New Fan Fic: Batman Strikes Back

[Catwoman]

how about what really happened to alicia?

[Dark Knight Detective]

Dark Knight Detective, I wasn't initially planning on adding anything about the real Johnny Gobbs, but you've set off a light bulb in my head!     Stay tuned for Chapter Four for a reference to the aforementioned Mr Gobbs.   

Excellent!

[johnnygobbs]

how about what really happened to alicia?

There's probably no room to mention Alicia, Catwoman.  I'll see.   I assumed she threw herself out of a window, just like The Joker stated in Vicki's apartment. 

I might start a thread for her though, since the Ice Princess (the Batman series' other blonde ditz) has already got one.

[johnnygobbs]

But I must ask, why is it in September? I'm just asking because I've always imagined that the film took place in October.

I've changed the date from September to October 1989.  On reflection, I like the idea that the events of the first film were set in the middle of Autumn with the early, suitably dark and cold Gothic nights.

This fanfic is a work-in-progress, and although I don't like to make any major changes once I've typed a chapter in the forum, I am definitely open to make minor changes where someone has given a decent suggestion as Dark Knight Detective has.

[johnnygobbs]

Chapter Three: The Joker?s Goons

October 1989.  Early morning.  Within the space of a few hours Batman had barely survived the wreckage of the now obliterated Batwing, and had also been at the receiving end of a severe and relentless pummelling from one of Napier's most formidable henchmen.  Nevertheless, several of Napier's men were still on the loose and he would be unable to rest until all existing links to the psychopath who for several weeks had waged a war of terror against the city had been dealt with, decisively.

Napier?s men had made their way to an empty construction site.   The two-hundred square-foot land was currently a derelict, moss-covered wasteland surrounded on three sides by a seven-foot steel fence.  Its remaining border verged onto Gotham?s vast harbour which separated the three central boroughs that comprised the city; the mainland central metropolis; Chesterfield, which contained the wealthy, remote neighbourhoods of the North-Eastern island upon which Wayne Manor was situated; and on the South-Eastern island, The Narrows, Gotham?s most notoriously deprived slums.  Crimson steel girders lined up a few yards from the seafront to form the entire bare bones of a large industrial development.

In Gotham?s vast, dense urban jungle, this bare strip of land remained one of the few open spaces available for Napier?s remaining disciples to land their helicopter without any fear of low fuel reserves.  Besides which, the nearby harbour was bound to be offer their only feasible exit strategy.

Three men each wearing black wrap-around shades and dressed in garish baseball caps and lurid purple bomber jackets adorned with The Joker insignia emerged from Napier?s helicopter.  They were followed by two bright green and purple coloured sedans which had come bursting through the steel fence.  Six similarly attired thugs exited the vehicles, led by a gaunt, death-mask faced man in a wide-brimmed fedora, the gang?s de facto lieutenant.

?Where?s the boss?? he hollered in the direction of the three men who had travelled in the helicopter.

?The Joker?s dead, Leo!? panted one of his addressees, a stocky, chinless man.  ?We had him, and then...he just...fell.?  To his side, a tall, lanky man with a very prominent overbite, nodded in rapid but solemn affirmation of his comrade?s account.

?What do you mean dead, Terry?? rasped Leo, in a guttural, croaky voice.

?I mean he ain?t here no more, Leo.  He fell, like sixty, seventy feet into the ground, maybe more.  He?s almost as far under the ground as Jimmy Hoffa,? Terry burbled.  ?Jesus, Leo, the Bat killed ?im.  What are we gonna do??

It was clear that Napier had called all the shots for these guys, and whilst his grand plan may never have been entirely apparent to them whilst he was alive, they had nevertheless held onto to his every command, believing the sheer magnetism of their defiant leader would pull them through every time.  With Jack now gone, this motley mix of sadistic adrenaline junkies, crash-happy former Hells Angels, psychologically damaged ex-cons and frankly, mentally impaired muscle-bound heavies were in truly dire straits.

?You vouch for this, Howie??  Leo turned to the lanky man with the buck teeth, who had somehow managed to maintain relative composure, in spite of the events Terry had just imparted.

??Course Leo.  Why?s Terry gonna make a thing like that up??

?Damn!?  Pausing only to contemplate their predicament for a couple of seconds, Leo turned to address the rest of the gang.  ?Ok, boys you heard Terry...can?t do nothin? ?bout that now.  If we hang ?round this city any longer, the fuzz are gonna pin everythin? on us.  So we gotta get out of Gotham...quick!  We got some boats waiting for us at the other side of this construction site.?

?But Leo, whatta ?bout the Bat?? enquired Terry.

?Screw the Bat!  From what I ?member he ain?t got his little missile-firing plane no more.  ?sides, we?re all packing ain?t we?? Leo sneered, giving a quick glance to each man to check they were all brandishing a weapon of some sort.

The nine remaining members of Jack Napier?s goon squad furtively entered into the industrial development?s vast infrastructure, which they?d need to traverse in order to reach the harbour and their getaway boats not more than fifty feet in front of them.  Each of them carried either a revolver or light machine gun, and they all made their way in cautious silence, a complete contrast to the playful jubilant manner in which they had conducted their psychopathic exploits whilst their boss had been alive.
 
Suddenly, the unmistakeable sound of police sirens began to echo closer heralding the arrival of two police cars.  The cars careered through the large open wasteland, bounding close to the spot where the goons had abandoned their own vehicles.  The felons immediately swung round, firing a barrage of rounds in the police?s general direction before a single officer had been able to emerge from the vehicles.  ?Boys,? yelled Leo ?get ready to scram!?
 
One of the goons, a tall, gangly degenerate whose baseball cap was squashed to one side like a beret, seemed particularly trigger-happy.  He smiled manically as he drilled round after round at one of the windscreens, piercing the glass to smithereens and barely coming within inches of the driver, who dived through the side door, proceeding to use its steel frame as a makeshift shield.  The front-seat passenger, a corpulent, unshaven bear-like man in a fedora and khaki trench-coat also dived to his side as rapidly as his immense bulk would allow.  He grabbed the car?s two-way radio as he ducked behind his own door.  ?This is Detective Bullock.  We?re at the construction site next to Gotham, Harbour.  We?ve located Napier?s goons, but we?re gonna need reinforcements.  We?re getting are asses whipped here!? he growled.

Detective Harvey Bullock and his fellow officers reached for their handguns and proceeded to spray a retaliatory round at their assailants, as much a means of keeping the goons pre-occupied and thus unable to escape, as an instinctive means of self-defence.  However, two of the goons obviously hadn?t read the script.  Having shot one another a purposeful glance, they began to surreptitiously back away from their comrades before dashing towards the harbour where their getaway boats lay in wait.  Unfortunately, in the unfolding melee that was currently degenerating into the ?Gunfight at the O.K. Corral?, both men had temporarily disregarded the threat posed by ?the Bat?.

Above them, Batman silently darted between two steel girders.  The elaborate arrange of steel columns that formed the construction?s framework swathed him in darkness, so that he was completely imperceptible to the men not more than twenty feet below.

?Mickey, untie the boats.  I?ll start the engine!? directed one of the deserters, a slight rat-like man as the pair approached three high-velocity powerboats.
 
?You got a set of keys, Joey??  enquired Mickey, a squat but heavy-set man, whose rippling muscles accentuated the contours of his purple jacket.
 
?Of course, I have dummy.  What?d you think we was gonna do?  Paddle our way outta Gotham?...I?m just not sure which set I?ve got...So we gotta be fast ?cos we don?t wanna be dealing with the rest of the boys!?

Mickey set about untying the mooring lines and metal chains that held one of the vehicles to a steel bollard.  No sooner had his rodent-featured pal began twisting his engine key into one of three possible ignition switches, Batman swooped down from one of the girders landing upon Mickey and sending him tumbling headfirst onto the ground.

Having been unable to switch the boat's engine on and make his getaway with or without Mickey, Joey relented, reached for his handgun and began to swing himself back onto the harbour.  However, before Joey had even touched the ground, Batman had managed to trigger a rapid-firing grappling hook which embedded itself into the boat's side, inches from Joey's feet.  Yanking the line attached to the grappling hook, Batman lifted the wire so that it tripped Joey the moment he lifted his legs to jump, sending the goon sprawling onto the gravel with a nasty thud.

Suddenly, a large set of metallic chains swung over Batman's cowl before settling against his neck.  Mickey had quickly recovered and was now seeking to choke his aggressor, fiercely pulling the chain at Batman's throat.  Although Mickey had not managed to force his defiant, taller combatant to budge, it was clear from the frantic manner in which he was grasping at the chains that Batman was struggling.

Mickey began to chuckle sadistically as he pulled upon Batman, whilst a bloodied-nosed Joey having restored himself to his feet made his way towards the pair, holding his gun outstretched in front of him.  Preparing to bring Batman to a convenient spot in which the Dark Knight would be restrained from being able to manoeuvre, thereby allowing Joey a nice clear shot on target, Mickey dragged Batman to one of the industrial development's looming steel pillars.  'Thanks' thought Batman - this might be the break he needed.

"This is for my bloody nose, you freak!" snarled Joey raising his free hand to lob a punch in Batman's solar plexus. "The next one will be for Jack!"  Joey crashed his fist into Batman's abdominal region and let out a sorry whine as the pain of smacking his knuckles against solid Kevlar armour reverberated through his hand.  "Ahhhh!", he yelled.

"No problem," Joey snarled, "I don't need my right hand to point a gun!"

Once again, Joey had been somewhat premature in his threats.  Taking the full force of the chains against his throat, as his body slammed against Mickey, who in turn slammed harder against the pillar behind, Batman raised both his legs and clamped his feet around Joey's left, pistol wielding arm.  Joey squirmed in pain, as Batman squeezed his feet tighter upon the goon's arm causing him to release his gun from his grip and onto the ground.  Batman in turn removed his feet from its clasp, allowing Joey, now bent forward on his side, to attend to his wounded arm, before he side-swept Joey's legs from under him causing him to land flatly on his back...and this time remain on the ground.

Having retained a tight grip on the metal chain wrapped around Batman's neck, Mickey had taken the full force of his captive's weight during this altercation.  As Batman placed his feet back on the ground after rapidly clasping and releasing Joey's arm and then sending him tumbling to the ground in short succession, Mickey had lost momentum and loosened his grip upon the chain for a fraction of a second.  That was all the time Batman needed in order to make a quick step forward, bend down slightly and lever Mickey upwards and over his body so that the unfortunate goon's hefty figure was practically somersaulted forwards and on top of Joey.

In the midst of the chaotic shoot-out that had ensued whilst Batman was taking care of the goons' errant comrades, the police had managed to take down at least one of Napier's men.  However, having sustained many of their own injuries the tally of active and operational police officers on the scene had been depleted from eight bodies to a mere five.  Bullock tried desperately to radio for urgent reinforcements, maybe even a police helicopter or two as he simultaneously instructed his remaining officers to position themselves closer to the goons, who had managed to evade the lion's share of the police gunfire by screening themselves behind the various steel girders that comprised the industrial development.

"Ok.  Let's move!" Leo shouted to the other scattered goons amidst the furious gunfire.  "That means you too, Richie!" he yelled at the lanky goon with the crushed cap, who was far closer to the police than the rest of his gang, and seemed to be entirely lost in the process of turning the cops' cars into Swiss cheese to take any particular heed to Leo's instructions.  "Ah, forget 'im," muttered Leo as he and the other remaining goons made their exit, with Howie and his machine gun taking up the rear and faced towards the cops, in case they got any bright ideas of following after them.

"Hey, where's Joey and Mick?" pondered an out-of-breath Terry, as the goons quickened the pace in the direction of their boats.

"What?"  Leo shot an irritable glance at Terry before pausing to register the absence of the aforementioned miscreants.  "I'll kill those two bas..."  Before Leo had a chance to finish his invective a large, imposing figure came swooping into his centre vision.  

Batman had lassoed a grappling hook around one of the steel girders mere feet above the goons.  He now came hurtling from one of the higher beams, to swing on his wire and strike his feet abruptly into Leo's chest, sending the goons' newly appointed leader hurtling into the air some distance away, and subsequently landing in a winded heap on the ground.  Having knocked out Leo, Batman twisted his body and used the momentum of the makeshift lasso to swing back in the opposite direction back towards the goons.  As they prepared to aim their guns, Batman kicked each leg in opposite directions simultaneously smashing his heels against the faces of two further goons, including a gormless Terry and another more imposing thug toting a massive machine gun, causing them to splutter in agony on the floor.

The remaining goons, including Howie and a short but sturdily built Oriental-looking goon with a pompadour began firing at Batman as his body swung upwards away from them, various bullets pinging and ricocheting against the surrounding metal beams.  In anticipation of the inevitable swing back into the goons' immediate line of fire, Batman promptly released a smoke pellet thereby swamping a twenty feet vicinity with a thick, opaque mist before dropping to the ground to land squarely between a snarling Howie and the Oriental goon.  Although they were too close-contact to use their guns, the smoke would soon dissipate and they would then be able to overpower Batman together...or so they thought.  The goons began to encircle Batman, readying themselves to pounce upon their adversary, Howie clasping at a short but thick metal chain, whilst the other goon menacingly tossed a flick-knife from one hand to the other.  Batman swiftly squatted to the ground where the thick smoke would best obscure him from his would-be combatants.  Pivoting upon one foot, he then spun his other leg in a semi-circle to trip both men from below with a low roundhouse kick, so that they collapsed under their own weight.

Before rising, Batman could hear the heavy panting of one man running through the smoke accompanied by the smattering of gunfire.  Batman lifted his body from the ground and the surrounding smoke in time to follow a last remaining goon dart past him towards the harbour, before turning his head in the opposite direction where a handful of wary, badly bruised and in some cases, drastically out-of-shape police officers emerged from the cover of their vehicles in not very-rapid pursuit.  Without missing a beat, Batman detached a small item from his utility belt and folded it out into a bat-shape before throwing it at the direction of the fleeing felon.  Instantly the goon fell head-first onto the ground, allowing Batman to tug upon the retractable cable which attached to the miniature bat and drag the man towards him.

At that moment, a young, uniformed officer arrived, yards ahead of his less vigorous colleagues, who were now surveying the defeated goons, each of whom lay strewn upon the ground in various states of visible physical pain.  "What is that thing?"  asked the young officer, gesturing towards the mini-bat gadget, Batman had just used to apprehend Richie, the last of the fleeing goons.

"It's called a Batarang,"  stated Batman tersely before turning to stride away.

"Err, Batman!  I think my superiors might want to talk..."

"Speak to your Commissioner," Batman growled, barely turning to register his addressee.  Seconds later he was gone.

The young officer looked round.  The reinforcements had arrived, and the whirring sound of police helicopters appeared to be getting closer, whatever good they'd be now.  One thing was for sure, Bullock, a real hard a** according to senior colleagues, would be livid.  Meanwhile, the other officers were starting to cuff the goons, including two men up by the harbour who had been completely laid out cold, and apparently tied back-to-back with hefty metal chains.

A red-faced Bullock marched closer.  "Daniels!  That's your name, right?  Where's Batman.  You were just speaking to the nutcase!" he barked from the corner of one side of his mouth, the other side having been occupied by a large piece of chewable tobacco, his apparent trademark.

What could Daniels say?  He was hardly going to arrest the very vigilante who had just taken out nine men single handed, whilst he and his colleagues flailed around helplessly.  Bullock looked accusingly at Daniels for a few seconds before batting his hand dismissively, as if to say 'this rookie kid's not worth the spit he'd need to muster in order to chew him out'.

Instead, Bullock walked over to where one of the goons who'd been lying prostrate on the ground was now attempting to position themselves on all fours.  Bullock stamped heavily on the poor man's back, pressing him back into the gravel where he let out an awkward whine.

"At least he left us the paperwork...eh, Daniels?"

To be continued...

[Catwoman]

ok thats good but you lost me with the fighting scene. i couldn't keep up. i liked hte story part but the fight scene was hard.

[johnnygobbs]

ok thats good but you lost me with the fighting scene. i couldn't keep up. i liked the story part but the fight scene was hard.

Sorry Catwoman.  I promise there won't be too many convoluted action scenes for while.  The next few chapters are all story.   

Anyway, any more comments?

[Catwoman]

um. no. i thought i covered everything. lol. what else do you want me to comment on?

[johnnygobbs]

um. no. i thought i covered everything. lol. what else do you want me to comment on?

No, I appreciate your comments Catwoman.  I meant everyone else...

[Catwoman]

ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. oopsy.