Chapter Six

"I cooked . . . you clear," Kat said.

"Aw gee . . . you sound just like--" Dick stopped. He was about to say *Mom*. Instead, he mutely began to clear the table. He couldn't see what difference it would make, though. He hoped he wouldn't be around when the hygiene police arrived to ticket them. The whole place *looks* contagious, Dick thought disgustedly. Jay Dee should feel right at home.

He heard the sound of running water and turned to see Kat filling the kitchen sink. "Here, I'll take those," she said, indicating the breakfast dishes that Dick had collected. "You dry." Dick nodded. He noticed that there were more dishes already piled and ready to be washed. These had obviously been recently used, probably by McEwan and the others.

"Where's Fingers?" Dick asked. He took a chipped plate from Kat and dried it carefully. He then placed it on a towel that was spread out on the countertop. He turned for the next dish, a drinking glass.

"He and the boys went down to the piers for an early morning recon."

"What are they reconning?" Dick asked curiously.

"Apparently Jamie got word that someone he wants to talk to will be there today," Kat answered, purposely vague. She didn't want to upset Dick by letting him know that McEwan was actually looking for Zucco. Still, Dick seemed like a nice kid and she didn't feel comfortable about trying to mislead him. Dick nodded seemingly satisfied.

They finished the rest of the breakfast dishes with no further conversation.

"Done!" Kat said, helping Dick dry the last of the pans. "Are you interested in going for a walk?"

"Sure." Dick shrugged.

"Great, we have to buy you some necessities. Let's see, I have a list here: toothbrush, change of underwear, socks." Dick felt himself blushing over the *change of underwear*, but tried not to let on. Kat pretended not to notice his discomfort.  "Let's go."

*****

McEwan and the rest of the Network waited in the shadows. Pier 43 had several warehouses located on it. Most were abandoned, but a few looked like they still conducted dockside business. McEwan dispersed his team to maximize their surveillance. There'd been no sign of Zucco or the Vigils so far.

"This is all a waste of time," Jay Dee said behind him. McEwan jumped, startled. He gave Jay Dee an annoyed glare. Jay Dee grinned unperturbed. "After the scare you and Montana put into him, Gunner probably lied just to save his own skin." McEwan didn't reply. He was afraid that if he acknowledged the statement, he'd end up agreeing.

They had to find Zucco tonight and find out what he was up to. They had to discover some way for the cops to arrest him so he'd leave the kid alone. McEwan and Jay Dee suddenly heard the sound of a truck backing up.

"Sh-h!" McEwan held his finger to his lips. He jerked his head indicating "Follow me." Jay Dee nodded. Keeping to the deeper gloom of the buildings' shadows, the boys moved quickly in the direction of the sound. Rounding the corner of the warehouse, McEwan pulled up suddenly. He dragged Jay Dee back into the shadows with him. Spying a fire escape on the side of the building, he quickly ran towards it. Jay Dee looked up and sighed. It went clear to the roof.

"If I'd known I was gonna be out with the *Batman* tonight," Jay Dee said sarcastically, "I'd have remembered to work out more at the JDC." He followed reluctantly. McEwan turned to him.

"Go get the others. Stay in the shadows. I'm gonna try to get inside and see if I can learn anything. Jay Dee, don't take any chances . . . and if anything happens to me, take care of the kid. Oh, bring down the ladder; I'm still walking wounded." Jay Dee rolled his eyes but did as requested. He watched McEwan climb for a couple of minutes to ensure that he safely made it up to the first landing. Satisfied that his friend wasn't going to break any more bones, Jay Dee left to find the rest of the team.

*****

As the shadows lengthened in the late afternoon, Dick and Kat made their way down the street. The rundown section of the city in which they were located shocked him. He knew that they were holed up in an abandoned building, but nevertheless, the neighborhood was still a place his parents would have never brought him to, much less walked through.

Several storefronts were boarded over; others were open and advertising wares that he instinctively knew his Mom would've heartily disapproved of. They passed several disreputable looking pawnshops and liquor stores, as well as a few burned-out and gutted buildings. The people who inhabited the neighborhood didn't help matters.

Several of the men they passed leered at Kat; one even made openly lewd gestures at Dick. Dick looked at Kat nervously, but she passed by the onlookers without concern. And the women! Most looked sickly and sad. Some scowled at him. All had heavily made-up faces. Their cheeks and mouths were heavily rouged, giving them almost clown-like masks; however, unlike Harry the Clown who'd always managed to make Dick laugh, the ladies of the night frightened him.

Finally, they arrived at a small drugstore advertising a two-for-one sale on a national brand name of laxative. "Everyday low-prices!" Chu's Drugs proclaimed. "We will *not* be undersold!"

"In here, Dick," Kat said, steering him through the doorway.

"Kat! Kat Evans!" a young girl's eager voice greeted them from behind the counter. "It's been ages! How's it going?"

"Mi-Hyun!" Kat greeted in turn. The two girls hugged each other. "It's so good to see you! How're your Mom and Dad?"

Mi-Hyun's face immediately took on a worried countenance. She shook her head. "It's not good, Kat. Dad was visited last night by--" her voice dropped to the barest whisper, "--Blade and some of his Vigils . . . They gave Dad until tomorrow to come up with two thousand dollars . . . for protection. Otherwise . . . " Mi-Hyun's self-control suddenly slipped. "Kat, they said they'd put us out of business unless we pay . . . and to make matters worse, Dae-Jung's gone out and bought a gun! I'm so frightened, Kat. I don't know what we're going to do!"

"Mi-Hyun, did your Dad call the cops?" Kat asked, knowing the answer. Mi-Hyun just shook her head. This was typical, Kat knew. The Vigils had the citizens of Crime Alley so frightened that no one dared call the police when threatened. McEwan had been the only person willing to stand up to the Vigils and look at what happened to him. The cops thanked him by arresting him. "Mi-Hyun, I want to help . . . I'll let Jamie know . . . you know how he feels about the Vigils."

"Oh, Kat, if only you could . . . but Blade said that if we told *any*one they'd--"

"If we told anyone, they'd torch the store." Kat looked up to see Mi-Hyun's brother, Dae-Jung. "That's why, thanks but no thanks, Miss Homecoming Queen. We Korean immigrant storekeepers don't need charity help from rich society folk like you who like to slum here in our neighborhood."

"Oppa, that's not fair!" Mi-Hyun protested. She'd addressed him in the traditional Korean nickname used by a younger sister for an older brother. "Kat's our friend . . . !"

"No, that's okay, Mi-Hyun," Kat assured her. "I understand. Look I came here to get a few things we need." She handed Mi-Hyun her shopping list and Mi-Hyun quickly helped her fill it. Mi-Hyun smiled down at Dick, but didn't ask any questions. She'd heard that there had been a breakout at JDC and that Jamie McEwan was one of the juvenile inmates who'd been reported missing. Along with McEwan had been a young boy, who fit the description of Kat's young companion.

Kat added a bag of cookies and hard candy to her purchases before she finally settled her bill at the counter. Before they left, she took Mi-Hyun's hand and held it for a minute. "I promise to help, Mi-Hyun. Try not to worry." Mi-Hyun smiled her gratitude. Kat turned to Dick. "Let's go."

*****

McEwan climbed in through a broken window and paused to get his bearings. He took out a red-filtered pen light. No telling when a known pickpocket and escaped juvenile delinquent might decide to take up burglary, he thought. Okay, McEwan, you can add breaking and entering to the long list of charges the DA is gonna file against you. He took a careful look around. The room had filing cabinets, a desk and other office furniture.

He crossed the room and carefully tried the only door. It was unlocked. He opened it a crack. It led to an open catwalk immediately outside. McEwan crouched down, and remaining low he moved stealthily to the edge. A huge open bay spread out below him. The cavernous room was brightly lit with magnesium floodlights.

Movement caught his eye. What seemed at first to be an almost frenzied activity to McEwan finally began to take on a semblance of organization. Several goons in Vigils leather jackets were moving boxes from the truck to waiting pallets. Two men, nattily dressed in dark Armani suits, were directing them. Zucco's lieutenants, McEwan thought.

A crash suddenly startled him back to awareness.

"Hey, you bozos! Are you *crazy*? You want to blow us all up?" Armani Number One yelled angrily at the butter-fingered Vigils who'd dropped the case they'd been off-loading. That caught McEwan's attention. The rest of the Vigils all stood frozen in their tracks, as if not daring to breathe. 

"Blow them up?" he said to himself. "What the hell is *in* those crates? TNT?"

"Yeah, that's right, punk . . . too bad you won't live long enough to tell anyone." The threat was accompanied by the sound of an M16A1 rifle bolt being locked back.

*****

The return trip to the abandoned nightclub was uneventful until Dick and Kat were about a block from home. As they rounded the corner to their street, they ran into two of the *skankiest* looking men Dick had ever laid eyes on. Snake tattoos twisted their way from the base of their skulls to the crown of their shaved heads, where the head of an attacking cobra with its jaws fully extended was centered.

Kat pulled Dick to her immediately.

"Let us through, please," Kat said. Dick detected a note of something close to fear in her voice. This quickly sent his heart rate racing.

Both punks looked to be in their mid to late twenties and were dressed identically: nouveau Mad Max. Black leather with silver studs. Dick noticed that one of the men had a nose ring on his right nostril, while the other had one on his left. Both had pierced upper lips and tongues. Both had studded dog collars around their necks.

Ugh! Real tasteful, thought Dick.

Right nostril kept opening his mouth and wagging his tongue tauntingly, first at Kat then at Dick.

"Oh-h, Momma, you're gonna get a feel of this in a place you'll really enjoy! And lookit the pretty boy . . . Mikey here  *likes* pretty boys . . . don't you, Mikey?"

Mikey nodded.

"Sure do, Tommy." The grin Mikey gave Dick sent chills down the younger boy's spine. Dick didn't know what they meant, but Kat's gasp told him all he needed to know. These men intended to hurt them both somehow and were therefore dangerous.

"You leave us alone!" Dick said.

"Ooh, Mikey, your little doggie's barking," Tommy said, grinning. "Maybe you should put a leash and collar on him . . . train him to . . . *please* his master." Mikey returned the grin and began to advance threateningly on Dick. Kat suddenly grabbed Dick by the shoulders and began pulling him back the way they'd come.

"RUN, DICK! RUN!" She screamed.

****

McEwan spun around. A third Armani suit stood there training an M-16 semi-automatic weapon on him with an almost casual businesslike attitude. McEwan instinctively knew that this only made Zucco's henchman all the more dangerous. McEwan slowly held out his hands to show that he was unarmed.

"Let's go," Armani Number Three said. McEwan stood, keeping his hands visible, his self-disgust evident. He'd allowed himself to be made in less than five minutes. Even Ghoul would've lasted longer, he thought exasperatedly. Okay, burglary wasn't his strongpoint, but this was ridiculous. Oh well, at least the other guys were safe. He knew that Jay Dee would take care of Dick.

"Yo! Lansky!" Armani Number One turned. "Got us a live one here!" Armani Number Three shoved McEwan with the barrel of the M16. McEwan moved forward sullenly. Lansky walked towards them.

"Good going, Boomer," Lansky said. He studied McEwan carefully. "I've seen you someplace before. Who are you, punk? Why are you spying on us? Who sent you?" McEwan didn't respond. He didn't even look at Lansky in the eye, preferring to concentrate on a point directly above his shoulders. Lansky's right cross to the chin got McEwan's full attention.

"I asked you a question, punk." McEwan fought to clear his eyesight and concentrate on what Lansky was saying. He gave Lansky a lopsided smile (or the closest that his mouth could form).

"Actually, you asked several questions." McEwan was rewarded by a punch to the ribs. He gasped at the sudden searing pain; he could feel his already cracked ribs give way. That was real intelligent, Fingers, McEwan thought.

"You must have a death wish, punk . . . Now I'm gonna ask you again . . . Who are you and why were spying on us?"

McEwan shook his head stubbornly. Lansky sighed. "Take care of him, Boomer . . . no mess, nothing to tie him to us."

"Don't worry . . . by the time I'm done, there won't be enough left to get a DNA match!" Boomer's voice sounded like he took a decided pride in his profession.

Lucky me, McEwan thought sardonically. I get the mook who enjoys his work. 

"Yo! Slick! Gimme a hand here!" A Vigil looked up from where he was carefully placing his crate, nodded and hurried over. "Let's get 'im to the car outside . . . We're goin' for a ride." Slick nodded.

****

Kat urged Dick on beside her. He was so much smaller than she that he was having trouble matching her stride. We'll never make it! She thought panicking.

Dick ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He knew that he was holding Kat up, and to make matters worse, Mikey and Tommy were closing in. It was time for action. As he ran, he looked ahead for an opportunity, something that he could turn to his advantage. In a few seconds he saw it.

Quickly, slipping from Kat's grasp, Dick suddenly leaped onto the roof of a parked car, somersaulted, flipped and grabbed onto a metal light pole. His momentum swung him counterclockwise, and timing his revolution to the second, he slammed into Mikey an instant later. Mikey staggered under the unexpected attack. Meanwhile, Dick released his hold on the light pole and went flying at Tommy.

"Hey! Watch it! You little--" Dick went down on his opponent and purposely slammed into him all the harder. Instantly, Dick sprang out of the way, and landing on his feet, took off at a dead run. Tommy was out. He must have struck his head on the concrete sidewalk when he fell.

In the mean time, Kat had watched in growing horror as she realized what Dick was up to and that she couldn't stop him. Opting to help, instead, she grabbed a garbage lid, and as soon as Mikey went down after Dick's attack, Kat went after him with it. She struck him desperately on the head, knowing fully well that an aluminum garbage can lid would never inflict enough damage.

Still dazed from the blow that Dick had struck, Mikey awkwardly fended off her attack. When she saw that Dick had finished with Mikey's friend, Kat began running. Stopping and turning suddenly, she threw the lid like a discus, striking Mikey on the temple. He went down on his knees, holding his head. Kat caught up to Dick, grabbed his hand, and they took off once again.

Soon Dick realized that someone was closing in on them. Risking a look back he saw it was Mikey. "Mikey's back!" he yelled at Kat. Quickly slipping out Kat's grasp once more, he yelled, "We've gotta split . . . go on!" Not waiting for an answer Dick looked around quickly, saw that Mikey was almost on top of them, and hoping his mother couldn't hear him, he called Mikey the worst obscenity he'd learned at the JDC.

Without bothering to look to see if he'd goaded Mikey into chasing after him, Dick raced across the street.

*****

As Slick dragged him into the shadows where the car was parked, McEwan did a mental assessment of his life. There was so much he regretted, but there was also a lot that he was proud of. Still, he wished that he'd been able to make sure the kid got away safely. The little Acrobat was just such a good kid; he would've liked to have seen him get into a good foster home. Jay Dee will take care of him, McEwan thought, in an attempt to reassure himself. He will.

The next few moments in McEwan's life would always seem to be a blur. Boomer was saying a few profound words about the challenges imposed on his disposal team by all of the new technological innovations being implemented by the police department.

"Used to be that a guy like me could get rid of one or two stiffs a week without breaking a sweat. There was always a new building going up that needed a new cornerstone . . . you know, where we could entomb the remains. Now today, you wouldn't be able to get away with it . . . what with special chemical lights that can spot blood spatters, DNA fingerprinting that can positively identify the dearly departed. Me and my boys have to find ways--"

McEwan would thankfully never have to find out the means that Boomer had devised to dispose of him, because at this moment, something big, black, and hard came flying seemingly out of nowhere. It struck Slick on the forehead, ricocheted in Boomer's direction and smacked him on the wrist.

Slick went down, unconscious.

Boomer reflexively dropped his weapon. "Son of a--" he yelled surprised, holding his wrist.

McEwan, meanwhile, didn't wait for a second chance. As soon as Slick had been struck, McEwan dove and rolled under the car. He quickly made his way to the other side, emerged and started running at a crouch.

Boomer spun around in the direction of the unexpected attack, ready for anything. A light tap between his shoulder blades almost made him jump out of his skin. He turned, then blanched. He stood facing the stuff of his worst nightmares. A creature who came for the damned after their deaths; a creature whom he feared more than any other because of all the evil he'd committed in his life. Boomer had always known that there would come a day of reckoning; he just hadn't expected it so soon.

"My God! What *are* you?" His voice squeaked involuntarily. Boomer was afraid he was about to wet his pants.

The monster didn't say anything. He just drew back his arm and punched him with a powerful fist. Boomer went down without another sound. A crash from between the buildings caught the creature's attention instantly. Moving without the slightest whisper, the mysterious caped and cowled figure disappeared into the blackness of the night.

McEwan stopped to catch his breath. What had just happened? One minute he was about to become shark bait, the next he was playing hide-and-seek with an unknown pursuer. Furthermore, he was unsure about the exact status of the newcomer: Friend or Foe? 

"Where are you going, Fingers?" The gravelly voice, barely above a whisper startled McEwan out of at least a decade of life. He involuntarily placed his hand on his chest to catch his breath. It took several tries before he finally found his voice.

"Who's there?" he managed to croak. The dark, sinister figure emerged out of the deep shadows into the relative gloom from a lone security light. McEwan's heart almost skipped a beat. Standing before him was a figure who inspired fear and awe in the criminal element (and just about everyone else, thought McEwan). A supposed urban legend that was believed to have been concocted by the police force in order to strike terror into criminals, the Batman, as McEwan had discovered was all too real.

"Where's the boy?" Batman said. His voice carried even more than his usual undercurrent of menace. McEwan shook his head.

"Uh-uh, Bats," he said, terrified. His knees were actually knocking, he noted almost clinically. "No deal. That little kid's *not* goin' back to the JDC if I can help it." Batman suddenly slammed McEwan hard against warehouse wall.

"*Tell* me. Where's the boy?" Batman asked again. This time, however, he was holding McEwan by the shirtfront and McEwan found himself flopping like a fish out of water.

"Look, Batman," McEwan managed to squeak out. "While you're messing with me'n the kid, you're letting Zucco's bozos get away with off-loading a whole cache of explosives and weapons! This is our chance to start closing down that rat!" It almost seemed as if the Batman actually hesitated. McEwan gave himself a mental headshake. He must've imagined it, he told himself.

"I'll worry about Zucco . . . you tell me where the boy is . . . and Fingers, he better be all right!" Batman's voice was like an icy hand gripping his heart.

"Don't you *see*?" McEwan tried again. "Zucco *is* the problem! He's trying to get the kid iced! Me and my friends busted him out of the JDC 'cause the Vigils already had orders to off him! Lucky was even killed in the process by Blade's number two man, Napalm. The Vigils all work for Zucco . . . you *know* that, Batman!"

When the masked vigilante didn't reply to his pleas, McEwan continued his voice close to desperation.

"Look! The JDC is no place for a little kid who's just lost his parents! I *couldn't* just sit by and watch him get killed. Not again . . . I just couldn't." McEwan remembered his mother's screams the night Bobby died. He suddenly stiffened and looked defiantly into Batman's cold eyes. "Besides, I owed the kid . . . he saved my life. Batman, you'll find enough evidence in that warehouse to lock up Zucco and his henchmen for a long, long time. Do what you want with me, but I'm not letting you or that witch Cunningham take the little Acrobat back to jail!"

The sounds of angry voices interrupted them. Zucco's men had discovered the unconscious bodies of Boomer and Slick.

"I'll handle this. *You* take care of the Grayson boy . . . and Fingers, I *know* where to find you." With that the Batman just disappeared into the shadows. McEwan felt his knees begin to buckle. Suddenly the prospect of being shark bait didn't seem quite so frightening. He swallowed, took a deep breath, then limped back to where the van had been parked. McEwan didn't really expect it to still be there, however. His friends weren't exactly known for courage under fire.

To his delighted surprise, the van was still parked where they'd left it. He knocked on the back doors and was immediately hauled in by welcoming hands.

****

Mikey was almost on top of him. Whatever Dick was planning, it had to be done now! He leaped, caught the building's awning, swung up and over, and ran down the canvas awning until he reached the end. He jumped again, somersaulting in mid-air, gaining momentum with each flip, and caught a sign proclaiming "Fine Foods Served Here!" Not stopping, Dick continued his leapfrogging from building to building until he saw that he'd lost Mikey.

Finally, Dick managed to climb to the roof of a hotel that advertised hourly, daily, and weekly rates. The Fairfax Hotel claimed to have "clean rooms, a helpful staff, and HBO!" Dick was no expert, of course, but privately he thought that Fingers' abandoned building looked more inviting. Hiding in the shadows afforded by the building's facade, Dick surveyed his surroundings.

The night had settled on Gotham City's Crime Alley like a shroud. Soon he became aware of the seamier denizens of the night. The colorfully dressed and overly made-up *ladies* he'd noted earlier began parading up and down the street in an endless promenade. Sometimes a car would stop and one of the ladies would saunter over boldly and talk sullenly to the occupant. More often than not, the car would drive away, but sometimes the lady would climb in.

Dick shook his head. He couldn't understand adult behavior. His Mom and Dad had always warned him against getting into a car with a stranger. Although he couldn't be sure whether or not the ladies down below knew the occupants of the cars they were climbing into, on a gut level Dick *knew* that they were strangers. Furthermore, he had the feeling that the ladies didn't really want to get in the cars, but that they somehow had to.

A slight step behind him caused Dick to whirl around. Mikey! Somehow he'd managed to follow him to the building's rooftop! Seeing he'd been discovered, Mikey started walking towards Dick in measured steps. In desperation, Dick looked around for a way out. Below him the hustle and bustle of the night crowds continued unabated. He was trapped! Mikey stopped and began toying with him.

"Here, puppy . . . come on, puppy . . . Daddy's not gonna hurt you. No sirree . . . Daddy only wants to play with you." Mikey's voice had a tonal quality that frightened Dick. He began edging sideways, never taking his eyes off Mikey. Mikey meantime knew he had Dick cornered and savored the moment. He loved it when his prey's eyes took on this frantic quality. It made the capture all the more exciting, and his own arousal all the more exquisite.

Let Tommy play with the boy's babysitter. He preferred his conquests to be prepubescent and male. Even more so, this boy's raven hair and blue eyes had seared themselves into his psyche. Watching his acrobatics had only made Mikey want him all the more. The boy would soon be his; he could afford to bide his time.

Trapped, Dick noticed that the building next door was separated by a narrow alleyway. His professional instincts measured the distance almost to the inch: ten feet. He'd need a take-off velocity of at least five steps, two somersaults while in midair, then . . splat? No, he could *make* that jump! Piece of cake! Dick looked at Mikey; he was ready to pounce. Time to turn the tables. Remembering his earlier tussle with Gunner, Dick repeated his actions.

Dick ran towards Mikey, executed a handspring, leaped up and over his shoulders. He caught Mikey flatfooted. Dick landed, turned and kicked out, clipping the back of Mikey's knees. Mikey yelled in outrage.

"You little--! When I get my hands on you--!" But Dick was already gone.

As soon as Mikey had gone down, Dick had taken off. He leaped from the building, executed two somersaults in midair, struck the opposite building's wall with both feet, pushed off and flew back towards the first building, repeating his actions. In this manner, Dick descended from the building's roof without a safety line or a net. Mikey stared in awe from above. The kid was a regular Batman, Junior! He watched as Dick dodged passersby, eventually disappearing around the street corner.

Chapter Seven

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