Author’s Assortment #5 – Batman: First Person Bat Pt. 3

Posted: December 29, 2018 in Uncategorized

By G.N. Jacobs

The cast itched in ways for which Bruce Wayne completely lost the words. And then there was the extra itchiness and his ass falling asleep in the chair. Misery on the half-shell, he thought as Selina rolled him down Wayne Manor’s South Hall, designed to catch the sunlight during winter.

Bruce sighed passing the armor room wondering if the claymores needed dusting and knowing that if it did, Alfred would deal with it before most people could think. He shifted in his seat possibly trolling for more attention. It worked; Selina leaned in to hug her man with maximum dispatch and then she picked up the scratching tool that reached under the cast.

Alfred brought up the rear stepping silently on the parquet floor taking pleasure at the intimacies shared in the the patch of sunlight through the window with the best view of the Gotham skyline.

“With your permission, Madame Wayne, I thought I would start dinner,” Alfred said softly.

Selina shivered slightly hearing her new title. She stood up hiding behind a finger trying to figure out the best way to make nice with Bruce’s father figure while acknowledging that her circumstances had changed. A moment of I can cook warred with if I wanted to keep cooking I shouldn’t marry the 50th richest man in America.

“I suppose the operation will go faster with someone cutting the salad,” Alfred offered. “This way.”

With that the trio took a left turn through another door to the small kitchen in a different wing of the Manor.

The plot wouldn’t score high on the list of all-time criminal plots. Two men sketched out possibilities with the precision of Patton closing his half of the Falaise Gap. The mark walked by the target at exactly 2.75 miles per hour. One man needed to get ahead in the alley between the ancient brick-clad tenements with back plastered against the grimy wall. The second man would run up from behind with a sock filled with D-cell batteries.

The goons wearing khakis and warm wool coats went back and forth trying to figure out which man should take which task. It fell to a game of Rock, Paper, Scissor. The taller man lost going Rock v. Paper and took the sock swinging it over each shoulder just to test the feel.

Dick Grayson crouched below the rail briefly wondering about his life trajectory that made hiding on rooftops seem like a good idea. The neighborhood loved its ancient and chipped brick, what with the unknown blended smell over which copious amounts of urine had splashed on top. Orange streetlights created the kinds of shadows that only the skilled in spandex could hide.

He watched the developing tactical problem of two muggers and one muggee meeting violently somewhere deep in the Gotham Narrows. The tall man waited behind a dumpster tapping a heavy sock. The shorter man hid up ahead of his confederate flicking a well-oiled butterfly knife.

Dick checked the mirror that kept the tall goon squarely in view. Sprinting over to check the other mirror, the short man replaced his knife in favor of a ten-inch length of bare rebar. He tapped the metal into his hand beating out a rhythm much like a double-time waltz.

Into this tableau walked a man clacking his expensive metal tipped cane on the crumbling sidewalks that hadn’t seen a road crew in five decades. Dick memorized the distances behind closed eyes ready to pounce.

CLACK! The well to do potential victim walked slowly ever closer. The tall man stifled a sneeze. The short man dropped his rebar…only to catch it before clattering on the pavement. Dick adjusted his dark domino mask that really shouldn’t be so effective at hiding his face from public view in both Gotham and Blüdhaven.

CLACK! Another three feet closer. The well-to-do man searched his environment checking the rooftops and the darkened recesses that just barely qualified as alleys. He nervously ran his finger along the blue felt brim of his fedora like a spitball pitcher losing the extra petroleum jelly before the umpire’s inspection.

CLACK! Closer. The man gripped the chromed ball at the tip of his cane. Dick’s sharp eyes saw the silent draw on the hilt revealing a two inches of a custom made cane blade that caught the orange sodium lights all manner of wrong. Dick searched his memory for people of this mystery man’s general build likely to use a sword cane coming up blank.

CLACK! The tall mugger shifted his weight. Dick scratched and adjusted his purple-black spandex designed to catch the dark just so. He breathed finding the silent Om getting ready for battle. Nightwing, Dick thought to himself using his spandex codename to psych up. You got this these goons are easy meat. Quick fisticuffs and then get a muffin around the corner.

CLACK! The victim stepped into the trap. The tall goon stepped out early silently stalking the easy mark with hat and briefcase. The shorter goon planted against the near wall around the corner from the mugging site. Dick checked the mirror covering the tall mugger…

A man shape resolved out of the many shadows on the street. Clearly, someone or something stood up deeper in the alley with a carbon filament light behind them. The shape wore a cloak and a bat ears on its head. Dick didn’t see because he was busy gripping the edge of the roof ready to leap.

The tall man saw the shadow on the building across the street while Dick fell to the sidewalk using a mini-descender rig to cheat gravity. SCHRING! The well-to-do man with the hat completely drew his sword.

“Aiiieeeeeeee!” shrieked the tall man as he ran anywhere but here.

“Fuck, I’m gone!” shouted the short goon joining his friend in fleeing.

Dick stood up from landing on all fours to be the last person to see the bat shadow. He shook his head before turning to the well dressed man holding a rapier in Fourth Position. Eye contact between man in a mask and a man in a hat with wicked sharp blade.

“Oh, so this is one of those cities,” the man with sword said with a piqued tone of voice.

Dick stepped across the pavement to shake the newcomer’s hand. The swordsman saluted as if standing on the saber runway and turned to run into another part of the dark. The bat shadow remained on the building across the street leaving the Hero Known as Nightwing to shake his head.

“Hey! I thought you were going to let me do this!” Dick said loudly to the source of the shadow.

The shadow shrugged.

Back at Wayne Manor, Bruce laid back on the one couch on the upper floor allowed to be grooved with frequent use. Plates of food lay half eaten on the coffee table. Selina had found the best way to share the couch with her husband without hurting his broken leg. She kissed Bruce’s forehead and pulled the VR goggles from his eyes.

“Bruce, cool robot,” Selina said. “But, don’t you think maybe you should’ve told Dick about tonight? He’s got Blüdhaven on his plate, too.”

“Ooops,” Bruce said.

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