Curtis arrived at Mawk's party the following day an hour ahead of the other guests. The host had asked him to be early to double-check the light system one final time. So, dressed in a suit, Curtis stood outside of the impressive one-story mansion about to get his groove on.
"Welcome back, dude, and thanks for comin' early." Mawk, in sweatpants and a dress shirt, invited Curtis inside. "You know what to do. I'll be back in a minute. Jerome is already inside working on his mixes. Oh, and try to avoid the food area. Caterers are setting up."
Curtis found his way to the party room, thanks to a bunch of duct tape arrows neatly plastered on the walls, and saw that the room was pretty much how he'd left it the night before – but with even more balloons. "Why suits?" He tugged at the sleeves of his dress shirt.
"Mawk thinks it is cool to have parties in expensive clothes," Jerome replied. "But some of us aren't rich. It really curbs clean-up since the guests are more mindful of the food they are eating, what they are holding, and what they are doing, blah blah blah. You get the point."
"Oh."
"To be brutally honest, I hate it," Jerome said bluntly.
Curtis chuckled before ducking under the DJ table to check the wires for the sound system. After a few minutes of inspection and verification that neither Jerome nor Mawk had fiddled with the work he'd done last night, extracted himself from below the table and gave Jerome a thumbs up. "Everything seems to be in order. Give it a jam," he said with a grin.
"What?"
Curtis deflated a little. "Play music."
"Oh, should have just said that. Coming right up." Jerome started a popular electronic beat and then flicked a switch on his computer. Instantly, the lights synced with the music. "Can you imagine experiencing this on acid?" He shouted over the music.
Curtis just shook his head and held his ears.
Kimber awoke with a start on the rooftop. For a moment, she was afraid and wondered he she'd ended up atop the pharmacy. Then she recalled the events of the night and wished she could forget. Even so, life went on so she had to get up. The sun seemed to be rising and she thanked her lucky stars that it was still early morning. She checked her watch. Or rather it is six-thirty in the evening and the sun is setting. "Oops."
She checked her phone. Five missed calls and three texts. All the calls were from her father, while the texts were from her friends. She scrolled through the notifications absentmindedly. One caught her eye. "Curtis? Oh, Crap! Mawk's party!" Faster than she thought she could go with her injured side, she rushed to her home, doing her best to not be spotted by the citizens of Gotham.
On arrival, she breathed a sigh of relief. The patrol cars were still parked idly on the curb. "Guess they never came in." She snuck back into the house through the same back window she'd used to sneak out, undetected, and looked around. It was clear that her father hadn't been home either. The house was as the investigators left it: kitchen and living room quarantined off for further forensic study. It didn't matter to Kimber, she had a party to go to. After changing into a slim-fit pink and black party dress and packing her Batgirl costume into the trunk of her car, she was off to Mawk's house.
High fives were flying around the police station. And for good reason. Mr. Death, the first supervillain to terrorize the new Gotham, was in captivity and about to be interrogated and booked. Goren looked around pleased. Everything worked out and no harm came to him or his family... well, not much harm.
"How's your leg, trooper?" Jane asked from her chair.
"I'll be fine," he replied. "Those guys were lousy shots. The crutches are just a formality. As for my arm, it should be healed within the month."
"For you, that'll seem like an eternity," said Elden, laughing.
"Yep, but it was worth it. My daughter is safe and this maniac will soon be behind bars."
Two officers entered the workplace. "He's here," one announced.
"Finally!" Elden hopped off his desk and made his way to the interrogation room with Goren, on crutches, not far behind.
"Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome." With each guest, Mawk's face seemed to tire more and more. "Ah... finally a face I have been wanting to see!" Mawk's face lit up as Kimber approached the entrance to the large house. "I definitely need to speak with you, cutie." He pulled her aside by her waist.
"What's up?"
"First of all; how are you?" Mawk looked her in the eyes. The worried expression on his face made the girl feel self-conscious.
"I'm here, aren't I?" She avoided his gaze.
"Yeah, that isn't what I meant," Mawk replied.
"Well." She smiled shyly. "What did you mean?"
Mawk sighed. "I meant 'how are you doing since madmen broke into your home?' I saw the news, Kimber. You could have been killed! Are you hurt or anything? I know your Dad—"
"No," she lied. Last thing I need is Mawk worrying about me. After all, I changed the gauss this morning before I left. She was getting better at taking care of herself. "I'm fine, Mawk. Was there something else? Because I know you have cheese squares. I can hear them calling my name."
Mawk seemed to linger on a thought for a moment before he blurted out, "Do you want to go to dinner next Monday?"
Kimber was caught off-guard. "Dinner? With you?"
Mawk nodded and cleared his throat, looking off into the distance as if he could hide his uncertainty by avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, you know... Just you and me grabbing a bite. We can go to that barbecue place we went to on your birthday last year."
"As friends?" she asked with an unsure tone.
"Well..."
Mawk, usually so boisterous and forward, seemed almost timid. It was just ridiculous and out of character enough that a laugh slipped by Kimber's guard.
Mawk gave her a look and his cheeks seemed to darken. "Really?"
Kimber opened her mouth to reply with a joking disregard but hesitated after a quick study of Mawk's earnest expression. It was rare to see him drop his usual confident façade. "I mean... this is our last few months in high school and I've spent most of the last three years at your side, you know? Maybe we wouldn't have to do the whole 'fake dating' thing to fill some status quo and we can branch out?"
"It wouldn't be a fake date, Kim!" He quickly replied with a bit more emphasis than he'd intended.
Her mouth twisted to the side and this time it was her eyes that darted away.
Mawk let out a breath. "So that's a no..."
"We just 'broke up' a few weeks ago. At least give me some time to myself." Kimber laughed nervously to try and ease the tension between her and her friend. "Mawk, don't tell me you actually miss me. We barely did anything! We used most of our dates to study."
"Well, maybe I wish we did do more." Mawk sounded earnest.
"Oh, God..." Kimber laughed again, but this time it was nervous laughter. "Wait, you mean you really want to… like, go out for real… Oh crap, I… Look, I have to think about it, Mawk."
Mawk nodded his head and managed to recover his stance. "Okay, I get it. It's cool! I'm cool. Look, we can… discuss it later this break, right?" He shot finger guns in her direction.
"Yeah, totally." Kimber started for the inner halls of the house. She looked back at Mawk and grinned. "I'll be honest, most of the time it felt like I was just there for show. I didn't think you actually enjoyed 'dating' me. Shows what I know." She blew the jock a kiss and then left Mawk outside to laugh and greet more of his guests.
Curtis looked around at the people. Most were socializing, some were dancing, and all were having fun. He wasn't. Heck, he was hanging out by the punch bowl. At least the lights aren't flashing yet, he thought to himself. He wasn't a fan of the strobe light effect he had installed, but hey, if it meant he got to stay and be 'cool' for once, then he would endure.
But why exactly did he want to stay? He wasn't having fun. He didn't know most of the partygoers except for Mawk, Jerome, and a few others. Kimber wasn't here to talk to and she would probably be hanging off of Mawk's brutish bicep the whole time like usua—Hold the phone! Kimber walked into the party room. Alone. That's my cue. He took one last gulp from his water cup, popped in a stick of gum, and then sauntered to her side. "Hey."
"Hey, yourself," she greeted back with a light side hug. "Having fun?"
"I don't know yet," Curtis replied. They were silent for a moment, both of them looking at the crowd, both realizing they really didn't know, or care for, many people in the room. "So, how are you doing? What with the whole home invasion… stuff."
"I'm good," she replied, facing him. "I wasn't hurt too bad, but I did get stabbed in the side." Why am I telling him this? She looked at his face. It was an honest one.
"What?" Curtis tried his best to not exclaim his response and surprisingly kept it low. "Where?" He looked her over, but she seemed fine.
Kimber could feel his eyes rove her, but unlike most guys, there was no hint of perversion in his eye. It was clinical, more like scanning rather than oogling. He is looking for the wound. "Here." She pointed at her side. "But I got patched up and have gauze on it now. Hoping it becomes a cool scar to talk about at parties."
"And you still slipped into that dress?" He grinned nervously. "You're brave."
"Ha! You don't know the half of it; these heels hurt more than the stab wound."
They shared a laugh.
"Would you like me to get you a drink or something? Cheese squares?" Curtis gestured to the punch bowl table where a caterer was doling out artificially red juice to an array of plastic cups.
Kimber smiled. "I'd like that very much."
"Alright, Jean-Paul Valley. What is your deal? Psychological trauma? Undiagnosed antisocial behavior? One bad day? What made you crack?"
The man who sat before Goren and Elden stayed silent.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"I'm not Jean-Paul. I'm—"
Elden gave an extravagant and tired sigh. "We know, we know: you're Mr. Death. We've heard it before."
The man smiled an unsettling smile as if he were in on some sort of joke the two were not party to.
"Look," Elden continued despite the cool feeling that shot down his spine. "We know you are, Jean-Paul. We sent your prints down to forensics and when they come back a match, you better have answers for us. You may have been off the grid for seven years, but you can't ditch – or change – your fingerprints."
"And what if they don't match?"
"They will," Goren grunted. "So, God help you."
"You're a man of faith, officer?" the man sneered.
"Not particularly."
"Well, you'd better pick a faith soon, because the End is coming."
Kimber and Curtis were having a great time, laughing and chatting as if they'd been friends for years. After the initial tentative interaction, conversation flowed between the two. Kimber laughed as Curtis finished up a story about his failed How-To speech in his freshman English class. "And the bottom half of the cookie was still just sitting on the floor?"
Curtis nodded, wide-eyed, and staring into space as he relived the harrowing experience. "And milk running down the table all over the carpet, yep..."
Kimber did her best to hold in her laughter but failed and was soon going through another fit of it. Eventually, her laugh died down and she fixed her hair back behind her ear. "Wow, that's quite the story, Curt," she said with a recovering sigh. She looked at him and a warm feeling spread through her chest. She tilted her head and asked with a smile, "You're pretty chill. Why haven't we talked before?"
Curtis blew some air out his mouth and shrugged. "We just never did, I guess. You were always in a different social circle, with Mawk, you know? I just… lived in the library." He chuckled sadly. "Besides." He pointed to himself. "Chess club."
Kimber scrunched up her nose in a rather cute way. "Funny, you don't have a pizza face."
Curtis gave her a curious look. "What?"
"It's nothing. Just something I was just talking to my papa about before we were shot at yesterday."
"Ah, sorry..."
"Bah, it's okay. No one died! Well, no one nice did... But speaking of Papa... I'd better call him, you know... Just to check on him." She reached into her purse but her phone wasn't there. "Oh, crap." She kept searching. "I think I left it at home when I changed this evening. What are the odds?"
Curtis chuckled. "I'd tell you, but then you'd think I'm a nerd."
"And I don't think you're a nerd now?" Kimber arched one eyebrow with a playful smirk.
"Touché, Kimber."
A slower song started and teens started pairing off. Curtis looked around the room and then his gaze settled on Kimber. She was staring at the dancers wistfully, slightly swaying in time with the music. He pushed down his nerves and offered his hand to her. "May I have this dance?"
Kimber smiled with a hint of pleasant surprise in her expression and shrugged. "Sure, why not?" She placed her hand in his.
It had taken about half an hour for the fingerprint report to come back and in that space of time, Mr. Death hadn't said a word.
"Here you are, Chief." A tall officer with a slight afro handed Goren the manila folder.
"Thanks, David." Goren flicked open the file and skipped to the third page; the page with the results. On reading it, the blood fled from his face. "No..."
Elden frowned at his superior's response. "What's wrong?"
"Negative..." breathed Goren. "The results came back negative." Goren looked over the report again as if doing so could change reality; but as he read and reread the results, his hands began to shake. "That man is still out—" His cell phone rang.
"Aren't you going to answer it, Mr. Lee?" their prisoner asked with a nasty smirk.
"Wipe that grin off your face and I will." Goren looked at his caller I.D. and then stepped into a corner and answered. "Kimber? What's up, honey?"
"Hello, Daddy."
Goren tensed up. "Mr. Death..."
"Finally you acknowledge me by my real name." The crazed man on the other line sounded hoarse and calm like he was trying to be quiet. He also sounded like he was walking. "Let me tell you something, Mr. Lee; I had given you a chance. A second chance. A chance to let your daughter survive what's to come. All you had to do was let my men go, but no. You kept them, slaughtered two more, and then stole even another from me!" Even though he wasn't yelling, the intonation of his voice revealed he might as well have been.
"You stay away from my family, sicko..." Goren breathed.
"Goren, what's going—"
"Silence is golden, officer." The decoy Mr. Death cut off Elden. "He's going to want to hear what comes next."
"Sicko? Really, Mr. Lee. I expected much more from you." Mr. Death continued to speak. "Now, you are disabled, and your daughter… Well, let me just say that is a wonderful dress she is wearing, Mr. Lee. Compliments her form beautifully."
"Get away from my daughter, you crazed maniac!" Goren screamed into the phone.
But Mr. Death was unfazed. "I wonder if she is having any fun? How about we find out, Mr. Lee?" In the background, Goren could hear a doorbell ring and then a door cracking open. "Hello, I'm with the catering company. They requested an extra order of pizza. I got five boxes in the bag." Mr. Death put on a rather convincing lazy Jersey accent.
Over the phone, Goren could barely make out what the kid replied. "Mawk didn't order any more pizza, I don't think. Lemme get him real quick."
"Oh, but you don't understand," Mr. Death told the lad. "It's complementary. Something about making up for an earlier botched order. You can take it up with corporate if you want, but I have to get inside and set these up."
"Eh, Fine. I won't argue with free pizza."
Goren could hear the bored tone in the teen's voice as the door creaked open letting the madman inside. "No..."
"What's that, Mr. Lee?" Mr. Death's normal and direct speaking voice could barely be heard over the loud music playing in the background. "I can't hear you over the music. You will have to speak louder. Look at all these broken children at this sinfest. How could this not be Hell?"
Goren could only stand, helpless and paralyzed with fear and rage, as over the phone he heard the music and conversations increase in volume as Mr. Death presumably made his way to his daughter.
"I'm one room away, Mr. Lee. If you are going to send anyone here, the time is now. I'm waiting." Then he said away from the phone in his faked accent, "Party's in there, right? Should I set up here or move it further in? I have some helpers outside. Let me get them."
Click.
Goren slowly lowered the phone from his ear. His mind was racing with every possible terrible outcome.
"Goren! What happened?" Elden shouted.
The prisoner guffawed at the situation. "Salvation has come! The Lord is nigh!"
"Quiet, you!" Elden silenced the man and then motioned for officers to take him away. "Goren!"
"My daughter..."
"What?"
"My daughter! We have to save her! We have to save them!" Goren snapped back out of 'Papa' mode and back into 'Work' mode. Without giving Elden a heads-up, he vaulted out of the interrogation room and into the main office, barking orders and the address of Mawk's house to subordinates as he moved.
"There are two cars already in the vicinity of the house, Chief. Officer Wilkes just spoke with dispatch," Jane yelled back. "He reports he'll be there in a few minutes."
"Tell them to not wait up but I need every available unit down at that house, pronto! Get medical down there, as well. This Mr. Death character has probably already created trouble at that residence and I don't want anyone dying there while we're on duty!"
A slovenly detective looked up from his ham and cheese bagel in shock. "Chief? Mr. Death?"
"You heard me, Bullock. We got the wrong man."
Within minutes, squad cars and ambulances were rushing from One Police Plaza to Mawk's house with sirens on full blast. In one squad car leading the pack were Elden and Goren.
Tonight this ends. Even if we both die.
The slow song had long ended, but Kimber and Curtis just now making their way off the dance floor. They sat side by side on two folding chairs, letting their feet rest. "Where did you learn to dance like that?" Curtis asked, admiring the skill she displayed on the floor.
Kimber draped her arm over the back of her chair. "My mama was a dance teacher before she met my papa. She told me that I would have to know how to dance someday – it's how she met my papa. So she taught me." She glanced at the clock for the first time. They'd been dancing for at least the past ten minutes but it had felt like no time at all.
Curtis nodded, watching the teens who were still dancing. "Well, you sure can move."
Kimber put on a coy smile. "Was that a come-on?" she purred as she reclined and arched her back, playfully pushing her chest out.
Curtis caught her playful expression and found himself flustered. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a confused "Uhhhhhhhnnnnnn..."
Kimber burst into laughter. "I'm only teasing! Jeez!" She lightly punched his arm. "Loosen up! Don't be so weird."
Mawk approached the two as their playful banter subsided. "Hey, have either of you guys seen Shawn?"
"Who?"
"Short kid. Green hair?"
"I saw him, yeah." Kimber nodded toward the door. "He stepped out not too long ago, why?"
"Some dudes have been standing around the foyer with a few bags of pizza. Said Shawn called for the delivery, but I can't find the brat to clear this up." Mawk started to walk away, then stopped. He looked back at Kimber but she was already whispering something to Curtis. "Oh, Kimber?"
"Yeah?"
Mawk looked from her to Curtis, then back to her. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. He gave out a small laugh through a half-smile and shook his head. "Never mind about earlier." Though his tone was dismissive, there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.
Whatever it was, Kimber seemed to miss it. She just smiled back, slightly confused, and let Mawk walk to the door.
"What was that about?" Curtis inquired.
Kimber just shook her head. "Nothing just—"
"Wait," Curtis interrupted her then cocked his head. "Do you hear sirens?"
"What?" Kimber strained her ears to hear. Sure enough, barely audible over the music came sirens. Police sirens. Ambulance sirens. Why? Her adrenaline started pumping. What's happened? She reached for her purse to check her phone then winced as she remembered she'd left it at home.
A few moments passed and a delivery man hurriedly entered carrying a large, insulated pizza bag. His head was covered by a black motorcycle helmet. The delivery man set the red canvas bag down on a bare side table as Mawk hovered around him doing his best to thank the man for the delivery but also explain that there must have been some mix-up.
Kimber stared at the biker, cold fear washing out from her core and paralyzing her limbs. The man looked around the room and then unsheathed a knife. She hoped whatever was in the bag just needed to be sliced; she prayed the catering service had sent extra food as a 'thank you' of some sort and Mawk hadn't been notified due to a communication error. But deep down, she knew that was all wishful thinking. That knife wasn't a kitchen knife and that man wasn't a delivery driver.
In one swift motion, the biker slashed the knife through Mawk's suit and across his belly, then turned to the bag that should have contained pizza boxes. Kimber screamed Mawk's name but she was drowned out by the noise of the party. Mawk stumbled away from the man a few feet, but fell just short of the back door, crashing through some of the cords Curtis had set up, disconnecting the sound system in the process.
There was a brief moment of silence.
Mawk groaned.
People screamed.
The man in full biker gear and motorcycle helmet turned around and the bag sagged, emptied of its contents. Instead of boxes of hot and greasy pizza in his hands, he held two submachine guns with their harnesses slung over each shoulder. "Heathens."
As they drove down the cul-de-sac, Officer Wilkes and his partner could only imagine what was going on. And hear. Even with the window down and sirens blaring, it wasn't too difficult to hear the rising screams from the house at the end of the block. People closer to the house were starting to turn on their lights and peer out their windows.
He tightened his grip on the wheel. "I hope we aren't too late."
"Who the hell are you?" Jerome demanded from behind his equipment.
He took a step forward, planting a foot on Mawk's back as the teen tried to get to his feet. "I would tell you that I am tonight's entertainment, but that would be a lie. Who is the host of this… display?"
"Y–You're standing on him," one girl shakily replied, pointing at Mawk lying near his feet.
Mr. Death crouched and looked down at the teen. "I am sorry for the tragedy about to befall your home, but know that there is no other way." His voice sounded tender, sorrowful even.
Mawk gasped back, "Screw you," and shuffled away from the crazed maniac.
"Don't worry, he will be just fine…" Mr. Death stood tall again. "As long as he gets to a doctor within the next two hours. But right now," he put himself in front of the main exit as two armed men entered the room. "No one is going anywhere!"
I need to get out of here! Kimber thought. If I could get to my car, Batgirl could take this weirdo murdering freak out! Or at least try…
"Now before any of you children get any ideas, let me demonstrate something." He fired one of his guns into the air. "This is Esh'El, the MP5. This," He fired the second gun once, "is Pzam'El, the other MP5. And this," He tapped the hilt of the now-sheathed knife already stained red, "is for Kimber Lee." The man's words hung in the air like a curse. His covered head panned the room. "Where is she?"
The room gasped as one girl stepped forward. "I'm Kimberly—"
Rat-tat-tat. She fell.
"I already know what she looks like, so no 'heroes'. What I do not know is where she is."
What does he still want with me? Kimber looked from the still form of Kimberly Barns to Curtis and could tell he was wondering the same thing. Definitely can't get away now.
Outside, the sirens were getting closer. "Alright." Mr. Death sighed. "Seeing as the audience is arriving and the child of the law is getting cold feet, it's time to weed her out." He waved the submachine gun over the gathering of teens casually. "I will count to seven. One!"
Kimber didn't move.
"Two!"
Kimber stood from her seat and stepped forward. "Stop!"
Mr. Death's dark visage centered on her. "Kimber. Excellent. We can continue what I need to do. What needs to be done." He took out Kimber's phone and hit 'redial' just as blue and red flashing lights decorated Mawk's yard. "Here." Mr. Death unplugged a set of earphones that ran into his helmet and then gingerly handed Kimber her ringing phone.
Kimber looked at the LCD screen. Papa… The caller ID displayed a picture of her father taken years ago with their old dog. Kimber fought back tears and the call status switched from 'dialing' to 'connected'.
"Hello? Hello?" Goren's voice was desperate out of the speaker. "Valley, if that is you, come out of that house with your hands in the air! I'm coming to get you!"
"Papa?"
"Kimber? Oh, god!" Goren's voice immediately switched from bravado and menace to the tenderness and fear that only a parent could feel. "Are you alright, Honey?"
"Why is he here?"
Goren didn't respond.
Mr. Death leaned into the phone. "Answer the question, Mr. Lee. Admit your defeat. Own it."
Kimber watched over Mr. Death's shoulder out of a large window. She could see three police officers setting up a perimeter outside. Over the phone, she could hear her father's nervousness.
"We... We got the wrong man, Kim. We got the wrong man. But don't worry," Goren tacked on, "We'll get him."
"Empty words." The madman removed his biker helmet to reveal a handsome face. It wasn't the face you would normally associate with mental illness or a mass murderer, but a calm face with straight, blond hair framing it. A young face. He could have easily been a politician or a businessman or even an entrepreneur. But he wasn't any of those things; he was a murdering psychopath.
Bruce woke up to an alarm. The Batcomputer had picked up dramatic activity on the police radio waves and communication channels. "Alfred, show the threat on screen."
The BatCave's AI opened a screen on the Batcomputer and instantly crackly voices filled the chamber. "Dispatch, this is unit 21. We've just pulled up to the residence."
By the end of that sentence, Bruce was already suiting up as Batman with Alfred in the process of transferring the address of Mawk's house to his Bat-Wave. Then he snapped out of it. "No. I'm not Batman anymore. No point. She will do it." He sat in the chair, half-dressed, and listened to the madness continue.
"Why are you doing this?" A terrified teenager pleaded for answers from the men who held the room at gunpoint. Next to the girl, a boy, probably her date, stealthily whipped out his phone and began live-streaming the event on social media.
Mr. Death took no notice of the streaming device and spoke to the girl. "This is what needs to be done. Things were supposed to be different now; the end was supposed to come but it did not. Why are the police here? Because I want them to be here. I want them to bear witness. They should know they can't prevent the inevitable."
Mr. Death turned his attention to the men and women in blue arriving outside. "They couldn't catch me over the last few weeks because it is not their decision what happens. It is out of their hands and in His hands." Mr. Death pointed one of the guns skyward. "The false gods took over the world just as the good book said. They were given dominion and that was supposed to be the end, but it was not. I was too slow. I didn't realize my place. After the false gods fell, the world returned to the decrepit system that gave way to the Justice Lords in the first place. I am a result of that system. The Lord says no more!"
Curtis slowly left his chair and stepped cautiously up to Kimber's side. He carefully put a hand on Kimber's back to support her. She was shaking with anger and fear. Under his fingers, he could feel the tension in her body and a trace of something else.
I should have left once the sirens started! She berated herself for being so foolish as to not realize the sirens had been getting closer. It was a wonderful ploy Mr. Death had pulled off, if not elementary. Why are the crazy ones always so smart?
Curtis leaned to Kimber and whispered, "Any idea why he wants you dead?"
She shook her head and whispered back. "I didn't care. I thought this was over; I thought he was arrested... But I was wrong."
A bang rang out outside and all eyes turned to the windows. The lawn was now painted red, white, and blue with emergency lights. One of the first officers to arrive - Kimber recognized him as Officer Wilkes - was looking at a mailbox the most recently arrived squad car had knocked over. Further back, Kimber saw her father. Resting on his crutches, in one hand he had his cell phone and in the other, a walkie-talkie. He looked afraid and unsure, but his brow was set.
"It looks like the audience has arrived." Mr. Death stepped closer to the window as his two goons on the inside patiently pointed their weapons at the teens, reinforcing Mr. Death's control of the situation. "Chief Lee!" He barked through the window. "If you'd be so kind as to come forward and watch this unfold!"
Goren, Elden, and a few other officers approached the front-most squad car. The moment they took a step past the car's fender, a spray of machine gun fire from Mawk's roof drew a line mere inches from their toes.
"Just Chief Lee," Mr. Death clarified.
Kimber looked at her father. She could still see his worried face as he stood, helpless, on the other side of the pane. "Sorry to disappoint, Jean-Paul." Goren did his best to sound commanding in the face of the unbelievable situation. "But I'm not getting any closer without my men."
Mr. Death growled in annoyance. "Coward. You all have this supposed hero: the police chief Goren Lee. Well, I am here on a mission to bring an end to this system and this world. It can't have heroes like him attempting to redeem Earth. He stands in the way of divine judgment and fury. C'mere, Kimber. I am here to..." The man looked back at Kimber placidly. "I said COME HERE!" He barked the last two words.
Kimber approached.
"I am here to bring an end to this imperfect system. Kimber is the young daughter of this 'hero'. If Goren truly wishes to be a hero, he must redeem his city. With blood."
Batman's stomach tied itself in a knot. He had been alerted by security satellites that a livestream of the terrible event had begun. Wanting to get a better look at the villain with the less-than-basic moniker, he'd tuned in only to be presented with the grim reality that, no, Batgirl would not be coming to save the day. Not that she stood the chance with all the men Jean-Paul Valley had watching the place.
There were two other men inside with Jean-Paul, armed and willing to fire at his command. Outside it was made abundantly clear that there was at least another man watching the police with a high-caliber automatic trained on their heads. There was no way the girl was prepared for this. But to make matters worse, she was the target of the whole event. She and her father.
That man was planning on killing her. Batman knew that much. The scene played similar to something the Joker had done many years earlier when he was first making a name for himself. Except that had only been broadcast live on a local television channel throughout Gotham. This time, Mr. Death's demented message was potentially reaching millions the world over.
"Still inert?" Batman turned quickly. His dimensional double was back in his cave. "That is what you promised Mom and Dad, right? You would do your best to make certain nobody died on your watch again. Well, I don't think they'd accept this."
"I don't need a lecture from you." Batman turned around again and faced the screen, emotionless. "You have no idea what it is like to be me."
"I don't?" Surprise tickled The Other's tongue. "Then please explain. Last time I checked, we were the same person."
"Alternate versions of the same person." Batman stood forcibly, his voice edged with frustration. "Besides, this is different. I don't know how or why, but it is!" As much as he tried, even he didn't believe his own words.
"I don't know what you are talking about. This is the same as any other case. A man is about to kill a girl, a child. She is barely in her prime and you are just going to watch her die."
There was silence in the cave.
"Why are you here?"
"I'm here because I don't want you to give up your crusade. You should never have given it up. Even in the heart of defeat at your own hands, you should have picked yourself up. Dusted yourself off to fight another day."
He had no response to that. It was advice he likely would have given not even four years ago. But now on the receiving end – and from himself, no less – he didn't know what to say. At a loss for words, Batman looked back at the screen and said the only thing still ringing in his head. "She's the Batgirl."
"Excuse me?"
"She's the Batgirl. From your previous visit. She's the one that was on the roof of the building." He studied her face as best as he could from the blurry quality of the livestream. She looked frightened, but more than that, she looked furious. She wasn't hiding it well, and despite the poor quality, he recognized that look of self-realized failure.
"You're right, then. This is different." The other Batman paused for a moment. "This is worse."
"How so?"
"She looks up to you. If you aren't there for her in this time of need, if she stops believing in you, it's not just you she will lose faith in. She has linked herself to you, like it or not… If she lives, she'll question what she thought she stood for, what she thought you stood for. She will stop believing in herself. If she dies your legend dies, the light you lit in the darkness will be snuffed out. Is that what you want for the future? A future raised in a world where every hero turned against them or deserted them?"
Batman gripped the back of his chair viciously and looked back at the screen.
Mr. Death took Kimber's chin in his hand, letting his submachine guns hang from his shoulders by their harnesses. With a surprisingly tender touch, his thumb brushed her cheek. "I wish it could be another way, but His will be done."
She glared in his face. Her red eyes burned with an intensity that almost gave him pause and had he seen her hands, he would have guessed there'd be enough pressure to create diamonds. Through clenched teeth, she hissed back at him. "Fuck you."
He shook his head and gave her cheek a sharp, disciplinary slap. She barely flinched. "Such foul language for such a fair lady," he said. He stepped behind her and forced her to her knees. With his left, he held her by her raven hair as his right hand drew the ceremonial knife.
"Shoot him!" Goren commanded into his walkie.
Elden put a hand on Goren's shoulder. "Look beyond your daughter," he whispered. "There are two gunmen inside, their weapons trained on the kids. If we shoot him, it will become a bloodbath. Not to mention whoever's on the roof will rain down on us." He squeezed Goren's shoulder reassuringly. "We have to wait for SWAT and their sniper. In the meantime, you may want to rethink that command, Chief."
Goren bit his lip and fought from repeating the order. He wanted to save his daughter but he couldn't risk the lives of all the other kids in there. They were just as innocent as she was. "Fine," Goren begrudgingly admitted. He looked through the window again and at his daughter. She looked terrified and rightfully so, but she also looked strong… She was so strong. You'll have to be stronger just a little bit longer, Honey.
"Had a second think?" Elden asked quietly. His eyes drifted up to where he could barely make out the shape of the gunman on the roof.
"We need to contain the house. No one in or out. At all."
"May take some time. The back of the house is against a thickly wooded area; no street access. We could probably make it through using the neighboring homes as cover." He nodded his head to the sides as he eyed the houses that flanked the Machaelson abode.
"Make it happen. I'll try to keep him talking," Goren whispered back. His eyes jumped from his daughter to the madman who had pulled a fast one over the whole police department and now demanded everyone's attention. "It's me you want, isn't it, Jean-Paul?" he called out. "Take me! But spare the kids! They're the innocent ones!"
A peaceful smile spread over the madman's lips and he slightly released his grip on Kimber. "Sorry, Mr. Lee. This is the way it has to be." He stepped up to the window, almost tauntingly.
"Now this beautiful girl is going to die. She is going to die for her father, her city, and her country. She will be a key to the gate. A final module for He That Comes With Vengeance! The world should have ended after the Justice Lords took over. False, flawed gods imposed their brand of order and justice. They watched from their artificial Horeb, mortals themselves. But in the end, there were no chariots, no divine retribution from on high. Armageddon needs help; I'm here to push it along, as the incarnation of Death."
"No!"
Mr. Death spun around. "Who dares?" Then he saw Curtis standing between him and Kimber. "Oh, cute." He pointed his knife at Curtis. "Run along back to the teen pen back there, this doesn't concern you." He motioned for one of his thugs to move Curtis back to the group of teens held at gunpoint.
"But it will. If what you want happens, it will concern me. And I am not letting you kill her to further whatever idiotic plan you have jumbled in your mind!"
"I see." Mr. Death took hold of the submachine gun hanging from his left side and aimed it at Curtis. "How about I pull this trigger and you no longer have to worry about any of this? Instead, you'll just have the bliss of death." The man smiled genuinely.
Curtis looked at the man under his brow as a thug grabbed his arm. "How about you man up and fight me? You believe that you're predestined to carry this foolish mission out? Prove it."
Mr. Death sheathed his knife, dropped his guns, and waved his brute away from Curtis. "A challenge of my faith? I am sorry, but I accept." He turned to the window and addressed the police. "Stay put, Mr. Lee. It seems we will have two sacrifices tonight. This shouldn't take long..."
For the first time, Batman's double displayed emotion: anger. His fist smashed into a stalagmite, scattering shards everywhere. "You are just going to let him fight this crazed lunatic?"
Batman remained still.
"That girl put her life on the line to do what you are supposed to do. What you vowed to do! She had the look and some of the tools and probably even some protection. Regardless of the danger she decided to go out every night, she sought it out – but this kid? He is in a suit and tie and going up against a madman with a cult and religious conviction!"
"I think I inspired him – them – to fight the injustice and evil in the world. I failed but they saw it can be done." He threaded his fingers together and watched the two combatants square off.
The alternate grimaced as the fight started. The teen was easily outmatched and kicked back against a wall. "You sicken me. There is no way you're an alternate version of me."
Batman spun in his chair to face his double. "If this is bothering you so much, why don't you stop it?"
"No." The Other started to walk away from Batman. "This is your city, your life, your world. If you choose to ignore it, fine. As much as it irks me, it is not my issue. I won't be the one that has to live with the consequences." There was a low hum as a soft glow illuminated a corner of the BatCave. And then he was gone.
Curtis rushed at the man a second time and slammed his shoulder into his chest, sending him sprawling on the floor. Curtis then followed up with wild kicks to the face and chest, only for his foot to be caught by Mr. Death. The older man was covered in leather and denim; Curtis was in a rented suit and cummerbund. Mr. Death pulled Curtis' leg, forcing the teen to the floor. In a flash, Mr. Death was up, but Curtis was rising as well.
"Demon!" Mr. Death shouted. "Get out of my sight! You cannot prevent this, though you may try!" He whipped out his knife and swung for his opponent's abdomen. The teen was barely able to jump back in time.
"You are just another looney a few years late for Arkham!" Curtis quipped back. Hey! That was a good one. He ducked and stumbled to the side and the knife slashed down harmlessly where he was standing moments before.
"No. They were insane. I am... guided." Mr. Death kicked out his foot, tripping Curtis. "My course is set." He kicked again, this time at Curtis' face. "I have been watching," he kicked again, "and waiting," another kick at Curtis' side, "for the time to execute, and now... it is here! And no one! Not some high-on-his-laurels police chief, his insolent daughter, nor a child filled with misguided machismo will stand in my way!" He lunged forward with the knife.
Curtis rolled away from his attacker and succeeded in deflecting the knife from his face and chest, but still felt the tip rip into his suit and cut his forearm and shoulder. He hissed in pain as he rose to his feet. Well, he thought to himself, there goes my deposit.
His thoughts flew into a jumbled mess when Mr. Death's knee slammed into his stomach. Curtis felt a bit of the fruit punch come up and out of his mouth... with another liquid that tasted like copper.
From outside, Goren could only watch helplessly as one of his daughter's classmates was beaten mercilessly. The fight was an obvious farce. With the crowd of high schoolers held at gunpoint by the watchful followers of Jean-Paul Valley, there was no way the police could take down Mr. Death without a very high risk of casualties; and even once the snipers were in position, the fight was so physical and fast that the two combatants were always shifting places and crashing into each other. The risk of hitting the teenager defending his daughter was too high for him to take.
"Do we have a perimeter around the home?"
Elden stepped up again to Goren's side. "Getting there. None of his men around the back but no telling if there aren't more watching from the roof. Callaghan radioed in that his team will be in place within ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?" Goren asked, incredulous. "We might not have ten minutes... This is bad, Elden. We need to get those kids out." He turned to his partner, facing away from the scene for the first time since arriving. "Where is that negotiator?"
"You know she's not coming," Elden replied. "The woman doesn't have the stomach for this sort of thing."
Goren turned back and cursed to himself. "It's in her damned job description… She's fired. Remind me when we get back, she's done! Get Montoya down here. She's more than capable in this situation. Do we know the house's layout? Any chance Callaghan could sneak some kids out a side door?"
"You think that the maniacs watching them wouldn't notice?"
"They didn't notice the boy step up."
"He wasn't trying to leave," Elden pointed out. "Aside from that, we have that man on the roof to worry about. One wrong step and he's sure to light us up."
Goren bit his lip. There was nothing the police could do but wait and pray. He looked down, his mind was racing in desperation. But then he noticed something. "Elden… Come here."
His partner stepped up to his side. "What is it?"
Goren kept his eyes on the ground. "We're past the line."
"What line?" Elden looked down and saw what Goren was talking about. The line that the machine gunner on the roof had drawn in the lawn was two feet behind them. Immediately, Elden looked up to the roof but saw nothing. "Should we—"
Goren held up a hand, silencing Elden. "He's back."
Curtis was slammed against the floor again, this time Mr. Death looked serious. "You see that girl you are defending?"
Curtis managed a nod.
"She doesn't deserve it. She won't even defend herself! She knows she is scum. We are all scum in His eyes," Mr. Death spat.
Curtis looked at Kimber. She seemed frozen with terror, her eyes pleading for the madness to stop. He looked at Mr. Death and spat back. Blood and saliva splattered across Mr. Death's bare face.
"Now that..." He wiped the liquid from his face in an uncharacteristically cartoony fashion. "...was very uncalled for! Time to teach you some manners, child." He put the knife to Curtis' neck and dragged the beaten teen next to Kimber. After a little bit of struggling, he forced Curtis to his knees. Mr. Death raised his knife. "'Strike him with a rod, and you will deliver his soul to the grave!' Blood spilled for On High!" He prepared to plunge the knife into Curtis' neck, but he never got the chance.
Abruptly, the lights in the area went dark. Phones went dead, the lights from the police and ambulance vehicles were extinguished, and the sirens were snuffed out. A low, chaotic murmuring came from all three parties: the teens, the police, and Mr. Death's followers. From the left came a crashing sound and a muffled scream. Then from the right came a crack and a yelp. Mr. Death's eyes darted around the room nervously, but they were still adjusting to the darkness. A hiss came from the corners of the room and quickly it filled with thick smoke. Mr. Death waved the knife around attempting to waft away the smoke but a black whirr knocked the blade from his hands.
"What was that?" Mr. Death looked at the floor where the knife lay. Next to it, he could barely make out something in the shape of a bat. He dropped his hold on the back of Curtis' ruined jacket and turned to run for his guns. "Oh shi—!" He didn't get to finish his sentence. A black-gloved fist slammed into his face at the moment he turned. Mr. Death's entire body was airborne.
"I'm here."
Curtis looked up from the floor. A tall, dark, and grim figure with piercing white eyes and pointed ears loomed over him like a guardian shadow. Batman. Curtis hadn't seen whether Batman came through the ceiling or a window. Curtis wasn't even sure anyone else was even seeing this, but he could feel the tension in the room had lessened. Kimber crawled to Curtis' side as they watched The Bat approach Mr. Death.
"You shouldn't be here! You fell! You're a false icon!" Mr. Death scrambled to reach one of his submachine guns. He grabbed Pzam'El and pointed it at the approaching hero. However, The Bat didn't flinch. He threw out his hand and sparks seemed to fly from his fingers ridding Mr. Death of his weapon. Batman stooped slightly and his fingers wrapped around the criminal's neck. With little effort, Batman hoisted him into the air and then slammed him against the wall with one hand.
"I've taken on literal animals tougher than you, Slimeball." Batman's voice was the low growl of a caged beast, just barely audible to those within the room. He slammed Mr. Death against the wall again leaving an indent in the drywall. "I do not know what book you are following, but I suggest you burn it." Batman's words were laced with enough venom to kill.
"Vengeful Angel," stammered Mr. Death in awe. "What will you do to me?"
"I'm not going to do anything to you. This time." Batman leaned closer. "But if you ever threaten Goren Lee or his family again, I will be very angry. This is me being nice. You won't like me when I'm angry." With that, he dropped Mr. Death to the floor and walked out of the room.
As soon as the Batman was gone, the lights in the home flicked back on. Outside, the sirens and flashing lights also suddenly turned back on and the home was again flooded with a dizzying amount of light and sound. It took a moment for everyone to digest the aftermath of the event. Mr. Death lay on the floor, stunned, disarmed, and speechless. His accomplices were hanging from the ceiling unconscious and bound. As soon as the teens realized their captor was alone and unarmed, they were in a frenzy. Some were pouncing on Mr. Death to keep him grounded, some were throwing weapons into trash bags to prevent further misuse, while others were breaking down the windows and doors to get the injured outside to the medical crew. But Kimber was gone.
It was easy enough to get lost in the initial commotion but with the added benefit of the lights going out, she'd quietly slipped out and no one was the wiser. Now she ran outside trying to catch up with The Bat. She could hear her father calling her name frantically at the house, but she couldn't turn back now. She had to find him.
Once among the trees behind Mawk's house, she realized just how pointless it was to search. Batman was reputable for being able to disappear and reappear at will. Hell, he had just basically materialized out of smoke in a well-guarded room. "Where are you?" she called into the darkness.
"Here." A hoarse whisper was carried on a brisk breeze from behind.
"Ah!" She squeaked and turned quickly. Batman was standing mere feet from her. "T–Thank you."
Batman turned away. "Don't thank me."
"It is customary."
"But not necessary. I did what I had to do."
On hearing that, she couldn't keep in a retort. "Then why didn't you do it sooner?" As soon as those words were out of her mouth, he made an abrupt about-face and she regretted opening her mouth. Now I'm going to get my face smashed in like Papa… Her lips curled in and her eyes narrowed, expecting to be struck at any moment by the formidable man in black.
But nothing happened. They both stood there, staring at each other.
Just like her father. Batman's soulless lenses studied her. Why wasn't she leaving? Why couldn't he leave? He wasn't sure what about this girl kept him there. Perhaps it was her strength in adversity. Through the entire ordeal, she didn't crack. She didn't shed a tear. She may have frozen, but she was not hysterical. Or perhaps it was knowing that she was linked to him. She modeled her costume off his uniform, they had the same agenda and saw the city from a different vantage point... Maybe it was because around her he felt there was someone who understood him again. Someone who knew him.
"You have your uniform?" It was more of a statement than a question. Of course, she would have it. Why wouldn't she?
"My what?"
Playing dumb. Not smart. "Your uniform, Batgirl."
Kimber's eyes shot open. "How did you know?"
"When someone dresses up like me and jumps off rooftops, I make it my business to know who's behind the mask."
Kimber visibly shivered. "Y–Yeah… I have it. In my car."
Batman started walking away. "Come," he commanded.
To his partial surprise, Kimber followed. "What's going on?" she asked in a breathless whisper.
"I owe you a bike."
