Wayne of Gotham Read Free

her back as he reached for his Utility Belt.
    Chuff … clang! The strike was on the stairs only a few feet away.
    That’s two, Aaron … you may be better than I thought.
    The Dark Knight pulled a long, black strip of plastic from his belt. Grabbing Jillian’s hands, he wrapped the plastic strip around both her wrists and the metal riser for the stairs. With a quick pull and a ripping sound, Jillian was secured to the riser.
    Zip ties. Sometimes simple is best.
    Chuff … crack!
    But Batman no longer knelt where the cement was chipped by Aaron’s third round.
    His black shape rushed again, bounding from platform to platform … Montgomery, Raymond, Alexandria …
    Gordon. Where’s Gordon ?
    A aron Petrov stood sweating on the platform. A single work light remained, shining down on his glistening hairless head. He shouted into the darkness.
    â€œYou can’t have them! They are mine, and you can’t take them from me! You can’t … You—you can’t.”
    Aaron looked up.
    The light vanished as darkness enfolded him.
    B atman stood up. Aaron Petrov was bound hand and feet beneath him, whimpering and sobbing like a child.
    â€œFREEZE!”
    He was waiting for me. He’s behind me. Service automatic. Gordon was always a great shot. Somehow I’ve always known in my soul that he will be there when I die. But not today …
    Batman began to turn slowly.
    â€œI said FREEZE!”
    Batman stopped. “Calm down, Gordon. You’re being played by Spellbinder.”
    â€œLike hell!” Gordon answered. There was a quiver in his voice. “Spellbinder’s tucked away in Arkham … I saw her there myself yesterday before … before you …”
    He’s angry. He’s in pain. What’s he seeing? What’s Moffit convinced him to see ?
    Gordon’s words cut like the shattered glass that lay around them. “How could you? You bastard, you killed her!”
    â€œWho? Who did I kill, Gordon?”
    â€œYou can’t even remember her name?” Gordon’s voice went cold. “Barbara. My little Barbara … You put her in that wheelchair, and now you’ve finished the job!”
    â€œGordon, think! Joker put her there … remember? She’s still alive, Jim.”
    â€œI ought to just put you down right now!” Gordon screamed.
    â€œBut you won’t. You’ll take me in.”
    â€œNo! I’m gonna save this city a lot of trouble and expense … I’m gonna …”
    â€œYou’re a good cop, Gordon.” Batman moved ever so slowly, raising both hands. “You’re going to take me in. You’re going to see that justice is done.”
    Batman placed both hands behind his head. He closed his eyes.
    Justice is blind.
    Gordon raised his weapon, stepping forward. The muzzle of the service revolver jabbed against the base of Batman’s neck below his fingers.
    At the base of his skull.
    No amount of armor—active or otherwise—would protect him at this range.
    â€œThat’s right, Batman!” Gordon seethed. “I am going to see that justice is done! I am justice, you son of a—”
    The cape reached up, suddenly flying in Gordon’s face.
    Not just for show anymore.
    Gordon fired just as Batman’s head shifted aside.
    The muzzle blast exploded in Batman’s ear as he spun around on Gordon. The neurobionic interface was disrupted, and for a moment Batman was truly blind as he opened his eyes. The cape was still affixed around the police commissioner’s wrist, pulling him forward and into Batman’s reach.
    The spin kick cost Gordon his glasses, but the commissioner was fueled by rage, revenge, and despair. He managed to fire his weapon twice more in wild rage before Batman could force it from his hands. It tumbled into the void around them as they locked in combat. Gordon had nothing to lose in the death of his opponent. Batman had