(NOTE: When I had decided to stop posting this I deleted all of the pictures I had stored for each chapter, so there aren't any pictures with these two chapters. If it's big deal just let me know in the comment section and I'll start putting pictures in again.)
Batman
“What will be your choice of action, Master Bruce?”
“I have no choice, Alfred; I have to find Tim.”
“I have a feeling that there is more to this than this Joke-Man character is letting on.”
“Exactly. Before we can know exactly where Tim is, though, we have to figure out who Joke-Man is.”
“Your suspects should be rather narrowed down now, correct? Joke-Man put it quite bluntly: he’s in the Church home.”
“No he isn’t, but that is a huge piece in this puzzle. From the photo that Gordon showed me I could tell that Joke-Man was wearing Charlie Parker’s coat. He was also wearing a policemen’s uniform.”
“So, you think that Joke-Man is Charlie Parker?”
“Not exactly. Joke-Man could very well be Robert Church. If Joke-Man is including the Church home in this then it means that whoever’s behind that mask was very close to the Church family; or, they were a part of the family.”
“What else do you have to go on?”
“Parker’s report. Parker claimed that Church visited him the same night that I did. I’m inclined to believe that that is impossible. Church wasn’t seen by any of the cameras I set up in the apartment that night.”
“So, Parker was lying?”
“I can’t be sure. I don’t see how Church could have snuck into Parker’s apartment in the first place. Church may have been a good detective, but he hasn’t had anything close to the amount of stealth training that I’ve had; Parker surely would have noticed him before he could sneak around behind him.”
“That just greater falsifies Parker’s story. What evidence is there that he was telling the truth?”
I click a file on the computer screen. A large window opens and a video player appears inside. I click play and retreat my hand back towards my body and rest it underneath my cape.
“I didn’t believe Parker’s story at first because I never thought that anyone could ever dismember the camera system.”
The video on screen shows Parker and I in Parker’s kitchen. I exit the kitchen, making for the window and the camera switches to the living room. Parker stops me and I turn back to face him. A second later, I leap from the window. A second later, the screen goes black.
“There.”
“How did that happen?”
“I don’t know, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Church had something to do with it.”
“So, do think it was Church that murdered the mayor?”
“As I’ve said, I’m not sure. Joke-Man wears a policemen’s uniform, but he also wears a turtleneck underneath it. This hides his neck which, between Parker and Church, is the only distinguishable feature: skin color. Church is Caucasian and Parker is African American.”
“So, we have no idea whether or not Joke-Man is Parker or Church?”
“Unfortunately, no. However, Joke-Man could be someone else entirely. The best I can hope for is that he shows himself again sometime within the next two weeks. The minute that happens, I’ll be able to track him.”
“Why two weeks, Master Bruce?”
“He wants me to find him.”
“Isn’t that a little absurd?”
“No, it isn’t. Joke-Man has no intention of killing Tim. That’s why I’ve already come to the conclusion that he’s holding Tim somewhere else. Joke-Man wants to catch Joker off guard. The Church house is a trap.”
“To defend Parker, Master Bruce, why would he want to kill the Joker?”
“Why would Parker, as Joke-Man, want to kill Joker?”
“Yes.”
“The same reason Church would want to kill him. Parker was very close to the Church family. He probably wants to see the Joker dead just as much as Church does.”
“So, what is your next move?”
“I’m going back to the Church house. I’m going to try to find anything that I can that will lead me to Joke-Man. If I don’t find anything there I’ll go back to Parker’s apartment.”
“What if you don’t find anything there?”
“Then this case will be dead until Joke-Man appears again. Hopefully that won’t mean the death of anyone we care about.”
With that, I stand and walk away. I make my way towards the Huntress’s motorcycle, trying to wrap my head around things as I do so. How could everything go so wrong in such a short amount of time? I can’t help but think what things would be like now if I had been able to stop Joker. Then, Church wouldn’t have gotten involved. What if I had refused to host the Policemen’s Ball? What if I had stopped Joker from, once again, escaping from Arkham?
What if I had killed the Joker the very first time we met?
Contemplating the “what-ifs” is a distraction that I don’t need right now. I need to stay focused on what is happening and stop wishing that it wasn’t. Despite my intuition, Tim could very well be in danger and I need to find him as soon as possible.
I hop onto the motorcycle. I turn on the ignition and, a second later, I punch the gas. The cycle flies from the cave and away into the tunnel. Breaking from my daze, I realize that I am driving extremely fast and force myself to slow down. All of the thoughts in my head are making me reckless. I take this as a chance to put on my helmet.
There is a beeping inside my cowl. Someone is trying to contact me. I turn on a screen inside my lenses, using a button on my belt. The screen reads “Call from Oracle.” I turn the screen off and move my finger to the side of my head, answering the call.
“Batman.”
“Would I expect anyone else?”
“Make this quick, Oracle. I don’t need any distractions.”
“I just wanted to check up on you. According to Dick, you look like Hell.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You can tell yourself that all you want, but one of these days you’re going to
kill yourself.”
“Goodbye, Oracle.”
I remove my hand from the side of my head and put it back on handlebar. The last thing I need right now is concern for my well-being. I’ve been through much worse and came through it with much worse consequences. The emotional strain from this is nothing compared to some of the other things I’ve been through.
I make a sharp left turn, speeding into another tunnel. Two more left turns into two other tunnels and I’ll be within a block of the Church house. Things would go easier if I was to find something at the Church home. The night Church’s family was killed I did nothing but try to find his family; I didn’t do a full search. Tonight I’m going to make a thorough investigation and try to find any kind of evidence I can that the police haven’t tampered with.
I make another left into another tunnel. As I think about it, I should be somewhere beneath the block where Charlie Parker lives. I would stop and make a sweep of his apartment, but it is more important that I search the Church house first. Also, I’ve planned to search Parker’s apartment later in the evening when he and his family are not there. I’ve been keeping an eye on Parker and he’s made a reservation for nine o’ clock this evening at one of my restaurants.
I make the final left turn into the next tunnel. What I’m going to find at the Church house is beyond me, but I hope to find something, anything, that will help me figure out the identity of Joke-Man. Once I’ve figured out who Joke-Man is, I can figure out where he’s holding Tim.
I stop the motorcycle abruptly. I hop off and look around me. Looking up, I see the hatch in the roof of the tunnel that leads to an alley above. Up in the alley there is a dumpster covering the hatch, which makes the hatch nearly impossible for anyone to find that doesn’t know that it is there. I usually use this hatch to put myself close to the clock tower, where Oracle keeps her base of operations. Tonight, though, I’ll be using it to make my way to the Church house, where a man lost his family.
I quickly climb the ladder up to the hatch. I reach up and quickly twist the hatch open and climb out of the tunnel. My head hits the bottom of the dumpster. I reach out with my right arm and grab the bottom edge of the dumpster. With one quick pull and push, I move it off of the hatch and climb out into the alley. Once I’m completely out, I turn back and shut the hatch, sliding the dumpster back over it.
I look around, getting my bearings straight. I look down the alley in the direction of the Church house. Looking to the houses in the distance, I determine the path I will take to get there. Without a second’s hesitation, I pull my grapnel from my belt and shoot it upward into the night sky. The hook catches and I fly up into the shadows.
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Robin
I like pizza, I really do. If I was stuck on a desert island and had to pick one food to eat for the rest of my life, I’d pick pizza. I’d have to say that pepperoni is my favorite pizza topping; I think that would be a lot of people’s response. Yeah, pizza is great.
However, when that pizza is coming from somebody who tasered you, hit you with a club, and then tied you to a chair so he could air your misery on a cable cartoon channel, it’s really hard to appreciate it. I really have no idea where I am right now, but I’m sitting at table across from Joke-Man, trying my hardest to enjoy the pizza that I’m eating. Joke-Man’s eating the pizza too and it’s just weird. He didn’t even bother to take off his helmet; he’s been sliding the pizza through his mouth hole and it looks goofy as hell. I’d laugh, but I don’t want to piss him off and, due to the dire situation that I’m in, I’m not really in the mood for laughing.
“Are you enjoying your pizza?”
“You know, I’ve been abducted before, but never have my abductors catered to me like you had. I have to say, I’m a little confused. You said on the TV that you were going to kill me in two weeks.”
“I have no intention of killing you.”
He slides another slice of pizza into his mouth hole. The sound of his chomping echoes inside his helmet, which makes it even funnier to watch. He finishes the slice and brushes his hands, sliding his chair back and standing.
“So, that whole thing was to trick the Joker?”
“Yes.”
“What are you planning?”
“You’ll learn soon enough. When you finish eating go back into the other room and try to get some sleep. I know you haven’t gotten much sleep.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Me? I’m going to take care of some things.”
Well, I figure I’d better do what he says, lest I be clubbed again. He’s right, though; I haven’t gotten much sleep the last few days. I’ve been up the last few nights, without even an hour of sleep, wiring bombs and putting them into a box for him. I’m not sure what he’s going to use them for, but I don’t think he knew how to wire them himself; that’s probably another reason why he’s keeping me around. It’s times like these that I wish that Batman hadn’t taught me that kind of stuff.
Joke-Man can’t have anything healthy planned for those bombs, but, so far, he’s made the impression to me that he’s not a bad guy. Well, that’s besides hitting me, tasering me, and telling the whole world that he’s going to kill me. I can’t help but feel that this whole situation with Joker, Joke-Man, Batman, and the recent murder of the Church family is going to blow wide open and take Gotham down with it.
I finish the slice of pizza that I’ve been nitpicking for the last ten minutes and get up from the table. As soon as I get in the other room I flop down on the bed and wrap myself in blankets. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream! Finally, I can get some sleep!
Sleep doesn’t come.
Our minds can do brutal things to us, and one of the brutalities of my mind is that it’s always working. I want nothing more but to close my eyes and drift into a subconscious drool, but, with all that’s been happening, I just can’t do it.
I look around the little room, hoping to see something that will get my mind off of this whole mess and help me get to sleep. The room is just big enough to fit the bed that I’m lying in and still leave about a foot around the port side and the foot to walk around. I think this used to be a closet or something. Seeing nothing to distract my mind, I bend over the side and look under the bed. Lucky for me, I spot a book and a few scraps of paper. I grab the book and the papers and sit up in bed to look at them.
The papers are nothing but drawings of angels, but they offer some relief in such a situation as mine. I have to say, the drawings aren’t bad; I mean I certainly couldn’t do any better. Done looking at the drawings, I set them aside and pick up the book. There is a picture of a harlequin jester on the front and the words “Joke Book” written in big, golden letters across the top. Well, reading this certainly couldn’t hurt. It never hurts to laugh.
I open the book and flip to the first page of jokes. I read over the first joke:
Is That Mule For Sale?
...............................................................................
Farmer Jake had a nagging wife who made his life miserable. The only real peace that he got was when he was out in the field plowing. One day when he was out in the field, Jake's wife brought his lunch to him.
Then she stayed while he quietly ate and berated him with a constant stream of nagging and complaining. Suddenly, Jake's old mule kicked up his back legs, striking the wife in the head, and killing her instantly.
At the wake, Jake's minister noticed that when the women offered sympathy to Jake he would nod his head up and down. But when the men came up and spoke quietly to him, he would shake his head from side to side.
When the wake was over and all the mourners had left, the minister approached Jake and asked, 'Why was it that you nodded your head up and down to all the women and shook your head from side to side to all the men?'
'Well,' Jake replied, 'The women all said how nice she looked, and her dress was so pretty, so I agreed by nodding my head up and down. The men all asked, 'is that mule for sale!?'
...............................................................................
Hmmm… Well, it’s not the best joke I’ve ever read, but it’s certainly not the worst. Still unable to find sleep, I read the next joke:
Scottish Farmer
................................................................................
The pilot of an aerobatic biplane landed in the recently mown field of a Scottish farmer to make a few adjustments to his engine. While he was tinkering with his machine, he noticed the Scotsman and his wife watching with a great deal of curiosity. The Scotsman asked the pilot how much he would charge to give both he and his wife a ride.
'Well', said the pilot, 'Normally I charge $50 dollars each, but if you are both completely quiet throughout the flight, the ride will be free of charge. If I hear the least amount of noise, you will owe the full fare.'
The couple quickly climbed aboard, and the pilot taxied and took off. Immediately, he proceeded to put his plane through all of its paces: barrel rolls, stalls, spins, split S maneuvers, you name it and he did it. The couple in back was completely silent throughout the thirty minute flight.
Upon landing, the pilot said, 'I really have to hand it to you for keeping quiet through all that!'
'Aye', said the Scotsman, 'but I'll admit, ye almost heard me when the wife fell out.'
...............................................................................
I give up reading the joke book. For one, reading jokes isn’t going to help me sleep at all. Two, the jokes aren’t that good. I toss the book aside, folding up the angel drawings and sticking them into my belt. I stand up from the bed and stretch my arms. I can’t stay in this place anymore.
Exiting the room, I make a clean scan of my surroundings. Up until now, the thought of leaving never really crossed my mind. However, I’m tired of being cooped up in these two little rooms. There’s a door on the far side of the room that I’ve watched Joke-Man enter and exit from multiple times in the last few nights, but I doubt that he keeps it unlocked. Towards the ceiling of the far wall is a small window through which the moonlight shines. Well, that window is probably my best bet.
Before I decide to break the window and draw attention to myself, I walk over to the door and turn the knob.
It’s not locked.
What the hell? He’s screwin’ with me, right? Why would he leave the door unlocked? Does he want me to escape, or is this some sort of twisted trap? I decide that Joke-Man’s nature isn’t all that bad and that I should at least be able to open the door without being blown into smithereens. So, moving ever so slowly, I open the door and hold my breath.
Not a good idea.
As soon as the door is all of the way open, a cloud of gas shoots into my face. It smells horrible and burns my eyes. I fall back into the room, rolling around on the floor and rubbing my eyes. You would think that, since I still have my mask on, my lenses would protect my eyes from the spray; no, this burns like hell. All of sudden the burning stops and a haziness takes over my vision.
I’m passing out.
My last conscious thoughts wonder how I could be so stupid as to think that I could just walk out of here. I’m sure Joke-man will be asking himself the same thing when finds me lying on the floor next to the door. Well, at least I’m not dead.
I awake later in the bed in the small room. The sun shines through the window, so I assume it’s been a great many hours since the gas knocked me out. My head is throbbing and my vision is a little blurry. Well, it could be worse. If I had been hit by gas at Joker’s place I would’ve lost my mind with laughter.
I sit up in the bed and rub my eyes. Doesn’t do much good to rub when my eyes are covered b y a mask, but I do it anyway. Despite my doubts, my vision clears. I move my rubbing to my temples, trying to ease the throbbing in my head. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit this hard by a gas.
I decide that I’m well enough to get up, so I climb out of bed and venture towards the door. Well, now I know that Joke-Man at least had the good decency to carry me back to the bed. If he had left me on the floor all night I’d be waking up with an aching back too.
I pass through the door and find Joke-Man out in the other room waiting for me. He’s sitting at the table pouring a mug into his mouth hole. Once again, I try not to laugh at his absurd way of eating and drinking. I meander over to the table and take the seat across from him.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Funny. The whole ‘Joke-Man’ thing’s really startin’ to make sense.”
“Robin, your presence in my plan is of the utmost importance. Without you in my possession the whole thing would fall apart.”
“So, you gas me? My head’s killin’ me. Why couldn’t you just lock the damn door?””
“How would that be funny?”
“Right…”
“Also, you being the apprentice of ‘The World’s Greatest Detective’, I figured you would be able to pick a lock.”
“Not necessarily. You seem to have removed everything from the room except for the table and chairs, and you took my utility belt. How would I pick the lock?”
“Oh, Robin, you’re either being very clever or very dumb. Performing the task carefully, you could easily take a splinter from the chairs or table and pick the lock.”
“I suppose you’d have some nasty trick for me even if you had called that bluff.”
“Too true.”
I wish I had been bluffing stupidity. Truth is, I hadn’t thought of using a wood splinter to unlock the door. It doesn’t do me much good to know that anyway, because Joke-Man’s clearly not going to take away the gas any time soon. How did I not think of that? I must be slipping in my old age.
“Well, I hope you got plenty of rest.”
“Really? Why’s that? You got more bombs that need wired?”
“No…I have something much more important that I need you to do.”
With that he leaves. Not another word, he just gets up and leaves. Well, this can’t be all that great. Above all, I just hope that whatever is that he wants me to do doesn’t go too much against my character. Something about me really doesn’t want to hate this guy, but since last night he seems to have a crazier aura about him.
Maybe I’ll try breaking the window while he’s gone.