Batman: Meanwhile in Gotham City 1/3
Title: Batman: Meanwhile in Gotham City 1/3
Author: KLCtheBookWorm klcthebookworm
Characters/Pairings: John Blake, Jim Gordon, Barbara "Babs" Gordon, Jen, Lucius Fox, Johnathan Crane, Gerard Stephens, and Oswald Cobblepott III
Rating: T
Summary: Blake thought being a detective was the hardest thing he'd ever done, until he became Gotham's protector. But he's not the only one who wants the job.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight Rises or the rest of the Nolanverse Batman and I make no money off this work.
Note: This story is set after Batman: Partners and runs concurrent with Batman: Entwined Fates. Molly C. Quinn has been cast in the story to portray Babs Gordon. The character Oswald Cobblepott the Third originates with DC Comics. Also I dropped about a decade from Joseph Gordon Levitt's real age for the sake of my timeline.
Words: 4084/16,140
Part One
Jim Gordon, likely Commissioner of Gotham City Police Department until he died, closed the rooftop stairwell door. And he had thought getting back to his office at Police Headquarters would calm things. He managed not to chuckle bitterly. The city could be in worse shape. Power was stable, rebuilding projects moved forward, city government was in charge, all the feds had withdrawn except for the disaster liaison, and about half the escapees from Blackgate had been rearrested.
Learning the two Blackgate Boys brought in tonight had been trussed up and were waiting for the police sent Gordon to the roof. He approached the flood light.
I didn't have any mob bosses handy. His hand not holding paperwork touched the metal bat over the intact glass. When had Batman found time to repair it? Or had it been left in the hands who tied up the perps tonight? He flipped the switch on and leaned against the parapet.
"I wondered if you were ever going to turn it on, Commissioner."
Gordon whirled. A young man perched on the parapet a few feet away, dressed in Batman's black armor only without a cape. The blue stripe across his chest and shoulders resembled a bird with wings outstretched rather than a bat. No cowl covered his straight brown hair, but a domino mask wrapped around his brown eyes. "And what name will you use?"
"Call me Nightwing." The armored man jumped down. "Gotham City will probably have another Batman someday, but right now, it's still too raw."
Gordon nodded. Raw was the best description of the difference between those who lived through the Occupation and those who had only watched it on television. "Got a couple of items of interest. Dr. Jonathan Crane is still at large."
"The Scarecrow. No sightings?"
"Not yet. And I doubt it's due to him having a sanity crack up and giving up crime." Gordon held out one of his folders. "The second one doesn't look to be as theatrical as Crane or the Joker. Calls himself the Penguin and acts like he wants to be the new Godfather of Gotham."
Nightwing opened the file. "Oswald Cobblepott the Third; the Penguin is almost an improvement."
"Major Crimes can't find a link between Cobblepott and the Penguin's activities. Maybe you can."
Nightwing returned the folder as the rooftop door opened. "I don't know why you bothered rebuilding an office, Dad, if you spend all your time up here." The young woman with bright red hair stopped as the door swung shut. "Oops, I didn't know you were in conference."
"It's alright." Gordon took the file and gestured at the vigilante. "This is Nightwing, my daughter Barbara Gordon. And I think that's all for tonight."
"Miss Gordon." Nightwing nodded. "I'll be in touch, Commissioner." He fired a line at a taller building and swooped into the night.
Gordon switched off the Batsignal. "And who let you up here?"
"I let myself up here." She shook a paper bag from his favorite deli. "Figured you forgot to eat supper again. So that's the new caped crusader? I thought he'd be taller."
He sighed as he opened the door. "Babs, I don't want you out this late. Police Headquarters is no guarantee of safety."
She followed him into his office on the top floor next to the stairs and set the paper bag on his desk. Then she crossed her arms. "Is it the late night or meeting vigilantes on rooftops?"
"They aren't safe to know."
"You always said Batman was your friend."
"A friendship forged in hell and he died. Just don't. Make friends who aren't afraid to show their faces." He adjusted his glasses.
"You worry too much. I know black armor means duck so the bad guys don't use you as a hostage."
And he knew who was responsible for her knowing that. He remembered his wife screaming, his pleading with Harvey, his son's quiet sobbing, and his friend arriving in time to save them all. Jimmy still hadn't forgiven his public betrayal of Batman, going on nine years now.
Moist lips against his cheek pulled him out of that ruined warehouse. He looked down at his daughter, nearly as tall as his shoulder now. "I had another reason to visit. Hudson University is doing a see how well we're taking care of your freshmen weekend for parents. Can you come to the stuff on Friday?"
Gordon flipped his desktop calendar. "Friday? This Friday in two days? You're lucky I still have the day open."
"Your personal assistant insisted on a copy of my university calendar. Saturday and Sunday is stuff to entertain out-of-towners, and the free meal is on Friday. So yes, you'll remember and come?" Babs seized his arm and made puppy-eyes at him.
Gordon cleared his throat. "A free meal is the least they can do with all the tuition I'm paying them. I'll see you on Friday."
Babs grinned and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her jeans pocket. "Here are the details. Don't lose them. I'm heading back to campus now."
"I'll get someone to drive you."
Gordon skidded to a stop when she spun around. "I have pepper spray, my cell phone, and a black belt. You keep your cops working." She skipped to the elevator and waved at him once she boarded. He smiled until the doors closed, and then tucked the letter in the inner pocket of his jacket.
Nightwing left Police Headquarters and headed to the Fort Clinton area of Midtown. The Iceberg Lounge was located on East 14th Street looking toward the East River. It was a restaurant that you needed reservations so you could show off your date after enjoying the theater district or the Gotham City Opera House. He shook his head as the binoculars in his goggles followed a suit escorting an evening gown inside the white stone building with tinted blue windows.
"I'll need a date so an undercover infiltration will stay undercover. Too bad he didn't leave any phone numbers with the rest of the Bat stuff."
The docks wouldn't patrol themselves. After traveling over the rooftops, he descended to the alley where he had parked the Tumbler. So Gordon decided to work with him. That relieved his fear of another chase letting the perps get away. He climbed into the cockpit.
Gordon deserved to have his family again, but the boys chasing after Barbara will probably put him back in the hospital. Maybe Nightwing should keep an eye on her. She hadn't lived in Gotham for eight years and she was a target. He selected manual operation from the list of choices and steered the Tumbler across the island.
Babs left the elevated train at the station closest to her dorm. Gotham City had its faults, but she had no complaints about the public transportation system. There was a direct line from Police Headquarters to South Channel Island where Hudson University was housed.
She scanned the platform just like her father and karate senseis taught her. No one threatening present. A blonde girl her age--wearing a Hudson University hoodie--climbed the railing at the other end of the platform. "Hey," Babs jogged toward her. "What are you doing?"
The girl screamed as she slipped off the top railing. Babs lunged and grabbed her hoodie before she plunged to the street. "SNAKES! They're everywhere! Get them off me!" Her hand smacked Babs' arm.
"I don't know what you're on, but I'm not a snake, okay?" Babs looped her left arm over the bottom rung of the railing. "Grab onto me, please!"
The girl screamed and thrashed harder. Babs felt the material giving way.
"What's going on?" A male voice accompanied the footsteps on the platform boards.
"A jumper, help me!"
The campus police officer slammed his body next to Babs and grabbed the screaming girl's belt. They pulled the girl onto the platform. Her voice gave out and her mouth continued to scream. She curled into a fetal ball. Babs and the campus cop scrambled up from the sharp tang of piss. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I've hurt myself worse on the uneven bars." Babs stretched her arms while he unclipped his radio and called for backup. Not bad reflexes, she thought as she appraised him. Wonder why he isn't a real cop?
His coworkers were less than impressive. "Another PTSD case." The Sergeant who had taken Babs' statement brushed the crumbs out of his chin stubble. "If their parents can afford to send them here, you'd think they give 'em psykeyatrick care too." He shook his head as the gurney with the silently screaming girl headed down to the waiting ambulance.
Babs crossed her arms. "She was screaming about snakes. That doesn't sound like PTSD to me."
"You a pysch major?"
"No, but--"
"But nothing. She's just the latest since life is back to normal after Bane. They should've told you students about the warning signs too. Now don't worry about her," he consulted her statement, "Ms. Gordon. She'll be fine after they get some Prozac in her. Riley! Give Ms. Gordon a ride back to her dorm."
Babs accepted the ride in silence, not wanting to get into how well she knew PTSD. That girl had been terrified out of her mind. Huge difference. She unlocked her dorm room door; her roommate still hadn't moved in. She locked the door and headed straight to her laptop on the built-in desk.
Searching on fear attacks brought up links referencing a decade-old news story: the Narrows Riots. They were all dead ends and even the Internet Way Back Machine had been scrubbed. She dived into GCPD's database, and then leaned back. The file was there, but all the information was deleted. Homeland Security redaction was the attached explanation.
All records were not destroyed, namely the one between her father's ears. But everything concerning Batman was a gaping wound, what right did she have to ask about their first case? What if her suspicions destroyed the rebuilding between them and her father exiled her from Gotham and him again? She wiped her search history and went to bed.
Blake cursed at the blinking cursor for the--damn, he lost count of how many times he cursed the computer. He leaned back and stared at the rocky ceiling lost in the darkness above the suspended lights. He wasn't computer illiterate, and he had learned GCPD's programs fast enough. But that was before confronting the software Wayne had programmed his machines with. Apparently off the shelf wasn't good enough for Batman.
Wayne had left a manual, unfortunately written in a language that only looked like English until you tried to read it. The brains he had hidden from the world were scary. How could Blake ever live up to whatever Wayne saw in him?
He sat up and faced the screen behind the waterproof glass again. Blake's brains led him to Batman's real identity, recognized Selina Kyle before she left town, and stumbled onto Bane's plan with just enough time to save the Commissioner. If the police department couldn't do something, they outsourced the job to a specialist. He needed to see what the police had dug up on Cobblepott and what Cobblepott was showing the city and possibly what he had on a computer not revealing to anyone. According to the news, there were kids who could do that without taking their eyes off a video game. He'd hire one, somehow.
* * *
The computer science building at Hudson University knocked Blake's resolution back to the cave where it sounded so reasonable. He looked at the bulletin board pinned with advertisements, school notices, and nothing saying "computer help call me." The students milled around him. A classroom door opened, added more disheveled bodies to the hallway, along with a face he recognized: heart-shaped under fiery red hair, and bright blue eyes that matched the blue he had painted on his armor. She headed down the hallway away from him. Blake hurried after her. "Barbara Gordon!"
She whirled with her hand ready with a keychain pepper spray canister. Blake raised his hands in surrender. "Do I know you?"
She didn't; it was Nightwing she had met last night. "Sorry, I used to work for your father. I recognized you from a picture. John Blake." He held out his hand and let the other one drop.
She put the keychain in her pocket and shook his hand. "Occupation Blake? You're the one who got him out of the hospital before they killed him. Thanks. You enrolled since you left the force?"
"No, I opened up a private investigations firm. Only I need computer help."
"The Geek Squad will install just about anywhere." She shifted the backpack on her shoulder.
"I'm looking for sneakier computer help." He stuffed his hand into his pocket.
Her pink lips parted in a grin. "You came here to find a hacker? You really do need help if you think this is where to go to ask for people with a legally-dubious skill set. Do you have an email addy?"
"That I could set up." He dug out one of his business cards. "It's a legitimate case; I'm not trying to get anyone in trouble."
"Good to know. I'll send someone your way." She tucked the business card in her back jean pocket.
Blake swallowed so what he said next wouldn't sound weird. "Thanks, I appreciate it, Miss Gordon."
"I owe you for keeping my dad alive. Oh and Blake, it's Babs. Barbara is my mother."
He grinned. "It's John."
"Maybe it will be." She turned with a wave and headed back down the hall.
Blake let out a nervous exhale. Be more careful, you idiot! He rubbed his face. He needed more sleep in a real bed, not the cave's hospital bunk. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his apartment.
Jen followed her boss into the Mayor's office and stood behind the Penguin's chair. Boy, if Selina could see her now; she wouldn't even recognize Jen with the grey chic business suit and shorter haircut.
Mayor Hill ignored her to focus on Oswald Cobblepott III. "What can I do for you, Mr. Cobblepott?"
The portly man settled into a chair in front of the Mayor's desk but kept his feet on the floor. "Firstly, I came to congratulate you on the progress Gotham City's restoration has made under your leadership. And I hope this contribution to your campaign fund will help you decide to run for reelection after completing your late predecessor's term. Dove?"
Jen opened the leather portfolio, set the check on the Mayor's desk, and stepped behind Cobblepott. The only bad thing about this job was the Penguin's obsession.
Mayor Hill's eyes bugged out when he counted the check's zeroes. "Thank you, Mr. Cobblepott, but I can't take all the credit. I would be nowhere without fine upstanding citizens like yourself."
Cobblepott bowed his head. "Which is why it befuddles me so that the police are operating under some misapprehension about my business."
Hill slipped the folded check inside his jacket. "Commissioner Gordon is a remarkable politician for having no political ambitions. Everybody in the city trusts him, hell, probably the whole country. I can't replace him, not unless he leaves of his own free will and he's years away from mandatory retirement." He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. "I'm afraid we're both stuck with him for the time being."
Cobblepott nodded. "I shall do my utmost to alleviate his fears then. Thank you for your time, Mr. Mayor. Come, Dove."
Jen followed Cobblepott down to the waiting limousine. Once they were seated inside, he removed his monocle and polished it. "So your thoughts about Acting Mayor Hill?"
"Greedy, but for power not just money."
He jammed the monocle on again. "Garcia was supposed to run for Governor or Congress two terms ago. Hill nearly ran out of patience waiting for his turn."
"He's not going to risk it to get rid of the Commissioner." Okay, here was another part of the job she didn't like. Gordon turned out to be a fair man for the top cop in Gotham. Without his quiet heroics, there wouldn't have been a bomb for Batman to die with. And he hid Selina's police record because she helped save the city too. Sure, he put a condition on it to never steal in Gotham again, but he's the top cop, so of course he'd make a condition like that. Now they all wanted to get rid of him.
"True, but he will not step in the way." He tapped a finger on his beak of a nose. "Set up a meeting with Dr. Crane. This operation may require a delicate touch."
"As long as I'm not called Crow."
"That wouldn't do at all. There's nothing feminine at all about Crow, Raven."
Jen rolled her eyes while she agreed with him.
A shrill noise penetrated Blake's sleep. He realized he was in his bed at his apartment and the sound was not his alarm clock. That alarm still had an hour to go. He rubbed his face and searched for the source of the noise.
His laptop speakers made the racket. He sat on the couch in front of it. Why was it on, even if he had left it open? A webcam chat window took up most of the screen and showed a green head. The noise stopped before he touched the keyboard. "Your personal security is lax at best, Mr. Blake. Do you want some upgrades along with your hacks?" The lips on the green head moved with the synthesized voice.
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm sorry; I was under the impression you needed a hacker."
"I was under the impression you'd send me an email." Blake stifled a yawn. The built-in webcam must be activated and he was glad he put on pajama pants before crawling into bed. "So what's your handle, the Wizard of Oz?"
"Call me Oracle. Now what do you want done? It influences my rates."
"Rates?"
"Ain't nothing in this life for free, Mr. Blake. But if you need a cup of coffee to jumpstart your brain, I can wait."
"Just a sec." He pulled a soda out of the fridge and made a face at the rest of the contents. Add grocery shopping to the list of chores he needed to do. He returned to the laptop. "Ideally, I'd like all the records connected to one business and the person who owns it as well as what's on his personal computers."
Oracle's green head blinked. "That's a two grand job."
"Two thousand dollars!" He fell back against the couch. "You have an inflated sense of how much a private investigator earns."
"I have bills too. And that price includes follow-up searches."
"Still can't afford you. Sorry."
The green head tilted on the screen. "Who is your target?"
Did it matter if this anonymous hacker knew? After all, the police were watching him too. "Oswald Cobblepott the Third."
The gridlines forming Oracle's eyebrows rose. "Well, I'm not asking why. Client confidentiality privileges. You want proof he's dirty."
"It would be nice." He guzzled the last of the soda. "Pipe dream, but a nice one."
"Okay, I'll email you when I have the information."
He sat up. "What? But I can't pay you."
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Blake. I'm just a concerned citizen improving Gotham City."
He crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I can't stop you if you take your fee from Cobblepott, but don't be stupid enough to make yourself a target."
"He'll never know I was there. Oracle out." The chat window closed itself.
He shook his head and headed to his shower. He had help; hopefully, it wouldn't bite him in the ass.
Babs covered her mouth as the yawn forced its way out. She knew better than to stay up so late, especially when the father-daughter time was her bright idea. Students filled the Quad and she needed to cross it to meet the group of parents. She shook her head as she spied the familiar rumpled dark trench coat. She hoped he didn't wear it in the middle of summer.
She weaved her way through the other students and reached the halfway point across when the screams jerked her attention to the north side of the yard. A crowd of young people ran across the street, oblivious to the traffic, and onto the grass. She froze as her brain screamed at her to run from the human stampede led by the softball teams.
A hand closed around her arm. She looked into the face of her savior as he shoved them both behind an elm tree. Blue eyes behind clear-framed glasses, disheveled mop of brown hair, and a suit and tie like a professor would wear, but the cold smile made her jerk her arm away. His grip tightened and his body pressed hers into the tree trunk.
Something stung her neck. Her free hand collided with a plastic syringe. "Let's make your daddy's worse nightmare come true." He pulled the syringe out of her neck.
Babs' arm refused to slug him. No muscles in her body listened to her as her eyes slid closed and the screaming runners faded away.
Blake frowned as he headed down the quiet dorm hallway. He was good at digging up information, but it shouldn't be this easy to find where the police commissioner's daughter lived. Not to mention letting men wander anywhere they wanted even if it was a coed dorm.
He owed her for sending Oracle his way and he hoped a dinner out qualified as a friendly gesture that wouldn't upset her, her father, any hypothetical boyfriends that a girl that pretty always had. And he hoped that she was her father's daughter so dinner undercover at the Iceberg Lounge would be intriguing.
The door swung open when he knocked. "Hello?" The figure in the dim room didn't move. He reached in and turned on the light. The scarecrow with a letter pinned to its chest wore a tattered black coat. A picture of the Commissioner followed by "I have your daughter" cut from headlines and glued to the white sheet of paper.
"Blake, what are you doing here?" Gordon strode down the hall.
"Checking on a friend and I found this." He waved his hand at the open door.
The blood drained from Gordon's face. "Crane wore that when he was playing judge during the Occupation." He pulled out his cellphone. "Stephens, get over to Hudson University, Kane Hall. Barbara's been kidnapped." He focused on Blake again. "Did you see anything?"
"Sorry, sir. The hall was empty. Do you want me to see if there are any witnesses?"
Gordon shook his head. "Can't give Crane a way to get off on a technicality. But I appreciate it. Maybe you can do something with the mob scene in the Quad."
Blake nodded and left the Commissioner glaring at the painted expression on the burlap face. Gordon couldn't open up to a man young enough to be his son--no matter what they had lived through. Stephens could force it out of him though. But mob scene sounded like a distraction.
The Quad was a wide yard that functioned as a hub between the buildings and streets in the center of the campus. He slipped past the barricade; took in the ambulances, police cars, officers, and EMTs subduing people in a screaming panic; and scores of injured people staying out of the way. He lifted a first-aid kit out of an ambulance and went to the first guy who looked able to talk. A blond kid cradled his bloody arm against his chest. "What happened?"
"A softball player ran over me." Metal cleats had cut his arm and under the blood Blake saw the bruises of the shoe imprint. The kid inhaled as Blake poured the disinfectant over his arm, and then elaborated. "A whole bunch of other people ran screaming across the Quad. I was going to class. You think they got a bad batch of steroids or something?"
"Or something." Blake agreed as he wrapped gauze around the arm. The screams dragged up memories he thought long buried. Damn Scarecrow; what was he getting out of this?
Continued in Part Two