-Mayor Alabaster Webster-
The world is dark. I find it hard to breathe as I regain consciousness and open my eyes to nothing but more darkness. There must be a bag over my head. My hands are tied behind my back and my feet are tied to, what I assume are, the legs of the chair. I try my hardest to undo the knots that bind my hands, but it cannot be done.
“Look at you squirm.”
The man’s voice, I assume it’s a man, is wicked and deep. I now hear his feet pacing across the floor. There is another noise that’s harder to distinguish, but it sounds like scissors opening and closing, the blades sliding against each other. God, what’s he going to do with scissors?
He stops pacing and walks in my direction. The scissor sound continues as he approaches the chair. The sweat runs down my face inside the bag, stopping at my mustache and falling onto my lips. I lick my lips and taste the saltiness of the sweat. God, he’s going to kill me, isn’t he? What the hell does he want with me? I wish he would just speak again and stop toying with me.
“Who are you?”
“The better question is, who are you, Mayor Webster?”
“What?”
“Ah, yes. The true question. What are you...? I’ll tell you what you are!”
He grabs my throat and pushes the scissors up against it. Oh, God, he is going to kill me! I don’t think I’ve ever been more frightened in my life. I just wish he’d go away. Why can’t this all just be a dream? I don’t want to die.
“You, Webster, are a coward! You are corrupt! You deserve to die!”
He pushes the scissors harder against my throat. I gasp for air, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. I can feel the man’s arm shaking under my throat. He’s seething with anger. The blade slides a short distance and makes a small cut. I think I’m going to die, but the blade falls from my throat and the man steps away.
He walks around, behind the chair, and pulls the bag off of my head. Fresh air rushes into my lungs and I am blinded by the sudden light. I am in my office in the middle of the room. I try to look behind myself, but I can’t see the man. He puts his gloved hands onto my shoulders and I feel his head lower down next to my ear.
“But, you deserve to know why.”
He lets go of my shoulders and spins the chair around. What I face both disturbs and confuses me. The man is wearing a black police uniform, all under a long, black trench coat. His gloved hand clutches the scissors, pulling the glove tighter. His other hand is wrapped into a fist. This is not what disturbs me at all. Instead, it is the fact that mounted on his head is a bright, yellow helmet that looks like a smiley face. A sudden fear rushes through me and I try harder than before to break the binds on my hands.
“You were there that night. You know what happened.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Please, let me go!”
“He was there too. The bastard that stole my family from me. You knew all about it, but you did nothing. You let him come and kill. He killed and I was the object of his humiliation. He no doubt retaliated. Retaliation that could have been prevented had you done what should have been done.”
“God damn it! I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”
“The Joker!”
He points the scissors at me. His body shakes in anger.
“What?”
“If you had called off that damn party! You knew the Joker had escaped! You knew he would attack Wayne Manor! Yet, you did nothing! People died that night and people have died since then, because you failed to act!”
He approaches me again. He shoves the scissors against my throat. I can hear his breathing through the helmet. The air rushes between his clenched teeth. Spittle flies from the screen in the helmet’s mouth. He pushes the scissors harder and, once again, makes a small gash in my throat.
“You’ve been known to tell stories in the past, Webster. Would you like to hear one?”
“No…Thank you.”
“Oh, come on. It’s a really good one.”
“Please, no.”
“No?”
“No.”
“How ‘bout I tell you anyway? Hmm? Well…There was this mayor. He was the mayor of one of the biggest cities in the world. However, he’d never have made mayor, but he paid off the right people. So, this guy’s mayor and, one day, he decides to throw a party for all of the police in the city. Well, this party doesn’t go so great. A damn clown shows up (you know that no one likes clowns) and ruins the whole party. Well, one of the cops takes one of the clown’s toys and scares the piss outta him. The clown goes to an insane asylum. Well, now the story’s about the clown, ‘cause the damn clown breaks outta the asylum. The clown’s pissed at the cop that stole his toy, ya see. So, one day while the cop’s at work, the clown kills his whole damn family. Well, the cop comes home and ya know what he says?”
“No.”
“Of course not. I’m not finished. So, the cop realizes something. ‘Hey,’ he says, ‘this wouldn't've happened if the mayor would’ve stopped the party!’ Because, ya see, the mayor knew that the clown was coming. You want to hear the end?”
“No. Please, don’t. Keep those scissors away from me, please.”
“So, the cop goes to the mayor’s office and tells him a joke. This is how it goes: What happens when you cross a mayor with a pair of scissors? Go ahead. Guess.”
“I dunno.”
“Well, Webster, when you cross a mayor with a pair of scissors he bleeds.”
“What?”
Before I know what’s happening, the scissors have opened a hole in my throat. The blood flows from the wound, small amounts squirting all over. I can’t breathe and, with my hands tied up, I can’t grab my throat to stop the bleeding. My eyes are wide with the fear of death, which is surely coming. The man backs away from me and starts to laugh uncontrollably.
The world starts to turn black. My body shakes as the blood fills my lungs and I take my last breaths. The man stops laughing and looks at me. He leans down face-to-face with me, grabbing my throat.
“You look shocked, Webster. I thought you would have understood, but I guess I underestimated you. I suppose it’s not really that funny, is it? You have a family, don’t you, Webster?”
I am dying. I can’t move my own head, so he reaches up and nods it for me.
“Thought so. Imagine how they’ll feel when they find out about your death. They’ll be rather sad, I’d think…Well, imagine how I feel! They’re losing their precious daddy, but I lost everyone! I lost my family, my wife…my baby. Think about how I feel, Alabaster Webster, then think about how you helped murder my family.”
The last thought I have is of my family. God, if this man only knew how sorry I am right now. I try to say the words, but, before I can, the world disappears.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Commissioner James Gordon-
It’s been a week. One very long week in the hell that my city has become since Joker killed Robert Church’s family. There still has been no sign of the Joker and that really worries me. Things are always worse when he has time to plan. I’d like to think that he’ll stay quite for a little while longer until we can find Church, but I highly doubt that that’s going to happen.
I’m standing on the roof of Gotham Central waiting for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows what I plan to tell him. I look at my watch and see that the signal’s been on for a little over a half an hour. What’s taking him so long? He’s usually here by now.
Then again, he could be busy. This whole Church case is taking its toll on everybody. I’ve got a team of twenty of my best men out looking for Church and another thirty of my best men out looking for the Joker. Meanwhile, the streets are left protected by the worst police in Gotham City because Batman isn’t able to do his job either. I know for a fact that I’m exhausted, but he has to be twice as tired as I am right now. He’s going it alone looking for Church and Joker.
I find myself looking at my watch again. I’m becoming impatient and I shouldn’t be. I reach into my coat and pull out a pack of gum. A pull a piece and stick it in my mouth. Barbara says I should stop smoking. She said my smoking could have been based on an “oral fixation.” I’d say it was all bullshit, but the gum is actually helping. I tried to tell the say the same thing to Bullock, but he ignored me and continued to puff away on his cigar. It’s hard to quit when you’re around a chain-smoker every minute of every day.
Charlie Parker didn’t come into work at all this week. He said that he needed to be with his family right now. I can sympathize. I’d much rather be home with Barbara right now than standing on a roof chewing gum, waiting on a grown man that dresses like a bat. However, the Joker doesn’t worry me as much anymore. Sad to say, but, after all he’s done to my family, I’m not afraid of him anymore. My feelings for Joker are none but pure hatred. I’m sure that a certain former-detective has similar feelings.
I haven’t been able to sleep well this last week. The image of Church’s family haunts my thoughts. I’ve had nightmares the last seven nights. Most of the nightmares are of Church’s family and some of them are of the Joker. Some of them are of Barbara. Some of them are of Batman. No matter what they’re about, every one of them has woken me, drenched in sweat and crying. I don’t like to cry, but no man can go his whole life without shedding a tear. No man. Not even Batman.
One of the recurring nightmares is about Batman. In every nightmare I have about Batman, he kills the Joker. I guess this tells me that I’m worried about Batman. The night that Church’s family was killed, Batman confessed that he would have to kill the Joker. I tried to put the idea out of his head, but I don’t think it worked. I don’t think it’s up to me or anyone else to talk him out of it. I guess, when the time comes, he’ll have to make the choice for himself.
“Gordon.”
As my mind was wondering, I hadn’t even noticed that Batman was standing in front of me. I snap out of the trance that I’ve put myself into and, remembering that it is still in my hand, I slide the pack of gum back into my coat. I look at Batman and I can tell that he’s getting impatient. I’m not even sure how long he’s been standing there.
“Gordon.”
“I know, I know…Let me get my thoughts back in order.”
“Maybe I should come back later. I have other things to do.”
“No… I needed to talk to you about Church.”
“Have you found him?”
“No, but he’s come out of the dark. Charlie Parker saw him three nights ago in his apartment.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes.”
“I was in Charlie Parker’s apartment three nights ago. While I was there I set up a camera system.”
“So, you knew?”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, that’s impossible. I have a whole report filed by Parker that says Church was there that night.”
“He may have been, but my cameras didn’t see him.”
“Whatever. That’s not our biggest problem.”
“No?”
“Seems like some freak decided that this was the perfect time to kill the mayor.”
I reach into my coat and pull out a folder. I hand it to Batman and he looks it over before looking inside. He pulls out a photo and observes it carefully. He puts it back inside and hands the folder back to me.
“Who is it?”
“We don’t know. We have video too. Unfortunately, the video only caught the kill and then the feed was cut. We don’t know what this guy wanted, but he took the body after he got through with it. Judging by the smiley-face mask, we pinned him as one of Joker’s men.”
“No. He’s wearing a policemen’s uniform.”
“What?”
I pull the photo out and take a close look at it. Sure enough, the man in the photograph is wearing a GCPD uniform under his coat. I look at Batman more confused than I’ve ever been. I just can’t understand this. Either Joker dressed one of his guys up like a police or one of my men has lost their damn mind.
“I have something for you also.”
Batman hands me a small device. He reaches over and pushes a button on the side of it. A screen lights up and begins to display a slideshow of pictures. In every picture, there is a wall with a smiley-face spray painted on it. I shake my head in confusion.
“Did the Joker do this?”
“No, it’s too well done.”
“Do you think it was the guy in the picture?”
“More than likely.”
“So, now, not only do we have to find Church and the Joker, but we also have to find out who this maniac is?”
“You should have known that when you got the picture. What’s being done about the mayor?”
“What? Oh, nobody knows yet. We think it’d be best to keep this quite for a while. It doesn’t help that the guy took Webster’s body.”
“I have to go.”
Batman walks over to the ledge of the roof and stops there for a second. He seems to be thinking about something. That’s not hard to believe; he’s always thinking about something. He turns his head back and looks over his shoulder at me.
“I would check my sources.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?”
“That’s Parker’s coat in the picture.”
With that he jumps from the roof. Even more confused than before, I pull the picture out again. I take a hard look at the coat that the guy is wearing. Dammit! That is Parker’s coat! What the hell is going on here? This is so much more than the regular shit I have to put up with when Joker’s out. Yeah, Joker’s running free on the streets, one cop has fallen off the face of the earth, and the other cop that claims to have seen him might be out there killing people dressed in a smiley-face mask. Its times like this that make me wonder why I ever became a cop.
Why the hell do these things always have to happen in my city? For once, just once, I’d like to see the Metropolis commissioner get off his ass and do some grunt work. People say that I don’t do my job. Right! It’d sure be nice if I had a guy like Superman to do my damn job for me. No, I’ve got Batman. Not that I’m complaining, but there’s only so much that a normal man like Batman can do.
Once again having drifted off, I don’t even realize that Bullock has walked up next to me. I don’t realize he’s standing there until the smoke drifts up my nose. Dammit, Bullock! I’m throwing that damn gum away and buying a pack of cigarettes before I go home tonight. For once, I don’t give a damn what Barbara wants. I need a cigarette.
“What is it, Bullock?”
“More bad news.”
“Don’t tell me tonight. I’m going home soon.”
“I don’t think this can wait, Commish.”
“Dammit…Lay it on me.”
“We think we found Joker.”
“And that’s bad news?”
“Well, we didn’t exactly find him. More like he’s made a move.”
“Who did he kill?”
“I don’t know how to say this, but…God, Jim, I dunno…”
“Spit it out, Bullock.”
“Joker killed…Robin.”
This better be a damn joke or my night’s really going to Hell.