Batman: No Man's Land Read online

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ORACLE

  PROLOGUE

  PART ONE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  PART TWO

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  PART THREE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  PART FOUR

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  EPILOGUE

  ORACLE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Batman: No Man’s Land

  By

  Greg Rucka

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ORACLE

  PROLOGUE

  PART ONE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  PART TWO

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  PART THREE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  PART FOUR

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  ORACLE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  EPILOGUE

  ORACLE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Batman: No Man’s Land was primarily adapted from the story serialized in the following comic books, originally published by DC Comics:

  Batman: No Man’s Land #1 (March 1999)

  Batman #560—574 (December 1998—February 2000)

  Detective Comics #727—741 (December 1998-February 2000) Batman: Shadow of the Bat #80-94

  (December 1998—February 2000)

  Legends of the Dark Knight #116—126

  (April 1999—February 2000)

  With additional material adapted from or inspired by:

  Batman Chronicles #16—18 (April, July, and October 1999)

  Batman: Harley Quinn (September 1999)

  Batman: No Man’s Land #0 (October 1999)

  These comic books were created by the following people:

  GROUP EDITORS WRITERS

  Dennis O’Neil

  Mike Carlin

  EDITORS

  Jordan B. Gorfinkel

  Matt Idelson

  Jordan B. Gorfinkel

  Scott Peterson

  Darren Vincenzo

  ASSOCIATE EDITOR

  Joseph Illidge

  ASSISTANT EDITOR

  Frank Berrios

  WRITERS

  Steven Barnes

  Bronwyn Carlton

  Paul Dini

  Chuck Dixon

  Ian Edgington

  Bob Gale

  Jordan B. Gorfinkel

  Alan Grant

  Devin K. Grayson

  Larry Hama

  Janet Harvey

  Lisa Klink

  Dennis O’Neil

  Kelly Puckett

  Greg Rucka

  PENCILLERS

  Jim Aparo

  Jon Bogdanove

  Mat Broome

  Mark Buckingham

  Rick Burchett

  Sergio Caridlo

  Guy Davis

  Mike Deodato

  D’Israeli

  Dale Eaglesham

  Yvel Guichet

  Paul Gulacy

  Dan Jurgens

  Rafael Kayanan

  Greg Land

  Alex Maleev

  Jason Minor

  Tom Morgan

  Jason Pearson

  Pablo Raimondi

  Roger Robinson

  William Rosado

  Paul Ryan

  Damion Scott

  Frank Teran

  Phil Winslade

  INKERS

  Eduardo Barreto

  Sal Buscema

  Robert Campanella

  Randy Emberlin

  Wayne Faucher

  John Floyd

  Drew Geraci

  James A. Hodgkins

  Andy Lanning

  Mark McKenna

  Jaime Mendoza

  Sean Parsons

  James Pascoe

  David Roach

  Matt Ryan

  Bill Sienkiewicz

  Batt and Aaron Sowd

  Phil Winslade

  To Corrina Joan Rucka,

  My mother, who taught me to read;

  and

  To Dennis O’Neil,

  The Master, who inspired me to write.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

/>   IN A WORK SUCH AS THIS, THE DEBTS ARE PROFOUND and the list is long… so buckle up.

  First, foremost, and always… a debt of gratitude to Bob Kane and Bill Finger. It’s an honor to be part of the legacy.

  At DC Comics and Pocket Books, special thanks to the editorial team who allowed this book to happen—Charlie “Chas Man” Kochman, Elisabeth “Spicey” Vincenteili, and Marco “MX” Palmieri. Additional gratitude to the on-deck circle at both houses, particularly to Trent Duffy, Sandy Resnick, Larry Ganem, Dorothy Crouch, and Scott Shannon.

  Much admiration and appreciation for the real Bat-squad, in downtown Gotham City (… or is this Metropolis?): Jordan B. Gorfinkel (who had the bright idea in the first place), Darren Vincenzo, Joseph Illidge, Frank Berrios, Matt Idelson, Mike Carlin, Eddie Berganza, Willie Schubert, Arlene Lo, Patty Jeres, Ivan Cohen, and Scott Nybakken. A fond farewell to David Vinson—you will be missed.

  To the writers who make Batman come to life: Paul Dini, Chuck Dixon, Bob Gale, Alan Grant, Larry Hama, Doug Moench, and Devin K. Grayson, as well as the countless others, too talented to forget, and too many to be named herein.

  Thanks, always and in abundance, to my agent David Hale Smith, for joining me in my love of comics.

  Special note of thanks to Mark “Boomer” Waid for knowing not only what Batman keeps in his Utility Belt, but which compartment it’s in, to boot.

  From the trenches, and for keeping my back: Nicolo, Max, Jessie, and Han.

  To the Rom: See you on the rooftop express. Bella loves you.

  To Mike Rucka, for knowing exactly what the Richest Man in the World would have for dinner, and for knowing how to spell it.

  Finally, to Jennifer, who’s sassier than Barbara Gordon.

  ORACLE

  PERSONAL

  Entry #001—No Man’s Land, Day 001

  0001 Zulu

  Dear Dad—

  This is harder than I thought it would be.

  This is me breaking the silence and telling the secrets.

  I wish there was another way to do this, and I pray that you’ll never read these words, and the many words sure to follow. But someone has to keep the chronicle, someone has to record and remember and the only person left who can do it is me.

  The problem is to tell it right I can’t hold anything back—not for myself, not for him, not for any of us—no half-truths, no dodges, no feints, not even the parts that will hurt.

  This, as they say, is the proverbial it.

  All or nothing, for us like it is for Gotham.

  It means I have to strip the masks away. It means I have to betray secrets shared in confidence or learned through treachery. It means nothing is sacred.

  I’m trying very hard not to think about what might come, how you’ll react if you ever do read these words. I’m trying very hard not to think about your righteous anger, or about how you’ll curse me for keeping so much from you fur so long. I’m trying very hard not to think about the proud man you are, and hew humiliated you’ll feet I know you as you know me. Commissioner; you’ll think you were played for a fool.

  But Dad, you’ve never been a fool. Never to me. Never to him.

  I really, really, really hope that no one else will ever read this but me.

  Because, if you’re reading this, it means we lost.

  It means Gotham City really and truly is dead.

  And probably me along with it.

  My name was Batgirl, once.

  Now I’m called Oracle.

  But my name is really Barbara Gordon.

  First mask removed.

  I had to get that out of the way up front, because you have to understand my bona fides such as they are. You have to believe that I know what I’m talking about, that when I say such-and-such happened, or Batman and Joker did this or that, I’m reporting the facts, as best I can. When I say that I know what’s going on, you must trust that I am telling you the truth, all of it.

  You must believe that you can believe me.

  As Batgirl, I learned Gotham City like the back of my gloved hand. The Gotham that Fodor’s doesn’t write about, the Gotham that lives between criminal madness and ultimate despair. I know things. For example, I know that the sewer grate on the north side of the intersection at Middaugh and Cohen is a false one, not on any city record, installed by a certain vigilante to allow for immediate access to a cache of equipment if he’s ever low on Batarangs as he’s passing through.

  I know, too, that if you dive off what was once the Babylon Towers with a good cable and perfect aim, you can loop your throw around the statue of the Zion Lion thirty feet below, the one that sits atop the GCBC building. If you do it right your arms will feel like their leaving their sockets the hard way, but if you keep your grip and your nerve, you can swing all the way to the penthouse apartments overlooking Victory Square.

  I know that if you do it wrong, you’ll hit the ground so hard they’ll need a sponge to get you out of your costume.

  I know that if you do this at 2337 hours Monday through Friday, you can clear the next three rooftops in time to land atop the J Street el as it slows to turn up Broadway. On Saturdays, you’ve got to do it three minutes earlier.

  At least, you could before the Cataclysm.

  As Oracle, my knowledge is even greater, though perhaps more abstract. Given time and a computer or six. I can find just about any piece of information stored in any electronic system, anywhere on the planet, provided I can hack my way in. And I can hack my way in like I designed the code myself.

  Usually.

  Remember back three years, when the Gotham Knights made it to the World Series? Remember how all the cameras went down at the bottom of the ninth for three seconds, just as Malone was pitching on a full count to the Meteors?

  Oops.

  More than that, I’ve got records like you wouldn’t believe, from places you wouldn’t imagine. Scanned documents from two hundred years ago up to the latest burn of the Complete Who’s Who CD. I know how to research, and I know how to investigate. I’m a spymaster to give George Smiley a run for his money, know what I mean?

  I should be. I learned it from two of the best there are.

  And yes. Dad, one of them’s you.

  I read back over this so far, and I realize that, though those two alter egos may be me at my best, Barbara Cordon is the woman at its heart.

  She’s the most important part of this, in a way.

  She is, after all, the girl who was raised in Gotham City, the girl who sneers at New Yorkers who talk about their tough town. She’s the girl who tells the Metropolis jokes.

  Me.

  As much Gotham City as anyone, in a way. As much as you, Dad. As much as any of your cops.

  As much as Batman himself.

  * * * * *

  I’m looking out the window now, which is not really a window at all. I’m not in my apartment, not exactly; I’m through the secret door in the wall where you normally hang your coat, in my control room, my command post. This is where Oracle lives. I’m surrounded by monitors and mini-towers, computers running on battery power charged by the solar cells I’ve stockpiled. I’ve got a satellite phone with a T3 connection and uplink. I’ve got flashlights and rope, even a couple of nonlethal weapons—a tonfa, a sawed-down baseball bat, a collapsible baton—and one rifle, in case things get really nasty.

  I’ve got two portable heaters and a blanket, and I’m using all three, and I’m still freezing my ass off.

  I’m looking at the worst winter in Gotham City’s history, and it’s not the weather that did it, or even Mother Nature.

  I can see the flashes of light as the charges go off, demolishing the Brown Bridge, cutting off this island city from the rest of the United States of America.

  As of exactly seven minutes ago, we’re no longer citizens of the U.S.A. As of exactly seven minutes ago. Gotham City officially became a No Man’s Land.

  Everyone who could go, has. As for the rest of us, now we couldn’t leave even if we w
anted to.