A baritone horn echoes across the Gotham harbor. A jaw droppingly large barge towers over the water like a sky scraper. Family of steam hiss out of the maroon smoke stacks. A name in brilliantly large, white bold letters are stamped onto the side of the black boat. "ROSEWELLE ISOLATION"
Inside the boat are rows of poorly built cells loaded with prisoners. Their suits are ripped, their bodies are disgustingly thin due to starvation, some are just rotten corpses used as rat food. Blood stains paint the walls, drunk security guards lay on the ground, out like a light while others are sadistically beating poor criminals to death with bloody batons. Only a mad man would keep a prison in such purposely poor management. That man is Warden Rosewelle, looking down upon the somehow legal chaos with a homicidal grin stretched across his face in his office.
ROSEWELLE: Look at those scum. Scurrying out of the pile of human entrails like the terrified rats they are. Anyways, what did you call this appointment for, Jim?
Across of the gaoler is a trilby wearing man with a taser tucked in his pocket and a disapproving look on his face. This man is Lieutenant Gordon.
GORDON: Listen, Rosewelle. The GCPD has agreed that this sick little prison boat of yours has got to go! 60% of your imprisoned inmates die every year!
ROSEWELLE: Some people deserve to die, lieutenant. Are you saying I am not fit for my duties as warden? The founder himself awarded me with such a privilege.
GORDON: That's because the founder was your father. He probably gave it to you because he knew you'd never amount to anything if your life.
ROSEWELLE: Let's not resort to petty insults, lieutenant. And I couldn't give a single damn what your little department has to say of my management skills. I'm very certain Commissioner Loeb has to say otherwise.
A grim, almost scared look spawns of Gordon's face. He knows Rosewelle and Loeb always back each other up. And they both have enough power to make anything that disagrees with them go away.
GORDON: *sighs* Fine. I'll let the department know that this barge will not be shut down. However, we are bumping 40% of Gotham's criminals to be shipped here down to 30%. A majority will now be sent to Arkham and Blackgate.
ROSEWELLE: Very well. We seem to have some to an agreement. Farewell, lieutenant. I have my...shows to attend to.
Gordon has been sent to this barge enough times to know that Rosewelle's "shows" are prisoner executions. The officer rose out of his chair and exited the office.
Later that afternoon in by Gotham downtown, the ship docks for the shifts to cease for the night. Armies of security guards and Rosewelle himself walk down from a docking plank, exiting the ship and arriving at their houses. One of the officers, Captain Nimon, hurry up near the warden.
NIMON: So, warden. Are we eventually going to get shut down?
ROSEWELLE: Of course not, captain. Loeb and I have a...special bond. He would never let the GCPD nor anyone else shut the barge down. Relax yourself. Tomorrow, we're getting a shipment of 34 more lab rats to imprison.
A sadistic smile teleports onto Nimon's pudgy face.
NIMON: Yes, sir.
The officer walks away to his home as Rosewelle enters his apartment. When he unlocks the door, and what waits in his living room his sexy female lover Veronica.
VERONICA: Welcome back, baby.
The two kiss each other on the lips while Rosewelle tosses his jacket on the couch.
ROSEWELLE: I've had a long night. I need to...recuperate, wouldn't you say, darling?
VERONICA: Of course. You look as beat as a sloth.
Cross hairs. From a building up high. The cross is targeted right at Rosewelle's skull through his window.
The warden walks right out of the line of fire. BANG! A steaming bullet slices through Verconica's head, her now dead body flies back.
ROSEWELLE: JESUS CHRIST!
Hyde hits the deck and stares in all at his lover's corpse, jaw dropped.
ROSEWELLE: What....the hell....
The next morning, reporters and intensely curious civilians huddle around the apartment complex blocked off by Rosewelle and Blackgate guards. Behind the complex includes a police car ready to ship Rosewelle off to the GCPD for questioning. Rosewelle, with a stunned look on his face, Loeb, and a pair of armed cops stand around the vehicle.
LOEB: Oh, god, I'm so sorry for your lost, Hyde.
ROSEWELLE: Oh, it's fine, it's not like I cared too much for the whore anyway.
LOEB: I promise ya, will get our best detectives on the case to find this son of a bitch and put him down. But hey!
The two corrupted officials take a stroll down an alley so the other cops don't over here their conversation.
LOEB: Black Mask is payin' us double.
ROSEWELLE: A sudden change of heart from that sociopath? Why?
LOEB: Dunno. Maybe he has pity on your loss?
ROSEWELLE: No. I'm sure that's not it.
LOEB: Doesn't matter. Free money is good for me!
ROSEWELLE: It's not that damn simple, Loeb. Some one like Sionis just doesn't give out extra cash from free. You can't just blindly scavenger for a few bucks, especially in a garbage flooded sinkhole like this city.
LOEB: Well, you have fun with your little crime solving while I sleep good tonight!
The commissioner walks away, back to the police car.
COP #1: Commissioner Loeb, is Rosewelle prepared for questioning?
LOEB: No, officer. The interrogation of Mr. Rosewelle will not be needed.
COP #1: But he's a susp-!
LOEB: Do you want your tongue sliced out, officer? Now do your job and wait for me, I have some pathetic reporters to feed.
Loeb rushes to the front of the complex. Suddenly, swarms of reporters circle him, all screaming questions.
LOEB: OKAY, OKAY, PEOPLE! Move along or you will be arr-
REPORTER: Commissioner Loeb! How is Warden Rosewelle dealing with his loss? Will there be a substitute war-
REPORTER #2: Commissioner! Can you estimate the time of the murder for Gotham Daily?
LOEB: Alright! THAT'S ENOUGH! No more questions!
Later that night, the crime scene still reminds. A shadowy figure opens the window to the apartment and somersaults in. What rises up and out of the night's shadows is BATMAN. He taps into his gauntlet jammer to turn off any cameras or hidden recorders before tapping into Oracle's communication frequency.
BATMAN: Oracle! I'm at the crime scene.
ORACLE: Okay, Bruce. I'll tell you what the GCPD database knows. Let's see...murder happened at 1:24 AM yesterday....no current suspects nor any nearby evidence of the shooter's nest....ah, here we go. The bullet was a .50 caliber, Maximixer brand.
BATMAN: Maximixer...that's the same brand of ammo Deadshot uses.
ORACLE: Yeah, but he's in Blackgate and has been there for the last few months.
BATMAN: Hmm. Maximixer bullets DO leave a pheromone traces a few hours even after shot. They apparently use it to lubricate the bullet's chamber to keep it fresh and reduce recoil. A few specs of those chemicals could still be wondering in the air. It'll form a trajectory line and a lead me to the shooter's nest.
Batman flicks on his detective vision. A layout of electronical simulate coats Batman's vision. Skeletons, soundwaves, electronics. All shown through this technological wonder. A line of chemicals spawn in the air, right where Veronica was standing. It leads out of the window, all the way to a fire escape exit on 6th street.
BATMAN: There we go.
Fire escape. Suddenly, a stringed, bat shaped spear-head gouges into the side of it before it reels in the Caped Crusader. He rubs his gloved, first and index finger up against the railing before inspecting it.
BATMAN: Scrapes of metal and melted snow. This metal must've been from the shooter's rifle.
The Dark Knight backs up and hears a beeping.
BOOM! The railing explodes into fiery chucks, flinging an inflamed vigilante off the roof top. He lands in a heap of snow, extinguishing his cape. A few seconds dlater, he wakes up.
ORACLE: Bruce?! BRUCE! WAKE UP!
BATMAN: *groans* I'm fine Barbara.
ORACLE: Thank God. What happened? I heard an explosion.
BATMAN: Who ever killed Veronica....is smart. He or she knew I would investigate and find their nest. Oracle, I want you to make a list of all suspects, cross off any unlikelies, imprisoned.
ORACLE: On it.
BATMAN: All I have is a .50 caliber bullet trace, Maximizer lead, and a piece of the sniper's metal. I need to come back to the cave and analysis the evidence.
Batman is in his cave, analysing his small amount of evidence.
BATMAN: Let's see. According to Maximizer's website, their last few deliveries have nothing to do with snipers. The shooter's ammo was at least six months old, meaning they planned this. Same with the rifle. The explosives were C4, judging by the distinctive beeping sounds and pieces of left over rubble, and the only Gotham available place you could get that is Ebeneger's Surplus Shop. The only C4 receipt was purchased there in the last six months was-
ORACLE: BRUCE! Another murder just happened!
ORACLE: At the Gotham City court!
BATMAN: Damn...of all of the places. Barbara, set the bat-bike coordinates to the court! I'll get equipped.
Batman, donning only his undersuit, rushes to his equipment cavern. He punches in a code in a numbered panel hidden in the cave's shadows before a door, disguised as a mound of rock, opens before the eyes of Bruce Wayne. What lies beyond him is a square chamber, each wall painted with mounted weapons and equipment. Bat cowls, capes, bullet-proof vests, thick steel-toed boots, razor-sharp batarangs, etc. He clips his belt, swings him cowl over his face, drapes his cape over him, and sprints out of the equipment chamber before hopping on the bat-bike and violently rushing out.
The unsurprisingly corrupted Judge Seamus Rais sits in his self-proclaimed "throne", his face buried in his hands. Waves of police cars swarm into sight, one containing who else but Commissioner Loeb. He rushes into the court house and spots Rais behind escorted out the back by a squad of officers.
LOEB: Hey, WAIT!
The squad stops and leaks Rais bleed into sight.
RAIS: Gillian? Christ, what are you doing here?
LOEB: I heard your son died. (to the police officers in the court) EVERY OFFICER, CHECK EVERY NOOK AND CRANNY OF THIS COURT! GUARD ALL EXITS AND ENTRANCES AND KEEP ANY CIVILIANS OUT!
RAIS: (voice begins to break) Yeah....I-I don't...have any purpose anymore...
LOEB: Look, you have plenty of purpose. Just don't make a scene. I know Hyde couldn't make it, but you have to pull through.
RAIS: Gillian...speaking of Hyde, his other was killed yesterday. My son just died from poisoning, some pills were sneaked into his coffee. This can't be a coincidence. Gillian...you don't think this means?
LOEB: No, Seamus, w-what, (he thinks for a moment). Oh, FUCK. You're right! He must be killing the loved ones of all officials. You think he knows we're working for you-know-who?
RAIS: I don't know, and I don't care. You need to protect your family, Loeb.
LOEB: *sighs*. You're right. I'll alert the GCPD and make sure they're put in a protection program. We're FINDING this bastard. Wait a second...I have a plan.
A few hours after the court is cleared out and labeled a crime scene, Batman dashes out of the shadows and begins a formal investigation. He yet against disables any cameras and taps into Oracle's frequency.
BATMAN: Oracle, send me autopsy reports of Rais's son.
ORACLE: Comin' up. (a few seconds later) Okay, I downloaded the reports to the Bat database.
BATMAN: Let's see....died at 4:54 PM, just a few hours ago, right after a case. After overhearing the case, he went to his dad's office and sipped some coffee. Cyanide poisoning, how original.
ORACLE: Wait, Bruce. History is obviously repeating itself. The loved one of a corrupt official is mysteriously murdered, you come to investigate, the next thing you know, you're blown sky-high! That last night explosion got the headline in the newspaper today!
BATMAN: Don't worry. You can't attack a bat twice the same way. I scanned for any traps before I came in. A small explosive was strapped behind the bookcase, couldn't be picked up by the police's scanners. The upgraded jammer also stuffed up its capabilities.
A zap comes from under Rais's desk. Batman scans and sees a marble sized radio stuffed in the kranny of the table before picking it up.
VOICE FROM RADIO: (robotically deep and disguised) Well, well, well. So, you didn't fall for my trap twice. I'm somewhat impressed.
BATMAN: Who is this?
VOICE FROM RADIO: You.
BATMAN: Creative answer.
VOICE FROM RADIO: I'm being serious. You just don't get it, do you? Can my blaringly obvious words not dent your thick skull?
BATMAN: What do you mean? Why are you killing?
VOICE FROM RADIO: The sole reason behind that is...oh, I almost forgot. Can't be spoiling the end of this, now can I?
BATMAN: ORACLE, TRACE THIS CALL IMMEDIATELY!
ORACLE: On it!
VOICE FROM RADIO: (laughs deviously) Don't bother! You think your primitive technology can trace my superior equipment? So disappointingly predictable.
BATMAN: You just gave yourself away, Naston.
VOICE FROM RADIO: The Riddler has been in Arkham for weeks, dumbass! Good guess, though.
The radio turns off and begins to expell a toxic gas. Batman coats himself with his cape, trying to shield himself from the radio in vain.
BATMAN: Damn! (he attempts to rush out of the hospital but is too weak and trips.)
ORACLE: Bruce! I couldn't trace his call! (Oracle's voice begins to fade, much like Batman's consciousness and he lazily tries to crawl towards the door before passing out) BRUCE!