One-Shot: Streets of Planet Gotham (SW/DC)
Posted: 2010-08-28 12:32pm
Certain archetypes live in the Collective Unconscious of Mankind. These are called stories, myths, memes, and they are told wherever humans tell stories. And if the stories are powerful enough, they are acted out in the affairs of men.
It has happened before, it will happen again ...
----------
In the section of the Galactic Empire known as the Colonies, in the system known as Gotham, Imperial Governor Jah Kohr was stomping around his office in a snit.
"This is intolerable, Gordan!" he shouted at the planetary Chief Constable. "Alien terrorists running amok and exploding an entire section of a cargo depot shows blatant incompetence! Gotham is only allowed to keep it's civilian law-enforcement on sufferance of the Emperor! Do I have to declare martial law and bring in battalions of Stormtroopers to keep the peace?!"
The gray-haired Chief Constable Gordan toyed with a cigarra in his pocket, briefly considering lighting it in front of the Governor as a minor act of contempt. He decided against it - this time, anyway. "I don't know what you're talking about. Some drug-runners operating a glitterstim depot accidentally exploded themselves. Not an uncommon event with drug-smugglers, especially those who sample their own inventory."
"There were reports of a chiroptoid alien attacking various citizens, Gordan! And this isn't the first time!"
Gordan grunted. "Rumors of the Bat-Demon have been circulating so long, they've become a fairy-tale to scare children. My grandmother used to say 'Play nice with the other children or the Bat-Demon will swoop down upon you!' It's obvious that these glitterstim junkies were hallucinating." Now Gordan took out the cigarra and lit it. "And where are the security records?"
Jah Kohr growled at that. Gotham was notorious for it's all-inclusive police surveillance network, operated by a classified number of droid brains, covering all outdoor areas and public buildings as well as most rented domiciles. Outside of private residences, private clubs, and regions placed under quarantine for being too polluted for living creatures, surveillance was total. It was one of the official reasons that civilian law enforcement was allowed to supersede Imperial law enforcement in purely local affairs.
"Besides which," Gordan said smugly, "Gotham's self-governance is based on it's loyalty to the Empire, proven by it's industrial output and it's providing of *ahem* banking services for high-ranking Imperial personnel." Gordan allowed that to sink in.
Jah Kohr sneered, even as a cold shill ran down his spine. That was the real reason the Empire's grip on Gotham was so light - the bribes that the Syndic Families allegedly paid out to the highest Imperial officials were the stuff of urban legend. Gordan's subtle hint indicated that attempting to clamp down with the Iron Hand of Empire would provoke these highly-placed and well-bribed powers to begin looking at Governor Kohr's running of affairs - which included that glitterstim depot, among other things.
Kohr waved a hand in disgust. "Legends of demons - drug runners in the streets - you call this a Colony Sector world!? This is more like an Outer Rim settlement with pretensions! Get out of my office!"
As Gordan left, Kohr pressed a button, calling Constable Captain Dent, his inside man in the Gotham Constabulary. As his image came on the holo-screen, Kohr snapped "Have you found anything yet?"
Dent gave his annoying half-smile. "If you mean a link between Gordan and the Bat-Demon, nothing, All resources are accounted for, and his office communication links are all well-bugged. If he's connected to the Bat-Demon, he's not using Constabulary resources."
"Which means nothing on this planet," Kohr grunted. The byzantine ways the Syndic Families - and their underworld counterparts - hid their assets and resources from tax-droids and each other made Imperial Center look like an anarchist love-commune. "But that won't matter soon. I have a cunning plan ..."
----------
Gordan stopped at the Gentleman's Club for a drink. Normally, a man of his resources could never get into such a high-tone establishment, but his membership was attached to the Chief Constable's office. Many members sneered at him as he went to a chair and ordered a drink from a droid. But under the Empire the Chief Constable's office made him more powerful than many Old Families, so all they could do was sneer.
A familiar voice spoke from behind him. "Ah, Chief Constable! Drinking on the job again?"
Gordan smiled at the figure that sat down across from him - Baruch Wane of the House of Wane, Hereditary Syndic and one of the alleged rulers of Gotham, notorious for his riotous living and orgiastic excesses. Even in the Gentleman's Club he had at his side a scantily-dressed woman who wore a leash.
"You know me better than that, Baruch." Gordan gulped down his brandy - a slightly inferior type, one of the many slights given in this bastion of wealth and privilege to his low-class self. "You've recovered from your latest decadent pastime, I see."
"Bacta makes wookie wrestling much more enjoyable than it would be otherwise." He gave a tug on the leash. "Rahbin, my usual, please."
As the woman slinked off, most of the male gazes in the room followed her. No one noticed the miniature datachip falling out of Gordan's hand, or Wane's foot changing position so that the chip fell on it. Likewise, no one noticed Wane scratching that same foot.
Gordan and Wane exchanged inanities then played a hand of seven-card comet before going their separate ways. The upper crust sniffed at the association of a Syndic with such a low-born social climber, which they reasoned is why Wane did it. To Baruch Wane, the more scandalous an act, the more he liked it.
---------
At the Stately Manor-House of Wane, Rahbin removed the collar. "Damn I hate that thing. Couldn't I have been your ward or something?" As they went into the den, the protocol droid L-FRD took the leash from her and put it neatly away.
Baruch Wane's voice when at home had a hard quality unlike his public speaking voice. "Appearances, Rahbin. We play on the expectations of others. If they believe a lie, then we don't have to tell a lie. That way no one can catch us in a lie." He opened the wall and went into a hidden corridor carved into the rock, descending down into the deeps.
"Yeah, yeah. Why don't you wear the leash sometimes, then?"
"Most of them believe that I do in private."
Rahbin made a vulgar sound as they exited into a large room with a variety of esoteric installations. Wane placed the datachip into a specialized reader and scrolled through all the Constabulary's activities for that day.
"Anything good?" Rahbin asked as she changed into a red-and-green chameleon suit.
"Significant drop in arrests in Crime Alley -"
"Gee wonder why. Maybe the entire Zucco Gang stumbled and bruised their faces on our fists?"
Wane made an expression that a more generous person might have mistaken for a smirk. "This is interesting. On the phonetaps, the phrase 'Bat-Demon' was used."
Rahbin leaned over his shoulder. "You need a better name, Boss."
The scowl was clearly a scowl. "The name is traditional. Ever since my esteemed ancestor took up the -"
"Yeah, yeah. I know." She rolled her eyes and went to get a snack - she had been doing nothing but posing for hours and hadn't eaten all day. And she did not want to listen to the Secret Origin of the Bat-Demon yet again.
When she got back, Wane was being extra-intense. "Something good?" she asked.
"Governor Kohr is annoyed about us blowing up his glitterstim depot."
"Aw, poor baby. You'd think an Imperial Planetary Governor would have better things to do than run a drug cartel."
"He does now. He and our favorite traitor Dent have been plotting how to get rid of the Bat-Demon."
"Goody!" she proclaimed. "At last that scourge of decent society will be eliminated!"
Wane looked sideways at her. "Sometimes I suspect your sanity."
Rahbin smirked. "Whereas I know for a fact that you're a total nut. That makes me the Galaxy's Greatest Detective, then?"
"Anyway ... Information will be leaked to the street that a major drug factory can be found in the Quarantine Zone, in an abandoned chemical plant."
"Ooh big surprise. I'll bet only ninety percent of the population knows that."
Wane went over to his private cabinet and changed into his own black matte suit. "This time, they're telling exactly where the real plant it located."
Rahbin whistled. "Why'd they do something as silly as that? If we or the cops don't take it out, the other gangs will grab it."
"They're desperate - they want a bit of bait that we can't resist. And we'd uncover a fake plant in no time." He slipped on the cowl and closed the closet. "And when we arrive, the plant detonates. Very simple."
"So we don't go?"
"No - we fall into the trap. But on our own schedule."
----------
Governor Kohr enjoyed his visits to his extra-curricular income sources. The dichotomy between his conventional life and the secret world he dabbled in never ceased to excite him. There were things even an Imperial Governor would never indulge in that a crime-lord could do with impunity. Dark, sick things ... especially in the slave markets ...
Forcing himself out of his daydream, Kohr looked down into the huge tanks, all bubbling away. Each one contained a huge culture of genetically-engineered bacteria, each one of which produced some marketable narcotic as a byproduct.
"Lovely," he said to Constable Dent. "A pity it has to go ... have you got the culture samples packaged?"
Dent nodded. "Yes, Your Excellency. We can re-start operation in just three days in any suitable facility."
"And the demolitions?"
"The specialists are setting them up now."
"Good. Then we begin spreading the rumor, and the Bat-Demon should be here - what, day after tomorrow?"
"Yes, Your Excellency."
----------
Karras the demolitions expert held out his hand behind him, an unspoken signal to his assistant to hand him the fuse to insert into the bomb. After several seconds, Karras turned around to see why the fuse wasn't in his hand. He saw a black fist-shaped thing, then saw nothing.
Rahbin quickly gathered up the explosives. The Bat-Demon appeared near her, almost spooking her. Their chameleon suits allowed them to sneak around with a high degree of concealment, but the Bat-Demon was naturally that sneaky. She handed over the explosives and he vanished. Quickly, she went to the next logical location for a demolition team to plant a bomb.
This was the main support of the building, and rather than the warrant-officers that had placed the other charges, this was a battlefield unit, complete with shiny white armor. Rahbin said a Bad Word, for which the Bat-Demon swatted the back of her head. "Stay here," he whispered. "This won't take long."
Rahbin had been born and raised in under Imperial rule and had been brought up to believe that the Force had been a humbug and the Jedi merely skilled tricksters. The Bat-Demon said that he was merely very skilled and determined. But watching him move, watching the armored Imperial Stormtroopers of the demolition team being bounced around by the fluid-moving figure as if they were children facing a rancor ... she wasn't quite so sure.
---------
The Governor and Dent were walking to the door when the first explosions sounded. They turned in surprise and saw that the more distance reaches of the plant were burning. Another couple of explosions visibly destroyed some drug vats.
"What's happening?!" Kohr demanded.
From above them a dark, deep voice said, "Your factory's being destroyed. The explosives you provided are destroying the vats in intervals -"
Another couple of explosions sounded.
"- of thirty seconds. You can escape easily. But your vehicle has been sabotaged. So you will be here when the Damage Control Teams arrive. And the reporters."
A couple of more explosions, much closer. The flashes briefly illuminated a figure with pointed ears and membranous wings - or maybe a billowing cape.
Kohr felt rage building up in him. All he had built up, and it was about to end. If he were caught on the site of a demolished drug factory, there would be inquiries made at very high levels - questions asked that not even an Imperial Governor could ignore or deflect. There were always people ready to drag him down ...
Kohr screamed, pulled a blaster, and fired. The bolts illuminated an empty space.
The explosions approached, and Kohr kept firing. Dent tried to grab him and pull him out, but Kohr pulled away and kept firing into empty space.
They hadn't made it to the door when the nearest vats went up.
---------
The Chief Constable came into the medi-lab and looked at the figure in the bacta tank.
It was a grotesque sight. By some inexplicable quirk of fate, the face and upper body of the man inside the tank was hideously deformed on the left side of his head and torso, but was otherwise untouched.
Gordan asked the medical droid, "How long will it be until he's ready to talk?"
The droid said, "I cannot say, sir."
Gordan glared at the droid, who got so nervous that he sent for a human doctor,of whom Gordan made the same inquiry.
Doctor Hugo Srantge explained, "It is not that simple, Chief Constable. The scarring you see is a direct result of several different cultures of engineered bacteria splashing on him and devouring his flesh, then being coated with super-heated gel with a small bacta component. The damage to his flesh is permanent barring heroic amounts of reconstructive surgery. As far as his body goes, he is as healthy as he will ever be."
Gordan nodded. "Hard luck, but Dent is one of the prime suspects of a major narcotics investigation. Bring him out."
"If you will allow me to finish, sir," Doctor Srantge added in a cold tone. "The physical damage was healed. But the effects of the various narcotics that the bacteria produced - especially under such exotic and extreme circumstances - cannot be adequately assessed. He's still in the tank because we are trying to repair the brain damage. Even a minor scan shows significant damage to the connections between the brain's hemispheres. Add in the effect all of these narcotics would have on him, and the condition of his mind is ... unguessable."
Gordan grunted. "Do what you can, then. And if he's lucid at any point, I will be contacted immediately. That is not a request."
----------
Throughout Governor Kohr's body swarmed genetically-engineered bacteria, each pumping out exotic narcotics. The tiny amount of bacta that had helped them prosper in a culture medium had allowed them to adapt to a symbiosis with their new host. The bacteria not only thrived, they interbred, producing bizarre hybrids that put out new chemicals. All of these chemicals interacted with each other, and when they made their way into the host's cells, they changed them again and again. Soon the bacta from the growth medium was used up, but by them the symbiosis was self-sustaining.
In the Quarantine Zone, the indigent and dissolute swarmed, scavenging whatever they could. And if someone fell victim to their own vices or bad luck, they were another thing to be scavenged. A scavenge gang came across the body in the outflow pipe from an old factory. The clothes looked pricey, so they figured that some slumming rich dude got what was coming to him. Two to the gang were on the corpse immediately to strip off the expensive suit.
The body grabbed one gang member by the groin and squeezed and twisted, making his scream. The other one found a very nice shoe kicking him in the face.
"How rude!" the body said. "You're lacking in manners, boys!"
He flipped up like an acrobat to his feet. But he never let go of the first body looter's groin, who gave one more scream as he went limp and the front of his pants darkened with a deep red satin.
"Pop goes the weasel!" the white face figure sang, cackling madly. The remaining gang members backed up from the pasty-white figure with the horrible corpse-grin.
The gang boss, whose position depended on being tough and fearless, stepped forward. "Awright, freak, no one touches my boys!"
The cackling man swaggered up to the gang boss. "So you're the head man?"
"Yeah! And -" Before he could finish, the cackling man grabbed his head in both hands and twisted hard until the face was facing straight back. And he kept twisting and twisting the head around and around until the stressed flesh finally gave way. The body fell to the ground oozing blood from the neck stump.
"Now I'm the head man!" He kissed the severed head on the lips the tossed it away over his shoulder. "Now now, boys, why all the shocked, horrified looks and wet trousers? You've just become the pet goons of the Planetary Governor! You'll be paper-trained and fed table-scraps and everything! Let's see some SMILES!"
Jah Kohr began laughing. A laugh pulled from the depths of nightmare that echoed around the ruins of the Quarantine Zone and with every echo spread fear. And the tough gangers, who had killed without mercy or even reason more than once in their hard lives, began to cry and pray to half-forgotten gods.
---------
On distant Coruscant, Emperor Palpatine's eyes snapped open. A tremor in the Dark Side had awakened him from his meditations. It was weak, not a Jedi or a Force user. but it was something ... something composed of such focused malevolence that it caused ripples in the Force.
Flickers of the future surrounded this presence. Dark images of horror and fear and chaos. A monster had been born that would eventually grow to terrify a world. It was merely some nameless horror now, but it could become a magnet for the powers of the Dark Side.
As such, it belonged to him.
Palpatine turned his yellowed eyes on a very surprised minion. "You! Bring me all information on a planet called Gotham. Now."
It has happened before, it will happen again ...
----------
In the section of the Galactic Empire known as the Colonies, in the system known as Gotham, Imperial Governor Jah Kohr was stomping around his office in a snit.
"This is intolerable, Gordan!" he shouted at the planetary Chief Constable. "Alien terrorists running amok and exploding an entire section of a cargo depot shows blatant incompetence! Gotham is only allowed to keep it's civilian law-enforcement on sufferance of the Emperor! Do I have to declare martial law and bring in battalions of Stormtroopers to keep the peace?!"
The gray-haired Chief Constable Gordan toyed with a cigarra in his pocket, briefly considering lighting it in front of the Governor as a minor act of contempt. He decided against it - this time, anyway. "I don't know what you're talking about. Some drug-runners operating a glitterstim depot accidentally exploded themselves. Not an uncommon event with drug-smugglers, especially those who sample their own inventory."
"There were reports of a chiroptoid alien attacking various citizens, Gordan! And this isn't the first time!"
Gordan grunted. "Rumors of the Bat-Demon have been circulating so long, they've become a fairy-tale to scare children. My grandmother used to say 'Play nice with the other children or the Bat-Demon will swoop down upon you!' It's obvious that these glitterstim junkies were hallucinating." Now Gordan took out the cigarra and lit it. "And where are the security records?"
Jah Kohr growled at that. Gotham was notorious for it's all-inclusive police surveillance network, operated by a classified number of droid brains, covering all outdoor areas and public buildings as well as most rented domiciles. Outside of private residences, private clubs, and regions placed under quarantine for being too polluted for living creatures, surveillance was total. It was one of the official reasons that civilian law enforcement was allowed to supersede Imperial law enforcement in purely local affairs.
"Besides which," Gordan said smugly, "Gotham's self-governance is based on it's loyalty to the Empire, proven by it's industrial output and it's providing of *ahem* banking services for high-ranking Imperial personnel." Gordan allowed that to sink in.
Jah Kohr sneered, even as a cold shill ran down his spine. That was the real reason the Empire's grip on Gotham was so light - the bribes that the Syndic Families allegedly paid out to the highest Imperial officials were the stuff of urban legend. Gordan's subtle hint indicated that attempting to clamp down with the Iron Hand of Empire would provoke these highly-placed and well-bribed powers to begin looking at Governor Kohr's running of affairs - which included that glitterstim depot, among other things.
Kohr waved a hand in disgust. "Legends of demons - drug runners in the streets - you call this a Colony Sector world!? This is more like an Outer Rim settlement with pretensions! Get out of my office!"
As Gordan left, Kohr pressed a button, calling Constable Captain Dent, his inside man in the Gotham Constabulary. As his image came on the holo-screen, Kohr snapped "Have you found anything yet?"
Dent gave his annoying half-smile. "If you mean a link between Gordan and the Bat-Demon, nothing, All resources are accounted for, and his office communication links are all well-bugged. If he's connected to the Bat-Demon, he's not using Constabulary resources."
"Which means nothing on this planet," Kohr grunted. The byzantine ways the Syndic Families - and their underworld counterparts - hid their assets and resources from tax-droids and each other made Imperial Center look like an anarchist love-commune. "But that won't matter soon. I have a cunning plan ..."
----------
Gordan stopped at the Gentleman's Club for a drink. Normally, a man of his resources could never get into such a high-tone establishment, but his membership was attached to the Chief Constable's office. Many members sneered at him as he went to a chair and ordered a drink from a droid. But under the Empire the Chief Constable's office made him more powerful than many Old Families, so all they could do was sneer.
A familiar voice spoke from behind him. "Ah, Chief Constable! Drinking on the job again?"
Gordan smiled at the figure that sat down across from him - Baruch Wane of the House of Wane, Hereditary Syndic and one of the alleged rulers of Gotham, notorious for his riotous living and orgiastic excesses. Even in the Gentleman's Club he had at his side a scantily-dressed woman who wore a leash.
"You know me better than that, Baruch." Gordan gulped down his brandy - a slightly inferior type, one of the many slights given in this bastion of wealth and privilege to his low-class self. "You've recovered from your latest decadent pastime, I see."
"Bacta makes wookie wrestling much more enjoyable than it would be otherwise." He gave a tug on the leash. "Rahbin, my usual, please."
As the woman slinked off, most of the male gazes in the room followed her. No one noticed the miniature datachip falling out of Gordan's hand, or Wane's foot changing position so that the chip fell on it. Likewise, no one noticed Wane scratching that same foot.
Gordan and Wane exchanged inanities then played a hand of seven-card comet before going their separate ways. The upper crust sniffed at the association of a Syndic with such a low-born social climber, which they reasoned is why Wane did it. To Baruch Wane, the more scandalous an act, the more he liked it.
---------
At the Stately Manor-House of Wane, Rahbin removed the collar. "Damn I hate that thing. Couldn't I have been your ward or something?" As they went into the den, the protocol droid L-FRD took the leash from her and put it neatly away.
Baruch Wane's voice when at home had a hard quality unlike his public speaking voice. "Appearances, Rahbin. We play on the expectations of others. If they believe a lie, then we don't have to tell a lie. That way no one can catch us in a lie." He opened the wall and went into a hidden corridor carved into the rock, descending down into the deeps.
"Yeah, yeah. Why don't you wear the leash sometimes, then?"
"Most of them believe that I do in private."
Rahbin made a vulgar sound as they exited into a large room with a variety of esoteric installations. Wane placed the datachip into a specialized reader and scrolled through all the Constabulary's activities for that day.
"Anything good?" Rahbin asked as she changed into a red-and-green chameleon suit.
"Significant drop in arrests in Crime Alley -"
"Gee wonder why. Maybe the entire Zucco Gang stumbled and bruised their faces on our fists?"
Wane made an expression that a more generous person might have mistaken for a smirk. "This is interesting. On the phonetaps, the phrase 'Bat-Demon' was used."
Rahbin leaned over his shoulder. "You need a better name, Boss."
The scowl was clearly a scowl. "The name is traditional. Ever since my esteemed ancestor took up the -"
"Yeah, yeah. I know." She rolled her eyes and went to get a snack - she had been doing nothing but posing for hours and hadn't eaten all day. And she did not want to listen to the Secret Origin of the Bat-Demon yet again.
When she got back, Wane was being extra-intense. "Something good?" she asked.
"Governor Kohr is annoyed about us blowing up his glitterstim depot."
"Aw, poor baby. You'd think an Imperial Planetary Governor would have better things to do than run a drug cartel."
"He does now. He and our favorite traitor Dent have been plotting how to get rid of the Bat-Demon."
"Goody!" she proclaimed. "At last that scourge of decent society will be eliminated!"
Wane looked sideways at her. "Sometimes I suspect your sanity."
Rahbin smirked. "Whereas I know for a fact that you're a total nut. That makes me the Galaxy's Greatest Detective, then?"
"Anyway ... Information will be leaked to the street that a major drug factory can be found in the Quarantine Zone, in an abandoned chemical plant."
"Ooh big surprise. I'll bet only ninety percent of the population knows that."
Wane went over to his private cabinet and changed into his own black matte suit. "This time, they're telling exactly where the real plant it located."
Rahbin whistled. "Why'd they do something as silly as that? If we or the cops don't take it out, the other gangs will grab it."
"They're desperate - they want a bit of bait that we can't resist. And we'd uncover a fake plant in no time." He slipped on the cowl and closed the closet. "And when we arrive, the plant detonates. Very simple."
"So we don't go?"
"No - we fall into the trap. But on our own schedule."
----------
Governor Kohr enjoyed his visits to his extra-curricular income sources. The dichotomy between his conventional life and the secret world he dabbled in never ceased to excite him. There were things even an Imperial Governor would never indulge in that a crime-lord could do with impunity. Dark, sick things ... especially in the slave markets ...
Forcing himself out of his daydream, Kohr looked down into the huge tanks, all bubbling away. Each one contained a huge culture of genetically-engineered bacteria, each one of which produced some marketable narcotic as a byproduct.
"Lovely," he said to Constable Dent. "A pity it has to go ... have you got the culture samples packaged?"
Dent nodded. "Yes, Your Excellency. We can re-start operation in just three days in any suitable facility."
"And the demolitions?"
"The specialists are setting them up now."
"Good. Then we begin spreading the rumor, and the Bat-Demon should be here - what, day after tomorrow?"
"Yes, Your Excellency."
----------
Karras the demolitions expert held out his hand behind him, an unspoken signal to his assistant to hand him the fuse to insert into the bomb. After several seconds, Karras turned around to see why the fuse wasn't in his hand. He saw a black fist-shaped thing, then saw nothing.
Rahbin quickly gathered up the explosives. The Bat-Demon appeared near her, almost spooking her. Their chameleon suits allowed them to sneak around with a high degree of concealment, but the Bat-Demon was naturally that sneaky. She handed over the explosives and he vanished. Quickly, she went to the next logical location for a demolition team to plant a bomb.
This was the main support of the building, and rather than the warrant-officers that had placed the other charges, this was a battlefield unit, complete with shiny white armor. Rahbin said a Bad Word, for which the Bat-Demon swatted the back of her head. "Stay here," he whispered. "This won't take long."
Rahbin had been born and raised in under Imperial rule and had been brought up to believe that the Force had been a humbug and the Jedi merely skilled tricksters. The Bat-Demon said that he was merely very skilled and determined. But watching him move, watching the armored Imperial Stormtroopers of the demolition team being bounced around by the fluid-moving figure as if they were children facing a rancor ... she wasn't quite so sure.
---------
The Governor and Dent were walking to the door when the first explosions sounded. They turned in surprise and saw that the more distance reaches of the plant were burning. Another couple of explosions visibly destroyed some drug vats.
"What's happening?!" Kohr demanded.
From above them a dark, deep voice said, "Your factory's being destroyed. The explosives you provided are destroying the vats in intervals -"
Another couple of explosions sounded.
"- of thirty seconds. You can escape easily. But your vehicle has been sabotaged. So you will be here when the Damage Control Teams arrive. And the reporters."
A couple of more explosions, much closer. The flashes briefly illuminated a figure with pointed ears and membranous wings - or maybe a billowing cape.
Kohr felt rage building up in him. All he had built up, and it was about to end. If he were caught on the site of a demolished drug factory, there would be inquiries made at very high levels - questions asked that not even an Imperial Governor could ignore or deflect. There were always people ready to drag him down ...
Kohr screamed, pulled a blaster, and fired. The bolts illuminated an empty space.
The explosions approached, and Kohr kept firing. Dent tried to grab him and pull him out, but Kohr pulled away and kept firing into empty space.
They hadn't made it to the door when the nearest vats went up.
---------
The Chief Constable came into the medi-lab and looked at the figure in the bacta tank.
It was a grotesque sight. By some inexplicable quirk of fate, the face and upper body of the man inside the tank was hideously deformed on the left side of his head and torso, but was otherwise untouched.
Gordan asked the medical droid, "How long will it be until he's ready to talk?"
The droid said, "I cannot say, sir."
Gordan glared at the droid, who got so nervous that he sent for a human doctor,of whom Gordan made the same inquiry.
Doctor Hugo Srantge explained, "It is not that simple, Chief Constable. The scarring you see is a direct result of several different cultures of engineered bacteria splashing on him and devouring his flesh, then being coated with super-heated gel with a small bacta component. The damage to his flesh is permanent barring heroic amounts of reconstructive surgery. As far as his body goes, he is as healthy as he will ever be."
Gordan nodded. "Hard luck, but Dent is one of the prime suspects of a major narcotics investigation. Bring him out."
"If you will allow me to finish, sir," Doctor Srantge added in a cold tone. "The physical damage was healed. But the effects of the various narcotics that the bacteria produced - especially under such exotic and extreme circumstances - cannot be adequately assessed. He's still in the tank because we are trying to repair the brain damage. Even a minor scan shows significant damage to the connections between the brain's hemispheres. Add in the effect all of these narcotics would have on him, and the condition of his mind is ... unguessable."
Gordan grunted. "Do what you can, then. And if he's lucid at any point, I will be contacted immediately. That is not a request."
----------
Throughout Governor Kohr's body swarmed genetically-engineered bacteria, each pumping out exotic narcotics. The tiny amount of bacta that had helped them prosper in a culture medium had allowed them to adapt to a symbiosis with their new host. The bacteria not only thrived, they interbred, producing bizarre hybrids that put out new chemicals. All of these chemicals interacted with each other, and when they made their way into the host's cells, they changed them again and again. Soon the bacta from the growth medium was used up, but by them the symbiosis was self-sustaining.
In the Quarantine Zone, the indigent and dissolute swarmed, scavenging whatever they could. And if someone fell victim to their own vices or bad luck, they were another thing to be scavenged. A scavenge gang came across the body in the outflow pipe from an old factory. The clothes looked pricey, so they figured that some slumming rich dude got what was coming to him. Two to the gang were on the corpse immediately to strip off the expensive suit.
The body grabbed one gang member by the groin and squeezed and twisted, making his scream. The other one found a very nice shoe kicking him in the face.
"How rude!" the body said. "You're lacking in manners, boys!"
He flipped up like an acrobat to his feet. But he never let go of the first body looter's groin, who gave one more scream as he went limp and the front of his pants darkened with a deep red satin.
"Pop goes the weasel!" the white face figure sang, cackling madly. The remaining gang members backed up from the pasty-white figure with the horrible corpse-grin.
The gang boss, whose position depended on being tough and fearless, stepped forward. "Awright, freak, no one touches my boys!"
The cackling man swaggered up to the gang boss. "So you're the head man?"
"Yeah! And -" Before he could finish, the cackling man grabbed his head in both hands and twisted hard until the face was facing straight back. And he kept twisting and twisting the head around and around until the stressed flesh finally gave way. The body fell to the ground oozing blood from the neck stump.
"Now I'm the head man!" He kissed the severed head on the lips the tossed it away over his shoulder. "Now now, boys, why all the shocked, horrified looks and wet trousers? You've just become the pet goons of the Planetary Governor! You'll be paper-trained and fed table-scraps and everything! Let's see some SMILES!"
Jah Kohr began laughing. A laugh pulled from the depths of nightmare that echoed around the ruins of the Quarantine Zone and with every echo spread fear. And the tough gangers, who had killed without mercy or even reason more than once in their hard lives, began to cry and pray to half-forgotten gods.
---------
On distant Coruscant, Emperor Palpatine's eyes snapped open. A tremor in the Dark Side had awakened him from his meditations. It was weak, not a Jedi or a Force user. but it was something ... something composed of such focused malevolence that it caused ripples in the Force.
Flickers of the future surrounded this presence. Dark images of horror and fear and chaos. A monster had been born that would eventually grow to terrify a world. It was merely some nameless horror now, but it could become a magnet for the powers of the Dark Side.
As such, it belonged to him.
Palpatine turned his yellowed eyes on a very surprised minion. "You! Bring me all information on a planet called Gotham. Now."
