"Anyone want a Big Mac?"
Jay tossed several large paper bags onto the table, and immediately, hands reached out from all directions to snag them.
"Me! I want one!"
"Dibs!"
"Captain, this just arrived this morning." Anna handed him a newspaper from the side. "You might want to take a look… it's a bit…"
"Thanks."
Jay took the paper. He didn't even need to unfold it; the front-page headline screamed:
"HERO OR MONSTER? GIANT BAT INVADES PHOENIX PHARMA; STOLEN MYSTERY CHEMICALS SPARK PUBLIC PANIC."
Below it was a grainy still from a security camera—a blurry, bat-like shadow streaking past a doorway.
"WHO IS REALLY PROTECTING US?" — CITIZENS QUESTION GCPD INCOMPETENCE.
Go f** yourself. What does this have to do with the GCPD?
Jay was about to slam the paper down in annoyance when he remembered that "GCPD" usually referred to Headquarters in the news.
Oh. Carry on then.
He tossed the paper back to Anna. "Ignore it. It's not our problem. Whatever that thing is, neither you nor I can deal with it."
"Yes, sir." Anna nodded solemnly.
"Ha… if it weren't for the fact that we have zero leads on the dismemberment case, this would be a perfect day for some quality goldbricking…"
Ring-ring…
Before Jay could even finish his yawn, the phone in his pocket chimed.
"Are you kidding me? Spoke too soon." He answered the call. Sure enough, it was that same modulator-distorted voice.
"Black Mask is rallying his men. A major operation is imminent. I will contact you with specific targets shortly."
"Where are they starting from… Hello? Hello?"
The line went dead with a dial tone. Jay glanced around at the few officers in his office.
"Intel says Black Mask is calling in all his chips. He's planning something big."
"Understood!" several voices replied in unison. Allen swallowed his mouthful of burger and stood up to head toward the armory.
"Don't be impulsive. I'm forwarding this to Gordon. Let him handle it."
"Captain, aren't we… going to check it out?" Wilson asked, looking a bit reluctant. "Maybe we can still—"
"Still what? Do you take a chest of cash with you when you go out to commit a murder? Besides, what kind of 'big move' could Black Mask even—"
He paused, thought for a second, and suddenly jumped nearly a foot in the air. "He wouldn't try to hit the East Precinct, would he?! FULL ALERT!"
"Lock every door and window except the main entrance! Check the curtains and vents! Seal the underground garage! If anything happens, nobody pokes their head out! Survival first!"
…
Deep inside an abandoned auto assembly plant on the west side of the city, rusted conveyor belts and skeletal car frames cast jagged shadows in the dim light. A light drizzle drifted through the shattered skylights, falling onto Roman Sionis.
The wound on his left arm had been crudely dressed. His smooth ebony mask absorbed all the light from the single hanging bulb, leaving only two bottomless pits for eyes.
About thirty men stood scattered below the stage. This was the total core strength he could rally quickly after the Falcone ambush and the police raid. They were silent, their eyes a mix of fear, greed, and absolute awe and obedience toward the man on the stage.
"We were meant to be the masters of this city. There has been a minor… complication. But it doesn't matter."
Black Mask's voice resonated through the mask with a metallic, low-frequency hum, sounding as if it were vibrating directly inside their skulls.
"That old dog Falcone, and those uniformed losers at the GCPD! They chase us like we are rabbits! They think we are finished!"
"But they are dead wrong! Surrender and hiding were never options for me! When the whole world is against you, what do you do?"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over every face in the crowd. He raised his arms and roared.
"YOU TURN THE WHOLE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN!"
"They tell you everything is for 'justice'." Black Mask's voice rose sharply, dripping with contempt. "Bullshit! There is no justice in this world, only power! Power decides who makes the rules! Power decides who stays in the cage and who stands outside laughing!"
"Blackgate Penitentiary… that cage filled with losers and pathetic wretches. All of Gotham's 'order' and 'law' claim it is impregnable. Fine… then I will smash it with my own hands!
I'll show Falcone and the police what happens when they're too busy hunting a lion—they'll find their own backyard engulfed in a magnificent inferno!"
A low, suppressed growl of excitement rippled through the crowd. Destroying Blackgate, the symbol of order, was a maddeningly tempting plan for any criminal.
"You will follow me! We will storm it! Liberate our brothers, arm our army, and release the forces they've tried to lock away! Take everything inside! And then, we will bathe in the chaos and become the only rule in this city!"
With a violent sweep of his hand, a massive canvas fell behind him, revealing a crude but clear blueprint of Blackgate Penitentiary. Several key points were marked with red X's.
"Monitored channels, signal jammers, inside men… I've arranged everything." Black Mask's finger slammed into the center of the diagram. "They think they're secure? I'm going to turn Blackgate into a joke—a burning tombstone dedicated to Gotham!"
"At sunrise tomorrow, when the alarm bells wail for our masterpiece, Gotham will remember this day—remember who gave it true freedom!"
Below the stage, every man raised his weapon, letting out a beastly howl. Tarps were whipped off trucks nearby, revealing mountains of hardware: automatic rifles, submachine guns, shotguns, grenades, smoke bombs, explosives… enough to fight a small war.
Like sharks smelling blood, the crowd surged forward in an orderly frenzy to claim their gear.
Half an hour later, a convoy of modified trucks, SUVs, and motorcycles tore through the night like silent ghosts, heading toward Blackgate. No lights, and the roar of their engines was muffled to a low hum.
Black Mask sat in the back of the lead armored SUV, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee. His face behind the mask was expressionless, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter by the second.
"That's the gist of it, Jim. The caller checked in again. About forty minutes ago, Black Mask took a small army toward Blackgate.
But the bad news is, two suspected mercenary teams are simultaneously moving toward the City Hall Charity Gala and the center of the Commercial District."
"Dammit! That bastard, where did he get so many men!" On the other end of the line, Gordon slammed his desk in fury.
"Calm down, Jim. He has the money, so he has the men. If Loeb hadn't embezzled so much, you'd have a lot more resources than Black Mask." Jay leaned against his desk. "So, what's the plan?"
"Blackgate has SWAT stationed there; they can hold for a while. The Charity Gala… there will be plenty of security. I'll take a team to clear the Commercial District. There are too many civilians there."
What a lousy excuse… you're just counting on Master Wayne to do a quick-change at the gala and save the day.
You two definitely have a thing going on!
"OK, well, good luck with that!"
"Wait, wait, Jay! Aren't you coming? I need your help."
"Do you need me, or do you need my truck? If it's me, no problem. But the truck isn't fixed yet."
"Oh… never mind then… Thanks. Bye!"
"Motherf***er!"
Jay sat in his chair, annoyed. He thought for a moment, then called out toward the office door.
"Dar!"
Wilson pushed the door open. "Shift's almost over, what's up?"
"Don't clock out yet. Come with me. We're going to Blackgate to take a look."
"Holy shit, are you serious? What are you planning?" Wilson squeezed inside and shut the door. "What's happening? If Black Mask is hitting Blackgate, he's basically on a suicide mission."
"Gordon says the same, but I'm a little uneasy. The two of us will go quietly. We'll see if we can fish in troubled waters and slap his face while we're at it."
——————
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