On the Trail of a Ghost
Who: Batman and an unlucky drug dealer When: February 3rd, night time Where: A schoolyard in the Narrows What: Batman seeks the source of this new variety of meth Rating: R for pottymouth Status: Complete
"I don't fucking know what you're talking about."
There was a thump as the old man fell to a heap on the hard asphalt of the basketball court, tripping over his own feet. A dark figure pursued him among the shifting shadows of chainlink and poles. "You know," the figure growled, moving first on one side of the man and then the other. "Empty your pockets, or I'll do it for you."
The man on the ground tried to keep his eyes on the figure, but he couldn't turn his head fast enough, years of abusing his body and cold nights on the concrete leaving him stiff. He hesitated but then reached into the pocket of his voluminous coat and dropped several stiff packages on the ground.
A dark gauntleted hand reached out of the dark and snatched up a package, quickly turning it from side to side, investigating it carefully, opening it with a rip. The wizened man began to crawl backwards on his hands and feet, watching the dark knight fearfully. But the vigilante had eyes for the man as well as his packages.
"You were selling this to kids. It's potent. It's new. Where's it coming from?" The bat man barked out the questions, slipping the package somewhere inside his cape.
"I told you I don't know," the man offered, not sounding as beligerent as before. "I'm just trying to make a buck," he pleaded.
"You picked the wrong line of work," the dark figure answered, closing in on the prone man. "I want to know who's making this stuff. He's going to answer to me."
"I told, I don't know!" the man's voice was rising in pitch as the bat man grew closer.
"Then tell me where you got it," Batman conceded, not slowing, his cape fanning out around him.
"I get the stuff from a guy, Jimmy, on Fane Street," the dealer stammered, trying to shrink down on the asphalt as if he would disappear. "He passes it out, I don't know where he gets it."
"There's a lot of Jimmies in Gotham," Batman replied, crouching over the man until he filled his vision.
"He'll be in the Chinese place, the buffet," the man spewed out faster now, trying to fend off the advance of the crusader. "You ask for Jimmy and they'll--" he stammered, probably realizing that this man wasn't going to go in and ask for anyone. "He's got a red beard," he threw out in terror.
There was a snap and a waft of air across the dealer's face. He sat up in confusion, the other packages gone, the dark figure disappearing across the schoolyard court. "Don't tell him I told you," the old man called out plaintively after him. There was only silence and a shifting in the shadows. "The bat man ..." the fellow breathed to himself, slowly picking himself up and brushing his pants off. "Just like they said."