Post by Victor Fries on Jul 11, 2015 17:20:28 GMT
It was a former army bunker, used primarily by the National Guard until the federal government began selling off “outdated” properties. The property was thirty acres in size, but the bunker itself was of standard size – just north of fifteen thousand square feet, and was almost impossible to locate in the far outskirts of Gotham City.
Fries bought it from a black market financier who had represented Salvatore Maroni's interests.
Before exiting through the blast door of the bunker, the Financier, who had a very muddled French-Canadian accent, turned to Fries and asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mister Zero?”
Fries' moved, but a thought occurred – he still needed to move his wife, Nora from his home to his new base of operations. He needed equipment—capital to invest in so he could obtain the cure for Nora.
“Yes, I am building a laboratory, one suitable for disease research... and well, other experimental fields, as well. I have the schematics and a list of needs. Money is no object.” Fries asked, “Is this something you can do?”
“Absolutely, how do you suppose Maroni acquired this property in the first place?” The Financier smiled wryly, “I'll make the arrangements through the appropriate channels. Anything else?”
“Hmm... in fact, I think there is one more thing.” Fries said.
“Oh yeah? And what is that, Mister Zero?” The two men had stepped out into the dense forest surrounding the bunker entrance by this point in the conversation.
“I need a professional, man or woman, who excels in close-quarters combat, weapons combat, explosives, subterfuge, and so on.” replied Fries.
“It sounds as if you need a lieutenant, my friend.”
“What I require is an 'ace' for a couple of missions, a guy who can assemble a small crew of highly talented individuals who can get obtain some very precious... cargo for me.”
“Say no more, I will see to it that this business is taken care of” said the Financier, “I will contact you with a location and a name in less than twenty four hours.”
There was not much time before the mortgage company hawks descended upon Fries' estate, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation with the help of Commissioner James Gordon, like the vultures they were, would not be far behind to pick whatever pieces were left of him. His intentions were noble, he assured himself, there were absolutely no avenues left to take. He needed to save Nora, and by breaking the complex genetic sequence which causes the degenerative condition afflicting her, he could also save millions with similar illnesses that are similar to hers. The importance, he felt, was monumental, but there was distractions, excuses, and refusals in an honest man's plea for help. Gotham lost faith in honest men, and in consequence, turns them into villains – it was no different for Harvey Dent or the Bat himself. This once honest man, and still true in his heart and his campaign, knew he must work with haste in order to stay a step ahead of the flames.
In Gotham, Special Agent Benjamin Garnet of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was pretty familiar with James Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department. They worked together on many cases, and this time would not be the exception. This particular case, however, would confound them from the onset.
“I don't know, Jim. I've seen some things, and then I've really seen some things. But this... this one I might have to put in my top five.” said Garnet.
“An entire bank frozen solid, and selectively robbed. It doesn't match anyone on our records. This is new, and I certainly hope it does not become a trend.” said Commissioner Gordon.
“You said your men found remnants of the devices used to trigger the freeze on the initial sweep upon arrival?”
“That's correct. Your explosives guy will be able to give you a better detailed analysis, but from what my men gathered, it looks like something military grade—and what appeared to be a pressurized tank which housed the cryogenic material.” Gordon continued, “No one was hurt, just temporarily kept in stasis unbeknownst to them.”
“Of course, it does seems likely that the freeze would've occurred almost instantaneously after the charges were triggered, with a very rapid rate of spreading.” Garnet paused for a moment, obviously confounded by the circumstances, “The perpetrator had to have placed the charges in stages, so we will need the archive of surveillance footage for up to a year to be safe.”
“This doesn't seem like a mob hit. Could it be the Joker?” Commissioner Gordon questioned.
“It's a possibility, but the Joker seems to be more interested in robbing the mob, right?” Garnet picked up the vault door keypad, and examined it. “Jim, this is someone new, employing tactics and devices so sophisticated that they make robbing a city bank, one of the most secure banks in the country, look like child's play. Whoever it was walked right in, and essentially waved at this vault door to render it into debris. It seems impossible, but our chemical warfare team should have an analysis on what exactly was used in these charges.”
“Perhaps it might be a good idea to pay a visit to the two corporations that lost the most in this heist: MetroPoly and Wayne Enterprises.”
“It is definitely worth a shot, but those targets could also possibly be a diversion or just easy targets. If someone had hacked into the bank's servers, it would see that MetroPoly and Wayne had the two biggest accounts here. It may be fruitful to interview the victim at the lowest end of the totem pole, Gotham University, first.”
“These rotten bastards took money from an already struggling University, the goddamn nerve.” Gordon was peeved, to say the least.
“He only removed six thousand and seven hundred and ninety-five dollars from their account. He wasn't trying to break the bank.” Garnet said, “It seems like we should strike up a conversation with their Financial department, perhaps even their alumni department as well, Jim.”
Victor Fries sat on a bench on the Gotham City Pier, which in the summer, was bustling with youth taking part in the festivities. It was after hours, so Fries was alone—the light of a single lamppost cast over him.
“You must be who I'm meeting, your name is Zer- excuse me, Mister Zero, right?” petitioned an unknown party, still cloaked in the shadow of the night.
“Have a seat.” said Fries. “We've got some business to discuss.”
“My name is Otto.” said the man, and stepped under the lamplight to reveal himself as a sturdy build with black hair and hazel eyes, clean shaven and a “professional” look. He could've been Swiss. He took a seat next to Fries on the pier bench.
“Greetings, Otto. It's a pleasure to meet you.” Fries said, “I have a job for you. LexChem on Winchester Ave on the east side of the city, in the industrial district.”
“LexChem, owned by umbrella corporation LexCorp, right? That's a pretty big job there, Mister Zero. I'm going to need-”
Fries interrupts him, “Money is no object, Otto. You will be paid handsomely.”
“Okay, that's nice, and I appreciate that. But I would also appreciate details, too. That facility is gigantic, it's practically two city blocks in size. It has to house all sorts of chemicals, what am I 'acquiring'.” said Otto.
“I need their entire stock of cryogenic chemicals, I have a list, and I will produce it.” Fries replied, handing him the list of chemicals.
“These are all inert gasses, some of this stuff you got to be able to obtain legally. Methane? Nitrogen? I mean...” Otto was no dolt, he needed answers before committing to taking such a risk.
“Sure, but not as much as I need.” said Fries.
“Okay, and how are we going to do this? I'm going to need trucks, I will need to assemble a team. I'll need a means of neutralizing targets and threats, whether it be lethal or non-lethal—it's your preference. Where's our drop zone?”
“The drop will be at laboratory, in the far outskirts of the city. I'll give you the coordinates. We will meet out there tomorrow, you'll find all the necessary supplies and commodities there.” said Fries, “Are you comfortable with the mission?”
“I think so.” Otto said, after a half second hesitation.
“Very well.” said Fries, “Now, let's do some good, shall we?”
Fries bought it from a black market financier who had represented Salvatore Maroni's interests.
Before exiting through the blast door of the bunker, the Financier, who had a very muddled French-Canadian accent, turned to Fries and asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mister Zero?”
Fries' moved, but a thought occurred – he still needed to move his wife, Nora from his home to his new base of operations. He needed equipment—capital to invest in so he could obtain the cure for Nora.
“Yes, I am building a laboratory, one suitable for disease research... and well, other experimental fields, as well. I have the schematics and a list of needs. Money is no object.” Fries asked, “Is this something you can do?”
“Absolutely, how do you suppose Maroni acquired this property in the first place?” The Financier smiled wryly, “I'll make the arrangements through the appropriate channels. Anything else?”
“Hmm... in fact, I think there is one more thing.” Fries said.
“Oh yeah? And what is that, Mister Zero?” The two men had stepped out into the dense forest surrounding the bunker entrance by this point in the conversation.
“I need a professional, man or woman, who excels in close-quarters combat, weapons combat, explosives, subterfuge, and so on.” replied Fries.
“It sounds as if you need a lieutenant, my friend.”
“What I require is an 'ace' for a couple of missions, a guy who can assemble a small crew of highly talented individuals who can get obtain some very precious... cargo for me.”
“Say no more, I will see to it that this business is taken care of” said the Financier, “I will contact you with a location and a name in less than twenty four hours.”
There was not much time before the mortgage company hawks descended upon Fries' estate, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation with the help of Commissioner James Gordon, like the vultures they were, would not be far behind to pick whatever pieces were left of him. His intentions were noble, he assured himself, there were absolutely no avenues left to take. He needed to save Nora, and by breaking the complex genetic sequence which causes the degenerative condition afflicting her, he could also save millions with similar illnesses that are similar to hers. The importance, he felt, was monumental, but there was distractions, excuses, and refusals in an honest man's plea for help. Gotham lost faith in honest men, and in consequence, turns them into villains – it was no different for Harvey Dent or the Bat himself. This once honest man, and still true in his heart and his campaign, knew he must work with haste in order to stay a step ahead of the flames.
In Gotham, Special Agent Benjamin Garnet of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was pretty familiar with James Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department. They worked together on many cases, and this time would not be the exception. This particular case, however, would confound them from the onset.
“I don't know, Jim. I've seen some things, and then I've really seen some things. But this... this one I might have to put in my top five.” said Garnet.
“An entire bank frozen solid, and selectively robbed. It doesn't match anyone on our records. This is new, and I certainly hope it does not become a trend.” said Commissioner Gordon.
“You said your men found remnants of the devices used to trigger the freeze on the initial sweep upon arrival?”
“That's correct. Your explosives guy will be able to give you a better detailed analysis, but from what my men gathered, it looks like something military grade—and what appeared to be a pressurized tank which housed the cryogenic material.” Gordon continued, “No one was hurt, just temporarily kept in stasis unbeknownst to them.”
“Of course, it does seems likely that the freeze would've occurred almost instantaneously after the charges were triggered, with a very rapid rate of spreading.” Garnet paused for a moment, obviously confounded by the circumstances, “The perpetrator had to have placed the charges in stages, so we will need the archive of surveillance footage for up to a year to be safe.”
“This doesn't seem like a mob hit. Could it be the Joker?” Commissioner Gordon questioned.
“It's a possibility, but the Joker seems to be more interested in robbing the mob, right?” Garnet picked up the vault door keypad, and examined it. “Jim, this is someone new, employing tactics and devices so sophisticated that they make robbing a city bank, one of the most secure banks in the country, look like child's play. Whoever it was walked right in, and essentially waved at this vault door to render it into debris. It seems impossible, but our chemical warfare team should have an analysis on what exactly was used in these charges.”
“Perhaps it might be a good idea to pay a visit to the two corporations that lost the most in this heist: MetroPoly and Wayne Enterprises.”
“It is definitely worth a shot, but those targets could also possibly be a diversion or just easy targets. If someone had hacked into the bank's servers, it would see that MetroPoly and Wayne had the two biggest accounts here. It may be fruitful to interview the victim at the lowest end of the totem pole, Gotham University, first.”
“These rotten bastards took money from an already struggling University, the goddamn nerve.” Gordon was peeved, to say the least.
“He only removed six thousand and seven hundred and ninety-five dollars from their account. He wasn't trying to break the bank.” Garnet said, “It seems like we should strike up a conversation with their Financial department, perhaps even their alumni department as well, Jim.”
Victor Fries sat on a bench on the Gotham City Pier, which in the summer, was bustling with youth taking part in the festivities. It was after hours, so Fries was alone—the light of a single lamppost cast over him.
“You must be who I'm meeting, your name is Zer- excuse me, Mister Zero, right?” petitioned an unknown party, still cloaked in the shadow of the night.
“Have a seat.” said Fries. “We've got some business to discuss.”
“My name is Otto.” said the man, and stepped under the lamplight to reveal himself as a sturdy build with black hair and hazel eyes, clean shaven and a “professional” look. He could've been Swiss. He took a seat next to Fries on the pier bench.
“Greetings, Otto. It's a pleasure to meet you.” Fries said, “I have a job for you. LexChem on Winchester Ave on the east side of the city, in the industrial district.”
“LexChem, owned by umbrella corporation LexCorp, right? That's a pretty big job there, Mister Zero. I'm going to need-”
Fries interrupts him, “Money is no object, Otto. You will be paid handsomely.”
“Okay, that's nice, and I appreciate that. But I would also appreciate details, too. That facility is gigantic, it's practically two city blocks in size. It has to house all sorts of chemicals, what am I 'acquiring'.” said Otto.
“I need their entire stock of cryogenic chemicals, I have a list, and I will produce it.” Fries replied, handing him the list of chemicals.
“These are all inert gasses, some of this stuff you got to be able to obtain legally. Methane? Nitrogen? I mean...” Otto was no dolt, he needed answers before committing to taking such a risk.
“Sure, but not as much as I need.” said Fries.
“Okay, and how are we going to do this? I'm going to need trucks, I will need to assemble a team. I'll need a means of neutralizing targets and threats, whether it be lethal or non-lethal—it's your preference. Where's our drop zone?”
“The drop will be at laboratory, in the far outskirts of the city. I'll give you the coordinates. We will meet out there tomorrow, you'll find all the necessary supplies and commodities there.” said Fries, “Are you comfortable with the mission?”
“I think so.” Otto said, after a half second hesitation.
“Very well.” said Fries, “Now, let's do some good, shall we?”