BATMAN: The New Continuity

Tim slung his bookbag up ontop of his locker, blew on the tips of the fingers of his right hand, and turned the lock to the correct combination. The hallway was already full of students, and Tim couldn't open the locker the whole way without having to shove someone aside, an act that would invariably receive a similar response. During his months as a freshman at Gotham Heights, Tim had developed a strategy that allowed him to retrieve and deposit the necessary books in the locker, and to do so without inadvertently starting a fight with any of his peers. He simply opened up the locker just enough for his hand to fit inside. He stuffed his jacket inside first, then reached in for the books he would need for morning classes (unless he had taken some home the night before, they would be the bottom four). In the months since school had first rung in, Tim had developed the process into nothing short of an art form.

It was a beautiful thing; he could sense the poetry in his movements as he crammed his jacket inside and pulled his books one at a time through the narrow crack between the locker and its door.

Tim looked at his watch. Counting in his head, he pulled the locker open, stuffed in the jacket, pulled out the history book, the biology book, the computer sciences book, slammed the locker shut, and looked at his watch again.

Seven seconds flat.

Not his best by any means, but definitely noteworthy.

Tim began shoving the books into his bag when he heard a familiar voice call out. "Drake!" he heard Hudson yell from what sounded like about halfway down the hall from him. "Hey, Tim!"

Tim looked at his approaching friend and flashed a smile that indicated more joy than he really felt. "Hud-Man!" he greeted him. "Hi there!"

Hudson walked up and slapped Tim affectionately on the shoulder. "Tim, my man, how's it going today, eh?"

Tim looked at his friend with only a slight suspicion. "Just a little tired is all. Otherwise fine."

Hudson laughed, and Tim could tell he was forcing himself to do so. "Up late cramming for your test in Mr. Jambale's class?"

"You have Jambale for Algebra? I thought you were in Haverford's Geometry?"

Hudson shook his head. "I got Jambale for Guitar One, but it doesn't matter; see, he gives all his classes their tests on the same day. My brother says it's been like that since they first hired the guy back in the seventies or something."

Tim decided there was no harm in following the current conversation thread to its end. "Jambale plays guitar?"

Hudson was pushed into a locker as a group of students pushed down the hall. "Sure does. He's halfway decent."

Tim shrugged. "Learn something new everyday I guess." He zipped up his bookbag and pulled it off the top of the locker, slinging it over his right shoulder. "So, what's up with you, other than a test in Guitar?"

Hudson began walking down the hall with Tim. He looked at the floor for a moment, then rolled up to the ceiling, then over at Tim. "You know . . ." he stopped short, rethinking what he wanted to say; for what he was about to ask, the phrasing had to be perfect. "You're going out with that new girl, right? Ariana?"

Tim looked at his friend blankly, pursing his lips and blinking several times. "Yeah. Yeah, you could say that."

"Is she friends with Erica Greene?"

Tim nodded; he could see exactly where this was going. "Yes. I think they're pretty good friends."

"Well, you know about the dance this Friday . . ."

Tim stopped his friend in the middle of the hall. "Forget it, Hudman. I'm not asking her out for you."

Hudson's mouth dropped open, and he shook his shoulders up and down several times. "Come-on, Drake! Man, I really like this girl! You and Ari have got to help me out on this one! Come-on, man!"

Tim rolled his eyes and began walking down the hall again. Hudson let him walk several feet ahead, then caught up. Tim looked at his friend. "Okay," he said. "But you have to find Ives a date too."

"What?!" Hudson exclaimed. "Ives! You mean, skinny, blonde, far-sighted Ives? I love Ives, man, but I'm not Chuck Woolery!"

Tim shrugged indifferently. "I guess you'll both be dateless on Friday then."

"Okay, okay," Hudson relented. "I'm a nice guy." Tim looked at Hudson with smart disbelief. Hudson held up his palms. "Come-on! I'm a nice guy. I'll do it. You'll take care of Erica?"

Tim nodded reluctantly. "I'll see what I can do."

Beneath Wayne Manor, 11:12 p.m.

Bruce was already suited up and waiting when Tim arrived in the Batcave. All that remained for both was to affix their respective masks. Tim held his Robin mask out in front of him and looked at Bruce, who was staring at him. "What's wrong? I'm not late, am I?"

Bruce pushed his bottom lip out thoughtfully and shook his head. "Not really. It's just that you didn't call today. Alfred asked about you."

Tim pressed the mask over his eyes. "No, nothing's wrong."

Bruce reached back behind his head for his cowl. "I didn't ask if anything was wrong, Robin."

Robin opened his mouth to speak, planning to say something like "Well, that's good, because nothing's wrong," but instead said nothing and grinned, looking at the floor.

"Ready to go?" Batman asked, securing the cowl over his face.

Robin nodded and started for the waiting Batmobile.

1400 block, West Greenwich Street, 12:13 a.m.

"I'm not sure exactly what's happening tonight, but Lester Punny said it was going to be pretty big," Batman said. Robin was looking out the window, his fist supporting his chin. "Probably has something to do with the murder of the Rabbit last night." Robin gave no response that indicated he had even heard what Batman was saying. "Robin," Batman stated with firmness. The boy turned his head and looked at his partner. "Tell me what's wrong." Even though it sounded like one, it wasn't an order.

"Hudson wanted me to fix him up with one of Ariana's friends. Only thing is, Ari wasn't in school today, so I had to talk to Erica myself. I don't know what happened, but somehow I guess she thought that I was asking her out. You know, for me? Anyway, when I got home, I called Ari to see why she was absent today, see how she was feeling. Erica had already called her and told her side of what happened."

Batman had quietly absorbed his young apprentice's story, and nodded understandingly. "I take it that Ariana is upset?"

Robin nodded several times. "Let's just say that if she knew I wore a cape, she'd tell me were I could put it."

"You could talk to her," Batman offered.

"I plan to, if I can get her to stay on the phone with me for more than a few seconds. I called her back once and she hung up on me. I tried a few more times and her phone was busy."

"I can sympathize, but not quite empathize. I never had many experiences with girls in school. I just worked my way through high school so I could move on to college. Well, colleges might be a better description," Batman said with the faintest shadow of a smile.

Robin sat in silence for a minute, then looked at Batman. "So, where're we headed?"

"The address Punny gave me is in the red light district. According to Punny, whatever's happening tonight involves some members of Black Mask's Falseface Society and the white tuxedoes that saved my life."

"Punny didn't say what exactly the meeting is going to be about?"

Batman shook his head. "Punny didn't say, but he's been a reliable source in the last week. He was right when he tipped me off about this Black Mask situation."

Twenty minutes later, Batman and Robin stood on the roof of 12431 Black Avenue. The top three floors of the building consisted of living space that had been renovated somewhat into office space. The bottom floor was a typical big city porno theater; a sign above the entrance announced "24 Hour XXX! 18 and up only!" The south side of the building faced the street, the north side led into a small gravel lot that was usually spotted with old rusted cars, driven there by people with somewhat unsavory appointments. Tonight, however, there were four cars that wouldn't be expected at an establishment such as 12431 Black Avenue.

Two of the cars had been there for nearly ten minutes. They were both dark blue sedans, tagged with temporary licenses. Three men exited from each of the two cars, all wearing white tuxedoes, white shirts, and black bow ties. They were dressed the same as the men Batman had seen, but were much different in build. In contrast to their similarly dressed counterparts, these men were tall and wiry, their suits hanging from their thin bodies. Their skin was an even, light tone, and all three had dark hair.

Two more cars arrived; both black sedans, foreign cars with out of state license plates. Two men came from each car and faced the white tuxedoes. The white tuxedoes stood straight up, hands clasped behind their backs. The new arrivals, however, leaned casually against their cars, three with arms crossed, one with hands in his pants' pockets.

Batman leaned over the ledge of the building's roof, placing a small amplifier on the edge. Batman pressed a hidden switch on the side of his cowl and a miniaturized speaker switched on. Robin removed a small earplug from a storage pocket in his sleeve and listened in on what the amplifier picked up.

"You said the man'd be here himself," one of the men leaning against his car said. These were plainly the members of the Falseface Society; Batman thought it odd that they weren't wearing their masks. They must've wanted to be certain who they were dealing with, Batman surmised. "If the man ain't here, then we're hittin' the road."

"He's gonna be here in a few minutes. Just sit on it, all right?" one of the white tuxes suggested.

One of the Falsefacer's spoke, gesturing with his index finger. "No. No, you said the man himself was going to be here. He's not, okay? He's not here, so the meeting is over." He looked around at his companions. "We're getting outta here."

A cellular phone rang from inside one of the white tux's cars. The tallest of the men walked over to the car, reached through the open window and removed the phone. "Yeah? . . . right, gotcha . . . Okay, second floor, three-C . . . nope, all here. Few minutes." The white tux put the phone back in the car, then turned and rejoined his associates. "The man's here," he said, looking at the Falsefacers.

The tallest of the four stepped away from the car and turned around. "I'm not goin' in there without my fuckin' mask," he said as he pulled on the handle of the car door. One of the white tuxes chambered the first round of his machine gun. "That's not part of the deal. The man's gotta see your face, but you don't get ta see his."

Batman and Robin looked at one another. After several minutes, it was decided that three of the Falsefacers would enter the building with three of the white tuxes. "I can't risk having both of us inside," Batman whispered to Robin, "you stay here and watch the other four until I get back." Batman entered the building via a door on the roof.

The three white tuxes led the three Falsefacers up to an office space on the third floor of the building. The room was very brightly lit, painted in a sterile white that seemed to glow with the light. It was almost impossible to distinguish where the walls met and cornered. Batman waited until all were inside the room and the door was shut, then stood next to the door, listening intently to what was going on.

The six men were silent for the first two minutes; Batman could hear feet shuffling, and pacing occasionally towards and away from the door. "Where the hell is he?" someone said with sharp annoyance.

"Cool your jets. You'll know when he shows up."

Batman heard nothing for several seconds. The bright light that was evident at the bottom of the door suddenly disappeared, and one of the Falsefacers yelled out, "It's a setup! Goddammit, I knew it!!" Machine gun fire erupted, bullets splintering the door and nearby wall. Batman ducked low and bounded down the hall, away from the room. The door burst open, and one of the Falsefacers, presumably the only one left alive, stumbled out, his gun still in his hand, his suit soaked in his own blood. One of the white tuxedos appeared in the hall, gun ready. It appeared that he had been wounded in the fight, as a bloody hole was evident on his left sleeve. The white-clad attacker advanced on the failing gangster, pointing the machine gun at the Falsefacer's head.

Exhibiting speed and presence of mind that neither the white tuxedo or Batman expected, the wounded man brought his handgun up to the face of the white tuxedo and discharged the weapon in his enemy's face. The white tux dropped his weapon as an explosion of blood, bone, and brain-matter blew out of the back of his head. The near-headless man fell back through the open door, not even having had time to scream. That same instant, a spray of bullets that sounded as if it came from more than one machine gun flew through the doorway, putting an end to the one remaining Falsefacer in the building.

The two white tuxedo wearers emerged from the room, their jackets spattered with other men's blood. They walked easily down the hall and in the door that led to the roof staircase. Batman touched a spot on his cowl, activating a small two-way radio. "Robin, you're about to have company on the roof," he warned. Once the white tuxes had started up the steps, Batman ran for the window at the end of the hall, starting on his own route to the roof.

Robin was still watching the one Falsefacer and three tuxes that had remained outside. The costumed teenager watched from the edge of the roof. At the sound of gunfire, the four men had shown no visible response. The Falsefacer had continued to lean against his car, and the white-clad men had continued to stand upright, gripping their weapons with both hands.

Robin heard the door to the staircase that led down from the roof open. The two white tuxes appeared and saw Robin. That same instant Batman climbed onto the roof and leapt between Robin and the approaching gunmen. The white tuxes stopped dead, one of them shooting once into the air.

Down in the lot, the three white tuxes walked out away from the building and looked up on the roof. They saw Batman and Robin standing in front of their two companions, and looked at the Falseface Society member. "Put your mask on and go tell Black Mask that the Batman took care of your three pals. The Batman ain't gonna be takin' it from your boss any more, and tell Black Mask that he's next."

The Falsefacer decided to play it smart and not move for his gun. He climbed into the car he was leaning on and drove away, Black Mask his next stop. Once he was out of sight, the three Falsefacers on the ground piled into one car and drove off. The two on the roof threw their machine guns hard at Batman and Robin, then reached into their bloodied tuxedo jackets, each producing a small two-shot pistol. They simultaneously put the small weapons to their temples and pulled the triggers, ending their own lives.

Batman knelt down by the dead men and examined their bodies. He recognized the guns they had used in their suicides. "Come-on," he said to Robin as he started for the edge of the roof, "we have to talk to Gordon."

Gotham City Police Department Headquarters, 12:58 a.m.

Andy Howe had yet to clean out the desk.

Jim Gordon had just been reinstated as Police Commissioner by newly sworn-in mayor Marion Grange. Andrew Howe, a friend of former mayor Armand Krol, had been named commissioner by Krol in the final days of his administration. Howe had served incompetently for several weeks, saying little and doing less. Gordon's reinstatement had been one of Grange's first official acts as mayor. Gordon's wife, whom he was still estranged from, Sarah Essen-Gordon, had just taken up in the office next door as the mayor's liaison to the police department.

To his surprise, the office didn't take too much time to get used to again. Howe had brought in a new chair, and had gotten rid of Gordon's favorite old couch in his roughly four week tenure. That'd be taken care of tomorrow when Howe showed up to clean his things out of the office.

Gordon sat behind his desk, in Howe's chair, reclining with his feet up on the desk. It was his first night back in the office, and he had no plans to even look at the stack of reports that had been left on the desk by Andy Howe, although Gordon suspected that he would begin to peruse the pile when the inactivity of insomnia became too much for him.

Jim Gordon had never fallen asleep sitting behind his desk; over the years he had given up even trying, not even closing his eyes any more. During the first few weeks of his estrangement from Sarah, he had slept in his office on a flat canvas cot, but never in his chair, never behind his desk.

Gordon's feet hit the floor when he heard a light tapping on his window. Pulling up the blinds, he saw Batman crouched on the ledge outside the window. Gordon unlocked and lifted the window, then walked to the other side of the office and secured the door. The Dark Knight climbed in and stood in front of his entranceway, his cape draped over his shoulders, hiding most of his body beneath its dark blue folds. "Why'd you bother knocking?" Gordon asked cynically, crossing his arms. "Or, rather, tapping?"

Batman stared straight ahead at Gordon. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"You never had any reservations about barging in here unannounced before."

"I wasn't unwelcome before," was the simply answer.

"How do you know?" Gordon asked sharply. Batman stood silent. "What do you want, coming here? To kiss and make up?"

Batman shook his head once. "No, Jim. I--"

"Don't call me Jim," the commissioner said, holding up his hand. "Commissioner Gordon will serve just fine from now on."

Batman hoped he wasn't fooling himself when he thought that by saying "from now on," Gordon was acknowledging that there was a future for the relationship of the two men. "I came to report something to you. About Black Mask."

Gordon nodded, then opened his eyes wide and leaned forward as he awaited an answer. "Well?"

"I don't think Black Mask will be around much longer, at least not in his current position."

"Oh?"

"His businesses, his fronts are being hit one after another. Now--"

"I know this," Gordon interrupted, "Black's areas have been under attack for weeks."

"But now, whoever is behind it has stepped up their assault. They're starting to eliminate members of the Falseface Society, and they're targeting me next."

"Whoever is after Black Mask is going after you as well?"

Batman shook his head again. "Not directly. The men who have been eliminating the Falseface Society wear white tuxedos. Tonight, one of them talked to a Falseface, telling him that they worked for me, and that I was gunning for Black Mask."

Gordon nodded. "So, Black Mask thinks you're behind the attacks on him, focuses his resources on eliminating you, and leaves himself open to whoever is really gunning for him."

"And, as an added bonus, he doesn't even have to waste his own man power going after me."

"Until Black Mask is toppled."

"You're assuming I'm going to let that happen. I don't intend to let Black Mask fall. Not when I have no idea who's going to be replacing him."

Gordon nodded, seemingly in agreement with Batman's position. "So, specifically, what do you have to report?"

"There are six dead bodies, two on the roof and four inside 12431 Black Avenue. Three are members of the Falseface Society, three are members of the group who's assaulting Black Mask; they're dressed in white tuxedos. One was killed by a Falseface member, the other two killed themselves on the roof with Derringers."

"Derringers?"

"Looked like the same type of weapon that whoever killed the Rabbit used."

Gordon raised his eyebrows. He looked calmly at Batman silently for almost ten seconds, then walked over and sat down behind the desk. "Thank you for the information." Batman remained. Gordon propped his feet back up on his desk and reclined in his chair. "Oh," Gordon added, "get the hell out of my office."

Batman said nothing more, just disappeared out the same window he had come in. Gordon realized that he still couldn't trust the Batman, even the last ten years couldn't cancel out what had transpired in the year just past. Even so, Jim realized that just now he had been forcing himself to be inhospitable to the dark clad visitor. Even though he knew he shouldn't trust him, he wanted to. Gordon had enjoyed his friendship with the Batman; he had enjoyed being able to trust him.

He wanted to be able to again.

The Roof of GCPD Headquarters, 1:03 a.m.

Robin looked out over the city from the top of the tallest building in the area. Off to the west, he could see the shapes of the Gotham Twin Towers, silhouetted against a gray cloud that was illuminated by the hidden full moon. He turned at the sound of footsteps, knowing that it was Batman.

He opened his mouth to talk, but shut it and swallowed hard when he heard the sound of a gun being cocked, and saw a man in a mask standing opposite him. All Robin noticed was that it was a plastic clown mask the gunmen wore before the silence of the rooftop was broken by gunfire.

Robin dove to the left, rolling to the corner of the roof just ahead of the bullets. He would have simply dove off the roof, but didn't want to take the chance that the masked man would enter the building and turn his weapon on unsuspecting police officers. It could only have been a coincidence that the clown had found Robin there. The gunfire had undoubtedly been heard inside Police Headquarters; Robin and the masked man would have company on the roof momentarily.

The clown advanced quickly on the Boy Wonder, his finger on the trigger of the automatic pistol he carried. Robin glanced over the edge of the roof, let the clown get three steps closer, and flipped backwards over the parapet. Robin landed and crouched safely on a stone ledge that ran around the building exactly ten feet below the roof ledge. Looking up, Robin began to move along the building, hoping to reappear on the other side of the roof and catch the clown by surprise.

Before he could make it to the corner of the ledge, Robin heard the sound of gunfire again. Instinctively, he ducked his head low and began moving faster along the stone ledge. The gunfire stopped, and Robin looked ten feet above him. He saw the clown's head appear over the roof ledge, then caught a glimpse of something grabbing the man and yanking him back onto the roof.

A grin spread over Robin's face, and he jumped straight up, catching the roof ledge of pulling himself up. He saw Batman standing over the unconscious body of the clown, holding his gun in hand. Batman saw Robin approaching and stepped away from his defeated enemy. "He's Falseface," Batman said, dropping the gun beside the man. "Word must have gotten to Black Mask already. We're both targets now. Probably Nightwing as well."

"What now?" Robin asked, walking up and standing next to his partner.

Batman turned and made for the roof. "Now, we leave. Police will be on this roof in moments, and I don't want to be here." Batman took the edges of his cape and stepped off the roof. Robin attached a cord to the ledge and followed.

200 Block, Mountain Street, Gotham City, 4:32 a.m.

Robin sat looking out the window of the Batmobile once again, this time as it was leaving the city. He rested his chin on his fist, and watched as the tall stone and brick buildings on the edges of the city transformed into the aluminum siding and faded white fences of the suburbs.

Batman had driven silently for twenty minutes. The hours since the attack on the roof of Police Headquarters had made for a relatively quiet early morning in Gotham. Aside from the obligatory break-in, or drug-related shooting, nothing of note had happened. Black Mask was apparently waiting until the next night before making another move against who he believed were those responsible for the assaults on his criminal empire.

"What are you going to do about Ariana?" Batman asked. Robin turned his head to his partner, startled.

"I . . . I guess I'll talk to her tomorrow at school. I haven't had much luck over the phone."

Batman nodded, never having taken his eyes off of the road. "If you want to stay home and talk to her the next few days . . ."

Robin looked at Batman with a curious smile. "We never leave the cave until after eleven. Ariana isn't usually allowed to talk on the phone much past nine." Batman looked quickly at Robin, then back at the road. "I know you're trying to protect me," Robin told his partner, "but I'm not sitting this one out. You just became the primary target of the man who still controls most of the Gotham mob, and I won't leave you to that alone." Robin paused and drew in a deep breath. "You need me, as much as you did with Bane, as much as you ever have. I'm not taking time off."

Batman nodded; Robin thought he caught a glimpse of what was almost a smile. "Well," Batman began, "I hope you don't mind putting in some overtime."

Robin shook his head. "No problem. I just hope you won't take it personal if I go straight home when we get back to the cave. I think I'll need my whole two and a half hours tonight."

"Fair enough."

Gotham Heights High School, Main Building, 7:42 a.m.

Tim spotted Hudson storming towards him as he was pulling his bookbag off of his locker. "Tim, nice going yesterday. Way to get me a date with Erica!"

Tim sighed. "It was all a misunderstanding, Hudman. I was nervous, I stammered a little, and Erica misinterpreted what I was trying to do." Hudson didn't seem at all sympathetic. "If it makes you feel better, Ariana is ticked at me, too. At least you didn't have a girlfriend to kick you into the doghouse."

Hudson accompanied Tim to the cafeteria, where Ariana sat at one of the first tables, along with Erica Greene. Tim put his hand on Hudson's back and pushed his friend gently towards their usual table. Once Hudson was seated, Tim started towards Ari's table. Ariana saw Tim approaching; she almost got up and left. "Ariana," Tim said gently before she could stand, "please sit down. We really need to talk."

Ariana settled back into her chair, albeit reluctantly. Erica also remained, never taking her eyes off of Tim as he sat down beside Ari. "Look, I--"

"Why did you ask me out when you were already going with Ariana?" Erica interupted demandingly.

Tim held up his hand and sighed loud. "Let me explain, okay?" This silence Erica. Tim looked at Ariana, leaned towards her so that their faces were only a few inches apart. "I didn't ask Erica out, Ari. You know I'd never do that," he said softly.

"Then what were you doing?" Erica demanded ernestly.

Tim glanced over at Hudson, who was carrying on a conversation with Ives at their table. "I wasn't asking you out for me, Erica. Hudson wanted me to ask you to the dance for him." Tim looked back at Erica. "He likes you. A lot."

"Then why--"

"Because I was nervous about talking to you, that's why."

Ariana looked up at Tim and spoke for the first time. "Why were you nervous about talking to Erica if you weren't even interested in her?"

Tim put his arm around Ariana's shoulders. "Because I had never done something like that before, and I was afraid that something like this might happen. And, lo and behold, it did." Ariana's face took on an apologetic look. Her eyes examined every feature of Tim's face.

"You wouldn't lie to me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Tim shook his head furiously. He took her face in his hands. "Never." He kissed her before either said anything more. Erica had anticipated this, and left.

Tim and Ariana didn't notice.