DC: A Cop in Gotham

Chapter 25: Mr. Wayne(Batman)'s Drastic Action

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After neutralizing the lingering effects of the fear gas, Batman sat in silence, his cape brushing the cold stone floor of the Batcave. The dim glow of monitors illuminated his masked face as he replayed surveillance footage of Dean's interaction with Poison Ivy. He observed every detail—the words exchanged, the body language, and the subtle undertones of their conversation.

Despite having all the evidence he needed, Batman refrained from confronting Dean immediately. There were larger issues at hand, and he needed answers. Adjusting his earpiece, he initiated a secure line to his allies.

"Arthur, there's been an attack in Gotham involving the Trench Clan. I need answers," Batman said, his voice as sharp as the blade of a Batarang.

On the other end, Aquaman's voice crackled through the speakers, laced with confusion. "Batman? The Trench Clan? In *Gotham*? That doesn't make any sense."

Arthur Curry, King of Atlantis, leaned back in his throne, processing the strange combination of events. "I dealt with the Trench a long time ago," he continued. "They're incredibly savage—practically mindless. They'll devour anything they can get their claws on. To think they'd show up in Gotham of all places…"

"They're here," Batman interjected, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "And they're not acting on instinct. Someone is controlling them."

Arthur's voice grew grim. "That's troubling. Wherever the Trench go, chaos follows. If they're not behaving like themselves, it means someone—or something—is pulling the strings. The ocean's been quiet lately, which makes this even stranger."

"Which means someone is keeping them contained until they're needed," Batman concluded, his analytical mind already working through the possibilities.

The Dark Knight's eyes narrowed as he recalled Poison Ivy's cryptic warnings. The Green had spoken to her about Gotham's impending destruction, with Manaphy at the center of it all. Across the ocean's expanse, tremors had been felt on land. Small earthquakes had been plaguing Gotham, their frequency and intensity increasing steadily.

Arthur sighed. "If what you're saying is true, I'll consult with Vulko. He's one of the most knowledgeable Atlanteans when it comes to ancient sea creatures. If anyone has answers, it's him."

"Do it quickly," Batman said, cutting the connection with a flick of his gloved hand.

Without missing a beat, Bruce stood and walked toward the costume vault. The change in his demeanor was palpable as he began preparing for the next phase of his plan. This time, he wasn't operating as the Dark Knight. He was stepping into his other persona: Gotham's billionaire playboy, *Bruce Wayne.*

"Alfred," he called as he adjusted his cufflinks.

"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred replied, appearing beside him with his usual composed efficiency.

"Mark all large-scale shelters in Gotham capable of withstanding a magnitude 7 earthquake and a tsunami," Bruce instructed.

The Batcomputer hummed to life, quickly highlighting three key locations on the city map.

"Perfect," Bruce muttered. "From this moment forward, we'll begin transporting enough supplies to these shelters to sustain ten million people for at least two weeks."

Alfred raised a skeptical eyebrow as he assisted Bruce with his tie. "I'm afraid Gotham's current resources don't even come close to those numbers, sir."

"Then buy what we don't have," Bruce replied without hesitation. "Bring in shipments from other cities, other states—whatever it takes. And prepare to film a statement for Gotham TV."

Alfred paused for a moment, adjusting Bruce's collar with deliberate care. "Master Bruce," he said cautiously, "are you certain about this? Releasing such a bold warning without conclusive evidence could be… problematic. Even for you."

Bruce's response was as calm and unwavering as ever. "If I'm wrong, Alfred, I'll consider it a relief."

Early the next morning, the news was ablaze with Bruce Wayne's public announcement. Dean had just poured himself a cup of coffee when he glanced up at the TV screen in his kitchen.

["According to Lucius Fox, chief scientist of Wayne Enterprises, Gotham is expected to experience a major earthquake of magnitude 7 or higher within the next three days. The tremors may even trigger a tsunami along the northeast coastline."]

The news anchor's voice was steady, but the weight of the message was palpable.

["To ensure public safety, Wayne Enterprises urges all citizens to begin relocating to designated shelters immediately. Emergency evacuation routes have been outlined and are being distributed across the city."]

The screen shifted to a live feed of Bruce Wayne addressing the press, his confident demeanor commanding attention.

"Mr. Wayne," one reporter asked, "what if your prediction doesn't come true? The economic repercussions of shutting down the city could be catastrophic. Who will take responsibility?"

Bruce's face filled the screen, his voice firm and resolute. "All expenses during this time will be covered by Wayne Enterprises. No one in Gotham will bear the burden of this evacuation. We'll handle it."

Dean nearly choked on his coffee, coughing as he set the mug down. "Well, damn," he muttered.

As the broadcast continued, Dean couldn't help but marvel at the sheer audacity of Bruce's plan. In just one night, the billionaire had mobilized resources on a scale that defied comprehension.

"Only Batman could deduce the potential disaster from the smallest details," Dean thought, shaking his head in admiration. "And only Bruce Wayne could bankroll an entire city's evacuation without breaking a sweat."

Gordon was already in full crisis mode by the time Dean arrived at the station. The commissioner's face was etched with exhaustion as he barked orders into his radio.

"What are you standing around for, Dean?" Gordon snapped, gesturing wildly at the chaos unfolding around them. "We've got to assign police forces to all three shelters, ensure the evacuation routes are secure, and maintain order in the city. Get moving!"

Dean groaned inwardly but nodded. He could already see the next 72 hours stretching out in front of him like a long, sleepless marathon.

By noon, Bruce Wayne's bold declaration had spread like wildfire through Gotham. Every major news outlet replayed his statement on a loop, dissecting his predictions and debating the legitimacy of Lucius Fox's research. The city was abuzz with a mixture of skepticism, fear, and reluctant hope.

Wayne Enterprises had taken unprecedented action, giving all its employees three days off with full pay. This single decision set off a domino effect. With Wayne Enterprises accounting for nearly half of Gotham's workforce, over a million people began heeding the call to evacuate. Families packed essentials and poured into the streets, their movements guided by newly established evacuation routes.

Initially, many doubted the validity of the warnings, but as the hours passed and more citizens joined the exodus, the skeptics began to falter. The herd mentality took over, and soon, the shelters began filling at a steady pace.

On the rooftop of the Gotham Police Department, Commissioner Gordon stood under the Bat-Signal. The iconic beam of light pierced the gray clouds above, its silhouette a symbol of hope and order in the chaos.

Behind him, the Dark Knight emerged from the shadows, his imposing figure shrouded in silence. For the first time in years, Batman was appearing in broad daylight.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Gordon said, lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled. "Let me guess—you're here to make sure everything runs smoothly."

Batman stepped closer, his voice low and firm. "Robin and I will assist with the evacuation. We'll ensure the shelters are secure and keep the streets under control."

Gordon nodded, grateful for the reassurance. "The people are scared, and scared people make bad decisions. With your help, we might just get through this without a riot."

The commissioner glanced at the Bat-Signal and muttered, "Still, that Wayne kid—what the hell was he thinking? Does he realize the chaos he's unleashed? Half the city's in a panic."

Batman didn't respond, letting the words hang in the air. He understood Gordon's frustration. The mass evacuation was a logistical nightmare, one that placed immense strain on the city's infrastructure and its already overworked police force.

But Bruce Wayne's plan wasn't born of recklessness—it was calculated. If there was even a chance that Gotham would face a catastrophic disaster, Bruce was willing to gamble everything to save his city.

"Here," Batman said, tossing a small device to Gordon. The commissioner caught it and examined the sleek, bat-shaped communicator in his hand.

"What's this?"

"A direct line to me," Batman replied. "Give it to Dean. Tell him to keep it with him and leave the channel open. I'll be in contact."

Without waiting for a response, Batman pulled his cape around him and leapt from the rooftop. He disappeared into the daylight, gliding toward the Batmobile parked below.

Gordon stared at the empty space where Batman had stood, then sighed and took another drag of his cigarette. The years were catching up to him, but Gotham still needed him. And for as long as the city called, he would answer.

Inside the Batmobile, Batman activated the in-car communication system, connecting to the Bat Network. The voices of his allies filled the cabin as the system came online.

"[Batman, now online.]"

"[Robin, standing by.]"

"[Nightwing, reporting in.]"

"[Oracle, online and ready.]"

A final voice chimed in, indicating the newest addition to the network:

"[GCPD, ready to assist.]"

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The scene at Indian Hill was no less chaotic. Batman arrived in record time, his mind racing with calculations and contingency plans. He knew the evacuation was only the beginning. Gotham's villains—always lurking in the shadows—would see the city's vulnerability as an opportunity to strike.

Meanwhile, Dean, now equipped with the bat-shaped communicator, was in the thick of it at the police station. Officers scrambled to manage the growing crowds, their voices overlapping as they coordinated efforts to maintain order.

The commissioner's warnings echoed in Dean's mind: 'Evacuation is only the first step. If the people don't feel their homes are safe, they won't leave. And if the criminals start causing trouble, we're in for the fight of our lives.'

Dean clenched the communicator in his hand, its cool metal a small reminder of the Dark Knight's presence.

The Bat Network was buzzing with activity as Batman drove deeper into Gotham's chaos.

"Oracle," he said, addressing Barbara Gordon's voice on the line, "monitor the shelters and report any disturbances. We need to stay ahead of this."

"On it," Oracle replied. "I've already set up surveillance feeds for all three major shelters. So far, everything's under control, but I'll let you know the second anything changes."

"Robin," Batman continued, "I need you patrolling the evacuation routes. Look for anything out of the ordinary."

"Got it," Damian's voice responded, his tone eager yet determined. "If anyone tries to cause trouble, they won't get far."

"Nightwing," Batman said, shifting his focus, "head to the industrial district. If the villains are planning anything, that's where they'll make their move."

"Understood," Dick Grayson replied. "I'll check it out."

With his team in position, Batman pressed forward, his mind laser-focused on the task at hand. The weight of Gotham's fate rested on his shoulders, but he bore it without hesitation.

Back at the station, Dean glanced out the window at the bustling streets below. The scale of the operation was staggering. He could see families hurrying toward the shelters, their arms full of belongings. Police officers directed traffic, their voices strained as they worked to keep the evacuation orderly.

"Mr. Wayne really bleeds for Gotham tonight," Dean thought, shaking his head in disbelief.

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