Damien entered the cave to find Bruce once more in front of the massive computer.

"Spend another night glued to the computer terminal?" Damien asked, only partly in jest.

"No. I was up early, and I've been looking over the financial records of the banks in Gotham," Bruce explained with a gesture to the charts currently displayed on the screens of the computer.

"I don't think those are public records," Damien surmised.

"They aren't," Bruce confirmed. "But, considering all the illegal things hiding behind the law and making use of legal loopholes, I may have to go around a few regulations to get the truth."

"I wonder how many lawmakers are in criminals' pocket, crafting the rules to give scum breathing room," Damien suggested.

"I found one," Bruce responded. He pointed to some of the information on display. "These are the accounts used to funnel illegal money of three different criminal organizations. I noticed each of them took out ten thousand dollars on the first of the month."

"Payoffs," Damien guessed.

"I thought the same thing," Bruce replied. "So, I checked other accounts to see if anyone made significant deposits. One account received a deposit of thirty thousand dollars on the same day as the withdrawals."

"Whoever it is got the full ten thousand from each of them," Damien concluded. "It's a dangerous business practice to be on the payroll of multiple criminal organizations. It's a good way to get killed. Who owns the account?"

"It was opened by this man," Bruce answered while bringing up a picture of the person in question.

"I've seen him someplace," Damien said.

"His name is Nate Gibson," Bruce explained. "He works for the Mayor's office."

"Do you think the Mayor could be involved?" Damien inquired.

"It's certainly a possibility," Bruce admitted. "Since taking office, Mayor Hill has had numerous meetings with the District Attorney's office. While not unusual in itself, the DA's conviction rate took a plunge after each meeting. Additionally, the criminal organizations paying money into the account haven't had a conviction of one of their people in four years, everything is plead out, and the guilty person never does a single day of jail time."

"They've rigged the system," Damien said in frustration. "Too bad we can't go after the Mayor."

"Who says we can't?" Bruce asked.

"It's the Mayor," Damien stated as if it should be obvious. "He's an elected official."

"He's a criminal directly responsible for murderers being turned loose into the streets to kill again," Bruce countered.

"The evidence is circumstantial," Damien pointed out.

"True," Bruce agreed. "It's the reason why we'll be paying a visit to each of the crime organizations first, then the DA's office, and finally the Mayor. When we meet him, we'll have more than evidence, we'll have proof."

"Even if we have proof, we can't go around knocking off elected officials, even if they're corrupt," Damien insisted. "It would make the other crooks in office nervous, and we can't fight the entire government. There's too many and they have too many resources. It's a war we couldn't win."

"We don't have to win the war," Bruce denied. "We just need to convince the other side not to fight us."

"How do you expect to do that?" Damien questioned.

"I'll tell you on the way," Bruce said as he checked the time on his watch. "One of the groups is having a meeting in a short while, and we'll need to be there to make a few inquiries of their people."

***

Bruce and Damien parked the run-down delivery truck behind the nightclub. Because the police were searching for them, and it was the middle of the morning, they couldn't operate openly in their costumes. Dressed in khaki jumpsuits, woolen caps, and fingerless gloves, they looked the part of delivery men common in this part of town.

Because they lacked the added disguise of masks, they'd added prosthetics to their faces. The makeup, combined with wigs and contact lenses to change their eye color, made the pair unrecognizable.

Exiting the cab of the truck, Bruce and Damien went around back and rolled the rear door up and out of the way. Climbing inside with all the boxes, they squeezed between the piles of cardboard to reach a roof hatch near the front of the cargo compartment. They used the hatch to climb out of the truck and onto the roof.

It was a short leap to the metal fire escape on the rear of the nightclub. The fire escape had been out of service for years and was covered by rust. The lack of code violations came from the owners being paid up with the right government officials. When Bruce jumped over, the entire fire escape system rattled ominously as if intending to shear away from the wall and collapse in a tangled heap in the alley floor.

Bruce took the steps two at a time while heading for the roof, trying to be off the unstable system as quickly as possible. Damien made the crossing from the truck and kept pace with him.

The roof was flat and covered in gravel to help it drain and dry faster after one of Gotham's frequent rain storms. Taking up sizable sections of roof space were the massive blocks of the air conditioning units. Housed in rusty frames of mostly gray metal, the air conditioners hummed and rattled loud enough to hide the footsteps of Bruce and Damien as they raced across the gravel surface of the roof toward the skylight.

Bruce dropped to his stomach before he reached the skylight to avoid being seen or having his shadow detected by the criminals in the room below. Damien followed his example, and the two of them crawled toward the dusty window in the roof.

From their belts, Bruce and Damien produced telescopic eyepieces. Extending the small, snake-like devices, they pointed the camera on the ends down into the room, allowing them to see inside without anyone being able to see them.

The skylight was old, covered in layers of dirt, but Bruce and Damien managed to find a spot where they could see through enough to start facial recognition on the criminals. The eyepieces remotely transferred video data back to the cave where the Batcomputer began its analysis.

The office of the club manager was dark, the walls painted black, and the leather sofa and chairs upholstered in matching dark leather. Seated behind a black metal desk, a man in a three piece, pinstripe suit was speaking to the five men standing before him.

Bruce took a small device from his pocket and pressed the suction cup on the end of it against the glass of the window. The thimble sized component picked up on the vibrations of the glass caused by people talking in the office below and translated it through the attached wire to a pair of earpieces; Bruce put one in his own ear and offered the other to Damien.

"Boss, the extra guards you wanted have been stationed at the warehouse," one of the men told the man behind the desk. "You really think someone's dumb enough to try and mess with it?"

"Normally, I would say no," the club manager answered. "But, with the Batman going off the deep end, I can't take the risk. This is the largest shipment we've ever brought in, and I won't tolerate any foul ups!"

"Sure thing, Boss," answered one of the henchmen. "It would take an army to get through."

"I'm not concerned about an army!" the Boss snapped. "I'm considered about Batman! That lunatic was a problem before, when he was holding back. Nowadays, he's capable of anything."

Bruce had heard enough, and when the facial recognition finally identified the men in the room, he knew they were all killers in one form or another. He put away his gear and pulled a ski mask over his face.

"No killing," Bruce warned Damien as his son performed his own preparations. "We need information, and we can't interrogate a corpse."

Damien nodded his understanding.

Bruce reached over and carefully placed a shaped charge on the skylight. He and Damien moved away before the timer counted down. When the device went off, it disintegrated the entire skylight and the frame holding it. Bruce and Damien were on their feet and dropping through the hole before the men in the office could even figure out what was happening.