Unknown is a serialized story based on The Dark Knight Trilogy and was partly co-written by myself and a friend. I decided to attempt to finish it, although I have numerous other irons in the fire. Having reached months and months of NOT writing, I thought this would be an easier way to ease into the craft again since I’ve had so much trouble getting into the headspace to write much of anything. Mental health issues have a habit of stopping you in your tracks if you’re a creative.
For those not acquainted with TDK trilogy…it won’t matter too much. I think any Batman story has stereotypical plot points and characters. If you get confused, just give me a holler. 😉 I fell into the habit of not indenting my paragraphs because the fiction sites don’t allow you to. Strange, but true. Also, I find myself referring to characters by their last names quite often. So if you see “Gordon,” that’s Jim Gordon, police commissioner. This particular story takes place just a couple years after the third film in the Nolan trilogy. This is my absolute favorite Batman series, by the way. But I think the one in the not so distant future will be astonishingly clever. Very excited about it. I hope you enjoy the story. I’m not sure how often I’ll update, but I do want to get back into the habit of writing blog posts regularly. If you are so inclined after you read, drop me a note, ask questions, tell me what you had for dinner. LOL. Let’s talk!
The Batman slipped soundlessly onto the balcony. Melting into the shadows, he analyzed the room’s interior. No light was on, and the bed was made up. He would have to take the chance. Police dogs barked in the distance.
One of his many Applied Science gadgets made quick and quiet work of the sliding door’s lock. But as soon as he’d whisked inside, he realized his mistake.
The hotel room was full of luggage. The Bat instantly tensed, but no one screamed or startled. The bedroom was indeed empty, and a closer inspection revealed the bathroom door to be open, the room just beyond it dark. The room was empty. For now. He hadn’t blundered too badly.
In fact, he just might have found his salvation.
There was a suit or two hanging in the closet and a pair of tennis shoes thrown on the floor. They didn’t quite match, but he couldn’t be picky. Especially as he heard the clatter and chaos as several policemen made their way up the fire escape. He’d have to go through the hotel to make good his escape, a task that could prove difficult as the Batman. Bruce Wayne could get out of the hotel, but even he would not be immune to suspicion.
Unless his presence was too visible to question. Which meant on to Plan B.
“Alfred.” He hoped Alfred would understand where this put him.
“You’re cutting it awfully close, Master Wayne.” Alfred practically tsked in Bruce’s ears. “You were at the party for only a few minutes…”
“Time for Plan B, then, and make them remember that Bruce Wayne had a wild time celebrating Wayne Enterprise’s contributions and involvement with the orphanage.” Bruce worked to shed his suit. “Since I’m directly across the street, they should remember.”
Alfred’s silent disdain oozed through the earpiece.
“Alfred, it’s not like Bruce Wayne hasn’t gotten in trouble before.”
“No, he certainly has gotten in trouble. But with the police? This is stretching it a bit too far, Master Wayne, and I believe you’ve been stretching things a bit too far for awhile now. It wouldn’t have to do anything with the fact that it’s been almost two years since-”
“It’s only a minor defacement of public property,” Bruce interrupted shortly. He couldn’t believe Alfred brought up Rachel and the anniversary of her death. Now, of all times. Maybe he was being a bit more reckless lately, but Bruce Wayne had to be. Batman was taking up more of his time than usual.
“Only? It will deface your father’s name more than anything you’ve ever done, not to mention yours.”
Bruce frowned, pulling a syringe and small can from his belt. He wasn’t worried about himself but Alfred’s reference to his father struck a chord. “Ten lives were saved and two of the worst criminals the police have been looking for-”
“I understand the reasons. I do.” Alfred said gently. “I’ll be sure to wait up for your one phone call from the station. You have memorized your home phone number?”
“I think I can figure it out,” Bruce replied before ending the call.
He immediately rifled through the closet, finding the suit pants close to his size but a dress shirt that was clearly a size too small. There were no neckties to be seen, and he was running out of time. Another look out the window told him the dogs had found his trail.
Bruce left the shirt partially unbuttoned and stuffed his suit deep in the trash bag at his feet. The small bar provided him with a bottle of wine. He sloshed some of the liquid on his shirt and ran his damp hand through his hair, the aroma flooding his senses. As an afterthought, he dosed the contents of the trash bag as well and tossed several rather large bills on the bed to make up for his crime.
Bruce unlocked the door. Seeing no one in the hallway, he made his way down the corridor and to the stairs, syringe, can, and bag still in hand. The maid passing him in the stairwell hardly looked his way. In fact, she hugged the other side of the stairwell with a wrinkled nose. Within a moment, he’d reached the dumpster beside a back door of the hotel and hid in its lurking shadows.
After making sure the police weren’t drawing close, Bruce pulled out the syringe and injected himself with a chemical that would be both his savior and his downfall. The trash bag and needle were shoved deep in the dumpster before he rounded the corner. Already unsteady on his feet, he leaned against the wall. The three blondes he’d seen before breaking into the hotel room were still conversing outside, albeit drunkenly.
He plastered on a grin. Time to join the party.
Less than ten minutes later, nothing was funny to the policemen who found a drunken Bruce Wayne spray painting Gotham’s newest statues, three women laughing and hanging from his arms.
ooOoo
“We’ve got a problem, Gordon.”
Gordon frowned at his walkie-talkie. “The Batman?”
“No, the dogs lost his trail. But we’ve got a VIP here, and well, he’s spray painted the new artwork.”
“New artwork?” Gordon murmured under his breath. And then he realized what the officer was referring to – the abstract, odd pieces of art from some fancy artist that Gordon didn’t get – but that had been commissioned to honor all the victims of the Joker’s rampage.
“Arrest him,” Gordon answered the unspoken question, his voice clipped.
“But, sir, he’s –“
“Arrest him, and I’ll deal with it.” Gordon cut the man off, not wanting any name to be mentioned on open airwaves. It didn’t matter how important the man was – the public’s reaction to the vandalism would be visceral.
But then Bruce Wayne emerged from the back of the squad car, and Gordon saw his career disintegrating in front of his eyes.
ooOoo
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bruce Wayne stared with wide, bloodshot eyes at Gordon – and somehow with naivety. Surely the billionaire could see he had to pay for what he’d done. This was a serious offense in the eyes of many in the city. If Wayne didn’t understand that, Gordon’s faith in humanity may drop. Just a little. “You’re using three beautiful women against me?”
Maybe a lot.
“You attest that those women had nothing to do with your defacement of public property, and I’m inclined to believe you.” Gordon leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he tried to get a better look at the hungover Wayne and perhaps even into his psyche. “You were the only one carrying on loudly enough to draw attention from three blocks away. There are no one else’s fingerprints on the cans of paint. Not to mention, your blood alcohol level was well beyond theirs, Mr. Wayne.”
Wayne had the grace to flinch.
“They are still pressing charges – against you. However, because of your…” Gordon hesitated, wanting Wayne to see he’d actually bent over backwards to deliver the young man from the few days of jail time. “…unique involvement with the orphanage, they’re willing to bargain with you. Therefore, I am offering you a chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of the city.”
“Or?”
Gordon sighed. “Do I really have to answer that?”
Wayne smiled widely. “I can handle paying a fine…just fine.”
He really did have to answer that. Trying to give the young man the benefit of a doubt was tougher than Gordon thought it would be. Maybe he should have left this to someone else. Bullock, maybe.
“A fine will cover those young ladies. For you, on the other hand, it’s a fine and community service.”
“Community service?” Wayne’s mouth dropped. After a few seconds he closed his mouth and began to laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m not joking, Mr. Wayne, and may I suggest you begin to look at this in a different light.” Relief flooded Gordon when Wayne at least attempted to close his mouth and look like he was listening. “Every year, we offer a member of the community the opportunity to accompany us on a trip with few of the older orphaned or at-risk children. This year, I’d like to offer you that opportunity.”
“Us?”
“A few members of the police force.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad. What kind of trip?”
“This year, as always…it’s camping.”
“Camping?” Wayne managed to lift an arrogant eyebrow in his raggedness. “At a resort? With an RV, right? Or, one of those tiny campers? That’d suffice, I imagine.”
“No. In the wilderness, with tents and sleeping bags, and -”
“And not a single luxury,” Wayne finished dryly, then guffawed. “You seriously want me to go camping in the wilderness? I’ll choose a different community service, if you don’t mind.”
“You desecrated a memorial, Mr. Wayne. You can’t just pick up trash and call it even. It’s either this or jail time. Don’t worry. I assume the two classes we offer before our trip will be beneficial to you, if you’ve never gone camping before?” Gordon paused, seeing his comments left a bewildered Wayne in their wake. He continued when Wayne didn’t comment about his previous camping experience. “We leave in a week. I’ll have my secretary give you the details. The kids will love having Bruce Wayne along for their adventure. And that’s the only reason this offer’s on the table.”
The stunned expression on Wayne’s face quickly transformed into something else. Curious, Gordon opened his mouth to kindly inquire when Wayne stood.
“May I go now?” Wayne asked quietly, hands in his pockets. He was hunched forward in an uncharacteristic manner, not that Gordon prided himself in knowing how to read the man. But, something was off, besides the fact he’d grown polite and acquiescent in the blink of an eye.
“Helping these kids, it’s one of the most important things you’ll find you’ve ever done, Mr. Wayne. I promise.”
Wayne looked down at the floor. “May I go?”
The billionaire was halfway to the door before he could reply.
“Wait…”
Wayne stopped in his tracks, just as Detective Bullock barrelled through the door. The officer looked amusedly at the billionaire before posturing himself lazily back against the doorway in Wayne’s direct path.
“Have you?” Gordon asked. “Ever gone camping?”
“Once,” Wayne shrugged, but his voice came out strangled. His pale face turned towards the lieutenant.
“When?” Gordon knew instantly it had been the wrong thing to ask but managed to keep his face neutral, waiting for Wayne to explain.
“With my father.” Wayne slipped past Bullock in an unprecedented liquid movement, disappearing into the crowded hallway.
“That was smooth,” Bullock offered. “Bringing up his dead father.”
Disgusted with himself, Gordon nodded.
“You sure it’ll do him good? Rehabilitate him, and all of that?”
“Camping with the kids?” Gordon sighed. After what he just learned, it’d bound to be more than he bargained for. “I hope it’s at least a start.”
“You better do more than hope.” Bullock grunted, fiddling with his tie. “Maybe you should rethink this before putting all of us through whatever it is that Wayne will put us through. The guy probably couldn’t survive a camping trip if you plopped him right in the middle of the wilderness with his condo- and his butler.”
“Have some faith.” Gordon slumped in his seat. It’d been one long night and Barbara would be sure to remind him. “I’d hate to see him in jail.”
“He deserves it. It wouldn’t be all that much time in jail, either. A few weeks, maybe a month at most.”
“True, but I think he can do better.” Something about Wayne drew Gordon, and after tonight, the feeling was exacerbated by his own ill-placed comment. “We’ll just have to see if he proves me wrong.”
ooOoo
Bruce eyed the steps to the side doors of Wayne Manor, which may have well been a mountain of colossal size and on a merry-go-round. Head pounding, he took one frail, tentative step.
“Would you like assistance, Master Wayne? I imagine after the night of carousing you had, this may be a bit difficult.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t said ‘I told you so.'” Bruce muttered as Alfred took his elbow and led him up the rest of the steps.
“Now why would I say that?” Alfred patted Bruce gently on the shoulder as he opened the door, smiling.
Bruce sighed, leaning on the railing for more support. “I knew there would be side effects, but not like this. I didn’t have a headache until this morning.”
“Perhaps I should offer some hair of the dog?” Alfred offered with an air of wicked innocence. “Although given your usual encounters with canines I might advise against it.”
“Now there’s the snark I expected,” Bruce muttered.
He walked the rest of the way by himself, only faltering once and hardly able to breathe for the butler hovering around him. Finally, after more time than it should have taken him, Bruce reached his intended target – the couch. He heaved himself to a seat and was pleasantly surprised when Alfred lifted his feet help him to stretch across in a more comfortable position. Maybe he wasn’t too angry with Bruce after all.
He closed his eyes. He didn’t have long but this small time of rest, the first since the night’s rest of four hours two days ago had to be enough. He had meetings…and probably more meetings, especially now that he was leaving in a week. He made a mental note to talk to Fox when he awakened.
“Actually, it may be the fact that I got punched in the head once or twice.”
“Master Wayne,” Alfred said, his condescending tone morphing into one of concern. “What other injuries can we add to your growing list?”
“A few bruised ribs and…” Bruce brought his hand up to his head to feel under his hair for the expected lump but Alfred got there first. “Ow!”
“Hmph. Maybe I spoke too soon about your headache. It wasn’t your medicine, after all.”
“Does that mean you owe me an apology?”
“Whatever for? I’ve warned you before not to land on your head.”
ooOoo
Gordon had lied. Well, not about the camping trip itself, but the implication that he was one of the key players had been more than a little misleading. He had been involved in the project exactly twice before – and that was before his kids were born. But as the commissioner he was always briefed on the project, and he’d latched onto anything and everything in his quest to keep Wayne out of jail.
But a part of Wayne’s deal was that Gordon himself had to join the camping trip and keep an eye on the billionaire. Barbara had not been pleased at the news. He shouldn’t have been surprised; she hadn’t been pleased with anything he’d done the past two years. That was unfair, he scolded himself, even as he thought it. It was just…things were so rocky between them. Ever since Dent…no, ever since he’d decided to fake his death. And then Dent had kidnapped his family, almost murdered Jimmy. And for the past two years he’d publicly mourned and praised the man. He shouldn’t be so surprised his outside lies were destroying his private life.
“Can I come?” at the voice, Gordon turned. Jimmy stood in the hallway, a hopeful expression on his face. “It sounds really cool.”
“I’m not sure that’s allowed, son. This isn’t really a vacation, and I don’t think the public-“
“They won’t mind,” Barbara interrupted. “And I think it’s a good idea.”
Jim struggled to find a way to be tactful, but then she continued, a now-rare, small smile crossing her face, and unexpected hope seized him. “Besides, there has to be some benefit to you being commissioner.”
Jim would see to it that there was.
…he hoped.
To be continued.
