It is nearly midnight; Police Commissioner Gordon is anxiously pacing the roof of Gotham City’s Police Headquarters with a narrow FedEx box under his arm. The din rising from the large city below seems to add to the commissioner’s anxiety. He checks his watch again; it has been nearly an hour since he illuminated the large rooftop lantern that is projecting the Bat Signal high against the cloudy night sky of Gotham City.
Minutes later there is loud rustle and flapping of a leather cape followed by loud sound of heavy boots hitting the deck of the roof. Commissioner Gordon whirls around as the shadowy figure of Batman stands upright and walks briskly towards him.
Batman is a tall, powerfully built, muscular adult man in his early-forties His costume consists of a black rubber molded bodysuit, black gloves and heavy black boots. There is a raised black bat emblazoned across his impressively broad chest and a wide dull, gold utility belt buckled snuggly around his honed waist. His head, with exception of his mouth and cheeks, is encased in a black rubber cowl fitted with a long flowing black cape.
The sound of heavy bootsteps dissipate as Batman stops before the anxious commissioner. As his black cape settles in behind him, he asks, “What is it, Commissioner?”
“This,” replies the commissioner as he hands the FedEx box to Batman. “It arrived with this evening’s FedEx delivery.”
Batman takes the box and quickly opens one end and then pulls out a royal blue elastic bodysuit. The commissioner takes the box as Batman unfolds the light elastic suit and stares in disbelief at the famous red and yellow raised “S” symbol emblazoned across the chest portion of the elastic suit. The front of the blue bodysuit is tinted an outlandish green, embedded with dried green granules.
“Superman!” exclaims Batman. “He disappeared several weeks ago! No one has seen nor heard from him… until this!”
“The return address is bogus but there was a note inside with the costume addressed to you,” explains the commissioner sullenly as he pulls a note from his suit pocket and hands it to Batman. Batman grasps Superman’s green tainted costume in his gloved fist and takes the note with the other glove and reads silently to himself:
Batman - I have defeated your outstanding friend, Superman. I offer his costume as proof that I have harnessed and overcome his mighty superpowers! How else would I have been able to strip the costume from his body? You will find the costume is authentic. Fear not, Superman is alive—for now. Find me, Batman, and you’ll find your friend, Superman… (what’s left of him).
The Hunter
“How did this…this, ‘hunter’ character defeat Superman—Kryptonite?” asks Batman as he looks at the green tainted costume in his fist.
“I don’t know how he was able to capture Superman. The lab’s cursory inspection says the green substance of the costume is definitely not Kryptonite… just non-radioactive green colored sand embedded to the elastic fabric,” explains the commissioner. “The costume is authentic—we tested it—it’s impervious! It belongs to Superman!”
“Superman defeated?” asks Batman as he crumbles the note in his black gloved fist and tosses it to the deck of the roof. “Impossible!” He spreads Superman’s costume out before him again and stares at the green tainted famous “S” on the blue costume.
“It’s a trap, Batman,” replies the commissioner. “Superman’s suit is the bait; he’s probably already dead. Anyone who could down and strip him—powerful, indeed!”
“We don’t know that; or Superman would come to find me if able. This is what I’ve been waiting for. All my searching for clues to Superman’s disappearance has yielded nothing thus far,” explains Batman as he hands the costume back to the commissioner.
The commissioner sighs and takes the costume from Batman; he stuffs the suit back into the FedEx box, and then hands the box to Batman. “Be careful, Batman… this man was clever enough to capture and depower Superman… and apparently without Kryptonite!”
“I’ll do another analysis of the costume as soon I get back to the Bat Cave in case you missed something; it might yet offer clues to Superman whereabouts!” replies Batman.
From a distant rooftop the hunter smiles as he watches in seclusion as Batman takes the FedEx box with Superman’s costume from Commissioner Gordon; he listens to their conversation on the microwave dish set up next to him. “I’ll do another analysis of the costume as soon I get back to the Bat Cave in case you missed something; it might yet offer clues to Superman’s whereabouts!” replies Batman.
The hunter exhales in relief and says softly, “Good—Batman’s taking the box with Superman’s costume back to his Bat Cave… just as I anticipated he would!”
In the Bat Cave, Alfred has finished conducting several tests on Superman’s costume. “I can find nothing out of the ordinary, Mr. Wayne,” explains Alfred sullenly. “The tests conclude the green granules are ordinary particles of sand - no other clues can be found on the costume.”
“This is maddening, Alfred,” replies Batman in frustration as he removes his cowl and cape. “The costume is authentic. Superman is missing; how did they neutralize Superman with sand? ”
“I am as baffled as you are sir,” concedes Alfred as he takes the black cowl and cape.
“Where’s Dick?” asks Batman.
“Master Dick is out for the night,” answers Alfred.
“Dick seems to be spending a lot of time out, lately,” replies Batman. “A girlfriend?” asks Batman.
“That, I don’t know,” replies the butler.
“It’s late, Alfred,” yawns Batman as he removes his utility belt. “We’ll renew our efforts to locate Superman in the morning,”
“Good night, Mr. Wayne,” replies the butler as he heads for the stairs leading up to Wayne Manor.
“’Night, Alfred,” replies Batman as he pulls off one of his heavy black boots.
Hours later, in the empty Bat Cave below Wayne Manor a tiny tracking beacon hidden within the cardboard layers of the FedEx box silently activates – seconds later the device sends a powerful micro-burst transmission; later the devices self-destructs and disintegrates erasing all traces of the tracking device.
Hours have passed since the hunter watched and listened to Batman and Police Commissioner Gordon’s exchange on the rooftop of Gotham City Police Headquarters. Now the hunter sits at a table setup in the open cargo bay of a C-130 parked in a hangar at the Gotham City IAP. It is nearly sunrise and the hunter stares at the darkened screen of a laptop. A small satellite dish on the roof of the hangar points upwards into the brightening morning sky. The plane is dark and silent with the exception of the steady alternating rhythms of Shawn and Vince snoring as they slumber peacefully in their sleeping bags on the cargo bay floor. Suddenly the computer chirps as the satellite dish begins to receive the precious signal the hunter has anxiously awaited; the hunter snaps to attention as the micro-burst transmission is received. The computer hums and its screen becomes bright slightly illuminating the dark cargo bay. The grid of a street map of Gotham City and the surrounding suburbs appears on the screen. Seconds later the map refreshes and using the data received in the micro-burst transmission zooms-in on a large estate outside Gotham City. A text box appears: Wayne Manor.
“Wayne Manor,” reads the hunter excitedly! He quickly keys in some commands and the laptop’s internet explorer opens to www.groogle.com ; he groogles Wayne Manor.
He double clicks the result Bio for Bruce Wayne:
The hunter uses the computer to compare known physical characteristics of Batman, Robin, Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson. He is quickly able to deduce that Bruce Wayne is Batman and Dick Grayson is Robin. The Bat Cave must be under the estate of Wayne Manor! The hunter closes the laptop and sits back in his chair and thinks to himself. I’ll divide and conquer! I’ll capture the boy Robin, first. He’ll be the easier of the two – kids are rash and he should be easy enough to lure into a snare! The Boy Wonder will be the irresistible bait I will use to trap and capture the big enchilada, Batman, the so-called Dark Knight!
The hunter sighs loudly. It looks like the old fat pervert down in San Miguel will get the Dynamic Duo to add to his collection of heroes, after all. If I wrap this up quickly and get the pair to San Miguel before year’s end, I get an early delivery fee. I wonder what the old pervert has in store for Batman and Robin. Apparently, he is infatuated with Robin. I’ve seen what he’s done to Tarzan and Bomba in his little plantation brig. As disgusting as that old fat slob is he also did bring down the “biggest boy” imaginable – Superman! How that old man managed to strip Superman of his superpowers using some sort of weird island magic—beyond incredible! Who would have thought that fat slob could bring down the so mighty Man of Steel so easily?! He told me he’d made Superman crawl on his belly on a leash into his cell in the brig next to Tarzan’s!
And tells me he keeps Superman completely naked (who’s practically mindless now, and completely depowered), with his head tightly encased in a rubber clown’s hood, in a sweltering cell! Who mostly just moans pitifully, ceaselessly, when not being “worked out.” The world will soon run out of heroes if Bill Marin continues to prevail. There aren’t going to be many left after I bring down Batman and Robin. There is that one young guy in NY City, they call Spiderman. He’s probably next on the pervert’s list!
The hunter returns his thoughts to the important matters at hand. He rises from his chair and approaches Shawn and Vince sleeping in the C-130’s cargo bay. He shouts, “Wake up boys! There is a lot of work to be done. I need you both to use your contacts. I need to know everything there is to know about two people: Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. Who they hang around with, and most importantly who they sleep with.”
Shawn yawns and stretches out in his sleeping bag as Vince continues to snore. Shawn looks up at the hunter through sleepily blue eyes and asks, “Bruce, who?”
It is about 8AM. “Vince… wake up, Dick Grayson is leaving,” alerts Shawn with a nudge. Vince and Shawn are parked in a white Escalade backed into a parking space across the parking lot from Room 10 at the Shooting Star Motel. Vince wakes and rubs his eyes as Shawn sips his coffee and watches a tall young man exit the motel room and swagger towards a yellow Honda CBR600 backed up to the room’s door.
“Dick Grayson’s sexual orientation is the weak link… the chink in Batman’s armor,” says Shawn as he takes another sip of his coffee. “Dickey boy is the key to bringing down the big Kahuna – Batman! Capture young Dick, and we get Batman!”
“Who would have thought the Boy Wonder was a tail gunner,” replies Vince sleepily. “With his good looks and that body, chicks would stand in line to suck his cock. Why isn’t he chasing down babes instead of plugging guys? I wonder if Batman trained the boy that way? Though not likely. If hung, he probably fell in love with his own rod, years ago... like so many do.”
“Let’s not be judgmental, Vince,” replies Shawn. “Don’t forget we’re paid indirectly by a fat old pervert living on the island of San Miguel! Who doesn’t have much in the manly dept ., I heard. Besides our investigation over the last few weeks indicates Bruce Wayne is straight…and unaware of young Dick’s escapades with young men. See Vince…you never really know what kids are up to when they leave the house. Remember that if you ever have kids of your own.”
The strapping boy is wearing a zipped-up black leather jacket, blue jeans, black boots and he has a black canvas knapsack strapped on his back. He pulls the dark helmet with full tinted visor he carries over his head as he reaches the sleek motorcycle. He fastens the chin strap and then fishes in his tight jeans for a set of a keys. Dick produces a set of keys, swings his leg over the seat and mounts the bike. The bike roars to life and he withdraws the kick stand. Seconds later the powerful bike lurches from the parking space raising the front wheel slightly. The boy speeds down the road between the banks of motel rooms. The brake light comes on momentarily as the boy checks traffic and then turns right onto County Route 15 and speeds away.
“Come on… let’s go,” says Shawn as places his coffee cup in the SUV’s cup holder. “And let me do the talking! Keep your comments to yourself.” Shawn grabs a metal briefcase as both men exit the Escalade. The doors slam loudly in succession and the men begin to walk towards Room 10.
Both men are in their early thirties. Shawn is the taller of the two men with a medium build. He has short blond hair – green eyes, Irish good looks. Vince has dark hair cropped short –dark eyes, the descendant of ancestor’s who originated in Southern Europe. Vince has a larger build than Shawn. Shawn is the diplomat of the pair…Vince is the muscle. Both men are dressed casually in Dockers, boat shoes and light jackets. The two have worked for the hunter for many years traveling the world in his service. They are the gophers; they run down leads, investigate people, and make initial contact, and offers to persons of interest. In this case, Ryan Blake.
Shawn puts on his most disarming smile and knocks lightly on the door of Room 10 as Vince stands behind him expressionless. The door is opened by a young man in his very early twenties with the height and a build almost identical to Dick’s. He is a good-looking young man with a fair complexion, wavy short blond hair that is still damp from the shower and blue eyes. He is bare foot and wears only a pair of blue jeans – the white elastic band of his red briefs is exposed above the jeans. The young man is quite impressive with a great looking upper body – sporting well-developed biceps and pectorals complimented by six pack abs. A bit more than they expected, to be so similar to their target, Grayson. Well, like does seek like….
“Can I help you?” asks the tall young man as he eyes the two men at the door. Vince sighs as he looks at the good-looking young man in the doorway and mutters, “Another waste of manhood.”
Shawn ignores him. “Mr. Ryan Blake?” asks Shawn.
“Yes…” replies the young man hesitantly. “Why?”
“Good morning. My name is Shawn, and this is Vince.” Vince remains expressionless and does not nod. “We represent Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” fibs Shawn proficiently, as he hands the young man a bogus business card.
“Wayne Enterprises?” asks the young man as he reads the card. “You’re private investigators?”
“We are, indeed. May we come in?” asks Shawn politely.
“The room is kind of a mess…. I was just leaving,” explains Ryan.
“You should see my place,” offers Shawn.
He looks at the card again and says, “Sure… come in,” invites Ryan.
The men enter the large room. It has a rustic décor… paneled walls, tweed carpeting, brick fireplace, with a bathroom off the back. The spacious room has the usual amenities: TV with DVD player, microwave, refrigerator, etc. There are two double beds - only one bed appears to have been used – the other is made. There is one large window with drawn curtains that faces the parking lot. In front of the window is a good-sized table with four matching chairs. The table is covered with the remnants of Chinese take-out containers, plates, plastic utensils, and a laptop computer.
Ryan opens the curtains and clears the table of the empty containers and paper plates into a trash receptacle as Shawn and Vince look around the room.
When the table is cleared Ryan offers the men a chair. Shawn takes a seat whilst Vince remains expressionless, standing awkwardly in the open door staring at the one unmade bed. “Why don’t you wait for me outside, Vince? I’ll be out straight away.” Vince frowns, says nothing, rises and exits the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
After the door shuts Shawn apologizes, “Excuse my friend… he’s old school.”
“I’m used to it,” dismisses Ryan as he grabs a blue short sleeved t-shirt lying on the made bed and pulls it over his head. “I’m gay. I don’t pretend I’m not.”
Shawn nods approval at the young man’s openness and starts his pitch to the young man, “Well… I’ll come straight to the point,” as he places the brief case on the table and opens it.
Ryan joins Shawn and sits down at the table. “We’re here about your friend that just left on the bike,” explains Shawn.
“Dick Smith?” asks Ryan.
Shawn smiles as he opens his briefcase. “Actually his name is Dick Grayson,” corrects Shawn as he slides several society newspaper pictures and articles of Dick towards Ryan. “Dick is the legal ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne… at least until he is 21.”
“Well, I’ll be dipped…” exclaims Ryan as he views the photos of Dick. “He lied about his name!”
“Dick and Mr. Wayne had a… falling out a few months ago. He left home and will not return Mr. Wayne’s calls. We were hired to encourage, bring young Dick home,” fibs Shawn.
“Was it because he’s gay?” asks Ryan as he reads one the articles.
“No. Mr. Wayne has no problem with Dick’s lifestyle. Dick is discreet, as you can probably attest to,” explains Shawn as he looks around the motel room off the beaten trail miles from Gotham City. “He always uses an assumed name… but Smith, I mean really! Dick parades a girl around for show at society events. Mr. Wayne and Dick parted ways on the career he has decided to pursue.”
“How so?” asks Ryan as he pushes back a newspaper article.
Mr. Wayne wants Dick to pursue a business degree…follow in his footsteps eventually taking the helm of Wayne Enterprises, while Dick prefers criminal law,” explains Shawn as he shifts in the wooden chair. He gazes through a window at Vince leaning against the SUV outside with his hands dug deep in his jacket pockets.
“What does all this have to with me?” asks Ryan
“We need your help, Ryan. The repatriation between Dick and Mr. Wayne must be done quietly to avoid unwanted publicity. Mr. Wayne is a pillar of the community and he does not want his dirty laundry aired in public. Mr. Wayne only wants time to state his case to Dick in private …which Dick has to this point refused to allow.”
“I can’t betray, Dick. So he lied about his name,” laughs Ryan. “And he doesn’t want me to know he’s a billionaire’s ward? I wouldn’t spread that around, either.”
Shawn sighs, “I apologize in advance, Ryan, for the revelation… but you’re just a bump in the road. Here are copies of Dick’s credit card statements you can peruse. You look like a smart young man. You will find a pattern of motel charges that last about approximately four months and then a new pattern elsewhere, begins. How long have you and Dick been… together?
“Just over three months,” discloses Ryan as he reads the credit card statements with a growing frown.
“Less than a month left, before Dick kicks you to curb for a new… partner. Face it, Ryan. I mean no disrespect, but it appears Dick likes to slum around,” says Shawn cautiously.
“That bitch!” exclaims Ryan as he shoves the statements back across the table. “You know… I never thought our arrangement was permanent or our relationship would go anywhere! Dick is so fucking arrogant and secretive… that locked black canvas knapsack he just about sleeps with. And we never go out anywhere; we stay here and eat take out, watch movies, and… well, you know. In the morning, he takes off on his crotch rocket. But I thought Dick would have the decency to be straight with me, not just disappear one day to take up with another piece.”
Shawn nods sympathetically. He has pushed the right buttons.
“Thought maybe he was a young kid married with a baby… in the closet. Who knows, I don’t pry. Don’t get me wrong… the sex is great. Dick has a great body and he knows all the moves. But when it comes to sex, he likes to be… in charge… totally in control of everything—you know, all the fucking time. What a conceited prick he is, now that I think about it! Like he’s God’s gift to me, and I should be thankful that he rides up here twice a week on his bike. I always meet him here in this rented motel room – we’re usually the only ones staying way the fuck out here. He brings me take-out dinner, we watch TV and then he fucks. And, sometimes if I’m lucky, the prince will spend the entire night!” blurts out Ryan.
Shawn clears his throat at the man’s candor in the description of their relationship. “Mr. Wayne is prepared to compensate you for your assistance in this matter, Ryan.” Shawn takes two stacks of 50 dollar bills from the briefcase and puts them on the table. “Five thousand dollars; and another ten when you—when we—quietly , I emphasize “quietly,” take possession of Mr. Grayson.”
Ryan’s eyes grow wide as he looks at the money. “You want me to… kidnap Dick? Drug… whatever—for Mr. Wayne?”
“It is not kidnapping, Ryan! Dick is Mr. Wayne’s’ legal ward – he could ask the police to pick him up. My friend outside and I could do it easily enough, as is. However, Mr. Wayne insists that it be done quietly… and he’s willing to pay.”
“And how do I do that?” asks Ryan.
“You look like a smart guy. You’ll figure out a way. Here’s another $1,500 dollars for expenses,” offers Shawn as he takes a gold money clip folded with 100 dollars bills from the briefcase and tosses it next to the two stacks of 50’s. “Buy whatever you need to make this happen. When is your next tryst?”
“A few days from now. Then, next Thursday, my 21st birthday,” answers Ryan as he picks up the money clip and examines it.
“Well, sounds like it could be a Happy Birthday, Ryan. Do we have a deal?” asks Shawn.
“What about Dick… he’ll be pissed. He’ll might look me up one day…?” replies Ryan as he returns the gold clip to the table.
“If I may, how did you meet Dick?” asks Shawn.
“I answered a personal add in the Gotham New Times. We met at a mall, and we just clicked,” shrugs Shawn.
“Does he know where you live or work?” presses Shawn.
“No… come to think about it, Dick was never that much interested in my personal life. Fucking me was his main interest. We always meet here – Room 10. It’s an end room and the room next door is used for storage. Dick likes privacy. He rents it by the month. Actually…” Ryan’s face turns red.
“What,” asks Shawn?
“…. I gave Dick a false name, too. Dick thinks my name is Ryan Welling. Well, uhh, we never exchanged driver’s licenses before we hit the sack,” explains Ryan sheepishly.
There is silence, and then both men burst out laughing. After the moment passes, Shawn presses and asks again, “Do we have a deal?”
Ryan looks at the money and evidence of deceit spread out before him on the table. “Yes, we have a deal!” Shawn extends his hand across the table; the men shake on it. “We’ll be back here then, next Thursday at midnight. Give you time to prepare.”
Shawn quickly gathers up the photos and statements and returns them to his briefcase, but leaves the money. He closes the case and latches it. Shawn smiles as he reminds Ryan, “Midnight, next Thursday. Have your boyfriend ready. My number is on the card if you need me. Good luck!” Shawn rises from the chair and exits the motel room.
“Thursday, Midnight!” echoes Ryan. After the door shuts Ryan pockets the clip with 1,500 dollars into his jean pocket and then stuffs the 5K and the business card into his green canvas overnight bag on the bed. He then clears his head trying to digest all that has just suddenly happened. Ryan paces the floor as he searches for a way to capture – kidnap – whatever, Dick.>Kick me to the curb?! No way, how about me kicking first!! His mind races: Rohypnol? Where would I get a rophy? Anyway he might have a bad reaction to the stuff! Think...think! I’d have to immobilize Dick – tie him up. Why would Dick let me tie him up? Moments later an idea begins to form in his mind.
He takes a seat at the table and opens his laptop. He surfs the web until he finds a site that sells the products he is interested in: Mr. No Questions Leather. Ryan grins as surfs the site and adds items to his cart. He orders the items for express delivery. That done, he surfs for books pertaining to gay male bondage. He finds what he is looking for and orders a book titled, Gay Bondage and Discipline for the Beginner, for express delivery as well! Looks like a fun trip. Isn’t “this prince” going to be surprised!