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| HOT PURSUIT
VOL 2 EPISODE 1
GOTHAM, CHELSEA NEIGHBORHOOD:
It was Hurricane Katrina that changed everythin’ for him. It killed his father, destroyed their home, and threatened the lives of everyone he loves. But the memories, they don’t die so easily. They stay lingering in his mind, like angry ghosts that refuse to be forgotten.
He is living in Gotham City now. But this can never be his home. Too many memories tell him different. Memories of his family, of his daddy, of growin’ up in New Orleans. No, he never had it easy in the slums but, despite his family’s money worries, times seemed simpler then. Maybe even happier. Because at least then he had his daddy.
Momma has adjusted surprisingly well to life in Gotham. Ginny and her children too, of course. Financially you can’t deny that they're all better off. Except he can’t help wondering, is momma really as happy as she seems? Does she ever remember life before Wayne Charity swooped in to save all the victims of the hurricane? Does she even remember Daddy?
His soul been weighed down with questions like these, and by feelings that don’t go away so easily. Like his anger, grief, loss, and even guilt. But he always hides those emotions from the ones he loves. He tries not to be thinking about feelings so much. Cause it only brings more pain.
His night-time walks been getting longer and more frequent lately. It’s already four past ten, according to his watch. Probably not such a bright thing to do, wandering on the streets at night, considering some of the stories you be hearing about Gotham’s underworld. But, then, he always been able to take good care of himself. So that don’t worry him so much.
Right now, he only wish to be finding a little solitude. Maybe it’s hiding somewhere in the deep shadow that blankets the city. Seems like he can’t find no peace anywhere in this city.
An as he's thinking on those words, you hear a violent scream coming from around the corner on Scarborough Street.
"Get out!” a masculine voice commands. "Get out NOW!”
Strike looks around and then cautiously heads for the sound... "May as well check it out... it may get me out of my funk.”
Reaching the corner sticking to the shadows he sees, two men wearing black ski-masks. They surround a blue Mercedes that is stopped at a red light. The terrified driver's is a portly man in his 40's. His terrified face is red and sweaty, like a cooked ham. The man on the drivers side holds a wickedly curved blade and the other man, on the passenger side holds a revolver pistol.
"STOP CRYING LIKE A GIRL AND GET OUT!" He brings his left hand which holds the blade in toward the frightened hostage. "I'LL CUT YOU!"
Suddenly the man with the knife is bowled over like a linebacker hitting a quarterback head on. The man with the knife lays on the ground motionless, obviously knocked out from the hit Strike had on him.
The hostage..watches you with disbelief through tear stained eyes...
"Batman?! I always thought you were WHITE!" the carjacker with the gun states.
Suddenly a popping sound like nails hitting cinder blocks. The passenger side window shatters and the driver shrinks into his seat, as bullets bounce off of Strikes body making him more angry.
Strike looks up and snarls at the man who just shot at him. "Batman? Batman? You got 'da wrong person... I ain't no myth. M'name's Strike! Remember it.” as he begins to leap over the car the driver floors the throttle and peels out. Strike looses his balance and comes crashing down onto the roof of the car crushing the passenger side. The driver squeals and slams on the brakes as the car jumps the curb and crashes into a street lamp.
Strike climbs off the roof looking around for the gunman. He doesn't see him like hes disappeared, when suddenly there is a crash, like trash cans being knocked over in an ally.
Steam pours from the engine as the drive care more about his car then himself. "Oh my beautiful, Gabrielle! I can't afford to get you FIXED!" he moans, oblivious to your presence. "Jesus, you cost me a FORTUNE, and for WHAT?! I'm not RICH! Ohhhh.." he groans. "I feel like I'm going to PUKE."
Strike spares the man another glance, "Jus' be glad you are alive and kickin'." then he turns running in the direction of the alley and the sound.
As strike races into the alley he is taken back by what he sees in front of him, the gunman is bound in ropes, unconscious. Looks like he ran in the alley to hide but someone else got to him. Strike thinks to himself. "Who, How, Where?” after his vision adjusts to the darkness, he probes the lump not to gently, "Ouch... 'dat must 'ave hurt..." He picks him up and dumps him out at the mouth of the alley before calling out to a man down the street, "Call de cops. They will be taken care of." Then he turns and heads off from the scene. Passing the man he says nothing as he begins to call 911 on his cell phone.
On the long walk home Strike keeps replaying tonights events. The adrenaline, the energy.. he needed some kind of release for all the negative things he has been feeling lately. Or at least a distraction. His mind thinks back to what he told that man...: "M'name's Strike! Remember it." Why did he say that? He hasn't used that name in... well, he can't even REMEMBER when he last used it. It was when times were brighter.. and when he dreamed of being some kind of HERO. As he doubles back to his townhouse apartment, his mind grapples with that puzzle... and don't even notice....
Watching from the rooftop. Hiding in shadows. He watches... and waits...
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