Commissioner James Gordon
How can I describe what happened to me last night? Well, I can say this much: with all I’ve been through, I can honestly say that last night was one of the strangest nights of my life. Anyone that knows me well knows that I never exaggerate…
I sat in bed, smoking a freshly-lit cigarette. I know Barb wants me to quit, but, with Bullock following me around, the chewing gum just isn’t doing it. The cigarette was my first in days and the smoke felt so good in my lungs, but at the same time, irritating. I decided to quit smoking it and just about put it out in the ashtray. Then again, we all know how hard it is to stop an addiction. I started smoking the cigarette again.
Barbara was staying over, just in the other room across the hall, and could probably smell the smoke. I couldn’t have cared less with all the things that have been happening lately. I smoked that cigarette all the way down to the damn filter then smashed it in the ashtray. I really do want to quit, but now is definitely not the time.
After that, the night got weird.
“Smoking is bad for you, Commissioner.”
I swore it was Joker. The voice had that same sinister, twisted giggle hiding beneath it, just like Joker’s. I almost wish now that it had been Joker. I don’t know why, but, after what happened next, anyone would have been better.
I turned and found Joke-Man coming out of my closet.
“How the hell did you get in here?”
“Very carefully.”
“You’re not very bright. You’re wanted for murder and you come to the Commissioner’s home? Not just murder, but the murder of The Mayor of Gotham City.”
“I have no reason to be afraid of you Commissioner, you’re just one man.”
I reached for the drawer in my nightstand, pulling out my gun. When I looked up again, Joke-Man had jumped on the bed and sat down next to me. I jumped up from the bed and stood over by the window. I pointed the gun at him and he started laughing hysterically.
“One man with a gun” I said, keeping my cool.
“Yes, Commissioner, you have a gun. That’s very nice. However, you also have something else.”
“Really, and what is that?”
“You have… placed yourself by the window. I could easily charge you and send you through that window before your precious gun could do any damage.”
I found myself slowly walking away from the window. When Joke-Man saw this he started laughing again. Usually, when someone breaks into your home, you should feel threatened, but something about Joke-Man was giving me the idea that he wasn’t there to hurt me. I lowered my gun.
“Coming to our senses are we, Commissioner?”
“I’m not so sure.”
“When is anybody? Come, sit next to me.”
“You’re joking?”
“Always.”
I shook my head and took a seat next to Joke-Man on my bed. Why I went along with the whole thing is still a mystery to me, but I guess I felt safe at the time. Looking back on it now, it wasn’t such a good idea.
“You shouldn’t be afraid, Commissioner. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“I’ve been working on a joke, Commissioner, and I was wondering if you’d humor me with a listen?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“What do you think?”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“Thank you. It’s quite simple really: Why did the all of the robbers get away with robbing a bank?”
“Do you really think that I’m going to find this funny?”
“Depends…”
He then reached into his jacket and pulled out what looked like a detonator. I found myself scooting away from him and squeezing the trigger on my gun. He giggled quietly and pointed the detonator at the window. He then pressed the button (which had a smiley face drawn on it) and there was a large booming sound in the distance.
I leaped up from the bed and ran over to the window. In the distance I could see the smoke billowing upward into the night sky. Flames licked the buildings around the explosion. Sudden realization brought me to my knees.
He blew up Gotham Central.
“The robbers got away because there were no police to chase them. I guess it was more of just a hypothetical question/answer scenario really. Not much of joke, no. Though, judging by the smoke in the distance, I’d say it wasn’t very hypothetical, was it?”
He started to giggle.
I didn’t even think before jumping across the room. I hit him as hard as I possibly could and we both flew over the other side of the bed. He started laughing like a damn wild hyena as my hands grasped around his neck. No matter how hard I squeezed, he wouldn’t stop laughing.
“Dad, stop!”
I turned and found Barbara rolling into the room. I turned back to Joke-Man, he was still laughing. Going against my better judgment, but going with my character, I released him and got up off of the floor. He stopped laughing and stood, rubbing his throat.
“You’re lucky she came in here.”
“You wouldn’t have killed me, Commissioner. You’re not that low.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“What was that explosion? What’s happening?” Barbara asked, rolling between us, so I wouldn’t try to kill him again.
“He blew up Gotham Central.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
Joke-Man at first ignored the question, walking over to my bed and laying down. He put his hands behind his head, leaning against the headboard. He crossed his right leg over his bent left knee and jiggled his right foot.
“Answer me dammit!”
“That, Ms. Gordon, was simply a display, one of many that your father will have to endure over the next few nights.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I interjected.
“It means, Commissioner, that upon you will be played three jokes, not counting this one. Your own little Christmas Carol. All of said jokes will have you facing dire consequences. You see, I did not come here tonight to kill you. When death finds you, you’ll be ready for it.”
“What did I do to deserve this?”
“You’re the Police Commissioner, Gordon!” he said, standing and making his way to the window. “There are a many more people in this city that want to kill you than just me.”
“Just tell me what I did.”
“Very well, Commissioner, but not until you are taking your very last breath. It wouldn’t be fair to Mayor Webster if I broke the secret to you before I knew that I had your life in my hands.”
“So, the mayor knew who you are?”
“I would certainly hope so, what with all of the clues that I gave him.”
With that he stepped up onto the windowsill and began to climb out. I realized that this would be the perfect time to take my shot, so I raised my gun and aimed at his leg. Then, a thought crossed my mind and I lowered the gun. I quickly spoke before he could make it out the window.
“Wait!”
“Yes…?” he asked, turning back my way.
“Whatever it is that I did, I want you to know that I am truly sorry.”
The next he spoke, the sinister tone was removed and replaced with sincerity.
“I know. You tried to help, but you tried too late.”
Those being his last words, he fell backwards out of the window into the darkness of the night. I rushed over to the window and looked down on the lawn. By then he was long gone. I don’t know who he is, but he sure as hell is fast. Hopefully I’ll get a grip on this whole case before I’m lying in a wooden box.
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Nightwing
Where the hell is Batman? Gotham Central just blew up last night and he’s MIA. I watch the firefighters below; they’re still trying to put out the blaze. I’m not one hundred percent sure who did this, but I’ve got a pretty damn good idea. This whole mess screams Joker.
I turn my eyes to the distant, where the sun is beginning to rise. I open a compartment on my right gauntlet, revealing a watch. The numbers blink on and off, showing nothing but 12:00. Damn battery’s gone dead.
Well, judging by the rising sun, it has to be at least five in the morning. I shouldn’t be here. I need to get back to Blüdhaven and take care of the problems in my own city. However, I think that the troubles of Gotham far exceed those of any other city at the moment. What with there being only a few police left, this city’s going to turn into Hell on Earth.
I’m sure that Batman’s got a lot going on with this Church case, but he really should be here. After all, him and the commissioner have been working together for, what, almost ten years now. Yeah, he should be here, but, with the Church case and with Tim being kidnapped by Joke-Man, I don’t think he really has any time for this.
From the corner of my left eye I can see somebody walk up to the ledge next to me. Without looking over, I can tell it isn’t Batman. This guy’s too short and too thin. Plus, what little I can see of him, he’s not wearing very dark colors. There’s some purple and some green mixed in the blur of the man next to me. There’s only one person it can be:
The Joker.
“Admiring your handy work?” I ask Joker, turning towards him.
“Oh, how I wish that I was. All of these years and I’ve never had the cajones to do it, but whoever did this surely has a massive scrotum.”
“Don’t play games with me, Joker. This has your name written all over it.”
“Come again? Are my eyes so poor? I don’t see my name written down there anywhere. As a matter of fact, I was on the other side of town when I got the news. I just had to get down here and see this!”
“If it wasn’t you, then who am I supposed to think that it was?”
“Batman?”
“I don’t think so. You get one more chance to confess before I beat the hell out of you.”
“Do you really think that I did this?”
“Why would I think otherwise?”
“Young man, this city is better than ever. There all sorts of loons running about the streets blowing things up and killing people. All of us know that Joke-Man killed the m ayor; that kind of information travels fast through Gotham’s underbelly. Not only that, but Joke-Man’s also got your little bird friend with him. I’d say that he’s the one that’s been up to the most trouble lately.”
“So, you killing the Church family counts as nothing?”
“Christ! Let it go! I killed those boobs weeks ago!”
“Murder is murder, Joker.”
“Too true.”
Joker reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pistol. I reach behind my back and grab my escrima sticks, taking a battle stance Joker laughs and, for a moment, lowers his gun. I maintain my stance and wait for him to raise the gun again.
“So, it was you.”
“No, no, no! This is me! This is me…killing you.”
Without a second’s hesitation, Joker fires a round. The bullet hits me square in the shoulder and I fall back hard on the roof, dropping my escrima sticks. I wasn’t expecting him to fire so soon; usually the bastard talks for a half an hour before he’ll even blink. I grasp my shoulder, sticking my thumb in the wound to slow the bleeding.
“Dammit! I missed!”
“I’d say you hit me.”
“Shut up! I was aiming for your head!”
He points the gun directly at my head and I can see his finger begin to squeeze the trigger. I grab the nearest of the escrima sticks and hurl it at his hand as hard as I can. It hits, but the hit jerks him into pulling the trigger and the bullet hits my other shoulder. Joker sees this and starts laughing again. Well, this certainly has been a fun morning. Haven’t any of the leftover cops down on the street heard that gunfire?
“Well, it’s not what I wanted, but that was hilarious! Both shoulders! Don’t worry; this one’ll hit its mark.”
Once again, he raises the gun and points it at my head. My other escrima stick is too far away for me to reach it and he’ll shoot right away if I make move for it. I need to distract him until I can think something else. I quickly scan the area for a rock or anything that can throw at him.
“Well, Night-fling, it’s time to die.”
I shut my eyes tight as his finger squeezes the trigger. With everything in darkness, I wait for the darkness to become permanent. My whole life flashes before my eyes as I wait for it to end.
I hear a clicking sound.
My eyes spring open in time to see the Joker hurl the pistol off of the roof and begin to stomp his feet in a fit of rage. He’s cursing up a storm that would make a sailor blush. I take this chance and jump up from the ground, charging towards him. In all of his anger he doesn’t even see me coming.
I hit him and we both fly over the ledge, falling down onto the next level. He stops throwing his fit when we hit and kicks me off and over his head. I quickly turn around. He’s stood up and is running for the far edge of the roof. I decide to chase him and quickly make my pursuit.
When I reach the ledge, Joker’s already climbing down the fire escape. I jump from the roof, releasing a grapnel from my gauntlet. The hook catches the opposite roof and I swing down to the alley below. I land as softly as I possibly can on the concrete. I turn and look back up to Joker on the fire escape.
Joker sees that I’ve beaten him to the ground and starts to climb back up the ladder of the fire escape. I look around the ground and I find a decent sized rock. I pick it up and, without a second thought, hurl it at Joker’s back. The rock hits him right in his lower spine and he falls down into the alley. For a short moment he writhes in pain, but eventually he accepts the inevitable. I grin and walk over to him.
“Run out of bullets, Joker?”
“Oh, I’m sure you find this funny?”
“Kinda. Yeah.”
“Well, I can’t blame you; it’s about to get a lot funnier.”
“What?”
Before I can even begin to comprehend what the hell it is he’s talking about, something hits me over the head. As I fall back, I look above me and see Harley Quinn standing there with a large mallet. Well, that would explain the extreme pain in my skull. Harley bends next to Joker and helps him to his feet.
“You’ve gotta get one of these sidekicks, Flight-Wing. They’re so helpful! It’s no wonder the Bat-Boob always kept you imbeciles around; he needed someone to cover his ass.”
“So, you need someone to cover yours?”
Through blurred vision, I can see Joker frown.
“I don’t need anybody’s help. Harley, give me that hammer; I’ m tired of hearing this little turd babble.”
Harley hands Joker the mallet. He examines it for a moment or two, and then swings it at my head. As the mallet hits, stars dance before my eyes. My head feels like it’s on fire and my ears ring with Joker’s laughter as the world goes black. Hopefully I’ll see the sun again.