, jumping from one
roof to another, he had figured eight possibilities for the gunshots in that
area at that ungodly hour of 2am. The thought if there ever was a godly hour
also had crossed his mind. But what was at the forefront of his thoughts was the
worry that out of the eight possibilities, only one of them involved the shots
being fired from a policeman and he’d assigned that a very low probability.
A very quick
surveillance of the alleys, still from rooftops, couldn’t reveal the nature of
the crime that he suspected to have been committed. There were no policemen
around, and even from his vantage point, he hadn’t noticed a speeding vehicle
or a dispersing crowd. He couldn’t spot a burglary, nor could he spot a
corpse. Intercepting the police radio, he figured that the detectives were on
their way. He didn’t have enough time to scour for the ejected shells. He
didn’t need to, anyway. As always, he’d get the results of the forensic firearm
examination through his friend in the force.
Retreating into
a dark corner of the roof on which he currently perched, he began the evaluation
of the seven remaining theories. Three of those theories were around the mafia
that was speculated to be building around the Congressman Theodore Koppel. It
had taken him months of research to see the connections between the goons and
their employer. His interrogation methods still yielded better results compared
to what the cops could achieve, as his name still breathed fear. These methods
aided him to see the thin threads connecting the various crimes to Koppel. The
evidence he’d uncovered was certainly not sufficient and barely admissible in
court. Yet, there were patterns that he couldn’t ignore. And today, he’d need
more evidence before he could theorize further.
As a light
drizzle set in, he hoped to hear the police sirens soon, before the scene of
crime was washed clean. Even after all these years, the sound of two isolated
gunshots rattled a deep nerve within him. Sights and sounds from his childhood
had started resurfacing, igniting a sense of fear. The pattering of the raindrops
though, adding to the ebbing din of the city and the wailing blues of the guitars
he heard from the house below served to compose him. He felt the fear turn to
anger, and the anger soon turned to determination. The city had to be cleansed.
And now as the rain grew strong, he’d do just that.
The police
sirens in the distance announced the arrival of the police. Through the
intercepted feed, he had gathered that homicide detective James Hardy was on
the team, and so was forensics expert Irene Lawrence. Both were new to the
city, but they came with great repute. He knew of Hardy’s resolute work in the
Todd double murder case which had brought him fame, while the untiring Lawrence’s
temerity and keen observation skills had established her as the best among the
forensics detectives. Mentally he made a note to thank the Commissioner for
bringing in the best detectives to the force. With them on the case, he was
certain of quick progress. He felt calmness arrive, as the rain beat down on
the city and the detectives got to work.
Every night, as
the tired city turned to find some rest, his prowl started. He had salvaged the
city nights from thugs for years now. The night belonged to him. His was a
sight that spelt terror for the unlawful, a sight that caused their knees to
shiver and crumble. People still spoke of him in hushed tones, their voices
contagious with fear. And for those who deserved his care, his reign of night
was calming. Yet, the unlawful didn’t stop breeding. They sneaked around the
city like roaches in the dark. They were the city’s stench. And they would
continue to breed if someone didn’t put a stop to it all. He’d be relentless until
he uprooted them and weeded them out. The city would one day be clean. The city
would one day be glorious.
Commissioner
Gordon’s men continued their work in the torrential rain as the Batman spread
his cape and leapt to another rooftop to follow a lead in a different case,
vowing that he’d keep Gotham safe. He would take Gotham to glory.
