Batman Arkham Knight (30 page)

“Lucius, on the count of three, please.”

“How long will you need?”

“If I can’t get through in three seconds, I don’t deserve the mask or the cape.”

“You honestly don’t expect a reply to that, do you?”
Fox replied
. “All right. Get ready.

“One.”

The power went down. Batman’s auto-ratchet undid the bolts and let him remove the gate.

“Two…”

He snaked through, replaced the gate, and fastened the bolts just as the generators turned back on and power returned to the mall.

“How long was that, Lucius?”

“You had at least a half-second to spare.”

“So next time I can take my time. Maybe have a latte.”

“If you decide to do that, please warn me in advance. I’d like to prepare my résumé.”

“Not an option, Lucius. Your contract’s iron clad.”

Locating a manhole cover, he entered the tunnels. He looked up through an open metal grating and saw Scarecrow’s soldiers running past, getting ready for whatever their boss was planning next. Several hundred feet further on, Batman entered a side tunnel and found a power box that connected to the mall’s phone system.

“Lucius, are you picking up any phone usage?”

“Indeed I am,”
Fox replied.
“Cellular. I’ve been monitoring them, and as yet nothing has been said that would be of any use. Why?”

“I need to make a phone call. I saw a guard gatehouse. Can you find out if someone inside is using their cell?”

“Done and done. I’ve downloaded the number to your address book. And I’ve already reprogrammed your little toy, so it’s ready for use.”

“Good. Once we’re in position, you’ll remote pilot the Batmobile. I’ll deal with Scarecrow and the Knight.” Batman hit his gauntlet comm and made the call. When a guard answered, he spoke into the voice synthesizer, reprogrammed by Fox to replicate Scarecrow’s voice.

“There’s been a change of plans,” he said, mimicking his opponent’s halting speech pattern. “We’ve taken the Batmobile. I’ve arranged for it to be delivered here. When it arrives, open the gate immediately and let it pass.”

“Yes, sir!”

* * *

The gate slid open, allowing the vehicle to enter and make its way inside. Once past the defenses, Fox transformed the car to tank mode. Before any of the enemy could act, he launched a missile at the closest tank, then used non-lethal weaponry on the living.

As he did, Batman made his way deeper into the fortress.

Four mercs were posted by the elevator leading to the mall’s ground floor. Only auxiliary lights were on, casting the entire facility in a bizarre pattern of crisscrossing light and shadows. Distant explosions and gunfire could be heard.

Several dozen stores, long closed, crowded the perimeter surrounding an outsized promenade where large events had once been staged. Spring fashion shows packed the promenade in May only to be replaced when fall fashions found their way into the stores. October was turned over to ghosts, goblins and witches, while cover bands of seventies, eighties and nineties hit groups entertained shoppers the rest of the year.

At the moment, Santa’s village filled a small corner of the space, as eerily empty as its surroundings. The rest had become a staging area for Scarecrow and his killers. Four men guarded a variety of equipment—mostly weapons.

Emerging quietly, Batman launched his Batarang at the closest merc, taking him down before he registered what hit him. Seeing him collapse in a heap, others reached for their weapons—but were too slow. A second Batarang throw brought down the next merc while Batman waded into the remaining two, dispatching them efficiently and with a minimum of noise.

He pried open the elevator, dragged the unconscious mercs inside, then removed the access panel on the ceiling. Climbing up into the shaft, he fired a grapple to a ledge and rewound it, so that it carried him to level one.

Undetected, Batman made his way through the mall. Scarecrow and the Knight were there somewhere, and he was bringing the war to them.

Two mercs stood between him and the access corridor that led to a back hallway. It circled the mall behind the stores, enabling retailers to move merchandise in and out without customers seeing them. Slipping up in the shadows, he used a chokehold to bring one of them down, while a knee to the groin doubled over the second one.

He dragged them both through the access door, closing it quietly, and turned to the merc moaning in pain.

“Where’s Scarecrow?” he demanded in a low growl. The merc shook his head.

“No way. No way. You… you’ll only hurt me—but he’ll
kill
me if I tell you.”

Batman’s eyes flashed green.

“The rules have changed,” he said, and he moved in closer. “I
will
kill you. And then I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever known.” He grabbed the man and lifted him. “Tell me. Tell me
now
.”

The man’s eyes went wide, and Batman dropped him unceremoniously.

“Now you’re showing guts, chum,” the Joker said, leaning in between Batman and the merc. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked heavenward with delight. “My psycho baby is growing up. Daddy couldn’t be more proud.”

Batman fell back, shaking off his anger. But he didn’t take his eyes off of the merc, who was still shivering from the threat. The man came to a decision, rose, and pointed across the mall.

“Th… the old shoe store… on level two. Don’t kill me.
Please
don’t kill me.”

Batman paused, then drove his fist into the merc’s face and the man collapsed again, unconscious. The Joker applauded as he stepped out of the way and let Batman pass.

Batman exited back into the main hallway, then grappled to the second level. The schematic located the shoe store on the opposite end of the atrium—a wide, circular area that opened onto all four floors. When he reached it, there were at least a half-dozen mercs on patrol. He grappled to a high spot, and perched thirty feet above the floor.

Off in the distance he heard another round of explosions, and the walls shook. The thugs below stopped and peered off into the distance, then resumed their rounds.

Two of the mercs walked together toward the toy store. Though it was dangling by a single cable, the old “TOYZ” sign still hung over the door. Batman estimated that it was solid enough for him to land on, and high enough for him not to be seen from the floor. Keeping to the shadows, he swung to the sign and kneeled behind the oversized Z. Then he patiently waited as the mercs passed under him.

When they started to move on, he dropped down behind one, grabbed him around the windpipe, then tightened his grip and brought him down. Simultaneously he shoved his palm into the throat of the other merc then spun, slamming his foot into the man’s face. They both lay unconscious, and Batman grappled up to the sign again.

Maynard & May, the one-time high-end fashion store, was four hundred feet to the left, across the hallway. Three mercs paced in front of it, weapons ready. The M&M sign above its padlocked doors hung directly overhead. He waited for a moment when the mercs had turned away, then grappled over to it and nestled above them.

Scarecrow’s voice blasted over the mall intercom.

“Attention. An intruder has invaded our premises. Find him, but be aware, I want him alive. You have your master’s orders. Obey them.”

The mercs below snapped to attention, then moved off in separate directions, each hoping to claim the reward.
Good.
Separating them would make this easier.

He fired a grapple line at one of them, snagged him by the collar, then pulled him up. The man shouted as Batman grabbed his wrist and lifted him to eye level.

“You picked the wrong side,” he said, then he dropped the merc back to the floor. He heard a leg snap and a gasp of pain, but shock kept the thug quiet. He’d live, but he wouldn’t be running any marathons.

The Joker blood was taking control and he knew somehow he had to fight it, but it was pushing him far beyond the limits. He closed his eyes, let his anger fade, then moved on.

A Batarang brought down the second of the three. The third one saw his friend fall and ran to help. A moment later Batman landed on top of him and smashed him into the stone floor.

The final merc saw him from across the atrium and fired his rifle. The bullet slammed into Batman’s chest and the force threw him back. His armor protected him, but the high-velocity impact still hurt like hell.

The man fired again, but Batman was ready. He rolled to the side as the bullet shot past, missing by inches. The merc tossed the rifle aside and grabbed his automatic. But Batman fired his grapple first. It snagged the weapon and pulled it from the merc’s hand.

Then he leaped. His cape blossomed into wings, allowing him to soar across the atrium and dive into the would-be killer. He drove his fist hard into the merc’s face, and the man was down.

More mercs would soon be coming, and his luck would eventually run out. As good as he was, he ultimately couldn’t outrace hundreds of bullets fired at the same time. All Scarecrow’s men needed was one solid hit. He lowered himself to the ground floor again, and made his way to the delivery hallway. It would offer a small measure of protection, and some much-needed time to catch his breath.

The hallway led him behind the shopping area, to the private offices as well as the loading bay. They were surprisingly empty now, which meant all the mercs were all out looking for him. The empty corridors made his job easier, and allowed him a moment’s respite. He paused and leaned against the wall, then triggered his communicator to call Fox.

“It’s all fun and games here, Lucius,” he said, keeping his voice low to prevent it from echoing. “How’s it going with you?”

“As well as one can expect, sir. The Batmobile and I have taken out at least five drone tanks, and we’ve put several dozen armed mercenaries to sleep. They should wake up in a few hours, with fairly severe headaches.”

“I’m sure there’s a drug store in the mall. We’ll spring for some aspirin.”

“I’ll put in the order now. We’ve also been causing a bit of structural damage to the buildings. To shake things up a bit.”

“Good. Any word on Gordon? I haven’t seen any sign of him anywhere.”

“Nothing. I’ve been looking, too. You know, Scarecrow or Knight might have found him first.”
A pause, then he added,
“It’s possible they’ve already executed him.”

“I considered that, Lucius, but no, I don’t think so. Scarecrow wants to make me feel fear. He’s given instructions to keep me alive—he wants to
break
me. Killing Gordon off-screen doesn’t help his mission. I think they’ll keep him around until they get me, and then they’ll kill him in front of me to achieve maximum impact.

“It’s sick, twisted, but it’ll be effective.”

“And how are we planning to avoid that scenario?”

“I can’t allow myself to be captured, I guess.”

“Good plan.”
Another pause, then Fox said,
“Ahh, I see another tank up ahead that needs to be dealt with. I’ll speak with you later, then.”

“Later. And good luck.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in luck.”

“Desperate times. Desperate measures.”

He followed the hallway to another tunnel grating. His schematics indicated that this one snaked its way under the mall. Just what he needed. His sensors showed three red dots about ninety yards ahead.
Why only three?
Why weren’t they with the others, hunting for him?

Batman thought he knew the answer. He hurried through the tunnels until he was under a grating that let him observe two mercs standing outside a heavy steel door, guarding it. They accounted for two of the red dots, and now there was a green one inside the room.

It had to be Gordon.

He stood up carefully, keeping his eyes on the guards. They looked professional, with rifles at the ready. He reached into one of his belt pouches and removed a small screwdriver from it, then tossed it through the grating, away from the door.

The screwdriver clanked down the tunnel, startling the men. Weapons up, they ran to the sound. Batman used the distraction to lift the grating, then sprung at them, taking them down from behind.

He smashed his foot into one of the merc’s legs, splintering his knee bone. The man fell, yelping in pain. The second merc spun, already in position, about to fire. Batman arced over the top of him, and as he did so he grabbed the merc’s head and pulled it down, shoving it hard into the floor.

The Joker’s methods might be vicious but they worked, and they worked fast. Still, the impact wasn’t enough. The merc scrambled to his feet again, aimed his weapon and squeezed the trigger. As he did so, however, Batman grabbed his wrist and forced the gun up. Its bullet blasted into the ceiling.

The merc tried to pull his hand away, but Batman refused to let go. He forced the man’s hand back, until the gun was aimed at his own face. That was the last straw—the merc panicked. He opened his hand and released the rifle.

In a single move Batman kicked the gun away, then followed through and drove his knee into the merc’s gut. As his opponent doubled over, Batman clasped his hands together and slammed down on the back of the man’s head.

This time he was down for the count.

Batman bolted for the door.

* * *

Jim Gordon was gagged and bound to a chair in the middle of an immense chamber, broken up by a series of short walls that created an almost maze-like effect with dozens of closed-in cubicle-like spaces in which one could hide. A series of stone gargoyles protruded from all four walls just below the high ceiling, staring down on the insanity below.

Gordon looked at Batman, first with disbelief then with elation. Batman started to remove his gag when he saw Gordon’s eyes suddenly widen with panic.

Batman spun to see the Arkham Knight standing behind him, gun in hand, aimed at Batman’s head.

“Should I say ‘surprise?’ I mean, you already know I’m here.”