8The moon shone through the wispy clouds of the early morning sky, peering over the towering spires of Gotham City. It's eerie brilliance was reflected off the water of nearby Gotham Bay, where, about a mile off shore, a single freighter sat like a duck in the water, waiting for permission to leave for its destination. Two small dark vessels lurked beside it, like leeches preparing to latch to a host. In the dark, several shadows slid from the freighter into the smaller boat.
Seconds later, with a roar that split the apparent silence of the Bay, a massive explosion flowered from the stern of the ship, launching metal barrels and shards of shrapnel into the ocean. It was followed by a second explosion, like a chain reaction, that burst out the port side.
As the vessel began to take on water, the two small boats rumbled away toward the city, avoiding falling debris, while sailors dove off the ship, or fell to the water to escape the flames.
It would be a half hour before any first responders got there, but by then the leaking chemicals and the fire had left nothing to respond to but the spill. Noone had survived....noone but one.
On the bank of the river several officers were pulling the exhausted body of a man out of the water. Among them was a detective.
"Get an ambulance over here!" He yelled, in an accent particular to the nearby city. Looking the man over, he called to an officer.
"Somebody get this guy to a hospital!"
In about a minute the ambulance would arrive. As the only survivor of that horrible incident was carted off, Detective Liam Soach got a good look at him. He appeared to be a lean, younger man, around his late twenties, with dark hair and eyes. Whatever he'd been wearing was now tattered, but it looked like it used to be what passed for an ACE shipping worker's uniform.
Liam was too tired to really feel sorry for the kid. His old calf wound was acting up, and this late at night he would much rather be in bed. He gave the bay a look over, shaking his head, then turned to one of the officers nearby.
"Hey, Davis, looks like the cleaning crew can handle the rest. Imma head home and get some shuteye before tomorrow morning. Make sure I get a call when that guy wakes up." He said, as he pointed towards the gurney being put in the ambulance.
The officer nodded, and the detective began moving back towards his car stiffly.
This was more than just a physical tiredness. It was like a numbness that only came from having lived in this city and seen worse stuff than this before. He didn't like it, it reminded him too much of his time in the Army.
He opened the car door and slipped in with a sigh. Another night in Gotham.
Solomon stood on the edge of a roof, looking out over the cityscape. He often came here in the early morning. Something about it helped him center himself. Perhaps it reminded him of his mission, strengthened his resolve. He needed it this morning. The news story he'd seen was distressing, to say the least.
He took a deep breath, then let out a small cough. He wasn't used to the city air yet.
As he continued his strange meditations, a pair of shadows separated themselves from the shade of a nearby wall. Dressed all in dark colors, the pair still managed to hide in the dim light of early morning.
As they moved towards him, Solomon noticed and turned. The made a gesture with their right arms and took a knee.
"Master al'Ghrund, we return successful from our mission."
"Very well." he replied, "Return to the others to make preparations."
"Yes, master."
The two dark clothed figures stood, making the gesture again.
As they started to leave, he added,
"And tell them to be especially careful. I have a feeling there may be trouble."
