(no subject)
Mar. 8th, 2006 09:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gotham_knockingOctober 31. Halloween. The things that bump in the night had company. For at 9:13 pm, the signal flashed over Gotham City.
For most of the evening, Knox roamed the steets, looking for an interesting take on Halloween in Gotham. He tried to count the kids wearing Bat–suits, and gave up at 39 (compared with 17 Superman and Supergirl costumes, six George Bushes, and – Heaven help Gotham – nine Jokers). But he wasn’t much for feature stories. And things had started to calm down enough that it felt like just another night. The Joker was just a memory, and the public was reluctantly starting to turn in its counterfeit money. Gotham was still in its usual dire straits, but no one ever noticed that.
He had made his way to Gotham Village, to check out the parade. Truth was, while the costumes were always flamboyant, and often racy, he didn’t really care much for this either. Chalk it up to latent homophobia and related discomforts, or a sense that the rank exhibitionism of the parade wasn’t all the noteworthy either. Not too surprisingly, the bat and the clown figured prominently here as well, with a small number of couples – both straight ones and gay – costuming as the enemies now turned lovers. Which only elicited a smirk from Knox. After what the city had seen, he didn’t see the humor just yet.
At 9:04, Knox was ready for dinner. He hoped that maybe the door to Vincent’s Pizza would be the door to the Bar, since he wouldn’t have minded a dinner break someplace quieter. No luck, though. And for six minutes, he ate in peace.
“Good lord!” “What’s it is?” “It’s the signal!” “They want him!” Midday through his second slice, Knox was interrupted by the cries of astonishment. He abandoned his food, and found a payphone, fumbling to call first the city desk and then City Hall. Both times, the line was busy. Not that he needed to be told what to do or where to go.
One seemingly eternal trip on the subway, and Knox was at City Hall, the Bat-signal - were they really calling it that? – still turned on. A mob of citizens, newsmen and cops had gathered. Knox bullied his way through. “O’Hara! What’s the scoop?”
The burly redheaded chief of police, second in line after Gordon and in charge of the city’s uniformed cops, looked into the crowd and at Knox. “Faith and begorrah, Knox! I haven’t a clue. Sure I’m just a humble public servant, turnin’ on the lights.”
Knox grinned harshly at O’Hara, who milked his brogue for all he could. “Come on, O’Hara, Irishman to Scotsman, what’s going on? Something to do with the funny money?”
O’Hara dropped the brogue, smirking. “Knox, the way I hear, you’re as Scottish as Albert Einstein.”
“That’s my mother, Chief. Dad was pureblood Scotch.” Yes, 200 years ago. But Knox was enjoying this game. “So give.”
“No can do, Knox. Besides, it’s time to turn off the light.” Which O’Hara did. “Show’s over, folks. Go back to your trick or treating. And sure that’ll be goin’ for you as well, Knox. Maybe you can be dressin’ up as a reporter.”
“And a happy Halloween to you too, Chief. Tell Gordon I’m expecting a press conference.” Knox drifted off with the crowd, and headed for home, to get his police scanner revved up and find out just what required the Bat.
For most of the evening, Knox roamed the steets, looking for an interesting take on Halloween in Gotham. He tried to count the kids wearing Bat–suits, and gave up at 39 (compared with 17 Superman and Supergirl costumes, six George Bushes, and – Heaven help Gotham – nine Jokers). But he wasn’t much for feature stories. And things had started to calm down enough that it felt like just another night. The Joker was just a memory, and the public was reluctantly starting to turn in its counterfeit money. Gotham was still in its usual dire straits, but no one ever noticed that.
He had made his way to Gotham Village, to check out the parade. Truth was, while the costumes were always flamboyant, and often racy, he didn’t really care much for this either. Chalk it up to latent homophobia and related discomforts, or a sense that the rank exhibitionism of the parade wasn’t all the noteworthy either. Not too surprisingly, the bat and the clown figured prominently here as well, with a small number of couples – both straight ones and gay – costuming as the enemies now turned lovers. Which only elicited a smirk from Knox. After what the city had seen, he didn’t see the humor just yet.
At 9:04, Knox was ready for dinner. He hoped that maybe the door to Vincent’s Pizza would be the door to the Bar, since he wouldn’t have minded a dinner break someplace quieter. No luck, though. And for six minutes, he ate in peace.
“Good lord!” “What’s it is?” “It’s the signal!” “They want him!” Midday through his second slice, Knox was interrupted by the cries of astonishment. He abandoned his food, and found a payphone, fumbling to call first the city desk and then City Hall. Both times, the line was busy. Not that he needed to be told what to do or where to go.
One seemingly eternal trip on the subway, and Knox was at City Hall, the Bat-signal - were they really calling it that? – still turned on. A mob of citizens, newsmen and cops had gathered. Knox bullied his way through. “O’Hara! What’s the scoop?”
The burly redheaded chief of police, second in line after Gordon and in charge of the city’s uniformed cops, looked into the crowd and at Knox. “Faith and begorrah, Knox! I haven’t a clue. Sure I’m just a humble public servant, turnin’ on the lights.”
Knox grinned harshly at O’Hara, who milked his brogue for all he could. “Come on, O’Hara, Irishman to Scotsman, what’s going on? Something to do with the funny money?”
O’Hara dropped the brogue, smirking. “Knox, the way I hear, you’re as Scottish as Albert Einstein.”
“That’s my mother, Chief. Dad was pureblood Scotch.” Yes, 200 years ago. But Knox was enjoying this game. “So give.”
“No can do, Knox. Besides, it’s time to turn off the light.” Which O’Hara did. “Show’s over, folks. Go back to your trick or treating. And sure that’ll be goin’ for you as well, Knox. Maybe you can be dressin’ up as a reporter.”
“And a happy Halloween to you too, Chief. Tell Gordon I’m expecting a press conference.” Knox drifted off with the crowd, and headed for home, to get his police scanner revved up and find out just what required the Bat.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 09:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-30 11:08 pm (UTC)