How it Feels pt. 3 (conclusion of Issue #1)
The morning lasted for a long time. When day broke through my apartment window, Batman sunk into the shadows of my closet with his body preserved seperately. Not once did I close my eyes to sleep. I stared at the white ceiling for hours, breathing in my rage quietly so I wouldn't disturb my landlord, Alfred. He was like a second father to me and didn't deserve any anger towards him. If anything happened to him, Bruce Wayne would be dead and Batman would take complete control.
My pocketwatch reflected into my eyes, reading almost quarter past noon. Slowly, I pushed myself off the bed and walked into the bathroom. My reflection showed a man of grief: messed up hair, stubble, and bags hung under my eyes. Ross would give me hell if I took a few Z's first day on the job. Elliott would probably giggle and lock my body in the backseat of his car so I would be safe. My knuckles were slightly red and cut. The shards of the window at the Lounge had flown across and struck me, but I was too furious to feel or notice. I took a long bath and sat in it until 2:45, giving myself enough time to regain my thoughts and be prepared
when Elliott came to pick me up.
"Christ, where the hell is he?"
My watch read 3:15. No sign of Elliott. I paced the sidewalk for another 20 minutes until a car came screaming down the street. It came to a harsh stop a few feet away from me, the tires producing a cloud of smoke. I walked over to the passenger door and opened it. Elliott was sweating heavily, but wearing an exhausted grin.
"Had a few drinks last night. Slept in too long."
"Hangover that powerful even for you?"
"No, but I wanted to see your pissed face when I wasnt there."
Same old Elliott.
"Very funny, jackass."
"Hey, be glad Ross assigned me as your partner. Otherwise, the investigation would feel dead. Half the cops down at the station pull **** like going to the scene and just dozing off for a good time. At least now we can do this city some real good. Hit the lunatics where it hurts, bring down Cobblepot, and find out what the hell is going down at Arkham. We share the same motive."
He had a point. At least the majority of it. His motive was to be a hero for Gotham, to bring it out of the hands of scum and criminals. I had that motive, but it wasn't as powerful. My parents were my motive. My parents were Batman's motive. Elliott would never understand. I didn't expect him to.
"I guess you're right."
"Course I am. So where we headin first partner?"
"Gotham Times Printing"
His face was puzzled.
"What would they know?"
"They are the ones who published the obituary, Elliott. Theres gotta be somebody there that can lead us one step closer."
"Maybe the reporter can give us some info on the man who found the bodies?"
"Exactly"
The drive lasted a good 10 minutes before we arrived. The building looked a little worn down, but not shabby for what it was built to be. The inside sounded like a freight train roaring past your house in the middle of the night. The press was running furiously, printing off copies of each paper. The workers were running around in a frenzy, yet somehow it was
organized. I stopped a young man that was walking towards the exit.
"CA OU ELL ME WHE YOU BOSS IS?"
"WHAT?"
"CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE YOUR BOSS IS?"
"YEAH, IN THE OFFICE NEAR THE BACK CORNER."
"ANK YOU."
We made it there after moving through a maze of people. The office was cool and quiet compared to the room itself. The boss was middle aged man of about 42 years of age. He looked tough, but you could tell by his voice he had a heart of gold.
"What can I do for you gentlemen?"
"My name is Bruce Wayne. I'm a detective down at the Gotham Police Station. This is my partner, Detective Thomas Elliott. We're here to ask you a few questions."
He plopped himself down in the leather chair behind his desk.
"Fire away."
"Who reported the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne?"
"Paul Robinson. He was heading out for an evening with his gal when he saw a few people crowded over the bodies."
"But Pereston doesn't lead into downtown, it actually heads outwards towards the docks."
"I don't know the entire details, Detective. I'm having enough trouble finding a missing worker here."
I leaned in closely.
"Who?"
The boss sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Nigma. Edward Nigma. He was in charge of the crosswords. Always had a passion for knowledge. Good kid."
"When did he disappear?"
"Oddly enough, the same night your parents were murdered."
That caught my interest deeply.
"Did he have a motive for leaving?"
"The workers tortured him for being a weakling, even though it lasted for a long time. He went to a psychologist for help."
"What was the doctor's name?"
"Hugo Strange. He works at Arkham as one of the head medical operators. Gives me the creeps just seeing him, I already have enough worries about one of those ****ers swimming over to Gotham."
I feel your pain mister, I really do.
"Are there any signs of his whereabouts?"
The boss swallowed. His eyes were starting to water.
"I think you gentlemen should leave. I hope you do well on the search."
"We'll be in touch, sir."
He rushed us out of the office. A faint bawling could be heard outside of the door. It was soon drowned out as we made our way out.
Outside, Elliott and I had a few smokes.
"Wonder what got into him?"
"I think I have an idea, Bruce."
He turned towards me with a very serious face.
"Edward Nigma was committed to Arkham a few days after he disappeared. His blood was traced back to a few murders that were heavily wounded by knives and bullets. Ross told me there were rumors of Nigma being spotted in Gotham. The bastard left clues in the form of puzzles all over the bodies."
This was news. Big news. Nigma grew to be a psychopathic killer since the day my parents were found stone cold on the pavement. He was my only suspect besides Robinson and the boss. I needed to find him soon. As we drove back to my apartment, I glanced into the sun preparing to set, my emotions beginning to shift. Could Edward Nigma be the man who killed my
parents?
My apartment was starting to look dark when I returned. I made my way to the closet. Nigma would likely strike again sometime between now and morning and I wasn't about to take any chances. The leather cowl beamed at me, eyes filled with rage. I lifted it off the top shelf.
"Nigma way be able to avoid the police..."
I slipped it on, my spirit growing with rage.
"...but he cannot hide from Batman."
