-Commissioner James Gordon-
When I regain consciousness, I awake to more darkness.
I have no idea where I am and I don’t have any recollection of how I got here. If I know one thing it’s that my head feels like it’s splitting in two. I faintly remember being drugged, which would explain the headache, but everything else is still very foggy.
I decide to stand up, but I find that my arms and legs are tied to the chair in which I’m sitting. I struggle with the ropes, but whoever tied them knew what they were doing. I’ve also become suddenly aware that I’m wearing nothing but my boxers, which helps in remembering that I had been trying to sleep when this happened.
Nothing from recent memory seems to be all that clear. I remember everything in long-term, but everything from the last few weeks seems so unclear. I know that something tragic has happened and that Batman and I were working to capture the perpetrator, but I don’t remember the specifics. Maybe whoever we were after hit me with some kind of drug that would erase my memory to make him harder to catch.
I stop fiddling with the ropes and just relax. Whoever tied me to this chair is going to come back for me, otherwise I’d be dead. Therefore, I’m just going to wait things out and hope that someone comes into this room sometime soon. I wish my hands weren’t tied down so I could rub my head. My skull feels it’s about to explode. That’s not even mentioning the extra bit of a headache I’m getting from squinting in the darkness without my glasses.
I do wish that whoever had done this had had the decency to give me some clothes. It’s humiliating to sit here tied to this chair in nothing but my underwear. A robe or anything simple would have done. It’s also terribly cold in this darkness and I’m shivering without something to cover me up. God, I hope I’m not in a freezer.
It isn’t too long before a voice that isn’t my own echoes through the room.
“Are you comfortable, Commissioner?” asks a hauntingly familiar voice.
I stare through the darkness, looking for the source of the voice. I eventually give up and just look to the ceiling. I guess if I can’t look this person in the face, then I’ll just look up.
“You couldn’t put me some place warmer?” I respond.
“My apologies,” the voice laughs, “I hadn’t thought of how cold you’d be in your underwear.”
“Why are you keeping me here? Who are you?”
“You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
“It’s all a mess in my head. If you hadn’t have drugged me, my memory would still be in order.”
“Well, Scarecrow can be a bit rash. He must have taken it personal when he threw the powder at you. I had ordered a weak sedative, but to each his own.”
Scarecrow? More of what had happened returns to me. Scarecrow threw that pouch of powder at my face and that’s what knocked me unconscious. However, that’s all that I remember apart from the fact that he wasn’t alone when he did it. I still can’t pin down whose voice it is that is speaking to me.
“Well, you above anybody else should know what’s going on here. So, why don’t you fill in the gaps in my memory?” I bark.
“Oh, don’t worry, Commissioner. I’ll be down in a minute or so, and then I’ll do more than tell you what you already knew.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?”
No answer.
My mind goes off the subject at hand as the room seems to get colder. I’m shivering so hard now that the chair I’m sitting in could very well tip over. I pull my arms and legs as close to my body as possible. My teeth are chattering it’s so cold. I’m either in some kind of freezer, or I’m going into some kind of shock from that powder that Scarecrow threw at me. As much as I hate either of those options, I’m actually hoping for the former.
I look around me, hoping that my eyes will adjust to the darkness so that I can make out my surroundings. I can hope all I want, but everything remains hidden in the black. Whatever kind of room I’m in, the door must be sealed tightly as no light at all is entering the room.
The tips of my fingers are starting to go numb from the cold. I must be in a freezer because no other room would get this cold by itself early autumn. I’ve had to keep my feet off of the floor to avoid the burning, cold steel. Unfortunately, I can’t even get my hands together to rub them for warmth. I rub my arms up and down the sides of my body, which helps a little, but it doesn’t warm as much as needed. I’m also able to rub my feet together, but my feet aren’t nearly as cold as the rest of my body.
While I wait for my mystery capture to come in and talk to me, I try to remember the events of weeks prior. Whatever I do, I can’t seem to put any two things together. Right now my short-term memory is nothing but a series of random flashes and blurred faces. I’m sure everything will come back to me once Scarecrow’s drug wears off, but for right now I’m completely oblivious.
Damn, I could use a cigarette right now. That is one thing I remember from recent weeks, Barbara trying to get me to quit smoking, but she’s been trying to make me quit her whole life. I’d even settle for some of that chewing gum right now. This cold is drying my mouth out.
A minute or two later I hear a loud clanking sound from just outside the room. The sound repeats another three times, every time coming from directly in front of me. After the last clank, a large, thin square of light appears at my front. There is a horribly loud creaking as the light grows larger and brighter. Many things start to fall and shatter on the floor. I close my eyes as not to be blinded by the light. When the light is at its brightest, warm air floods into the room like a sweet kiss from God.
Before I have a chance to open my eyes again, I am cut free from the chair, grabbed by the arm, and thrown into the light. As much as it hurts when my face hits the rough concrete, I’m overjoyed to be out of that hellishly cold room. I open my eyes partially, only letting a small fraction of the blinding light in, and look back at the room behind me. As I had thought, I was being kept in a freezer.
“I trust you’ll be more comfortable out here in the warmth, Commissioner?” a blurred figure asks as he stands over me.
I slowly get up to my feet, shaking off the cold all the while. Once I’m up, I rub my eyes and try to get the best look at the person standing before me. Without my glasses I can’t really see much of anything. The effects of Scarecrow’s drug don’t exactly help with my vision either.
“Glad to see the freezer hasn’t harmed you,” the voice goes on. “I hadn’t planned on keeping you in there for so long, but we had some trouble with one of our other captives.”
Through the fog I can see the man reach into his jacket and retrieve something. The man grabs my hand and, ever so gently, places something in my palm. Feeling the object with my fingers for a moment I realize that he’s handed me a pair of glasses. I slide the spectacles on and blink my eyes as I wait for my vision to return.
“Those should make it easier to continue this conversation,” he says.
My vision starts to return and I can make out more details in the man’s appearance. The man stands a few inches higher than I do. He has a very muscular build under his long, leather coat, under which is what appears to be a policemen’s uniform.
It’s when I look at his face that everything from the last few weeks starts to flood back to me. I know who this is now, but I’ve never seen him like this before. Gone is the bright, yellow helmet which is modeled after a smiley face. For the first time, I’m seeing this monster without his face being hidden. The thing is, I’ve seen this face before and it confirms what everyone has suspected all along.
“Robert Church?” I ask groggily.
“Please, Commissioner,” Church smirks, “call me Bo.”
This is impossible. Everyone had thought Church was Joke-Man all along, but to see him here now just seems like some kind of horrible nightmare. Church looks like he’s been through Hell. His eyes look sunk in with dark circles surrounding them. The eyes themselves are bloodshot like I’ve never seen. His skin is terribly pale, but then again that could be attributed to his constant wearing of the helmet. The helmet is tucked under his right arm, which I just now noticed.
“Why aren’t you wearing it?” I ask, pointing to the helmet.
“Because this is the third joke,” Church replies coldly.
“So, now you’re going to kill me? These ‘jokes’ are supposed to teach me lessons, as you put it. So, what lesson am I supposed to learn from you killing me?”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Commissioner. I’m not going to kill you.”
“So, what’s the joke? What’s the lesson?”
“The joke is this: Why did the chicken cross the road?”
“Seriously?”
“Just answer, Commissioner.”
“Well, the answer’s always been ‘to get to the other side.’”
“Wrong, Commissioner. It’s not always that. Sometimes it’s ‘to get away from the fox on the former side.’”
“So, where’s the lesson in that?”
“The lesson is this: Things are not always what they seem.”
With that, Church steps aside and points to a doorway behind him. I look at him for an explanation, but all he does is nod as if I should already understand. I take this chance to look behind me, wanting to know who it was that pulled me out of the freezer. Killer Croc’s massive form towers over me from behind. I turn back around, not wanting to upset the giant and decide to go on ahead into the next room.
As I pass Church, he follows behind me. He obviously wants to see my reaction to whatever lays inside that room. I can hear Croc’s heavy footsteps, which tells me that he’s following me also. “Things are not always as they seem.” Whatever that’s supposed to mean in regard to what’s in that room has me worried. The first “joke” took the lives of two of my best officers and the second tricked us into believing that Robin was Joke-Man, so I don’t want to know what Church has in store for this final showing.
I step through the doorway into a dark room. I can’t make out much more than what the light from the other room shines on, which is only about ten feet into the room. Church joins me in the room, standing to my right. I can feel Croc’s nasty breath as he stands right behind the both of us. My pulse quickens as I wait for something to happen. There are some faint sounds traveling through the darkness. The general air of the room makes it feel like there are many more people in here than just the three of us.
“Lights please,” Church shouts, his voice echoing through the darkness.
A second later, one of Ivy’s vines peeks into the light and snakes its way along the floor towards us. I’m worried for a moment until the vine passes by me and goes on towards the doorway. I turn around and watch as the vine stops at the doorway and starts to crawl up the wall. A second later, the vine must have hit a switch because the room becomes filled with light.
I wish I could erase what I see when I turn back around.
Standing before me in the large room are hundreds of men and women. I’ve seen everyone one of them before. I’ve known most of them on a very personal level. I’ve worked with so many of them for years. Worst of all…
…these people are supposed to be dead.
Standing before me are all of the police officers that were supposedly in Gotham Central when it blew up just a week or so ago.
“This…this is…” I barely manage to mutter.
“Impossible?” Church offers. “No, Commissioner, those boxers are impossible. This is real.”
“How could…I don’t understand.”
“There’s not much you do need to understand. However, understand this:” Church says as he steps in front of me, “I’m showing you this because I want you to see how you’ve failed. I want to show you how badly you’ve let things in this city slip through your fingers.”
Church puts his hand on my shoulder.
“However, there’s something else I have to show you first,” Church says with a laugh. “Lower the lard ass!”
Church points to the ceiling. As I pull my eyes away from the crowd in front of me, which is hard to do, my eyes fixate on the squirming feet coming down from above. The figure of a short, fat man comes down from the ceiling, dangling from a hook and chain. The man tries to break his bindings, but his efforts are futile. His mouth is also taped at least ten times over to keep him quiet. The man is soon dangling just a few feet above the crowd on the floor.
Alabaster Webster has certainly never looked worse.
After seeing so many people alive that I had thought dead, seeing Webster now is hardly shocking. I’ll admit I had not expected this, but I’m still reeling from the sight of Mason and Cotner standing out front of the crowd.
“Heartbreaking, isn’t it?” Church giggles. “You know, he looks just like one of the pigs they used to butcher in this building. How are you today, Webster?”
Webster replies with many muffled shouts and squeals.
“Not much of a conversationalist, is he?” Church asks.
“What is all of this? If you didn’t really kill any of these people, then why did you want us to think that you did?” I ask.
“Honestly? Well, let’s just say that I’ve come to a conclusion about this city. You see, Gotham caters to the insane criminal. When you have a masked vigilante like Batman roaming the rooftops, some odd characters are bound to come out of the woodwork. This brings me to my next point…”
Church’s gang of Arkham inmates steps out of the crowd. Croc steps around me and joins the group, though he seems to do so somewhat reluctantly. The Ventriloquist and Scarface, Clayface, Scarecrow, Riddler, Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, and Two-Face all lined up in a row of insanity.
“Just look at this sad little group,” Church says as he walks over to them. “So many of them here in this room tonight, and yet so many more of the escaped Arkham inmates roam the streets right now, waiting for a chance to make the kill.”
Church walks over to the first in line of the group, The Ventriloquist, and puts his hand on the short, old man’s shoulder.
“Arnold Wesker,” Church announces as he pats the man’s shoulder, “though most know him better as The Ventriloquist, is a sad excuse for a man.”
“Back off, ugly!” Scarface yells.
“Quiet, puppet,” Church growls. “Arnold Wesker is so sick in the brain that he believes that his puppet, Scarface, is controlling him as opposed to him controlling the puppet. Quite dangerous considering that the puppet likes to steal and murder”
“You get that damn hand outta here before I bite those fingers off!” Scarface yells again.
Church moves on to Clayface.
“Now this is a curious case,” Church says, waving his hand in front of his nose as if he smells something awful. “Clayface here, born with the name Matthew Hagen, has many peculiar abilities. Most notably, Clayface can make himself appear to be any person he chooses. Clayface is a truly damaged individual, so some of his sins are forgivable. However, the precious doctors at Arkham have failed to rehabilitate Hagen’s damaged mind, which leaves Gotham shadowed by this dangerous individual.”
Church shrugs and moves down the line to Scarecrow.
“Doctor Jonathan Crane!” Church exclaims as he throws his arm around Scarecrow. Scarecrow squirms uneasily and grunts. “The good doctor is quite brilliant in retrospect. Maybe he’s a little too brilliant. It’s never good to get caught up in your work. Crane is so obsessed with fear that he decided to test his fear gas on his patients. Then, he put two and two together and decided to use this gas as a weapon to steal and murder throughout Gotham. This obsession of his also destroyed his mind. However, he is good at singing songs and rehearsing poetry.”
Church glares over at me. He’s being terribly sarcastic in trying to get his point across, which I’m not sure what his point really is. Everything he’s saying is facts that I already know.
Church moves on to Riddler next.
“The Riddler,” Church laughs. “The name says enough.”
Church moves on to Poison Ivy, leaving Nigma looking a little insulted.
“Pamela Isley is a beautiful, sexy woman,” Church coos, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her shoulder. “However, one kiss from this diva and you’ll fall under her control. This witch also has the ability to call gigantic, deadly plants to her aid. ‘Nuff said!”
Kissing Ivy’s shoulder one last time, Church let’s go of her waist and moves on to Croc. Ivy seemed to be enjoying Church’s affections, which leaves me wondering where the two stand together.
“Waylon Jones looks like a monster,” Church starts again, smacking the behemoth’s massive chest, “but he’s really just a big old’ softy. All Croc wants is to be a man again. This horrifying exterior has robbed him of his sanity and driven him to cannibalism. Dangerous, but damaged nonetheless.”
Croc stares at me and growls as Church steps over to the last in line.
“Now, last but not least, we have former District Attorney Harvey ‘Two-Face’ Dent,” Church announces in an angry tone as he pinches Dent’s left cheek. “Dent is the one true example of Gotham’s victimization of her own people. A man of great hope in the prime of his career torn down to half a man by the very city he was trying to protect.”
Church steps away from the group and makes his way back towards me.
“Do you understand now, Commissioner?” Church asks.
“What’s to understand? Everything you’ve said has been said before. I know it all. What’s your point?” I ask.
Church lowers his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He laughs quietly to himself. I truly don’t understand what he’s trying to tell me. Maybe if I was thinking straight it would all make more sense, but I’m still trying to comprehend how Webster and the others are still alive.
“The point is this!” Church shouts angrily as he gets up in my face, pointing at the Arkham inmates. “Look at them! This is the result of your ill-fated logic! You let these monsters run all over you because you’re afraid to do anything about it! Insanity is an excuse! You think they’re sick and that killing them is wrong, but that’s all a twisted lie! These people are monsters! There’s nothing wrong with their brains! They know exactly what they’re doing! These monsters kill people because they like it! They steal because they like it! They are evil because they are monsters, not because of schizophrenia or multiple personalities or bipolar! They are monsters! That’s what you’re doing to your city.”
I let what he’s said sink in for a minute.
“Well, if that’s true,” I respond, “then why are you working with them?”
Church laughs quietly again.
“I am working with these monsters for only one reason,” Church seethes. “There is another monster out there on the streets of Gotham that makes even the worst of these freaks cringe. There is a monster out there that kills and kills again with no remorse. These freaks behind me kill, but they kill with a purpose. That bastard kills with no purpose at all! We all hate him! We all want him dead! For years you and the bat have failed to do what is necessary! For years you’ve let that monster destroy countless lives! Now, I’m going to give Gotham what she deserves!”
“Joker,” I mutter.
“Yes, the Joker.”
“Killing Joker won’t bring your family back.”
“No, it won’t, but it will keep anyone else from ever losing their family. That’s why I’ve set all of this up. I blew up Gotham Central and Thomas Wayne Elementary just for tonight. I wanted you to think these people dead and then be surprised to learn that they were working with me. Does it make sense to you now? Every single person in this room is here tonight because they want to see Joker dead. That’s the magnitude of it all. I want you to look at all of these people and see how wrong you’ve been.”
I look around the room. There are so many people gathered here tonight and every one of them is here because they want the Joker to die. I can’t believe the hell that everyone has gone through to get to this night. Were the families of these officers aware of this plan? Would they have made their loved ones suffer so one man could die?
“What has happened to this city?” I ask, addressing the crowd.
“What has happened indeed,” Church growls.
“Don’t any of you believe in Gotham? You’ve all united to kill one man! This is not the way to bring peace! With this kind of thinking, Gotham will never escape the shadow that looms over her! This is your cause? Where were all of you when Gotham was declared a No Man’s Land? Where were you then?”
The crowd, Church included, is silent.
“Where was your unity then?”
“These people don’t need any convincing, Commissioner,” Church says as he leads me out of the room. “Regardless of past mistakes, this is something they believe must be done. Joker is far too dangerous to be kept alive.”
“You’ve convinced them that you’re right, but you’re not. Killing the Joker will solve nothing.”
“That kind of thinking is going to lose you this city. You put your faith in a vigilante that doesn’t have what it takes to fulfill his mission. One day, people like me will be running Gotham and no one will have to listen to your ridiculous, weak philosophies.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then you might as well kill me now.”
Church laughs as we continue to walk through the building away from the room we were just in.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Commissioner,” Church boasts. “The monsters kill the innocents; I kill the monsters.”
“Then what are you going to do when you have to deal with our monster?” I ask.
“Batman? Let Batman kill me if he thinks I’m so dangerous.”
With that, Church throws me into a room to our left. As soon as I fall into the room, Church slams the door shut and locks it. I jump to the door and struggle with the knob, but it’s locked tight.
“Don’t bother, Commissioner,” Church says as he dangles the keys in front of a window in the door. “Don’t feel so down. You’re not alone in there.”
I look around the room and almost immediately see Green Arrow lying in the corner with blood all over his face.
“He’s not dead,” Church says, answering the question in my mind as I look back through the window. “He tried to escape and Croc had to rough him up a bit.”
“What’s he doing here?” I ask.
“He was caught snooping around Scarecrow’s drug production. I figured someone would come looking for Crane once Batman learned about the Webster tape being doctored. I had hoped Nightwing would have been the one to spring the trap so we could use him with Robin to draw in Joker, but this is satisfactory.”
“What are you going to do with us?”
“I’m going to keep the both of you here until I’ve finished Joker. We wouldn’t want you helping Batman now, would we?”
Church pulls his helmet back over his head.
“You won’t even lay a finger on Joker,” I seethe.
“Oh, come on, Commissioner,” Church says as he walks away from the window, “put on a happy face!”
God, I hope Batman can stop him. Otherwise this city is going to eat itself alive.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Batman-
“Master Bruce.”
I slowly open my eyes, hoping that everything that’s happened has been a dream.
“Master Bruce, it’s eleven o’ clock. You told me to wake you, remember?”
I lift my head, shaking away my groggy demeanor. Alfred is standing in the doorway, as expected, with the cape and cowl draped over his right arm. I rub my eyes as I sit up and stretch my legs. When my feet hit the floor, I’ve never hesitated more in my life to stand up. I look back over to Alfred and he gives an understanding nod.
“It’s never been fair, has it?” I ask.
“Your life or mine?” Alfred asks, cocking his brow.
As troubling as tonight may be, I manage to grin at the old man’s joke. If I had had to go through everything alone, I don’t know where I’d be today. Without Alfred I’d probably be dead, or I’d be an inmate at Arkham myself. That old man is the one thing that has kept me sane for all of these years.
I finally get to my feet and meet Alfred at the doorway. I set a few hours aside to let myself rest before I run into the hell that Joke-Man plans to unleash tonight. Dick has also been resting in his old room. I often abuse myself with sleep deprivation, but tonight I must be completely alert.
“Is Dick ready?” I ask as I take the cape and cowl from Alfred.
“He’s been doing somersaults across the cave as he waits for you, sir,” Alfred says with a hint of bemusement.
“Good. What of Oliver? Has he still not returned?”
“I’m afraid Mr. Queen has yet to resurface.”
“He’s been taken hostage then,” I growl as I fasten the cape around my neck and pull the cowl over my face. To save time, I had been sleeping already wearing the rest of the suit. Now, all but my boots and gloves are on and ready. Alfred, sensing my next notion, hands me the gloves and puts the boots at my feet. I slide my feet into the boots (Alfred helps pull them on) and pull the gloves over my hands one at a time. Fully garbed now, I push past Alfred and make my way down the hall towards the cave entrance.
“Might it not be out of the question to say that Mr. Queen may no longer be among the living?” Alfred asks.
“If Oliver is dead it’s because Joke-Man was foolish enough to work with the Arkham inmates. Other than that, I know that Joke-Man wouldn’t have killed Oliver himself.”
“How can you be so sure? He’s a very dangerous man.”
“Dangerous, yes, but only to himself and others like him.”
“I beg your pardon? Did this man not kill more than half of the Gotham City Police?”
“I’ll review the evidence when we get to the cave, and then maybe things will start to make more sense to you.”
It’s not long before I reach the stairs. I quickly descend the flight, leaving Alfred a considerable way behind me. I don’t have very much time to spare letting the old man catch up. I have a short half-hour window to debrief everyone before I must leave. There is to be no mistake. I will be the only one going into the city tonight. Dick can argue all he wants, but he’ll be staying here. What’s to happen tonight is between Joke-Man, Joker, and I.
As I pass through the rooms of my father’s home, so much is one my mind. The immediate thought is what’s to happen tonight. In the same vein, I’m worried for Tim’s safety. Strangely, I’m also worried whether or not Joke-Man will kill Joker. A murderer or not, no one’s life deserves to be in another’s hands.
However, as I pass through these quiet, old rooms I can’t help but think of my parents. I’ve always told Dick and Tim that they should never forget what happened to their parents, that their deaths should be a constant reminder of the mission. Whether they choose to heed my advice or not, I most certainly do. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t relive my parents’ death. The day that I forget will be the day that I’m reunited with them.
Eventually, I reach the grandfather clock in the study. Opening the glass that covers the clock’s face, I spin the big hand around a full 360 degrees. There is a soft click, to which I respond by moving the little hand counterclockwise 360 degrees. There is an even louder click and I complete the sequence by pressing the numbers 1-9-3-9. The clock then pulls away from the wall, revealing the entrance to the cave.
I quickly descend the long flight of stairs before me down into the faintly lit cavern. I can hear Alfred’s footsteps behind me, keeping pace as best as he can. This has always been the main entrance to the cave. After so many years I’ve dug many tunnels and entrances, but the clock in the study has always been the first choice. I designed the simple mechanism with nothing but gears and switches, but no one has broken through it yet.
My immediate sight when I reach the bottom of the steps is Dick somersaulting across the floor. I pass by him without much care and make my way directly towards the computer. I can hear him stop suddenly. His footsteps return and quickly grow closer. He’s soon walking next to me.
“I know you don’t want my help tonight, but I’m hoping you’ll reconsider,” Dick pleas.
“Have I ever been that reasonable?” I ask.
“No, but I’d hoped that maybe you’d turn over a new leaf.”
“Well, if you’re ever Batman, then you can be as lenient as you want.”
“I was Batman for a while actually. You broke your back, remember?”
“And how did that go?”
“Dude, your cape is way too heavy.”
It’s nice to have Dick around. I’ve never told him that and I probably never will, but having him around makes everything so much easier. Tim is a joy himself, but something about Dick reminds me how good life really can be. However, that’s the one problem with having Dick around. I forget the pain. My pain is what drives me and I don’t want to forget it.
After crossing bridges and going down more stairs, I make it to the computer. Everything that I need is already open. All I need do is click and the windows will appear on the screen. With a press of a button, the computer begins to contact Barbara.
“O’ here,” Barbara chirps.
“Evening, Babs,” Dick returns. “Nice weather we’re having, eh? Good jogging weather.”
“Funny…”
“Shall we begin?” I ask, looking to the both of them.
Dick and Barbara both nod.
“Let me make something clear: what’s going to happen tonight could destroy this city and me along with it. I need to be confident that the two of you will be prepared to protect Gotham should I fall,” I say authoritatively.
“You know we do,” Dick says.
Barbara nods.
“Very well,” I mutter as I open all of the information on the computer screen. “This is mostly for you to know, Barbara, so that you can make a secure record.”
“Just send me the files,” Barbara volunteers.
“Last night I sent Dick and Oliver out into Gotham to investigate Joke-Man’s activities. I sent Oliver to find Scarecrow, who we believe was involved in the supposed murder of Mayor Webster. Oliver, regrettably, has yet to return. Dick was sent to search the ruins of Gotham Central for remains of the fallen officers. There were no remains.”
“Wait! What?”
“As I had suspected, no one was in Gotham Central when it exploded. Joke-Man faked the entire tragedy. Therefore, it is likely that the formerly deceased are working very closely with Joke-Man. When I myself searched the remains of Thomas Wayne Elementary for traces of officers Cotner and Mason I found nothing. The only things the officers left behind were the fingerprints I found in the school’s basement storage.”
“Let me get this straight. Joke-Man didn’t kill anybody?”
“As far as the new evidence shows, Joke-Man has murdered no one.”
“So, all of those officers were working with Joke-Man?”
“There are few other conclusions to make.”
“My father is going to freak when he hears about this!”
“Your father likely already knows. After I had finished my investigation, I went looking for Gordon. He’s no where to be found.”
“That freak has my dad?”
“Joke-Man won’t kill your father. He’s already shown that his one true target is Joker. Joke-Man wants revenge, not to kill innocents.”
“You can try to convince me after you’ve found my father!”
With that, Barbara has gone. I don’t bother to reconnect the communication. She’s angry and she has every right to be. I envy her in ways. Every night her father goes out into a dangerous city and he always comes home. No one could understand what I would give if my father could come home to me.
I turn to Dick.
“I hope now that you can realize how serious this now is,” I say, moving closer to him.
“In ways, I guess,” Dick replies, shrugging.
“Joke-Man has nearly all of Gotham’s police under his influence. If Joke-Man’s philosophy wins out tonight, then the whole city will turn on itself. The Arkham inmates will all be murdered, but that will only be the beginning. After that, they’ll turn on us. What they believe to be weakness will have to be cast out. Anyone who opposes them will be swiftly cut down. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but I wish I didn’t.”
“If I should die tonight, you and the others are solely responsible for upholding justice in this city. True justice, not their sick, twisted view of justice. You know what I believe in and you know that, though difficult to wrestle with at times, that belief is right.”
“Human life must never be taken.”
“Yes.”
“I swear, I’ll keep fighting them until this city eats me alive.”
I turn to Alfred.
“Alfred, if I should die,” I say with absolutely no emotion, “you are to leave Gotham and never come back. Once I’m gone, I don’t want you to bother yourself with this insanity anymore.”
“Frankly, Master Bruce,” Alfred replies as he puts his hands on my shoulders, “I won’t be going anywhere for a long time.”
I brush Alfred’s hands away, patting him gently on the shoulder as I walk past him. The car sits in front of me, freshly repaired. I push the button on my belt that opens roof and I slowly walk over to the car. For what seems like the longest time, I stand by the car. Why does it feel like this will be the last time I will ever drive the car? With the weight of everything on me, this really does feel like the end.
I shove all of the negatives thoughts out of my mind and return my focus to the matter at hand. I get into the car and, looking back at Alfred and Dick for what may be the last time, I fire up the engine. Alfred made some improvements when he repaired the car, I can tell. After quickly closing the roof of the car, I disappear into the exit tunnel.
I’ve fought nearly my whole life to protect Gotham, but tonight it might all have been in vain. I may have sworn to uphold justice and battle evil, but what threatens my city tonight isn’t evil. Joke-Man’s philosophy is no mercy for the wicked. He doesn’t understand what murder makes a person into. Murdering a murderer may end one’s pain, but then you yourself become a murderer.
I may die tonight, but it’s not my life that I fear for. I go into the darkness of Gotham every night knowing that I could die. I’m not necessary for Gotham’s protection; I’ve trained many that will take my place. The true tragedy would be this: if Joker dies at Joke-Man’s hands, the city will uphold him as a hero and uphold his beliefs.
Things would be different if it were someone else. If Two-Face killed Joker, no one would care all that much. People would be happy to see Joker gone. Even if I would kill Joker, things would not be so grave. The city would turn on me, but not itself. If Joke-Man kills Joker, murder will become the answer and Gotham will be lost.
Should I fall tonight, I’ll have no choice but to take Joke-man down with me.