This is the first chapter in my Batman prose Bad Jokes. I've been working on this book for almost two years now and I hope that I can go somewhere with it. In every chapter, a different character narrates. In this first chapter, Batman is the narrator. If it helps, imagine this as a graphic novel in your head.
He's escaped again. Over a decade I've worn the cape and cowl and Arkham still can't contain him. All the people he has hurt and still he walks free. I look to Jason's old costume hanging in its case across the room. It's been almost six years since I lost him to that laughing lunatic. Six long years. After all this time, I still don't know who is behind that horrid grin.
The Joker.
Joker has never, and will never be like my other enemies. Men and Women like Harvey and Pamela, people who I knew before they transformed into monsters. As human beings, they could be broken; as people they have boundaries, however little. Joker, however, is not, in my eyes, by any means, a human being. He has no boundaries. No limits to (what he considers) his jokes. No remorse for those he has slaughtered. He beat Jason to death and left him in a burning building, he shot Barbara Gordon and paralyzed her from the waist down, and he shot Commissioner James Gordon’s wife, Lt. Sarah Essen. These three only go as far as those closest to me, not to mention the countless others that have died at his hands.
I sit at the computer, staring back at the grin that threatens me with its ghastly, yellowed teeth. The red lips shimmer on the screen, the green hair falling wildly over the pale face. The eyes are yellow at the iris and small, red veins bloodshot the whites in a devious glare. The secondary screens to my left and right glow with the little record information. No links whatsoever. His DNA matches none that has been tested. He has no known family. Who was Joker before he came to be? What turned him into this monster? Then, some have asked the same of me.
I feel Alfred behind me, but keep my eyes on the screen. He sets a tray on a small table to my left. Tomato soup. I have no time for food. I reach back behind my head, grabbing the cowl that dangles from the back of my neck. I slowly pull it forwards and over my face, adjusting it perfectly. I stand and walk by Alfred towards the car.
"Leaving without your dinner, Master Bruce?" I ignore Alfred and slide into the car.
"I'll be back by midnight."
I rev the engine and disappear in a blink. The lights along the tunnel walls fly by and blur together as one long, white strip. A red light blinks on the dash. Gordon has raised the signal. He's going to tell me Joker has escaped. Most likely will also tell me he's already killed someone. The entire trip is fruitless, but it gives Gordon some comfort.
I flip on the clock inside my cowl's HUD: 10:30. Early for Batman. My patrol usually starts at midnight apart from ending, but Bruce Wayne has a reputation to uphold. The Midnight Policemen's Ball is tonight and Bruce Wayne was kind enough to allow it to be hosted at Wayne Manor. A bad move on Batman's part but, necessary to maintain the illusion. Not finding the Joker tonight is not an option. If Gordon knew about me, he would know what I must do to keep my identity safe.
The wall before me rises into darkness and I fly off a short ramp into the Gotham night. The alley is narrow, and (were I not an experienced driver) I would have crashed the car straight into the brick walls to my sides. Dick always wondered why he couldn't drive car. The Batmobile, he calls it, is not to be taken lightly. I myself have had a few close calls.
The tires squeal as I turn out of the alley. Above, in Gotham's blood-red sky, the signal reflects off of large, black storm clouds. The rain begins almost as soon as I turn around the next corner. Gordon's going to get wet. People on the streets and in their homes see the car, see the signal, yet some still don't believe. Then, I'm not doing this to be known, to be seen. No, I'm doing this so that what happened to me won't happen to anyone else. Thinking of that, I think of Dick, and how my childhood horrors had repeated themselves. Already I have failed to do as promised. So, why do I continue to do what I do?
Gotham city needs Batman.
I need Batman.
I make a sharp turn and stop in the alley that runs along side the Gotham City Police Department. I step out of the car and the rain quickly soaks me. I reach for my belt and grab the grapnel. I launch the hook high above my head and in seconds am soaring upward. I release the line about ten feet above the GCPD rooftop and, with my cape, glide to rest behind Gordon.
"Commissioner Gordon."
Gordon spins quickly on his heels and, seeing me, grabs at his chest.
"How I've not had a heart attack I'll never know. I swear you'll be the death of me."
"I doubt it."
"Bad news-"
"Joker's broken out of Arkham."
"How did you-?"
"The last time Joker escaped I placed a system of small cameras around Arkham's perimeter.”
"Well, there's been no sign of him or any of his affiliates since he's escaped. I begin to worry."
"He hasn't made a move?"
"Not that we know of. Bullock thinks he might try something at the Policemen's Ball tonight."
"I'll keep an eye out for him.”
"In the mean time, I think it would be best to establish a perimeter around Wayne Manor."
Seconds later I am gone from Gordon's view and back on the ground. Need to get back to the cave. I slide back into the car and take off as fast as possible. Have to get back to Wayne Manor before the police arrive. As the host of the ball Bruce Wayne needs to be there. I press my index finger to the side of my cowl, and, with a second of static, Alfred speaks into my ear.
"Yes, Master Bruce?"
"Alfred, should the police arrive before I do, tell them I'm showering."
"In trouble with the law, are we, sir?"
"Gordon wants to establish a perimeter."
"Very well. I shall prepare your tuxedo immediately, sir."
And with that I cut the connection. I hydroplane around the next corner. I know the city like the back of my hand, but I can’t predict the placement of puddles. Have to slow down, but there’s no time. Bruce Wayne has been a no-show in the past, but tonight has to be present. I turn another corner and slide across the street, brushing against a parked car. I memorize the license plate. I’ll have Alfred send them a check.
I fly over a hill, landing the front of the car hard on the wet pavement. The steel grinds against the road and sparks spit upward. The back end suddenly swerves to the right, bashing into a light pole. The car spins completely around, the front left side swinging towards a brick wall. The front hits, and my body is thrashed back and forth. All movement suddenly stops and my neck is left soar from whiplash. I release my seat belt and slide out of the car.
Dammit.
I look the car over. Too beat up to drive home. Too far from home to make it on foot. I got in a hurry, got distracted, and lost control. It doesn’t happen often. If only I had stayed focused. I was thinking like Bruce Wayne, not Batman.
Dick wondered why he couldn’t ever drive the car.
Have to get the car off the street. Drive it to one of the many stations I’ve set up in the city. One near here. From there I can get back to Wayne Manor via a tunnel under the city. Fewer obstacles that way. A straight run back to the cave.
I get back into the car and slide into the driver’s seat. The engine is hesitant to start. After the third try the car roars to life. The windshield is cracked; can’t see out of it. I punch my fist through the glass, creating a hole large enough to see through. There’s a large gash running along the back of my hand. I ignore it and slowly creep away towards the station nearest my location.
Forgive the formatting, but I can't really do anything about it. Not much is happening in this chapter, but, trust me, it gets a little more interesting. Hopefully, someday, you'll be able to read the whole novel.