Detective Harvey Bullock tracked down the nearest location of a Court hideout to a newly erected office building currently owned by Gilbert Sionis - coincidentally the cousin of one Richard Sionis, who had been arrested by the G.C.P.D about three years ago for the sadistic treatment of his staff and was still serving time in Blackgate. Harvey didn't want to cast stereotypes, but according to his own experience, scum tend to be related to more scum. Wouldn't be a surprise if Gilbert Sionis was in on the Court.
It wasn't a particularly tall building, nor did it really reflect the luxury of Gilbert Sionis' other properties, and it was on the edge of town. Being newly built, it was yet unoccupied, even though the glass panels had already been fit in their panes, and wiring work seemed to near completion - with just a few sockets missing. The flooring, on the other hand was incomplete, even though the doors had been put up, obscuring Harvey from a good look at the place from where he was at - which was behind the glass entrance that had been locked and chain sealed. There had to be more to the place. If it was anything like the previous location, there would be a hatch of some kind, and a ladder leading deep into the ground. If he were to perform a more thorough check, he'd have to gain entry, somehow.
Walking around the building, he soon found himself in an alleyway with a mass of brick looking back down at him. All except for a grid hatch slightly above reach from himself. He heard the faint sound of a motor running through that grid, and decided it was worth to take a closer look. Searching about for something that could prop him up to that hatch, he soon found a trash container unit behind a food place just two blocks away.
Without even asking, he began pushing it through the alley, right to the Sionis building. Thankfully it was still early in the day and the unit wasn't particularly heavy, or smelly. He raised himself up onto its hood, and peered into the hatch. It was pitch black in there, warm air came out from it, and the sound of the motor was louder now.
He dug into his left pocket and pulled out a hand knife, which he then employed to remove the screws from the hatch to get the thing opened. Then he turned on a torch and stuck his head into the hatch. It was like looking into a tunnel leading all the way down - like waaay down. Exactly as he'd suspected - a deep basement, like the first.
Right then, the lid of the trash container unit underneath his feet began moving to the right. "Hey hey, what are you doing?" he asked, clinging to the open hatch to prevent himself from falling. He turned around to see two men in dark suits pushing the unit away from him. They did not speak. And they didn't acknowledge his presence either. "Can't you see I'm standing here?" he yelled, but the unit continued to move till he was dangling with his elbows in the hatch, the only thing keeping him there. He looked down, it seemed a lot longer way down than he had originally thought.
The two men looked at him. They had their hair slicked back, and black gloves on their hands. It was kind of eerie how they continued not to speak, or help him down, yet would not go away.
"Who the hell are you guys?" he asked, now getting a little more panicked than before, and his arms were getting sore already.
They exchanged glances in what seemed to be an unspoken dialogue, and moved close enough to catch him from below. Harvey didn't trust the two men, he didn't trust anyone who was purposely holding their tongue in his presence. The ground still looked far away, but he didn't want to wait to fall into the arms of the two men.
With a hard kick against the wall next to him, he propelled himself over the men, and onto a patch of grass just a stone's throw away. He tumbled, and hit the ground hard enough for his right ankle to send a shot of pain through the rest of his leg. He cried aloud, even while he struggled to get to his feet in order to deal with the two men. But he was too late. The two men kicked him down, again and again till he felt the wind leave his chest and his body ached a riot especially in the mid region. Then with a heave, the two men picked him up, each one leveraging under his shoulders, dragging him through a locked side door, and into the building he'd intended to enter - just not in this way.
That's when his phone began to ring.
Bruce's condition had worsened. He'd developed hacking coughs that'd cause him to throw up anything he managed to get down. His skin had become waxy, and dark rings formed under his eyes from the lack of rest and exhaustion from battling his fever. And he seemed to be constantly out of breath. Lhamo had become very concerned, and sought Samwell's help to drive him to town to seek a proper doctor. But just two days ago, Bruce had been very specific after speaking with Alfred Pennyworth, that he should stay put and someone would be sent to fetch him. Samwell didn't know how, or when, and didn't manage to get any answers once the coughing started.
All that Samwell knew to do was to keep Bruce warm, and watch the road for help to arrive. Little did he know that help would come from the sky.
It was evening when the sound of a chopper broke the serenity of the otherwise quiet town, and soon its rotary blades began to sweep clothes off their lines, pots off the tables. The villagers panicked, not having seen a helicopter before, thought that the sky might be falling. But Samwell assured them that it would all be fine, and they decided to watch the scene from a distance.
It was a shiny jet-black chopper with smooth rounded edges, like one of those luxury types - not the common ones that Samwell would occasionally see flying past. Upon its side was an emblem with a large letter "W" on the side. If the chopper was for Bruce, as he'd assumed, he could only infer that the boy belonged to a wealthy family.
The chopper landed right in the middle of the clearing, in the center of the village. The engine kept going as a couple of men in polo shirts with the same emblem down the back, hopped out and began unloading boxes onto the ground next to the chopper. Another man, who was dressed in a gentleman's coat, exited with two paramedic staff and a stretcher. He barked some orders to them that Samwell couldn't hear, and they began carrying the stretcher over the rocky ground towards his direction. "Samwell Peters?" he yelled over the sound of the blades.
"Yes!" Sam shouted back. "You're here for Bruce?"
The man nodded, his eyes red with emotion. Sam guessed that he might be the man who had spoken to Bruce on the phone. "Where is he?"
"Here!" Sam guided the three men into the hut where Bruce lay. "He's not doing too good, you've arrived just in time."
But the man Sam believed to be Alfred, had already hurried to Bruce's side and had his arms around him. Bruce continued to cough through the embrace, but Sam could see him leaning into the hug, a wide smile on his face. Then picking him up gently, the three men transferred him onto the stretcher. Bruce reached out a hand to Sam, beckoning him over. "Thank you... Sam," he said between wheezing coughs.
Sam took his hand and squeezed his appreciation. "We'll miss you," he replied.
Alfred gave him an approving nod, and they carried the stretcher outside with Sam following close behind. He noticed that the men in polo shirts had finished their unloading - there was a heap of boxes on the ground that they didn't seem interested to retrieve. "Wait!" he yelled to Alfred over the whirring. Alfred stopped and turned around. "What are the boxes for?"
Alfred replied, "Master Bruce thought that you might need supplies for your little camp. There are pills, medical equipment, food and other things I figured you might find useful for survival out here."
Sam was astonished by Bruce's generosity. But more than that, he'd come to assume that Alfred must be a relative - except a relative wouldn't refer to his nephew as 'master'. "Sorry... but how are you related to Bruce?" he asked.
"I'm the personal butler to Mr Bruce Wayne," said Alfred proudly, a smile on his face. "Thank you for all your help Mr Peters. I wish you well in all your endeavors." With a brief bow, Alfred followed the stretcher and popped himself back into the chopper as it began to take flight.
Mr Bruce Wayne... Bruce had said his name to him before, though he'd caught just the half of the last name that first time. For some reason, his name in full sounded very familiar to him. Sam caught the last glimpse of that emblem as the chopper rose to the sky and took off into the sunset. W... for Wayne. As in Wayne Enterprises? "You don't say!" Sam blurted out to himself. At that point, it seemed to be very much the case. Bruce Wayne had been in their camp for three days, and they had no idea.
But even curiouser still - what did the Ghul want with Bruce Wayne?
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